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neutron-stars-collision · 2 years ago

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Waiting for the Night

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Chapter 8 - Started slow, started late

Masterlist; Chapter 7 Summary: Reckless decisions and miscommunication shake up the foundations. Warnings: Angst (sadly the time has come), violence (non-graphic descriptions), swearing. Author's Notes: Remember the intensity I mentioned? Well, here is some of that. Apologies for whatever you find here, though I assure you it was necessary. Idiots need idiot-proofed methods, after all. And it does get better. With that said, this chapter is sort of an introduction for the next one aka the one where we get up to speed. And I do hope it makes sense 🙈 Thank you to everyone reading, leaving comments and reblogs - it really means more than I can express! 💕 Hope you'll enjoy and tell me what you think? #singleblueberryclub Taglist: @thecraziestcrayon, @kookiewastolen, @imimsy, @tuskens-mando, @sugarcoated-lame, @blue-aconite, @hypnoash, @rabbitdictionary, @nicklet94, @mcrmarvelloki

(Gif source: @1038276637)

Sometimes when waking up, especially after a peculiarly realistic dream, you have no idea where you are even though nothing has changed. The walls seem different. The shapes of the furniture and the shadows falling on the floor too. Then it all fades. Only sometimes it does not.

Your eyes flew open as the body registered the softness of the thick quilt and the strangeness of the mattress. It was certainly not the shabby bedroom of your apartment. And then it clicked. Your gaze wandered over the guest room at the Wayne Tower. The heavy curtains were drawn over the window, the coat of dust on the mahogany furniture, the large postered-bed with pristinely white bedding. Despite the evident years of neglect in the air, the grandeur was easily noticeable. And even a little overwhelming.

With a sigh, you rolled over to pick up your phone, noticing the late hour. It took another moment of gathering strength to throw away the covers and get up. The coldness of the floorboards acted like a sharp wake-up call, making you quickly scuttle towards the window and draw back the curtains to reveal the view. A gasp was the natural reaction when your eyes landed on the cityscape spreading outside. With the clouds hanging low over the horizon and no rainfall in sight Gotham could be almost pretty. Almost.

Once the ice-cold water splashed your face over the bathroom sink in the ensuite, the coherence returned fully. And along with it, the memories of what you said and did. The confession. Everything that followed. Fuck. Although a devoted advocate for never crying over the spilt milk, you strayed dangerously close to doing just that. Only the scalding shower stopped you. And the unknown of what lay beyond the door to your borrowed room.

After making sure you looked passably normal (except for the rumpled clothes), you braved the outside. The corridor was almost eerily quiet. With all the doors closed and no sign of a living soul. Following the logic, you silently made your way down the staircase, listening in on any clues. Suddenly your ears perked up upon hearing the distant sound of the television. You traced your steps along the unfamiliar route, past the study and the kitchen, until you found an open door to what looked like a dining room. The tv was on, and the table was set for breakfast. Shyly, you peered inside only to see Alfred sitting by the table, staring at the tv with a porcelain cup in hand. He did not give you time to back away and pretend you never found him in the first place.

“Good morning” the warm smile greeted you with a welcomed dose of familiarity.

“Morning” raising your hand in a half-wave, you slowly entered the room, taking in the surroundings.

Like every other room, the dining room, too, was furnished with grandeur, which had now faded. Although dusted and frequently cleaned, the cupboards and decorations all needed a new coat of lacquer. The table was large, yet only a half of it seemed in use and covered by a smaller tablecloth. Alfred was sat at its head, over the breakfast spread consisting of coffee, toasts, butter, and jam.

“Do you want to grab some breakfast?” interrupting your study of the room, Alfred glanced at you expectantly.

As if responding to the question, your stomach rumbled quietly, making you frown with embarrassment.

“I- Sure, though I don’t want to steal your food” with your cheeks tinted pink, you took one of the empty chairs and eyed the spread with curiosity.

Because it did look inviting. And you were hungry. Without a doubt, Alfred did not need to hear your thoughts to understand your qualms.

“Don’t worry, I’ve already prepared the meal for two,” another encouraging smile paired with the man passing you a plate with toasted bread, “Bruce is still asleep. He’s rather… nocturnal,” he answered the unasked question without a hitch, busy with preparing the cup of coffee to hand you.

It was impossible to stop your heart from springing back up from the dead upon the mention of Wayne. It seemed that no matter how hard you could have tried to pretend that nothing was happening, you were bound to fail. Because something was happening. And it had nothing to do with logic and everything with feelings.

“I see” you washed away the fear with a sip of cappuccino and pasted a grateful smile you’re your face, “Thank you,”

No need to be dramatic. You got as far as spreading butter over the toast when the news jingle caught your attention, and you raised your head to watch the tv. On the screen, a well-known face of the GC1 presenter greeted you, only without the usual bright smile:

“Good morning, Gotham. It’s Saturday, November the 2nd, and we must pass you the terrible news from the previous night. Another high-profile murder happened last night. Commissioner Pete Savage has been found dead inside the Police Athletic League facilities in the Tricorner area. This time, the killer has come forward to claim the credit via a video posted on social media. We must warn you; the footage is very disturbing…” you barely registered what happened next, watching dumbfounded as the terrifying show commenced.

This is the Riddler speaking… The sentence rang out in your head as you placed the cup back on the saucer with a rattle and glanced at Alfred. Judging by his shocked expression, the information was news to him as well. Ignoring the dread raising the hair on the back of your neck, you mused dryly:

“Well, that looks much more serious than a desperate cop trying to wipe his name clean…” it was difficult to pretend you were not bothered.

That you were not scared by the prospect. Because if there were a serial killer lurking in the city and ready to let loose, you would need both courage and confidence.

“The Riddler, is it?” Alfred met your gaze with a cautious look of his own “What are you thinking?” the glimmer in his eye told you he meant it.

The feeling of being at ease in his company helped to do the talking. As a preamble, you shrugged and took another toast from the plate, taking the time to piece together an answer.

“He’s after the powerful and the mighty, so it seems like perhaps he’s got dirt on them, only instead of blackmail, he’s into more… final solutions” frowning at the choice of words, you offered the butler a knowing look “It looks like both Mitchell and Savage were corrupted, but they were good at keeping it under wraps” making a mental note to ask fellow journalists about the rumours concerning the late commissioner, you added “He’s aiming to change that drastically” a grimace painted itself on your face at the memory of the recently watched video.

A cage and a rat trapped inside it, waiting to scratch at the face of the victim sounded elaborate. And unbelievably cruel.

Before you could think of a thing to say, footsteps echoed in the corridor, stopping at the dining room’s doorway. Bruce peeked inside with strange uncertainty, eyebrows drawing up once they saw you at the breakfast table next to Alfred. As usual, your gaze slipped over him without a rush, lingering at the shape of his face and the forearms revealed by the oversized t-shirt. It was once he caught your stare that you looked away. You could feel Pennyworth’s gaze boring into the side of your skull, undoubtedly watching the scene with curiosity. He was the one to save you the pain.

“Good morning, Bruce” Alfred offered his protégé a warm smile as he gestured towards the table, “Do you want to join?”

The look of utter bewilderment at the question appearing on Bruce’s face made you choke back a chuckle. As if he was a vampire who did not need food to survive, and the idea alone made him cower back with revulsion.

“No” Bruce shook his head once and directed the intense look to you, asking, “Do you know what happened?”

There was no doubt about the meaning. You nodded and replied with the voice even:

“Yeah, it was on tv just now…” trailing off, you tried to search his face for clues.

It was difficult to shake off the residual awkwardness. As if the nightly happenings have caught up with both of you and were not letting you forget should you want to. Only, you didn’t.

In Bruce’s eyes, you found the shadow of the conflict reflected as he made up his mind and offered an answer:

“I have something to show you” with that, he was halfway out the door.

Confident you would follow. With an incentive like that, you had to. You threw a regretful look at the food left on the table.

“Now?” just to be sure.

“Yes” judging by the sound, he was already halfway down the corridor.

You downed the cappuccino and drew the chair back with a defeated sigh. Grabbing another toast and quickly spreading a thin coat of butter over the surface, you muttered to yourself:

“Alright,” you could feel Alfred watching you with a smirk hidden in the corner of his mouth as you met his searching look and grinned, bowing mockingly, toast in hand, “Thanks for the company,”

Without waiting for his response, you bolted through the door and down the corridor towards the disappearing Bruce Wayne. Once you caught up with him, you threw an arm over his shoulder to make him slow down the steps. One look full of confusion was enough to pass him the buttered toast and press a quick kiss to his cheek. You did not wait for his reaction, passing him in the corridor and confidently striding towards the library. He would follow. You knew that already.

***

Not long after, you found yourself staring at a series of printed photographs, all grainy and dark, with the confusion etched deep in the crease between your eyebrows. Bruce had placed the photos on the table and took a step back, expecting you to study them, so you did just that. But you did not know what you were looking at; the faces all seemed foreign or too obscured to remind you of anyone particular. Picking up one of the photographs, you inspected it closely, eyes taking a long moment to look at everyone pictured. There was an expensive car in the background, and the location seemed similar to the front entrance of the Iceberg Lounge, Falcone’s realm. At the centre, you could see a woman with a tear-streaked face, held in an iron grip by a smartly dressed man. When your gaze landed on the stranger, it clicked. Don Mitchell Jr. himself. And a woman, who was certainly not Mrs Mitchell.

“Where did you get those?” glancing over your shoulder at Bruce, you noticed a passing annoyance, immediately triggering a chuckle; no questions “Oh, alright, I get it” grinning, you finished the half-pirouette and faced him properly, resting your back over the table edge “So I was right” the smug note was undeniable.

Bruce returned your triumphant look with a pained sigh before he closed the gap and collected the photos, explaining:

“Yes, seems like Mitchell had a lover. She’s gone missing, by the way” he gestured towards the woman accompanying the late mayor and continued, “Both him and Savage were often seen in the 44 Below. It’s a-”

Uh huh.

“I know what that is,” interrupting Bruce with a dismissal wave, you strode over to the armchair, arching your eyebrow with curiosity piqued, “How do you know all this?”

That is the question.

He did not seem thrown off guard, leisurely sinking into another armchair and addressing you with a measured tone:

“Through an informant. I found her when I was doing some digging last night. She’s working in that club and knows who’s a frequent client” your reaction upon hearing the information was everything but measured.

It was hard to pinpoint which one stung the most. Whether it was the fact that you were not the only one working with him. Or whether that last night, when you went to bed and promptly stared at the ceiling for hours, he kept on working. Outside and not alone. And there was absolutely no reason to be jealous. Only your heart didn’t get the memo.

Biting hard into your lip to focus the brain, you asked:

“She?” because clarification could only be beneficial.

And because you did not trust yourself to say anything more than a single word.

“Yes, why?” it was his turn to look at you with palpable disorientation.

Whatever was going on in your head must have remained on the inside, for Bruce seemed clueless. Which could only work in your favour, right?

“Nothing,” you tried to rouse the flatness of your tone with a faux smile, eager to change the subject, “So… what’s the plan?”

There. Perfect distraction. Bruce caught it without a hitch, opening a laptop and slipping into your usual mode of work:

“We could try to find any common threads between the two victims, people they both could have known” you could see the metaphorical cogs turning in his head as he pulled up documents and websites.

It was almost too effortless to understand his intent and get pulled along for the ride. Almost. A frown painted itself on your lips even before the words got out.

“To foresee who’s next? The Riddler seems to punish the corrupt, and if that’s the only requirement… half the Gotham falls under the criteria” you shrugged, sensing the dejection take hold.

It was nothing, merely the dread from before settling in your heart and hoping to make its home there. You knew your sentiment was shared when you met Bruce’s weary gaze across the space. He looked tired, dark shadows underneath his eyes highlighting the blue of the irises. Yet there seemed to be a spark of eagerness buried deep underneath the regrets and the worries. It was that feeling you heard in his voice when he spoke next:

“Maybe it will narrow the scope” the look he shared with you said something else.

It was enough to curl your mouth into a smirk and offer a quip:

“Or you’re just that desperate to work with me” your grin widened upon seeing the hint of blush on his cheeks.

Bingo. The glare you received all but confirmed it as Bruce made sure to move further away from you, muttering under his nose:

“No comment” you could have told him that saying it never worked the way they showed in the movies.

But instead, you only hid the fond smile behind a laptop screen and began the research. As he said – maybe it would do something. And something was always better than nothing. Or so the tired brain told you.

It turned out that mapping the shared relationships between the mayor and commissioner was not that easy. Not for the lack of similarities but rather for the abundance of them. Before long, you both realised that there likely was a whole web interwoven between the victims. Bruce took it upon himself to go through the names in common, identifying the potential targets and drawing up a map of connections between them. Your job was to dig in the past of the dead figures, find out their sins and transgressions, to decipher why they had been chosen. Which also proved harder than expected.

So, when the clock had chimed two in the afternoon, and you heard your stomach rumble loudly, it was impossible not to let out a loud groan, catching the attention of your companion. Bruce raised his head slowly, peeking at you from the distance, visibly perplexed. You had half the mind to get up and go to the kitchen to fetch a sandwich before he stood up with a graceful stretch and placed the laptop on the side.

“What-” before you could finish the intended question, Bruce interrupted you with a glance.

“Stay here” the command fell from his mouth without a second thought, and he marched out of the room with confidence in his step.

What indeed? To say that the object of your interest was confusing seemed like an understatement. There was nothing else to do but sigh heavily, curse your preference for males and bury yourself in the newspaper archives. Which you did, once again forgetting about the passage of time or the need to eat. After all, what was more interesting than the love life of Gotham prosecutors and wanna-be politicians?

You did not notice when the silence was interrupted by footsteps. Or when Bruce stepped close, soundlessly placing a plate with a sandwich on the table in front of you. The first thing you registered was a gentle touch on your chin, fingers tipping your face up. With your mouth agape and eyes wide, you looked up to see Bruce staring at you with a soft smile. There was no time to react when he leant forward and pressed his lips to yours in a tender kiss, easily stealing the breath from your lungs and the coherence from your mind. His mouth glided over yours with familiar zeal, yet there was no hint of desperation. As if now that he knew how you felt, he was willing to be braver. To risk more in exchange for whatever you could give him. The brief kiss was over before it began, but the taste lingered as Bruce took a step back and glanced at the plate on the table as if expecting a question. You sure did not want to disappoint:

“What’s all this?” with an eyebrow raised, you allowed yourself a quick swipe of tongue over the lips.

Just enough to collect the remains of the sensation. And to make Bruce blush, again.

“Thought you were hungry” he only shrugged; a strange sense of lightness in his eyes.

It seemed different, new in a way. But you would not be the one to argue with the turn of events, accepting the meal with a grateful grin and no complaints. If it was a truce for the mention of Bruce’s informant earlier, you sure did not mind.

The research lasted for another few hours, leaving you both drained and resigned, bathed by the shadows of the fading day. After the kiss, Bruce moved closer, seemingly unafraid of your proximity or the sharp teeth of your jokes, often aimed at him to lighten the mood or distract him from work. Even the silence felt companionable, lulling you deep into that blissful state of ignorance. Only to shatter soon after.

Checking the watch to find that it was long after six in the afternoon, you stood up and stretched, instantly catching Bruce’s attention. Whatever comment was waiting in the roof of your mouth was forgotten when he spoke:

“I’m busy tonight, so… You’re free to do whatever you want” the casual statement caught you off guard, forcing the brain to pick it apart and find meaning.

What you began to understand turned the taste on your tongue sour and tightened the invisible rope around your heart. It sounded like a rejection, not a straightforward one but the meaning was the same. Ignoring the pain shooting through your body, you measured him with a steady gaze and asked:

“What?” because once more, a single word was just enough to get through the constricted throat.

Anything more could have broken the illusion Bruce seemed to hold. The illusion that this did not bother you. That jealousy was a foreign emotion. And perhaps to him, it was.

“I’m doing recon at the club…” the hint of puzzlement in his eyes was enough for you to backtrack, enforcing the wall and strengthening the foundations.

If he did not understand, it was not your job to tell him. Because maybe it was simply not meant to be.

“With her?” forcing out another question, you put an end to the eye contact and walked over to the window.

The city did not look as pretty as it did in the morning. Or maybe it is you who changed the outlook throughout the day.

“Yes,” when Bruce replied, you allowed yourself a quiet sigh and pressed your forehead to the cold window.

Not long after, you heard him leave the room. Undoubtedly off to disappear in the rooms you had no access to until he would have to meet her. Her. The pronoun rang strangely in the quiet of your mind, tinting everything with envy and regret. Perhaps it was a mistake to let him in. Perhaps you really should have known better.

***

If asked to say exactly when the idea bloomed to life in your head, you were not sure. Maybe it was during the train ride home, legs hugged to your chest, unseeing gaze fixed on the dirty railing of the cart. Maybe, it was when you stepped inside the apartment, noticing the dust covering the furniture and the darkness lurking in the rooms, waiting for you to disappear inside it. Maybe it was when you sat on the chair by the table, and the only thing you could think of was that night when Bruce was sitting in front of you. His hand held in yours, a tender yet strangely solid connection. Only you were wrong. Destined to pay for the naivety with heartache and shame burning in your blood.

Just once, you wanted to stop feeling useless. To do something and show them they were wrong. They, him, it didn’t matter. Someone. Using the research you wasted the day on, you knew that apart from the 44 Below, there was another club often attended by those in power. Going by the catchy name of Inferno, the venue was famous for its bad reputation, easily beating the Iceberg Lounge and its secret club-within-a-club. And since that first place was a no-go for the fear of getting your broken heart shattered, the choice was made for you. Your recon mission, and where better than in a place directly controlled by Carmine Falcone. Right?

Sure, it did sound… risky. But, sometimes, it was better to be sorry than safe. Or so someone told you. Ignoring the anxious thoughts, you made sure to get dressed to the nines, pulling out a skimpy skirt from the bottom of the closet and fishing out a sequin top to match. It was hard to say which voice told you to drop the key for the Wayne Tower into the purse as you exited the flat. But thinking could only bring harm, so you brushed it aside, focusing on the determination that had sprung from pain. The determination to be something more than you were. To be enough. For him. For them. For you.

Getting past the bouncer was easy. You flashed him a confident smile and waved your hand as you passed, doing your best to create an impenetrable veil of certainty that you did not feel at all. It was all a question of the right smile, the sureness in the stride, never-waning eye contact with whoever was eager to look at you. As you descended the metal staircase into the underground venue, the red lights hit you in the face, making you squint in the harsh glare of the reflectors. Unsurprisingly for a Saturday night, Inferno was packed. It was impossible to tell where the dancefloor began, for the space between the entrance and the booths was crowded with strangers. The deafening, blaring music filled your chest with subwoofer vibrations and filled the blood with a daze. But you had to stay vigilant, quickly creating a plan in your head as you pushed through the people, locating the bathroom, bar, and potential targets of the reconnaissance. The best strategy on paper was to loiter, listen to the partiers, have a drink, and mix in with the crowd while searching for familiar faces.

Ordering a margarita at the bar, you scanned the surroundings, waiting with your back pressed against the counter. Here, too, the space was cramped, voices interweaving in a barely comprehensible mess, but you listened in anyway. All it took was a little period of adaption, getting accustomed to the rhythm of the music and tuning it out. You took a deep breath and focused your mind on the people around you, slipping between them like a ghost. Soon enough, the voices were there for you to hear them:

“That Riddler guy? Fucking hell, and here I thought that the Bat was the worst this city has to offer” a heavy sigh accompanied the sentence as the man downed a shot of vodka, flinching comedically.

“Maybe Riddler is the good guy, helping us get rid of the rats in the sewers” his companion had a slurred speech, offering counterarguments with the wisdom of a drunkard.

“Nah, we’re all fucked. No one can save us from this shithole,” another shot, glass hitting the bar counter with a clink.

That was certainly not what you were looking for. You picked up the drink and waded through the crowd, nearing a circle of chirpy women buzzing with gossip. Resting by the wall close by, you tuned into their conversation:

“Have you heard? Vengeance showed up at the Iceberg Lounge last night” the young blonde leant close to her companions, excitement clear in her voice and the sparks in her gaze.

Interesting… very interesting. Because Bruce was there too last night.

“Secret deals with the Penguin?” the one who replied wiggled her eyebrows suggestively while taking a long sip of the drink.

“I dunno… maybe he was just looking for company” third woman chimed in with a smirk gracing her face.

You did not like the sound of that, turning away with a strange sense of unease. Because it was a fact that Bruce ventured into the club and found company, in some meaning of the word. What Mr Vengeance had to do with all of that you were not sure if you wanted to know. You took a swig from the glass, feeling the pleasant burn of the alcohol in your throat. Mixing in with the crowd felt good, quite like being anonymous. Lost in solo dance, you did your best to look around, spotting familiar faces from the research. Cops, lawyers, lower-rank city officials. All supposedly not fitting in yet looking perfectly at home.

As your gaze landed on a group occupying one of the more intimate booths distanced from the dancefloor, you spotted a GCPD investigator, Clint Johnson. The man surfaced on the few lists you went over earlier, both as the acquittance of the murdered and a notable sinner. Hoping to look as natural as possible, you slowly drifted towards the table he occupied, catching the conversation:

“So, Clint… you worried about our dear Pete?” the man seated opposite your target leant into his space, cheeky expression on his face.

From your vantage point, the whole party looked wasted, either thanks to the drops or the alcohol. It did not matter.

“It’s a god-awful tragedy, but… I mean… pretty sure he had it coming” Johnson stumbled over his words, tongue-tied by the intricate lies and half-truths, “Man was practically best pals with Falcone, spending every weekend at the club” he shrugged as if wanting to shrug off the guilt he had been burdened with.

“Not worried you’ll be next?” his companion had no intention of giving up.

“Why?” another shrug though you had a feeling those were not going to work, “I’m as innocent as they come” the blatant lie fell with a hitch of a drunken hiccup.

You frowned with disgust, burying the expression in another sip of the margarita.

“I think the prosecutor would disagree with that” the stranger leaned back in the booth, leisurely letting his eyes wander over the people.

Including you.

“About the Maroni case? Come on, that’s gone now. We all did what we had to do” there was a growing sense of defence in his tone as though desperate to fight for his name right here, “Including-”

But you never got to hear the end of that sentence. The other man had stood up from the table, the ruthless gaze set on you entirely:

“What’s your problem, babe? Are you lost?” the questions were dropped with a venomous edge.

Fuck. You felt the adrenaline surge to the head, mind lost in a chaotic daze, wanting nothing but to find an escape from the situation.

“No, I was just-” the denial died on your tongue as he leapt from the booth, forcefully taking hold of your arm.

“I saw you, eavesdropping” he tightened the grip, the other hand waving at the bouncer for attention, “Hey, can you throw her out? She’s ruining our evening,”

Fuck. It took one look at the bouncer to know there was no chance of getting out of this unscathed. The fear seemed like a permanent fixture in your chest when the man started leading you away, the iron grip bruising your skin mercilessly. Putting up a fight could only make everything worse, so you let the man lead you towards the exit with your eyes fixed on the floor to avoid meeting anyone’s curious gaze. The shame and panic were stronger than the need to keep up the act. There was no point anymore, you had already lost. Now it was just the question of paying the price.

When he led you outside through the open doors and into a dark and empty alley you knew it was bad. The bouncer was followed by another one, both have barred their teeth, grinning at you like demonic incarnations of the Cheshire cat. The grip on your arm loosened as your captor spoke:

“Let me show you why pretty girls like you should never disobey our guests” you did not need a warning, already cowering back as far as he would let you.

But it was never far enough. He released you when his colleague raised his hand, palm open, to slap you across the face. The sting of the hit reverberated through your cheek and over the split lip, making you wince. It was not the first time, but the pain was just as bad. If not worse. The next punch was not a surprise, yet when a fist hit you in the side, you doubled down with a sharp gasp, eliciting a malicious laugh from your executioners. Another hit, deepening the bruise over your rib. Second blow across the chest, the pain shooting through your body. The tears began streaking down your face as the only sign of torture you were eager to offer. The whimpers were all kept behind a façade, in the teeth biting into your split lip and tasting of copper. It took three more punches to make you fall to your knee, the impact sending a sharp sting through the right knee and immediately toppling you to the ground. Another salve of laughter as you covered your head, instinctively curling into a fetal position. But it was not enough. A kick to the back was all it took to break the dam. Only just enough to make you sob quietly, the tears flowing freely down your face and onto the damp tarmac.

“That will show you” the voice pierced the silence, followed by heavy steps retreating from where you were lying.

When you heard the metal doors close, you allowed yourself to move. First, slowly sitting up, feeling the bolts of pain shooting through your whole system at every move, no matter how small. But the pain was not the worst. The worst was the feeling of knowing that you failed. That you made a mistake. That you were not good enough. For anything, for anyone. The sky opened as you stood up. The raindrops fell on your face and mixed with tears until it was impossible to tell one from another.

A fuck-up, a mistake. That’s all you were.

***

Maybe it was fate that made you rummage in the purse then, desperate to find at least a half-used tissue to wipe away the blood and the tears from your face. Instead, your hand encountered the cold metal of a keyset; fingers clutched it tightly as the overwhelmed brain scrambled to remember. The keys to the Wayne Tower, of course. You breathed a sigh of relief, legs carrying you towards the train station as if acting on their own accord. For once, there was no strength in you to argue. Because you did not want to limp back home, destined to survive the night alone, without a shred of comfort or hope.

No one batted an eyelid when you stepped aboard the train drenched by the rain, with the tears streaking down your face and a bloody cut on the knee. But then, nothing of this sort was an unusual sight in Gotham. Least of all, on a Saturday night. You took the seat close to the door of the cart and fixed your gaze on the floor, urging the mind and the heart to keep it together just a little longer. Once you were in the tower, there was no point trying. Alfred and Dory would sure be asleep, and Bruce might as well still be outside. Or so you tried to tell yourself as the train carried you through the city towards your stop.

There was a part of you that wanted to find him. The part that wanted Bruce to see you like this and not take pity but feel something else entirely. Anger, hurt, and worry, to name a few. But that part was too dangerous, so you kept it locked up, letting yourself drown in the overcoming emptiness, numbing away the pain throbbing underneath the skin. When the train pulled to your stop, you were the last to step off the cart, walking along the platform and down the stairs. You did not even realise when the legs had carried you to the tower as you gingerly climbed the steps towards the front door, the keys clutched in hand tightly as if they were a lifeline. Following the habit, you made sure to check whether there were no spectators before turning the key in the lock and quietly opening the door. Another rule was broken. Once upon a time, you would have never allowed yourself to enter Bruce’s house at night. Even if only because of common sense. But that was long gone. As your eyes adjusted to the lighting change, you were struck by how different the space looked without the daylight falling through the stained-glass windows. With the doors closed and locked, you felt the adrenaline plummet. Along with it, the numbness dialled down, making you realise a few things at once. Everything was aching; the whole body felt as if you had been beaten and slammed into the concrete ten times over. With the continuous rain pouring down from the moment you left that alley by the Inferno, your clothes were soaked, making you shiver and tremble from the cold autumn wind outside. Before you had to decide what is the next reasonable step, the noise from the elevator caught your attention.

Slowly, you turned to face whoever had stepped into the foyer. You froze, motionless when your eyes met the familiar blue gaze, staring at you across the space. A frown etched between the dark eyebrows, mouth agape in mild surprise. Bruce looked almost too ordinary, dressed in the same old jeans and a black t-shirt he had on earlier. With your eyes fixed on his face, it was easy to tell when he registered every detail regarding your state. The frown deepened. A strange flash of darkness clouded his eyes as he desperately looked for something to say. You found it before him, taking a shaky step closer as if pulled by an invisible wire towards Bruce:

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you choked out the sentence, grimacing at the coarseness of your voice and the pitiful excuse.

How pathetic. He had every right to turn you away, to make you leave and tell you how worthless you are. And, for a minute, you expected him to. The pain and misery rose in your chest until there was no air to breathe, and the sobs shook your frame with force. Tears welled up, falling down your face without a care of being watched. Of causing a scene. In the final moment of self-consciousness, you covered your face with your hands, hiding away from Bruce and his intense gaze. At least the broken whimpers and cries were muffled now.

You had no sense of how long you stood there, lost in your tragedy. Or whether Bruce was still there. Then you registered slow, cautious steps on the carpet, stopping close and warm, gentle touch, fingers curling around your wrists and peeling away the hands to make you look at him. When your eyes met his, Bruce entangled your fingers together in a careful hold. There were many questions in his gaze, but he asked none.

For now. A grateful sigh was all you could manage as he started leading you towards the elevator with certainty in each step.

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thatkidwholikesthunderbirds · 3 years ago

Text

TAG Mini Bang 2021

Hey fam, This is mine and the amazing @katblu42′s contribution to the @tagminibang. Katblu42 wrote the story, of which I love so much, and i made a couple of doodles to go with it.

We both worked really hard on it, hope you enjoy.

***

Deep Water

The summer is drawing to an end when an almost-twelve-year-old Virgil is lumped with looking after little bro Gordon for the day. When a simple walk in the woods becomes more than they bargained for, the pair must work together to overcome their fears.

Written by @katblu42

***

“Hey, Virgil. Whatcha doin’?” Gordon bounced down the stairs and watched his brother carefully pack his brand-new artist’s set of watercolour pencils, mini easel, and sketchbook into his backpack, using one of his hoodies for padding. “I’m gonna go out on the top track and try out my new pencils. It’s gonna be a really nice day for practicing landscapes. I want to try and capture the way the light filters through the trees and . . .” As Virgil excitedly rambled on about all the things he wanted to draw, Lucy emerged from the kitchen with a lunchbox packed with sandwiches and snacks and two water bottles for Virgil to add to his bag. She ignored the eye-rolling from the younger boy, who obviously didn’t share the enthusiasm for artistic inspiration. Placing a hand on Virgil’s shoulder as she handed him the last of the supplies, Lucy smiled. “Sounds like the two of you are going to see all kinds of wonders today,” she said. Virgil opened his mouth to question, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak. “You’re going to take your brother with you.” “But . . .” was all Virgil managed to squeak out, while Gordon sported a look of surprised incredulity. “It will do you both the world of good to spend some time together, just the two of you.”

Lucy knew these two didn’t always get along, mostly due to Gordon’s talent for finding exactly the right buttons to push to try Virgil’s patience. In fact, Gordon did that with everyone, but it somehow affected Virgil the most potently. Lucy, Jeff, and the other boys had little tolerance for Gordon’s annoying antics, but the fact that Virgil usually had an abundance of patience was exactly why Gordon got under his skin so much. With Virgil, Gordon would keep on pushing, keep needling, insistently nagging until that patience wore thin and caused Virgil to react in frustration. As a result, Lucy had noticed Virgil tending to avoid spending too much time with Gordon. But today she needed to pair them up together. Grandma would be by any minute to pick up Scott, as she was helping him log extra flying hours towards his pilot license while Jeff was away for work. John had already left for the library where they had been running a special summer program in the AV centre focussing on early space exploration because today was the last day he’d be able to see it. “Aw, Mom!” Virgil whined. “If he comes, I won’t get any drawing done.” “Yeah, Mom,” Gordon joined in, wrinkling his nose, “can’t I stay with you?” “Nope!” Lucy ruffled Gordon’s unruly blond locks. “I have errands to run today.” Gordon groaned. He hated being dragged all over town when his mom was running errands, mostly because the entire day was usually spent listening to her tell him he couldn’t run off too far or do anything fun – getting up to mischief, she called it. Lucy knew her day would be difficult enough with a toddler in tow without adding a hyperactive six-and-a-half-year-old to the mix. For a moment, she felt for Virgil. In a way, he had a point. He’d have to keep Gordon occupied, which would take his focus away from his artistic endeavours, but she had faith that the two of them would find a way to make it work. She stood between the two boys and, with a hand on a shoulder of each, pulled them into a hug. “You two go out and have fun.” She placed a kiss on first Virgil’s and then Gordon’s forehead. “Be good, look after each other, and don’t get into any trouble!” She ushered them through the door and watched them head out, turning back to wave goodbye to her from the front gate before continuing westward towards the top track. She would always worry about her boys out there on their own, but they all knew the rules and had repeatedly been warned of the various dangers contained within their little patch of wilderness. Virgil was not inclined to be reckless or break the rules, but the lure of an interesting view could distract him at times. Looking after a younger brother would help keep his attention more focused. It was one of Lucy’s secret weapons. Pairing a big brother with a little one always seemed to make the big brother more inclined to obey the rules and watch for dangers.

The two boys made quick progress across the open paddock towards the trees, Virgil striding out confidently, Gordon occasionally having to run for a few steps to catch up. Once they reached the track that wound its way through the trees, the pace began to slow. Virgil’s gaze wandered as he walked, noticing in great detail the colours of the foliage and tree bark, the stark contrasts formed by shafts of sunlight filtering between the trees and highlighting this branch or those leaves. He would hear the cry of a bird and look up, searching the treetops to see if he could catch sight of the culprit. Despite the distractions, however, Virgil didn’t stop walking. He had a destination in mind, and he was keen to get there so he could start drawing. Gordon found distractions of his own along the track. He’d hear skittering noises in the dirt and leaf litter beside the track and stop to see if he could spot the creature that had scuttled away. He found spiderwebs woven between the trees and bushes, and noted with interest whether or not the spider was home and if they’d caught anything. He, too, would search the trees and sky for birds that called out their various songs. Unlike Virgil, Gordon stopped often and would have to run to catch up to his bigger brother, usually after Virgil called out to him to hurry up. After falling behind for the fourth time, Gordon decided to run ahead along the track a bit. That way Virgil would have to catch up to him! He stopped short when he came to the fork in the track. An idea struck him, and he jogged back to his brother. “Hey, Virgil?” He had a glint in his eye that the older boy knew well enough to be worried about. “We should go down to the lake!” “No.” “Oh, come on! Why not?” His voice was verging on whiny and his expression close to a pout. “We’re not supposed to go to the lake on our own, it’s –” “We’re not on our own, we have each other!” Gordon didn’t want to give Virgil a chance to argue or talk about possible dangers. “We’re not gonna do anything dangerous or anything. It’s nice by the lake. Besides, you said your pencils were watercolours. Shouldn’t you draw something with water?” “That’s not . . . Uugghh!” Virgil sighed, rolled his eyes, and rubbed a hand through his hair. He knew steering this particular brother away from water was going to be a hard sell, and if he was honest with himself, his little brother was right about the lake being a good place to draw. It would give him an opportunity to practice drawing reflections, which was something he’d been wanting to experiment with. And the view across the lake was pretty spectacular. But swimming in the lake could be dangerous. If they went to the lake, Virgil knew his entire day would be spent watching Gordon in the water. Gordon studied the expression on his brother’s face for some sign of what he was thinking. He had that look of intense concentration he used when he was figuring out how to fix something. Virgil slowed to a stop and looked down at Gordon. “If we go to the lake –” As Virgil spoke, Gordon’s face broke out in a wide gap-toothed grin as he sensed he had won. “I said if! If we go to the lake, you have to promise me you won’t go for a swim. I came here to draw, not play lifeguard.” “Aww! Virge, it’s summer! It’s a great day for a swim.” His smile was gone, and he now had to trot alongside his brother as Virgil began walking again, setting a brisk pace. He was going to have to fight hard to get his way. “Pleeeeease!” No reaction. “What if I promise not to go in any deeper than up to here?” He indicated his waist. Virgil’s eyebrows drew down into somewhat of a scowl, but he slowed his walking pace again. “You have to stay dry above the knees,” he said. “Yes! Okay, I can do that.” Gordon’s big, infectious grin was back, and he literally bounced with happiness and excitement at his victory. “I promise I won’t go in past my knees, and I’ll be good so you can just do your drawings.” Virgil tried to keep his expression serious, but his little brother’s glee was so irresistible he couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Pretty soon he was grinning too, and they headed down the left fork in the track towards the lake. As they descended the narrow trail, weaving between trees and larger rocks, the hard-packed dirt underfoot gradually giving way to sandy soil, Gordon’s excitement was barely containable. He ran ahead down the track, calling to Virgil to hurry, ran back to his brother urging him to walk quicker, tugging at his hand, gave up, and ran ahead again before he could even see Virgil roll his eyes. The whole process was then repeated. Twice. Soon enough the trees lining the track thinned out, allowing glimpses of dark blue water. The track curved, and suddenly they emerged from the trees onto an expanse of silty sand with the lake spread out before them, rippling and glistening in the sunlight. The dark greens of the trees on the far side of the lake separated dark blue water from pale blue sky on the horizon. Gordon ran straight to the water’s edge, while Virgil took a moment to take in the entire scene. The lake itself didn’t cover a particularly large area, but it was very deep in places. Virgil estimated that it was more than half a mile from side to side, north to south, and possibly as far as three hundred metres to the trees on the other side from where Gordon now stood. The hills to the north funnelled water down into the lake via a network of creeks and streams. The surface of the lake looked relatively calm, but it hid unpredictable undercurrents as the water worked its way to the small stream that trickled away from the natural dam at the lake’s southern tip. There were a few tiny islands dotted throughout the lake, most of them closer to the far side, some large enough to have trees growing on them, others no more than large rocks with their tops protruding from the water. A short walk along the water’s edge northward took Virgil past a small wooden pier with a little dinghy tied to it, gently rocking and bumping with the lazy motion of the water. Beyond that, the flat sand gave way to a series of rocky, sloped banks. Picking his way up over some of the lower rocks, Virgil climbed up onto a large, relatively flat boulder that afforded him a good view and room to set out all his materials. He could see the beach (as Gordon called it) and his brother discarding his shoes and socks so he could explore the shallows and the little boat attached to the pier, with the water stretching away before him. Once he had carefully unpacked his easel and sketchbook and placed his pencils beside him within easy reach, Virgil began to sketch out some rough outlines. It wasn’t long before Gordon popped his head up over the edge of Virgil’s rock platform.

“Is that all you’ve done so far?” he asked with curious disbelief. “You should use more colours.” “Gordon.” Virgil’s tone was a warning. “Okay, okay,” Gordon said, raising his hands, palms outwards. “I just wondered if it’s lunchtime yet. I’m hungry.” Virgil resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he looked at his younger brother, searching for any signs of mischief and finding none. He realised Gordon was probably right, it was time for lunch. Virgil had been too caught up in what he was doing to notice how long it had been since they’d eaten breakfast. “All right, let’s see what Mom packed for us to eat.” He dug the lunchbox and water bottles out of his backpack while Gordon climbed up onto the rock and sat cross-legged beside him. Neither boy was surprised to find their mom had provided each of them with their favourite sandwich toppings, and they ate hungrily. Gordon would have polished off all the snacks too, but Virgil prudently suggested they should save those for later. They washed the sandwiches down with a hearty helping of water, making sure to save some of that too. When their little picnic was done, Gordon started to scamper back down over the rocks. “You can go back to drawing now,” he delivered a parting shot with that cheeky grin, “I’m gonna go see if I can find any fish.” “Stay out of the water,” Virgil warned. “You just ate.” “Ugh! I’m not stupid, Virgil! And besides, I’m only going in up to my knees, remember!” “I remember. I’ve just gotta make sure you do!” Virgil watched as Gordon started to clamber down the rocks. “Stay where I can see you!” he called after him. “And be careful! The rocks can get slippery.” “I’ll be fine!” Gordon yelled back, and added under his breath, “Spoilsport.” “I heard that!” Virgil didn’t see Gordon poke his tongue out before he ran off along the sand to go and get his feet wet again. He stood in the shallow water, running his hands over the slimy reeds looking for little fish. He spent some time digging his toes into the sand to see what little creatures came darting out into the water as it clouded around his feet. Virgil’s focus was split between the landscape that was rapidly developing on the paper and keeping tabs on Gordon. Every little, excited exclamation had Virgil looking along the beach, wondering what his brother had found. But his attention was inevitably pulled back to his watercolour sketch. Coming out of the water for a while, Gordon picked his way along the sand, gathering a pocketful of stones before finding a spot to stand and skip them across the surface of the lake. He was pretty proud of the one he managed to get to skip eight times before it sank. The clicky slap of the first skipped stone had Virgil’s head turning to watch, making sure his brother was still keeping out of trouble. He wondered who had taught Gordon to skip stones and fondly remembered Scott showing him how it was done. Gordon was actually pretty good at it, and he kept at it for quite a while. After that, Gordon wandered closer to the trees looking for beetles and interesting insects. He even took one or two of them over to show Virgil. He did the same with some of the smooth pebbles he’d found, especially the ones that had pretty colours or unusual patterns. Virgil liked those ones, he could tell. And every time he returned to Virgil up on his rock, while he munched on a snack or took a drink of water, he took a peek at what his brother was drawing. There was one main drawing of the view across the lake that was more and more detailed every time Gordon saw it, but there were some other smaller sketches too. Gordon wasn’t sure if they were like little practice drawings for things that Virgil wanted to add to the main one or if they were something else. It looked like some of those extra sketches included him, some were of the treasures he’d brought to show his brother, and some he couldn’t quite decipher yet. The afternoon sun beat down on them, too high in the sky for any shadows long enough to provide decent shade. Virgil barely noticed, but Gordon felt the heat. He had climbed back down from Virgil’s perch and was now sitting on the end of the little boat dock dangling his feet in the water. He kicked his feet, splashing and watching new ripples form. The water was pleasantly cool against his legs, but his head and shoulders yearned for that same refreshing feeling. He looked out across the lake, longing to jump in and immerse himself in liquid heaven. He was regretting his promise. “Gordon,” Virgil called down to him, “stop splashing around so much. I don’t want you falling in.” In response, Gordon just sighed. A gull squawked nearby, and he watched it wing its way to a large rock protruding from the water, joining other gulls and ibises sunning themselves. It was the closest island to where he sat, and it didn’t look too far to swim to. It was so hot. It would just be a quick swim. “Hey, Virgil,” Gordon called out, twisting his body around to look up at his brother, “how far do you think it is to that big rock out there?” Virgil took a moment to stand up and stretch muscles that he hadn’t really moved in nearly two hours. He looked where Gordon pointed and couldn’t help doing a rough calculation in his head to estimate the distance, but he knew where this question was leading. “Too far,” he answered. “You’re not going to swim to it. No deeper than your knees, remember?” “But, Virge . . .” “No, Gordon! It’s dangerous. We don’t swim out that far when Mom and Dad bring us down here, I’m not letting you go out there alone.” “But I’m a good swimmer, and the water’s really flat and calm, and it’s so hot . . .” “I said no!” Virgil was almost shouting now. Why wasn’t Gordon listening to him? Couldn’t he see how bad an idea this was? “It’s gotta be at least eighty metres out to that rock, and you can’t see the currents at work under the surface or the reeds or the cold spots or how deep it is. It’s not like swimming in the pool in town.” “Eighty metres is easy! I already have my two-hundred-meter freestyle achievement certificate. I’ll be out there and back in no time.” As he spoke, Gordon started removing his T-shirt. “Gordon, don’t!” Virgil’s heart was hammering at his rib cage like it was trying to break free, and he started making his way down the rocks towards the boat dock, knowing he wasn’t going to be quick enough. “Bet I’ll do it in the fastest time ever. Time me, Virgil.” And with a flash of a wicked grin, he turned and dived into the water. Virgil ran across the sand and onto the wooden dock, heart still pounding fit to burst as Gordon swam away. All he could do was stand there and watch. As scared as he was, he couldn’t help being a little bit in awe of his little brother. Even though he was little, he was a good swimmer. From his very first swimming lesson two years ago, he had been very much at home in the water. He learned fast and seemed to have the knack of skimming the surface of the water when he swam – unlike Virgil, who always felt like he was fighting the water, trying to stop it from pulling him down. He didn’t mind admitting that Gordon was a better swimmer than he was, but the little fish had no experience with open water – or getting out of trouble on his own. It wasn’t long before Gordon was halfway to the rock island, and everything seemed to be going fine. Virgil even managed to start to relax a bit. It seemed like he was going to make it out there just fine. His pace had slowed a little, but that was to be expected. Then suddenly something wasn’t right. Gordon had slowed right down, almost to a complete stop, his legs no longer breaking the surface with his kicks. He rolled onto his back and made a couple of awkward backstrokes, then he went under. Just for a millisecond. But it was enough to have Virgil scrambling to get into the dinghy. Gordon tried to shout, but the effort seemed to cause his head to bob under again. Virgil rowed as fast as he could, his head twisted to look over his shoulder, not wanting to take his eyes off his little brother, praying each time he went under that he’d see blond hair break the surface again. Swear words repeated over and over like a mantra with every stroke of the oars. Strong, long strokes propelled the little wooden boat through the water. He fought back panic. He would get there in time. He had to get there in time. He had to save his brother. Gordon seemed to be losing the battle to stay afloat, arms flailing, panicking, bobbing and spluttering. He knew Virgil was trying to get to him, and he was desperate to keep his head above water until he got there, but kicking was difficult and painful. His left leg was not obeying. He’d never experienced a cramp like this before. Virgil finally reached the spot where Gordon had just gone under again. Leaning over the side of the boat, mindful of leaning too far and capsizing, he grabbed a flailing arm with one hand and reached the other into the water to grab a handful of blond hair. He ignored the shock of the cold mere inches below the surface and hauled his brother up far enough for him to gasp for air. He adjusted his grip and dragged Gordon into the boat, where he lay coughing and spluttering, shivering and absolutely terrified. Virgil sat, boat rocking beneath them, breathing hard and equally terrified, watching his brother, grateful for the coughing because at least he knew he was still breathing. “You okay?” Virgil panted out once the coughing had died down a little. “Cramp!” Gordon gasped out in reply, indicating his left leg. “Calf muscle? Here?” Virgil was kneeling with Gordon’s left foot resting on his thigh, fingers gently kneading into his calf. Gordon responded with a nod and a little groan of pain. Virgil spent a few minutes massaging the cramped muscle. He wasn’t sure if Gordon’s tears were from the pain in his leg or fear or relief, but he suddenly felt like he’d do anything to stop them. All he could offer were words of reassurance. Words that comforted both of them. “It’s okay, Gords. You’re okay. You’re safe now.” Virgil’s fingers worked methodically, gently, gradually relaxing the muscle, relieving Gordon’s agony, and calming both of them down in the process. Gordon was soon wriggling his leg free of Virgil’s grasp to sit up on the floor of the little rowboat. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs, still shivering. “Hold on, Gordon.” Virgil shifted himself back onto the seat and took up the oars. “Let’s get you back to shore and then we can warm you up.” Rowing back to the wooden dock seemed to take so much longer than it had to row out into the lake. Virgil wasn’t sure if this was because there were currents working against him or if he was just a great deal more tired now. Or maybe it was the lack of terrifying urgency driving his actions on the return trip. Either way, he was grateful to make it safely to the dock and get the boat secured. Gordon was adamant he could get out of the boat on his own, but Virgil’s assistance was accepted readily when he found himself unsteady on his feet. Virgil retrieved the T-shirt Gordon had so hastily tossed aside earlier and draped it over his little brother’s back. It didn’t take much convincing for Gordon to remain sitting on the dock in the same knees-huddled-to-chest position he’d adopted in the boat while Virgil raced up to his rock platform to retrieve all his gear. He also made a quick dash across the sand to find Gordon’s discarded shoes before returning. He didn’t like how quiet and still the normally boisterous boy was. The paleness of his skin and the fact he was still shivering – or perhaps trembling – worried him even more. The now damp T-shirt had been pulled on over his head but offered little in the way of warmth. “Hey, Gordon. Arms up,” Virgil instructed, holding his own hoodie ready to slip over the blond head. Gordon did as he was told without comment or complaint, seeming to Virgil a little like some sort of robotic puppet. The hoodie was way too big, but it was soft and thick and most importantly dry. With head and arms now inserted into their correct holes, Virgil knelt in front of Gordon and pulled the hoodie down over his entire tucked-up body. Not even his feet protruded from beneath the hem. He then wrapped his arms around the whole bundle of little brother and rubbed vigorously to generate some heat. “Virgil?” Glossy brown eyes peeked out from beneath the sweater’s hood. The voice was quiet and had a quality to it that felt somehow small and uncertain. “I’m sorry.” The look in his brother’s eyes, more than the words, stung Virgil somewhere deep inside. “What?” Virgil answered. “What for?” “I didn’t listen. You told me not to and I . . .” “That doesn’t matter now.” Virgil’s arms tightened ever so slightly around him, and Gordon rested his head against his big brother’s shoulder. “All I care about right now is making sure you’re okay.” For a moment, the two boys stayed locked in the embrace, Gordon letting the feeling of safety envelop him, Virgil feeling the rise and fall of Gordon’s chest with every breath. He was relieved to find his brother relaxing into an even, steady pattern of deep breaths. There was no sign of any wheezing, and the coughs and splutters seemed long gone. “Come on. Let’s get you home,” Virgil said softly, giving Gordon’s back one final rub before releasing the hug. He slipped his backpack straps over his shoulders, held his hands out for Gordon to take so he could help him onto his feet, then lifted him up into a reverse piggyback hold. Gordon’s arms looped around his neck, and his legs wrapped around his waist without hesitation or protest, and Virgil set off for home at a slow but steady pace. The gentle but constant incline of the path back to the top track gave Virgil quite a workout with the additional weight he carried, but he took it in his stride. Gordon remained so still and quiet, hooded head resting against his left shoulder, Virgil thought he might have fallen asleep. He tried not to jostle his bundle of brother too much as he picked his way up the hill. When he reached the relative flat ground where the lake path rejoined the top track, Virgil took a moment to catch his breath, and Gordon stirred. “Hey, Virgil?” he said quietly. “When we get home . . . we don’t have to tell anyone what happened, do we?” “Gordon, we have to tell Mom. You nearly drowned!” Gordon caught his brother’s gaze and for the first time saw there was fear in those deep brown eyes. It made something in his insides feel fluttery. “But I’m okay,” he pleaded. “You saved me.” “I pulled you out of the water, but . . .” Virgil wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence and sighed. “If you got any water in your lungs, that would be bad. I’m not sure exactly how it works, but sometimes it can make a person have trouble breathing hours after they’ve been rescued from drowning.” “Oh.” The initial response was almost whispered, then Gordon’s features and tone brightened. “But –” “Did you swallow any water?” Virgil cut him off. “Because the water in the lake could make you sick if you did.” Gordon’s brow creased. “No. I don’t think so. Maybe?” Virgil sighed once more, then began walking again. “I don’t want to scare you, Gords, but what happened out there was a big deal.” “I know,” Gordon whimpered, and held on to Virgil a little tighter. “But I’m not scared now. I’m safe. I was afraid. In the water, when I thought . . . when I couldn’t . . . It was scary, but now I’m not scared because you’re here and you saved me.” Virgil remained silent. “Would it be less scary for you if you stay with me until you know I’m not going to get sick or stop breathing?” Gordon whispered. The rhythm of Virgil’s footfalls faltered for a step or two. “I promise I won’t leave your sight until you’re sure I’m okay. Then we don’t have to tell Mom unless I get sick. Okay?” For a moment, Virgil couldn’t say anything. The lump in his throat was too much of an obstacle. He blinked a few times to clear his swimming vision, huffed out a ragged sigh, and hitched his brother a little higher on his hips. “Okay, Little Fish. You got a deal. I won’t tell Mom, and you and I stick together like glue for tonight.” Not long after their deal was struck Virgil’s steady paces brought them out of the trees and into the paddock, with home in sight. It seemed they had beaten Lucy home, as her car wasn’t parked in its usual spot, but John’s bike was neatly leaned on its stand next to the others, and Virgil suspected Scott was already home too.

He was relieved to finally climb the stairs and deposit Gordon gently on his feet on the front porch. Slipping off his backpack and rolling his shoulders to ease tired muscles, Virgil followed his younger brother through the front door and into the kitchen. He might have known Gordon would gravitate towards food. At least this was a good sign – if Gordon was hungry, then he probably wasn’t feeling any ill effects from swallowing lake water. “Oh, look. It finally happened,” Scott said with a smirk and an elbow to John’s ribs. “One of Virgil’s hoodies grew legs and walked away.” “Ha-ha,” Gordon replied as he grabbed the jug of juice from the fridge. “Seriously, Gordon,” John spoke up from his seat at the kitchen table, where he and Scott had been finishing their afternoon snacks, “what’s with the hoodie? It’s gotta be ninety-six degrees outside.” “He just wanted to prove me wrong,” Virgil chimed in, walking straight to the cupboard and grabbing a couple of glasses. “I told him he would disappear completely inside one of my hoodies.” He noted the suspicious looks but ignored them as he poured juice for himself and Gordon. “How was the space thing at the library?” As John began eagerly explaining in great detail the highlights of the interactive exhibition, Virgil met Scott’s expression of curiosity with his best nothing-to-see-here shrug. He knew the innocent look he tried to project wouldn’t be enough to prevent Scott from seeing straight through the change of subject. Scott’s sapphire-blue eyes had the ability to cut like diamonds, and right at that moment Virgil felt the full weight of their scrutiny. He tried to give a reassuring smile and turn his attention to John’s increasingly fast-paced account of the space exhibit. “Actually, that sounds pretty cool,” Gordon said with an air of surprise and a warm smile at the conclusion of John’s animated description. He drained the dregs of his glass of juice and turned to Virgil. “I’m gonna go upstairs and change clothes.” “I’ll be up in a minute,” Virgil replied. Gordon left the room at a trot and bounded up the stairs. Scott and John were both back to studying Virgil intently. “What?” “Why’s Gordon so attached to you all of a sudden?” Scott asked. “He’s practically asking you for permission to leave the room.” Virgil’s gaze flicked between the blue and the turquoise, and he resisted the urge to squirm. “I don’t know. I guess we just had kind of a good day.” It was the only thing Virgil could think of to say. “You two spent the whole day together and you’re not sick of the sight of each other?” It was John’s turn to question the lack of frustrated bickering that would normally have surfaced between them. Virgil just shrugged, finished his own glass of juice, and picked up his backpack. “I’m gonna go put this stuff away.” He left the room, deliberately not hurrying but desperate to escape from the interrogation he felt was coming. As soon as he reached the top of the stairs, Gordon’s bedroom door opened. He was wearing his clownfish pyjamas, and Virgil couldn’t help but grin. “Virgil?” Gordon packed so much uncertainty into just his name Virgil was a little concerned at what might be coming. “Do you think maybe . . . I mean could we, maybe . . . Do you wanna build a blanket fort with me?” “Actually, I think that’s a pretty great idea.” When Lucy arrived home, wrangling a grizzly Alan who had missed his afternoon nap, and exhausted from a rather frustrating day full of unnecessary delays at every stop, she found Scott and John in the kitchen getting dinner started. Neither had seen the other two boys in a while, so she settled Alan in the living room with his favourite cartoon and headed upstairs to investigate. She found them in Gordon’s and Alan’s room. At least, she found evidence that this was where they had been for some time. Half of the room was obscured by a complex construction created out of pillows, blankets, and assorted bed linen supported by various pieces of furniture and some rather ingeniously rigged clothesline string. “Well, look at you two in here together, thick as thieves!” Lucy said as her head emerged from between two blankets that served as the entrance. “Hi, Mom! We’re building a blanket fort!” Gordon explained excitedly. Virgil rolled his eyes. “She can see that, doofus.” “And it is quite an impressive feat of engineering.” She winked and smiled. “What did you boys get up to on your walk today? Lots of exciting adventures, no doubt.” A look passed between the two. “Nothing,” Gordon blurted out, just as Virgil spoke. “Not much.” Virgil added a shrug and a somewhat apologetic expression. “Just . . . boy stuff.” “Yeah, Mom. Boy stuff,” Gordon repeated emphatically. “We can’t tell you because you’re a girl.” Lucy’s head tilted slightly, an eyebrow raised, and the corners of her mouth and eyes began a slow upward quirk into a smile. She wondered what they were up to, but she was happy the two of them were getting along well. “Hmm. Does this boy stuff include any drawings I’m allowed to see?” If they wouldn’t tell her where they’d been, perhaps she could discern something from Virgil’s sketches. “Can I show you later? Tomorrow maybe?” Virgil squirmed a little under the inquisitive gaze of those soft, honey-coloured eyes. Usually he loved sharing his artworks with Mom. She always praised the bits she thought he’d done well and knew exactly how to suggest little improvements without making it seem like he’d made mistakes. Sometimes it felt like she saw more in his drawings than what he’d put in them. “Okay,” she said, changing tack. “Are you two coming out of there to join the rest of us for dinner?” Another look between the brothers. The plot thickening before her eyes. “Can we come back in here after dinner?” Gordon asked. “Could we, maybe, both sleep in here for tonight?” Virgil followed up quickly. Lucy studied the faces of her two brown-eyed boys. These two were not regular partners in shenanigans. There was something going on here that she was not quite sure she understood just yet, but there didn’t seem to be any harm in what they were asking. “I don’t see why not,” she answered, and was rewarded with two beaming smiles. “Go wash up and you can set the table while I help your brothers finish up in the kitchen.” Dinner for the most part was about as chaotic as usual. Alan was still irritable and played with more of his food than he ate, making a mess of himself and the table in front of him in the process. Scott and John both gave lengthy answers to their mom’s enquiries about how they had spent the day. There were all the usual arguments over who would get the last helpings of this or that as plates and dishes were rapidly emptied, their contents hungrily devoured. Virgil and Gordon managed to talk about the more innocent parts of their day, clinging to descriptions of what plants were flowering, the types of birds they saw, the spiders and beetles and butterflies, rather than any specific mention of the lake. As the scrape of knives and forks on plates finally died down, Lucy began clearing serving dishes off the table. “How about tomorrow we all have a day at the pool?” Standing behind her water-baby as she spoke, she gave his hair a ruffle. John and Scott were both quick to answer with excited affirmatives, Alan enthusiastically exclaimed “Swim!”, but she didn’t see the panicked look that flashed across Gordon’s face as he looked across the table at Virgil. “That sounds great, Mom,” was Virgil’s reply as he kept his eyes firmly on Gordon, trying to relay a sense of calm reassurance that he didn’t really feel. If anyone noticed Gordon’s lack of enthusiasm at the suggestion, no one made mention of it. Perhaps his reaction was lost in the flurry of activity as the table was cleared and Alan was escorted upstairs for his bath. Virgil did notice an odd expression cross Scott’s face as he watched Gordon begin loading dirty cutlery into the dishwasher, but he said nothing before leaving the kitchen. John and Scott had helped cook dinner, so Virgil and Gordon were left to load the dishwasher and tidy the kitchen. “Gordon?” Virgil caught his little brother’s attention with a gentle flick of a tea towel, and a sullen expression was his reply. “Don’t you want to go to the pool tomorrow?” Gordon shrugged. Virgil kept his voice low, not wanting anyone to hear the conversation. “You always get excited about going to the pool. You’ve been begging Mom to take us every day for the entire summer. People will ask questions if you suddenly don’t want to go.” The look in Gordon’s eyes was a complicated mixture of fear, sadness, and uncertainty that had Virgil once again wanting to do anything he could to take away the pain. He was about to say something more when he heard John’s voice carry through from the living room and thought better of it. The discussion wasn’t over, but it would have to wait. The rest of their kitchen duty was completed in awkward silence. Chores done, they headed upstairs, back to their blanket fort. They had barely begun to settle into the pile of pillows and cushions when a small hand, followed by a headful of slightly damp blond hair, poked through from beneath a blanket wall. Bright blue eyes sparkled as a giggle escaped through a cheeky grin. “Peek-a-boo!” Alan exclaimed and wriggled his way into the enclosure. “Alan!?” Lucy parted the fort’s entrance with her arms so the blankets draped like a stage curtain. As her eyes came to rest on her littlest, a wave of relief was reflected in her fond smile. “Say good night to your brothers and I’ll read you a story.” Liberal good-night cuddles were dished out to both big brothers before Lucy ushered Alan out so she could bundle him into bed. “You two – shower or bath, teeth brushing – go!” she instructed. By the time Virgil and Gordon had washed and brushed and were attired for bed (again in Gordon’s case), Alan was asleep, the bedroom was illuminated only by Alan’s star projecting night light, and their mom was holding her finger up to her lips. “Shh. Try not to wake your little brother,” she whispered. She gave each of them a hug and a kiss on the forehead. “Don’t stay up all night!” Virgil and Gordon were soon alone and comfortably secure in their plush fortress. Their flashlights had been propped between pillows and furniture so they provided a soft glow amid the cosy gloom. “Talk to me, Fish,” Virgil said softly. “You’ve been so quiet since dinner. Are you feeling okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine.” Gordon’s slumped posture added to Virgil’s impression that his brother looked pretty miserable. “It’s just . . .” A huge sigh escaped his tiny frame. “You’re worried about tomorrow?” Virgil finished for him. “Do you think I could tell Mom I have to do some reading for school or something?” Virgil’s eyes widened and his heart dropped into his stomach. His little brother might not be physically sick or injured, but he was not okay. “You know that’s not gonna work, Gordon. You’ve been pestering her all summer to take you to the pool. If you suddenly don’t want to go, she’s going to be super suspicious. And nobody will believe that you would ditch the pool in favour of schoolwork. Especially in summer!” “I know.” Another sigh. A long silence. “It’s just, when Mom said we’d all go to the pool tomorrow I . . . Normally I’d be really excited, but this time I kind of got scared.” “What are you scared of?” Gordon thought Virgil’s question was a pretty stupid one considering what had happened at the lake, and his scowling glare communicated as much. “I mean, what exactly scares you about going to the pool? Are you afraid you might get into trouble like you did in the lake?” Gordon’s expression turned more quizzical as he considered what Virgil was trying to say. “Because the pool is going to be very different from the lake. The water is clear. You can always see the bottom. The temperature is controlled and kept fairly warm. There’s a lifeguard on duty all the time keeping everyone safe, and we’ll all be there with you. You won’t be on your own, far from shore.” “I guess.” “Gordon, you love the water. You always have, even when you were tiny. You’re always happiest when you’re in the water – even if it’s just the bath or splashing in puddles.” “Not anymore.” “You have to get back on the horse,” Virgil said absently, almost to himself. “What? What horse? What does that have to do with the pool?” “It’s a figure of speech. Something Grandpa says. If you fall off the horse, you’ve gotta get right back on. You can’t let one bad experience make you scared forever, and the sooner you get back up on the horse after falling, the easier it is to ride again.” Gordon looked uncertain. “So, you’re saying that I have to go to the pool tomorrow and get back in the water or else I might be scared of swimming forever?” “I’m saying you have to go to the pool tomorrow because swimming makes you happy. You’re good at it, and you can’t let today stop you from doing something that makes you light up like Fourth of July fireworks and grin like the Cheshire Cat.” There was another long silence. Gordon scooted a little closer to his big brother and rested his head against Virgil’s shoulder. “Will you stay with me tomorrow? At the pool?” Virgil wriggled his arm under his brother and tugged him closer. “For as long as you need me to,” he affirmed. “We’ll start off in the shallow end. Mess around for a while, just getting wet, splashing about. Pretty soon you’ll be swimming like a fish and I won’t be able to keep up. But I promise I’ll stay close and watch out for you, okay?” “Okay.” Despite how tired he sounded, there was a brightness to Gordon’s voice that caused a wave of relief to sweep over Virgil. The day’s exploits had exhausted the two boys. Their little nest was cosy and warm, and the close contact between them helped relax them both as they quickly drifted off to sleep. But Virgil’s usually sound sleep was disturbed by unpleasant dreams. Twice he woke suddenly, heart pounding and breathing hard, certain that something terrible had happened and with an unshakable need to check on Gordon, only to find him safely asleep beside him. He lay awake after each nightmare, watching the even rise and fall of his brother’s chest, noticing every little twitch and murmur made as he slept. He had a feeling it would be a while before he could completely shake these nightmares, but it was comforting to think that Gordon had been spared the same kind of disruption through the night.

*** Morning dawned bright and warm, and despite the duvet cover preventing much sunlight penetrating the sanctuary of the fort, Gordon was awake with the dawn chorus. He tried to let his brother sleep, happy to listen to the soft snores and try not to giggle, but he quickly became impatient. Virgil woke to gentle but insistent poking to the ribs and the repeated whispering of his name. When he peeled his eyes open, he was greeted with brown eyes mere inches in front of his own and a beaming smile. “We’re going to the pool today, Virgil,” Gordon whispered with a hint of excitement. “You have to get up.” “Okay, okay,” Virgil managed to somewhat grunt as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. Then he registered the expression on his little brother’s face, the gleam in the eyes and the fact that the smile still hadn’t faltered, and a smile of his own spread from the depths of his heart and across his face. The mixture of nerves and eagerness thrumming through Gordon all morning was enough to give the rest of the family the impression he was full of barely contained excitement fitting for the day of a visit to the pool. He repeatedly asked when they would be leaving and was repeatedly told they would head out after lunch. He offered to pack everyone’s towels and Alan’s floaties into a bag ready for later, and he fidgeted and bounced his way through to lunchtime. After lunch, as promised, Lucy piled all the boys into the family car and drove them to the public pool. She paid their admission, and they all tumbled through the turnstile. As usual, Scott, who had never grown out of wanting to go everywhere at top speed, and Gordon raced away to find them a spot on the grass where bags and towels could be unceremoniously dumped before they hit the water. By the time Virgil and John joined them, T-shirts had already been discarded and comments about the fate of the last person into the water were being bandied about. When Lucy was finally able to set down her load of Alan and the bagful of necessities required for their day out, her four oldest boys were already racing towards the Olympic-sized pool. Scott first, John not far behind, and Gordon practically dragging Virgil by the hand.

Lucy kept an eye on her boys happily splashing about with each other in the shallow end of the pool while she got herself and Alan stripped down to their bathing suits and slid Alan’s floaties on over his head and arms. They had started a game of Chicken Fight by the time she slid herself into the water and lifted Alan down into her arms. John, sitting on Scott’s shoulders and Gordon atop Virgil’s, were locked in grappling combat. Scott and John had the advantage of both height and reach, and it was not long before Gordon toppled into the water. A rematch produced the same result in short order, and Gordon exacted revenge by distracting Scott with an underwater pantsing, causing him to break his hold on John, who overbalanced and slid from Scott’s shoulders into the pool. Lucy and Alan laughed along with the others as Scott protested foul play. Handstand competitions and a game of Freeze Tag followed. Lucy took Alan to the toddler pool where he could splash about more freely, instructing the older boys to behave and try not to bother other pool users too much while she was gone. Virgil was pleased to see that, just as he’d predicted, Gordon was happily swimming rings around them all as they played. He’d stuck close to Virgil at first, but after the Chicken Fights, he was swimming farther and faster in his efforts to escape being tagged and spending longer underwater with every passing minute. It seemed he had slipped right back into his home environment without any lasting dramas. As the afternoon shadows grew long, one by one Lucy’s boys returned to their spot on the grass. She and Alan had grown tired of the water first, and Alan had even had a short sleep amongst the pile of towels as they waited for the others to tire themselves out. Scott was first of the older boys to tire of swimming and return to towel off and dress in dry clothes, with John quick to follow. Lucy was a little surprised at how long Virgil lasted in the water until she spotted him sitting on the edge of the pool with just his feet and lower legs in the water watching Gordon as he shot back and forth across the free-play area, dodging strangers. She gave a shrill two-finger whistle. Virgil, recognising the signal, turned his head to look back at her, and she beckoned with her hand to indicate it was time to go. It seemed to take a while to convince Gordon to get out of the pool, but Lucy was not surprised. The car ride home was a fairly quiet one, the boys having spent a great deal of energy over the course of the afternoon. They brightened at the suggestion of ordering pizza for dinner when they got home, and there was a brief buzz of conversation when she mentioned their father would be home by the weekend. He had only been away for two weeks, but the older boys had never really grown out of getting excited by his return. This latest trip wasn’t as far away as Mars or even the moon, but the prospect of having Dad home again still triggered that same feeling of welcoming someone who had been long absent. He may not visit space for work any longer, and his absences could be measured in days instead of months or years, but it was always great to have him home again. “He already has big plans for this year’s Last Day of Summer,” Lucy mentioned with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “It’s only ten days away now!” While Scott and John speculated on what their dad might have in store for the annual family day at the lake on the last weekend before they went back to school, Virgil felt a small hand slip inside his and squeeze. He looked to his left at Gordon staring silently out the car window and gave a slight hand squeeze of his own in reply. While today had helped, it was obvious his little brother was still harbouring some fear of returning to the lake. There was no chance for Virgil to talk one-on-one with Gordon when they got home from the pool. As was fairly normal in the Tracy household, there always seemed to be someone else around or something that needed doing, and before he knew it, Gordon was already tucked in bed and reading a bedtime story with Mom. Virgil took a little longer than normal in the shower, needing the time alone with his thoughts. If Gordon acted anything less than excited about going to the lake for Last Day of Summer, it wouldn’t be long before their little secret would come to light. He had to find a way to get Gordon’s confidence back, but he was starting to wonder if he could manage on his own. With something like this, he would normally talk things out with Scott. It felt wrong to be hiding something from him and even more wrong to be hiding things from Mom. He was beginning to wonder whether he should just let the cat out of the bag and tell the truth, but he really didn’t want to let his little brother down either. Unable to face revealing how close he’d come to letting his brother drown, Virgil ended up avoiding any chance of conversation for the evening and shut himself away in his room until it was time for bed. John was in and out of the shared bedroom as he began preparing to turn in for the night, but it was not unusual for the two of them to quietly do their own thing without really exchanging words. When Lucy popped her head inside the door to check on her two quietest boys and say good night, Virgil tried his best to act like everything was normal. Her gaze fell heavily on him for a moment, and he had to fight the urge to tell her everything about the day at the lake and ask her advice. “Don’t stay up too late, boys,” she playfully warned them. “Lights out by 9:30 please, Virgil, and John, no more stargazing after lights out!” “Okay, Mom,” they both answered automatically and in chorus. “Good night.” It took a while for Virgil to fall asleep that night, mind whirling with the thought of his little brother being afraid of something that had always been a source of such joy. There had to be a way to fix it – every problem had a solution, you just had to find it, that’s what Dad would say. As tired as he was, his mind kept trying to focus on finding that solution before drifting away into a sleepy fog. Gordon didn’t know exactly what time it was, but he knew it was very late. The house was quiet. The room wasn’t dark – Alan’s night-light saw to that – but he couldn’t hear any voices, any indication of anyone moving around downstairs or in the bathrooms and bedrooms. Everyone must be asleep. He had startled awake, sitting bolt upright, breathless, heart pounding, eyes prickling with oncoming tears and really wishing he wasn’t so alone. He’d been dreaming about the lake, and now he didn’t want to go back to sleep. Slipping silently from his bed, he tiptoed across the floor, careful not to disturb Alan, and crept out into the hall. He hesitated for a moment. Normally he would head for his parents’ room, but Mom would ask what the dream was about, and he didn’t want to tell her about swimming in the lake. He didn’t want to get in trouble – or get Virgil into trouble. Gordon changed direction and headed for Virgil’s and John’s room. Being very careful to open the door without a sound and close it just as silently behind him, Gordon stood in the pitch-dark bedroom for a moment and let his eyes adjust. He couldn’t understand why his bigger brothers liked it so dark, he found it a bit creepy, but he couldn’t turn on the light and risk waking John. It wasn’t long before he could make out the shape of Virgil’s bed amongst the gloom, and he stealthily padded across the carpet to stand beside his sleeping brother. Now that he was here, he wasn’t really sure how to wake him or whether he should. He stood twisting the fingers of both hands around each other, close to tears again. “Virgil?” he whispered, barely above a breath. No response. “Virge?” This time a little louder, a little more desperate, a little more whiney and accompanied by a sniff. He tried tapping Virgil’s shoulder a few times, but his brother didn’t budge from where he lay curled on his side, facing the wall. In the end, not knowing what else to do, Gordon climbed across the bottom of the bed and squeezed his way past Virgil’s knees, wriggled himself under the covers and Virgil’s arm, and curled himself into the space between his brother and the wall. It was around three a.m. when Virgil woke to find he wasn’t alone in the bed. He didn’t know how or when Gordon had come to be there, but he could hear him softly whimpering and feel him shaking with the occasional sob. “Gordon,” he whispered softly, “are you okay?” He tugged his brother a little tighter to him, feeling him struggle to get the sobbing under control and even out his breathing. “Had a bad dream,” came the ever-so-quiet response. Virgil eased his grip and shuffled over on the bed, allowing Gordon to roll over and face him, but he kept his hand resting against his brother’s back. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and the quiet darkness seemed both comforting and ominous at the same time. Gordon heaved a deep breath in and let it out in a sigh before breaking the silence. He kept his voice low, but once he started, the words tumbled out in a torrent. “I can’t go back to the lake for Last Day of Summer, Virgil. I don’t want to go back in the water and everyone will know that’s not normal and want to know why and I don’t want them to know what I did and –” “Shh,” Virgil soothed, rubbing Gordon’s back as he spoke. “We’ll work something out together. I promise.” “You mean so we don’t have to go?” “No, I mean so you won’t be afraid anymore. We have to go. It’s tradition. And I think we both have to go back to the lake and confront our fears.” “You’re scared too? Wait, what are you scared of?” It was Virgil’s turn to let out a sigh. “Gordon, as annoying as you sometimes are, you are my little brother, and if anything happened to you – anything really bad, I mean – I’d be . . .” Another sigh. “I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you. And I guess I’m scared of what might have happened. I keep having bad dreams where I couldn’t save you.” Gordon was suddenly wrapped around him like an octopus, his skinny little arms squeezing tight around Virgil like he was never going to let go and legs twining their way between bedding and body to latch on too. Despite feeling a little bit trapped within the many-limbed embrace, Virgil felt oddly comforted by it. “You don’t have to hold so tight, little octopus. I’m not going anywhere,” Virgil whispered into blond hair. “I’m not an octopus,” came the muffled reply, buried somewhere in Virgil’s neck, “I’m a squid.” “Okay then, Squid. How about we try and get some sleep and work this out tomorrow?” Gordon’s hold on his brother relaxed enough for them both to get a little more comfortable in the bed, but it was clear he wasn’t letting go. Virgil managed to get one arm disentangled enough to trace his hand back and forth across Gordon’s back, helping to lull him to sleep. Slumber quickly claimed the older brother soon after.

*** Morning crept up on them, dawning overcast and gloomy, despite being summer warm. As a result, Gordon slept later than he normally would and was woken by John’s quiet movements as he rolled out of the bed on the other side of the room and shuffled towards the bathroom. If John noticed the interloper in Virgil’s bed, he didn’t say anything, so Gordon took the opportunity to unceremoniously climb over his brother and hightail it back to his own room. Virgil woke with a start after yet another nightmare. Sitting up and trying to reacquaint himself with reality, he realised Gordon was no longer with him, and his heart rate ratcheted up a few more notches in brief panic. Catching sight of the clock and taking a few slow, deep breaths, Virgil managed to convince himself that everything was fine, Gordon had obviously just woken up earlier and was more than likely perfectly okay. But he needed to check. He tumbled out of bed and, after a brief detour to the bathroom, stumbled his way down the corridor in search of Gordon. Finding the tiny two’s bedroom deserted, he headed downstairs and found his target in the living room. Virgil stood in the doorway watching Gordon playing with Alan for a few minutes. Seeing his goofball brother being his normal, animated self and hearing the shrieks and giggles his antics prompted from Alan were enough to reassure him that yes, Gordon was just fine. Sometime after Virgil had found himself some breakfast and begun to consider himself properly awake, John found him sitting at the piano, absently staring out the window. John didn’t recall hearing Virgil play any practice exercises, and Virgil’s brow was furrowed in deep concentration, so John concluded that he was there more for the familiarity than the urge to play music. He did this sometimes – sat there just thinking, wheels turning, gears shifting, working something out in his head – and John always found it interesting to watch the thought process play out through Virgil’s expressions. But the expression wasn’t changing. “Virgil?” John prompted with some concern. “You okay?” With a jolt, Virgil tore his eyes away from the view he wasn’t really seeing out the window and focussed them on John. “Yeah.” Virgil sighed. “I just have something I need to do, something that needs fixing, and I don’t know how to do it.” “Look it up,” John answered with a shrug. “That’s what I’d do. There’s probably a book about it somewhere or a repair manual or instructional video. If I want to know how something works or how to do something, I start with research.” With that, John walked away, leaving Virgil to ponder how to research fixing a fear of swimming in a lake. And then it hit him. Research was the answer, he just had to look up the right thing – not how to fix the fear, but all the things there were to be afraid of. The more information you know about the thing you’re afraid of, the less scary it becomes. So, all he had to do was look up everything that could cause someone to get into trouble swimming in a lake – and maybe rivers, streams, and oceans too – and learn everything about them. If he knew how to spot the dangers or how to prevent them and how to get out of trouble, then maybe Gordon wouldn’t be afraid anymore. Virgil set off at a run to go and find Gordon. At first, Gordon wasn’t sure about this idea of Virgil’s. Sitting in front of a holoscreen looking up information sounded a lot like homework. But Virgil was insistent that they at least give it a try. After all, it couldn’t hurt to know more about different waterways. “Okay, so where do we start?” Gordon asked as they settled themselves at the big desk in the corner of the living room. “Well, what scares you most when you think about going swimming in the lake?” “Getting another cramp.” Gordon’s reply was quiet, and suddenly Virgil hated himself for making his little brother revisit that moment when everything had gone wrong. He put his hand on Gordon’s shoulder and offered a reassuring squeeze. “Then let’s start there. We can find out what causes cramps when you swim and learn how to prevent them or how to manage them.” Virgil found a great deal of information on muscle cramps related to swimmers, which he quickly became quite absorbed in. He had to remind himself to stick to the sites with simple wording and steer clear of the ones that crossed too far into medical jargon territory. The boys learned the importance of warming up before swimming, being careful not to overexert the muscles, and staying hydrated. They also found that cold water could increase the chance of cramping. Virgil physically shivered at the memory of plunging his arm into deceptively cold water to grab at one of the only parts of his little brother he could still see. They researched swimming in cold water, what caused cold spots in lakes and rivers and whether you could spot them, and ways you could avoid them or deal with them. They learned about different types of currents – ones you could see, and ones you wouldn’t know about until you felt them. Submerged objects, reeds and seaweed, rocks and tree roots . . . “What are you guys doing?” Scott startled them so badly Virgil jumped and Gordon squeaked. “Researching water safety.” Virgil decided honesty was the best way to go . . . to a point. “It’s for Rescue Scouts.” “But we don’t go back to Rescue Scouts until a week after school goes back.” Scott eyed both brothers suspiciously. “We know, but there’s no harm in getting in early, and Gordon really wants his Water Safety badge.” Virgil had to resist the urge to squirm under the scrutiny of his big brother’s gaze as Scott remained silent for what seemed like a whole minute. “Well, it’s time for lunch,” Scott finally said before turning his back on them and heading for the kitchen. Gordon grinned up at Virgil, who huffed out a long exhale in relief. He didn’t think Scott completely believed the Rescue Scout story, but it seemed as though they would be able to continue their research unquestioned. In fact, no one questioned the time these two spent together in snatches of an hour or two here and there over a couple of days, continuing to search out information on the best ways to stay safe in just about any body of water. Gordon had even made a scrapbook of notes and pictures so he could keep track of all the things they’d learned. Excuses aside, when Rescue Scouts resumed after the summer break, Gordon would already be well on his way to earning his Water Safety badge in earnest. As promised, Jeff was back home by the time the boys awoke on Saturday morning, and he began dropping hints about his plans for the best Last Day of Summer yet. It was to be bigger and better than ever before because, for the first time since they began making the end-of-summer vacation a celebration, it coincided with Virgil’s birthday. The first hints encouraged the boys to check their tents and sleeping bags. It wouldn’t just be a day out with a picnic lunch this year, it would be an overnight campout. There was a promise of campfire tales and s’mores and a special surprise that required the night sky as a backdrop. There were hints about guests that prompted a whole day of guessing who might be joining them at the lake. Grandma and Grandpa were the first confirmed additions to the guest list, along with “Uncle” Lee and a mysterious extra guest from England and his daughter, who was apparently around Virgil’s and John’s age. Amidst all the building excitement about the big event at the end of the week, signs of Gordon’s nervousness about returning to the lake were easily missed by the rest of the family. Only Virgil saw the signs – the slight frown at Scott’s mention that they’d all need to remember to bring their swimmers and towels, the look of horror at John wondering if he’d see more stars if he rowed out into the lake after dark. Virgil decided he’d have to take Gordon back to the lake before the weekend. They needed to return to the scene of the crime. Gordon, having come to much the same conclusion in his own way, approached Virgil after breakfast on the Wednesday. The day was clear and bright, much like it had been on the morning of that fateful day little more than a week before. It seemed like a good day to go back and face the monster that the lake had become. “Virgil,” Gordon said quietly, despite there being no one else in the living room at the time, “can we go back to the lake today? Can you take me?” “Today seems like a good day to me,” Virgil answered with a gentle smile. “We’ll have to tell Dad we’re going out for most of the day.” Now that Jeff was back from his trip and working from the home office, Lucy was spending more time at work. The boys were expected to look after each other and only interrupt their father if it was important, but Jeff would check up on them all throughout the day. “Do we have to say where we’re going?” Gordon twined his fingertips around each other, raising his eyes to meet Virgil’s from a head trying to look down at the floor. “We’ll tell him we’re going back to the place we visited last week to finish the drawing,” Virgil suggested. “It’s not exactly a lie. We are going back to the same place.” The knock on Jeff’s office door was tentative but loud enough that he heard it over the voice of the colleague on the other end of the video call. He muted his audio to tell his visitor to wait a moment before unmuting and bringing the phone conversation to a conclusion. “Come in,” he finally called towards the closed door. He was a little surprised by the request for this particular pair to spend a day out together on their own, but he remembered Lucy mentioning something about these two having been out on the top track the week before. He gave them permission to go provided they tell Scott and John where they were going and promise to be back by five. “Take something to eat and plenty of water, Virgil,” he reminded the older boy, “and look after your brother.” “I will, Dad.” Virgil gave a solemn nod, and the two boys slipped back out of the office, closing the door behind them. Bag packed with sandwiches and water bottles, art supplies for the sake of appearances, and towels, the boys were soon striding out across the paddock towards the top track. This time there were no lingering looks at the scenery as they walked – the birds, spiders, and bugs were largely ignored. Unlike the last time they had set out together, Virgil had no desire to hurry, and he let his younger brother set the pace. He noted with a small amount of pride the purposeful strides, the determination in the set of squared shoulders, and the fire in amber eyes as Gordon focused his energy on reaching their destination so he could do what needed to be done. Gordon’s determined march stuttered to a somewhat abrupt halt when they rounded the last curve and stepped onto the silty sand of the lake’s beach. With his eyes fixed on the water, shoulders drooping, it seemed Gordon’s fire had died. Without a word, Virgil placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, the simple gesture having the desired effect – lending the younger boy enough resolve to steel himself once again, lengthen his spine, and straighten his shoulders. Virgil steered them over to a patch of sand where he could spread out a towel for them to sit on. Shoes were shed in preparation for the inevitable trip to the water’s edge, but the boys remained seated. “What do you see out there?” Virgil asked. “It’s the same. Calm. Flat. But it’s different from last time too.” Virgil waited for a moment before trying again, wanting Gordon to see past the feeling of fear. “Remember what we learned about studying the ripples?” he prompted. “Is it really flat and calm?” There was silence as Gordon’s gaze focused intently on the expanse of blue stretching before them. The embers of the fire that had previously lit his eyes seemed to ignite anew as he studied the surface, looking for telltale signs. “There are reeds just under the surface over there,” he said, pointing a little to their left, “and the ripples over here are different to that bit farther out where it looks really smooth.” Virgil could see Gordon’s confidence growing as he gestured to various parts of the lake, telling his big brother what the differences in the rippled and smooth areas were likely to mean in terms of what was going on beneath the surface. Pretty soon they were on their feet and striding into the shallows to test the waters. Gordon entered the water at a slow walk, which Virgil thought was through caution or trepidation at first, but then Gordon gently trailed fingertips through the reeds and beckoned his big brother over. “Virgil, come look,” he called, looking up at him with a grin. “There are fish that feed in the reeds.” The next half hour was spent following Gordon through the shallows exploring the aquatic life found therein. As the younger boy got more caught up in watching the fish, finding different types of reeds, discovering eels, and excitedly pondering all manner of life in the depths of the lake, they wandered deeper into the water. Virgil followed and listened, answering questions as best he could when asked, smiling fondly all the while. The Squid was in his element. “Hey Gordon,” Virgil said as he playfully splashed a well-aimed hand scoop of water into the side of his little brother’s head. “You realise you’re getting your shirt wet, right?” Gordon looked down at the water that was now up to the middle of his chest and back up at his brother with a grin. “Oops.” They briefly returned to the little beach, shed their shirts, and laid them down in the sun to dry. “You know, when we come back this weekend, we’ll mostly be swimming out here where we just were.” Virgil nodded his head back towards the little patch of lake they’d just explored. “We could go a little deeper, actually lift our feet off the bottom and swim for a while. This is the only part of the lake any of us have ever really swum in before.” Gordon’s eyes sparkled with light reflecting off the water as he pondered Virgil’s words for a moment. Mom and Dad had always suggested the boys shouldn’t swim out past where they could touch the bottom and definitely never past the end of the wooden pier. Looking at the pier and the dinghy tied securely to its mooring drew his eye to the rock island beyond, tantalisingly close, yet so terrifyingly far. Virgil watched his squid brother scanning the water, casting his gaze over the safe and familiar. He saw the moment the line was crossed and thoughts turned to the challenge just that little farther afield. Once again, he placed a hand on Gordon’s shoulder, hoping to redirect his thoughts. “Why don’t we just go back in, swim around for a while, have some fun where we know it’s safe?” “Yeah, okay,” Gordon agreed, a little half-heartedly. Virgil took his brother by the hand, and by the time they’d taken two steps, they were running towards the water. He only let go once they were in deep enough that a tug of the hand lifted Gordon’s feet off the bottom and propelled him a short distance through the water. He received a splash to the face for his efforts, but his little brother was smiling and treading water. In no time at all, Gordon was literally swimming rings around his big brother, splashing at him and darting away, taunting him, daring him to swim after him. It was hunger that drove them out of the water and back onto the dry sand sometime later. PB&J sandwiches were retrieved from the backpack and devoured. The late summer sun warmed their shoulders as they sat in content silence, listening to the lapping of the water and the cries of the birds. Virgil would have been happy to remain there soaking it all in, but Gordon soon became restless, his gaze drifting back to where water birds were drying their outstretched wings. “Virgil, I wanna swim to the rock.” The fire was back in Gordon’s eyes. Virgil studied him for a moment, seeing that same determination that had driven the march to the lake. He wasn’t asking for permission, he was making a statement. It was what he’d come here to do – the demon he needed to conquer. Virgil wasn’t feeling anywhere near as courageous as his little brother looked at that moment. “Gordon . . .” “I need to do it, Virgil.” He turned his head, those glowing embers burning straight into his big brother’s wide brown eyes. “But I need you.” “I can’t . . .” “Use the boat. I’ll swim, you row. If I get into trouble, you’ll be right there.” Virgil had to look away. The intensity in those eyes, the body language, the strength of will in his little brother were too much. But it was the faith Gordon was placing in him that was twisting his gut. He caught sight of the rock island, out there beyond the boat docked at the pier. He was suddenly very aware of his own heartbeat thumping just a little too hard and a little too fast. Gordon needed this – needed him to do this with him. He couldn’t let the Squid down. “Okay,” he agreed with a sigh. He had expected a look of triumph, a smile, a victory dance . . . something. Anything but the simple nod and determined knitting of Gordon’s brow that he received in reply. The younger boy then grabbed his water bottle and took a long draught. “Staying hydrated helps stop you getting cramps, right?” Gordon asked. Virgil nodded. “And I should do some warmup stretches before I swim out there.” “Right again.” Virgil was gladdened by the amount of thought and preparation Gordon was putting into the task ahead of him this time. “And you’ll stay close in the boat?” There it was, the uncertainty just below that confident façade. “Right beside you all the way, little brother.” Virgil tried to school his expression into one of reassurance, but he wasn’t sure he managed it. They made their way across the sand and onto the wooden planks of the pier, then stood studying the expanse of water for a moment, watching the ripples and trying to read currents. Looking for dangers. At last Virgil could put it off no longer. Gordon was warmed up and ready to go, they had assessed the risks and had plans in mind for just about any eventuality. It was time to untie the boat and take up the oars. Sitting in the gently rocking dinghy, Virgil had to take a moment to close his eyes and concentrate on a few deep breaths to quell the hammering in his ribcage before looking back up at Gordon and giving a nod. He was as ready as he’d ever be. This time when Gordon dived in, he began his swim with a measured pace rather than a burst of speed that he wouldn’t be able to maintain. Virgil didn’t have to work too hard on the oar strokes to keep up with him. Not far out there was a brief moment of panic when Gordon suddenly stopped his forward momentum and started treading water. An odd expression furrowed his brow, then he ducked his head under the water. Dropping the oars and preparing to make a grab for his brother, Virgil was sure his heart stopped beating altogether for a second before the blond head re-emerged above the surface. Seeing the panic in his big brother’s eyes, Gordon grinned and held up the weed he’d just untangled from his leg. “It’s okay, Virge, no cramps, just waterweed.” And with that, he resumed his swim with a flurry of swift kicks and smooth strokes. By the time Virgil could regather the oars – and his wits – his little brother was ten meters ahead of him. It took only a few strong pulls on the oars to catch up again, but Virgil knew his pulse rate was not going to climb down out of the stratosphere until they were both on dry land. It felt like an eternity, but in reality, it was only a few minutes before Gordon was able to lay his hands on the slippery surface of the rock. Finding a decent hold, he clambered up far enough to sit on a crag, feet still in the water, triumphant grin lighting up his features, water droplets catching the sunlight, causing his hair and skin to glisten as he caught his breath. “I knew I could do it!” he panted as Virgil drew the dinghy close beside him. “I never doubted you, Squiddo,” Virgil agreed, practically beaming with pride at his brother’s achievement. “Now, are you gonna swim back? Or do you want a lift?” Gordon’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t really thought about the return trip. Virgil chuckled. “Um, I think maybe I’ll just come back with you in the boat.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, dragging it back from where it was dripping into his eyes. “No problem, Fish. You’ve proved enough for one day.” With a bit of manoeuvring, jostling, and boat rocking, Gordon was able to climb into the dinghy and settle himself into the seat at the prow. To him, the journey back to the dock seemed to take no time at all. Virgil’s strong, steady strokes with the oars propelled them quickly and smoothly through the water as though it took no effort at all. He jumped out of the boat and onto the pier before Virgil had even finished drawing the oars into the boat, then waited for Virgil to climb out and secure the mooring. “Virgil?” It was all the warning the older boy got as he turned to face his little brother, who closed the space between them at a run and launched himself into what became a squid hug, arms and legs tightly wrapped around Virgil’s torso. It took Virgil a couple of backward steps before he could steady himself under the sudden additional weight. “Thank you. You are the best big brother.” Virgil returned the embrace, allowing a chuckle to escape as he rested his head against damp hair. “You are a pretty amazing little brother, Squid.”

*** The Last Day of Summer celebration, and Virgil’s twelfth birthday turned out to be a fantastic, fun-filled event for all involved. Nothing could hold Gordon back from spending as much time as possible in the water, and so no one knew there had ever been a problem. The nightmares had run their course too. Summer vacation came to an end, and with the start of the school term, life returned to normal. A few weeks later a chance meeting at school pickup resulted in a few puzzle pieces slotting into place for Lucy. Gordon’s class teacher spotted Lucy waiting in the Kiss & Drop zone and made a passing comment about his wonderful piece of creative writing for the obligatory “What I Did Over Summer” assignment. When they got home, with the boys all occupied with snacks or homework and various afterschool activities, Lucy dug out Gordon’s writing workbook and found the story in question titled “My Summer Vacation,” with a large A+ written in red at the top of the page. My Summer Vacation I did lots of things in summer with my big brothers and we had lots of fun but there was one scary day. I went swimming in the lake when I wasn’t supposed to and I nearly drowned but my brother was there and he saved me. After that I was scared to go swimming, but he told me it would make him sad if I didn’t swim anymore because he says swimming makes me happy. We looked up all the ways you can get into trouble swimming in lakes and rivers and oceans. We found out all the ways you can look for dangers and get out of trouble in the water and how to be safe. Now I’m not scared to go swimming anymore. Well, that explained a great deal. Lucy smiled to herself and shook her head a little. She would have words with Virgil about the kind of secrets that needed to be shared with an adult, but she was struck once again by how amazing her boys could be and just how far they would go for one another.

***

#thunderbirds are go #thunderfam #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanart #katblu42 #kidthunder's art #tag mini bang 2021

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perpetual-stories · 4 years ago

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Different Ways of Walking

hello, hello! good morning, i woke up early today... for reasons i'm not to crazy about. but i decided to do a post, for ya'll.

let me say a quick thank you before i proceed with today's post. i have 200 followers! in case some of you didn't see my post about me mentioning it. it's not a lot but, as i've said before i didn't think anyone would follow at all because this account was mostly for me.

but thank you to everyone who follows, reblog and likes my posts! it means a lot :)

now, without further ado!

walk: move on one's feet. We walked to town.

limp: walk unevenly because one leg is hurt. That man is hurt, he's limping.

hobble: walk with difficulty. The old man hobbled along the street with the aid of his stick.

stagger: walk unsteadily as if about to fall. He was so drunk that he staggered all the way home.

stumble: stagger. She stumbled upstairs and into bed.

lurch: stagger. The drunken man was lurching along the street.

tiptoe: walk on the tips of one's toes. She tiptoed to the bed so as not to wake the baby.

stroll: walk for pleasure. They strolled around the park.

amble: walk at a slow, leisurely pace. They ambled along for miles.

saunter: stroll. They sauntered around the park.

wander: move without a fixed purpose or destination. They enjoy wandering through the countryside.

roam: wander. They roamed through the streets for hours.

ramble: walk for pleasure with no particular destination. He likes rambling around in the country.

mooch: wander, walk slowly without any purpose. John mooched about the shops.

meander: walk in a slow, relaxed way instead of taking the most direct way possible. (Rivers also meander). As I was sitting in the park, I watched as couples seemed to meander around happily.

stride: walk with long steps. She strode across the fields.

strut: walk in a proud way, with the chest out and trying to look important. He strutted past us, ignoring our greeting.

swagger: walk proudly, strut. After winning the first prize, the player swaggered about proudly.

stalk: walk in a proud or angry way, with long steps. The teacher turned and stalked out of the classroom.

sashay: walk in a confident way, moving the body from side to side, especially so that people look at you. The models sashayed down the aisle showing their clothes.

trudge: walk slowly and with effort because one is tired. We were very tired after trudging through the deep snow for two hours.

shuffle: walk very slowly and noisily, without lifting one's feet off the ground. His legs were aching so much that he shuffled to bed.

stump: walk heavily and stiffly. They stumped up the hill.

plod: walk with heavy steps or with difficulty. Labourers plodded home through the muddy fields.

pace: walk with regular steps. He paced up and down the platform, waiting for the train.

march: walk with regular steps of equal length. Demonstrators marched through the streets of the city.

parade: walk or march together to celebrate or protest. Demonstrators paraded through the streets of the city.

crawl: move slowly with the body close to the ground or on hands and knees. A baby crawls before he can walk.

toddle: walk with short unsteady steps. Her two-year-old son toddled into the room.

edge: move gradually with small movements. Paul decided to edge away from the crowd.

creep: move slowly and quietly with the body close to the ground. The cat crept silently towards the bird.

sneak: go quietly and secretly in order to avoid being seen or heard. The boy sneaked in without paying.

pad: walk softly and quietly. The child padded barefoot down the stairs.

prowl: walk slowly and quietly because you are involved in a criminal activity or because you are looking for something. Street gangs usually prowl this alley.

slide: move smoothly over a surface. I was sliding on the ice.

slip: slide accidentally. She slipped on the ice and broke her leg.

dash: move quickly and suddenly, rush. I must dash or I'll miss the train.

dart: move quickly and suddenly in the specified direction. She darted away when I came in.

scamper: run quickly and playfully. The children were scampering up the steps.

sprint: run very quickly for a short distance. The kids sprinted down the stairs.

jog: run slowly and steadily, as a way of exercising. She goes jogging everyday.

trip over: catch one's foot on something and stumble or fall. He tripped over the step and fell.

scuttle: move quickly with short steps, because you are afraid or do not want to be noticed. The mouse scuttled off when we entered the room.

scurry: move quickly with short steps, because you are in a hurry. He was late so he had to scurry off to work.

skip: move forward with quick steps and jumps. The child skipped with joy towards his father.

lope: run with long steps. The man loped off after the ball.

lollop: run with long awkward steps. The dog came lolloping down the path.

tear: run or move quickly in a dangerous or careless way. When the storm started, they tore back into the house.

rush: hurry, move quickly because you need to get somewhere soon. She was late so she decided to rush off down the hall.

hop: move by jumping on one foot. The man hopped down the road after hurting his foot.

trip: walk with short quick steps, usually as young girls do. The little girl tripped happily up the road.

lunge: make a sudden movement towards somebody or something. The boxer lunged forward and grabbed his opponent by the arm.

scramble: climb up or down, or over something quickly and with difficulty. They had to scramble up to the top of the hill to see the view.

hike: take a long walk in the mountains or countryside, as an adventure. The group hiked up to the top of the hill.

trek: hike; make a long, difficult journey on foot. For ten days she trekked across the mountains of China.

paddle (UK), wade (US): walk for pleasure without shoes or socks in water that is not very deep. The children were paddling in the lake.

waddle: walk with short steps, moving the body from one side to another, used especially to talk about birds or people with fat bodies. The fat man waddled off to the restaurant for lunch.

prance: walk with high steps or large movements, in a confident way. She pranced around her room, pretending to be an actress.

frogmarch: force somebody to walk by holding his arms tightly by his side, usually because of bad behaviour. The prefect frogmarched the boy to the detention room.

there you have it folks! hope everyone has a wonderful day! and if there is one i didn't list feel free to add it when you reblog it!

if you'd like to repost on instagram feel free to do so just tag me in perpetualstories

Follow my Instagram and Tumblr for more writing and grammar tips and more!

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #original writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writersconnection #writersofig #writersofinstagram #writings

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so-i-dont-forget-again · 4 years ago

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So I Don’t Forget Again: A Breath of The Wild fanfiction

Entry 60: Goron City

The Gorons sure know their rocks. They do a lot of mining, but not for gems, they couldn’t care less about those. They mine to get specific rocks that they find delicious. I’m not sure whether this is cannibalism or not, but the Zora eat fish, and they’re aquatic creatures, so I guess this is fine.

There’s a mine right before the city which is where I first found some Gorons. They’re big round people made of stone. I actually found two workers in the mine who’s names end in ‘son’ and I convinced them to help with Terry Town.

As we traversed through the mine lava rocks suddenly came crashing down after an ear-splitting roar rang and the ground quacked. The Gorons were able to quickly calm Friend. Though there are not many animals here, their very… relaxed demeanor is calming.

The city and just about everything, even the people are made of stone. Lava flows like rivers through the city. There are even metal bridges that cross over them. Many ambers and ash flitter about. Though this place is not as elegant as Zora’s Domain, it still has it’s own rustic charm. Frankly it’s the exact opposite of Zora’s Domain, even down to the demeanor of the people.

From the city you can see the peak of Death Mountain which is still so far off in the distance, and the Divine Beast, which looks like a giant lizard, scuttle around the volcano. Though It’s much smaller than Vah Ruta, seeing it constantly move is more disturbing. I can’t imagine what it would have been like for Sidon and I if Vah Ruta constantly marched around the Domain.

When I got to the city I found an armor shop which sold clothing made of stone so I didn’t have to keep constantly drinking the elixirs, so now there’s more for Friend. With the constant eruptions Friend is a little shaken. The inn keeper was kind enough to offer to look after Friend so she doesn’t have to be outside when the eruptions occur.

Though I hadn’t been there long, I already felt at home, like in Hateno, or with Sidon.

After I immediately went searching for the leader of this place, which turned out to be an elder named Bludo. He told me this Divine beast is called Rudania. Because of it, the eruptions have become extremely dangerous, even for the Gorons. When he said that it used to protect the Gorons, it was clear he didn’t believe that. He says that if this keeps going the lava will soon overflow to the rest of Hyrule, completely destroying everything. Apparently, they have been able to use cannons to temporarily stop Rudania from moving but it never lasts long.

As he spoke to me it seemed he got hurt. Apparently, he suffers to back pain. It was only then he asked who I was. When I said I’m the Hylian champion he laughed, almost falling over then asked who I really was… Nobody knows me. It seems that their life span is similar to that of a Hylian. You’d think that being made of rock they’d live for a long time, but no, the Zora’s still live for much longer. It’s… very strange. To them I’m just a traveler and nothing more. In a way it’s almost relieving. There’s not this ghost of a past life I can’t recall stalking me. I’m just me.

When I said I was a traveler he assumed I came to pay my respects to him and already liked me.

He was just about to drive the Divine Beast away with the cannons when his back pain flared up, making traveling anywhere difficult. A Goron named Yunobo who also helps drive off the beast was sent to get Bludo’s medicine but has not returned yet. The medicine is at a place called the abandoned North Mine.

The ‘mine’ is a large body of lava with several stone island/hills like things. On the furthest one is a building. On the islands were many red Lizalfols. They unfortunately have the ability to swim in lava. The best strategy I could use was to use the lava’s updrafts to shoot them from above. I am so grateful to have the Zora’s crystal weapons. Metal ones would have burned me and wooden one would have immediately been lit aflame. Well, the arrows go on fire, but if I shoot quick enough it’s as if there’s no difference.

I had to use the Sheikah Slate’s bombs in order to activate the cannons. Using that I was able to blow up some rock formations and find new updrafts to use. The cannons are set in place, but they can be moved to face a different direction. In order to do this you need to use this lever, but it’s impossible to move on my own. I had to freeze it in time, then hit it a few times for it to finally flip. Clearly these things were only intended for a Goron to use. They’re unbelievably strong.

When I reached the building, the entrance was collapsed in on itself. I could hear a voice, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I had to use another cannon to open it due to the Sheikah bombs not being powerful enough to open it.

Inside were many supplies, but at the very back I found a Goron with his hands covering his head, huddled in a sphere shape. It may have been my eyes tricking me, but there appeared to be an orange glow surrounding him till he stood and turned around. Around his neck he wore a blue cloth with silver threading. It looks so similar to my tunic, and to the other champion’s clothing. When he first saw me he assumed I was a monster. When I got him to slow down and breath he realized I’m a Hylian.

He asked how I did it and was shocked to hear I had used the Boss’ cannons. Turns out only he is powerful enough to use them.

He’s a real kind guy, just is spooked easily. This may be a weird thought, but he really reminds me of Friend. They even have the same big, dark, liquid eyes. He’s taller than me, but not as tall as Sidon. More like a little taller than Kass.

He thanked me for helping him escape. It turns out that during one of the eruptions that were caused by the Divine Beast a lava rock hit the entrance sealing him in. He then asked why a Hylian was out here. When I told him the elder nicknamed Boss sent me he started mumbling to himself, he does that often.

As he began to leave more Lizalfols appeared. The moment he saw them, he immediately curled up into a ball shape and that orange glow had returned. He was shocked to see me fight them off without hesitation. Other things like Chuchus and Keese appeared so I ended up escorting him back to the city.

When we returned to the city Boss was elated to see us. Yunobo swiftly gave him the pain killers. He also spoke of how I helped and protected him. The Boss was impressed saying that he didn’t know that there were warriors like me among the Hylians. He gave me lots of fireproof elixirs as thanks. Now if I need to stay longer Friend can stay for a while longer too.

It will take some time for the medicine to take effect so nothing can be done about Rudania till then. I asked why Yunobo was needed if only Boss could use the cannons. He’s used as ammunition. Because he’s a Goron he’s denser than regular rock, and unlike the other Gorons he won’t get hurt because of a power he inherited from Daruk. The Goron champion.

They were surprised by my reaction of confusion. That name. For a moment I heard something echo in my mind. “Brother”. That word. I felt a tugging in my breast.

They turned me to face an entire mountain side they had carved in his likeness. The warm wind raced past me. My footing was a little unsteady, but not enough for me to fall or lose my balance. The view was unlike anything I had ever seen. I heard a cheer. He said he was finally getting the hang of controlling the beast. Even said it was fun to do so. He told me to tell the other champions that they better work as hard as they could to keep up with him. His presence was loud, yet there was also a strange serenity to it. He was also impressed with the view, just as I was. He then said that though he didn’t know much about Calamity Gannon, he’d protect the land to his death. Then said “Right, little guy?” and hit my back. I took a few steps to regain my balance causing him to laugh. Surprisingly it was quiet. Seeing him like that filled me with an at ease feeling, taking away all the anxiety that was choking me in an instant. He then congratulated me on becoming the princess’ appointed knight. He said it was a big deal but placed his massive hand on my shoulder saying there was no pressure. Then he spoke more seriously, saying that she had a strong personality, can’t see the range for the peaks as he put it. He said that if I remembered that, I’d be fine. Then the ground began to quake. Some peaks that were over us, came crashing down. He stood before me, that orange glow enveloping him. When the rocks made impact, they were crushed into pebbles. He then turned around and spoke to me as if nothing had happened, the orange glow gone.

Despite being surrounded by lava, when his image faded, I felt a chill. Like something had suddenly gone missing that should have been there. I was desperate to say something, but all I could say was what still lingered in my mind then, and even now as I write.

Brother

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ajoy3fanfics · 5 years ago

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Captive

Prologue Here

Chapter 1

Bridal processions were known to be a spectacle- extravagant, ornate affairs that took months of preparation, each detail planned, purposeful; at least, that had been Kagome’s experience. She had witnessed the marriage of several high ranking officials as a young princess, and even a few of her grandfathers new wives being welcomed into his harem, though it had been some years since he sought after a new bedmate. The greater the status, the grander the affair; yet even those who could not afford such luxuries conducted their own versions with what they could spare. She had enjoyed watching the carriage stroll through the streets, decorated in gold, surrounded by well wishers, those in the streets hoping to catch a glimpse of the beauty behind the screen.

It was different this time.

A political marriage did not usually include a love match, was not typically formed for romance or lust. No consideration is given to the looks of the soon to be husband, of his personality or manners. It was quite common for a man old enough to have sired his bride take her to bed, many husbands going bald or grey while the beauty beneath him radiated youth. It would be an unfair match, to be sure. There would be no common ground, no similar interests. If the gods blessed them, their coupling may produce a child; and if the gods truly smiled, a son and heir. Maybe then the couple would find something to talk about. The marriage would be cold and lonely, but that is the price of such a match, or so Kagome had been told. Having been schooled in more than just manners, she was aware of the duties of royal lineage, although her grandfather had often eased her fears. She would marry for love, he prophecies, she carried the aura of one lucky in love.

Instead, she carried with her responsibilities, the groom treaties, and together they would mend a politically torn hole. That was the idea, at least. Thus, bridal processions left the city more in mourning than celebration, few knowing that the counties prize rose was to be planted in foreign soil. None left their homes to watch the carriage proceed, the meager guard surrounding each side, ready to tackle the long journey ahead.

It was a bland vessel, not craved and painted with the Higurashi flowers that decorated every corner of their homes. There was purpose in doing so; the guard itself would attract attention, but beautifying the carriage would be shouting to the world of its finery inside- a risk, a call to every beggar and thief, tempting their fate with each turn of the wheels.

Her outfit, elegant silk, a light pink that reminded her of the delicate petals of the cherry blossoms clung to her bosom like a second skin, shoulders exposed and flaring at the waist. It was a finer fabric than she had worn in a long time- far too precious for daily palace life- but still, not the outfit of a bride.

The dress should be white, pristine. The train should be long and heavy, requiring several ladies to carry it so as not to let it drag on the ground. Such a dress would be impractical for the long journey ahead, and advisor Naraku had urged his attendants to find her a garment that accentuated her natural curves. Should trouble come her way, it would be an easier fate to be a common woman rather than a hostage princess. If the captors did not try and sell her for ransom, their men would take turns having their way, sating their carnal desires and hatred of royalty.

Kagome leaned her head against the velvet pillow of the carriage, trying to find a moment of peace. How long would it be until they reached the kingdom? The uncertainty was one thing, but the journey itself was long and arduous. From the back, she could hear the laughter of the men, hearty and joyful, going forward without a care. They seemed at ease on the road, and next to their brethren. The ones who marched by her side were quiet, having no one to talk to, and the general up ahead, proudly seated atop his fine horse, the only one in the troop. She had seen a few of them trying to catch glimpses of the maiden behind the screen. She couldn’t blame them; the beauty of the first princess was legendary, often commented on in the city, but rarely seen in person. It was unbefitting for someone of her station to mingle with commoners, so the princesses only had each other as company, and the few attendants close to their ages.

She turned away from the small window, trying instead to focus on the scenery as it passed by. She wished she knew what the soldiers were joking about; it was quiet lonely to sit by oneself for so long. Having had her sisters companionship the whole of her life, she was nervous to be in a strange land without her. She wondered if her sister was nervous, if she had the same hesitations. It was a foolish thought. Her sister was headstrong, brave; the sort that would never put up with this treatment.

The laughter ceased suddenly, the carriage stopped to a holt. Kagome was jostled in the process, hair falling out of its pins into a lopsided mess she was unsure how to fix. Nervously, she peaked out of the window, trying to determine the cause of such chaos. She called out to the men, eager to hear reassurance that all was well. They shouted, urging her to stay inside, not to worry, all would be handled, though their tones were not to be trusted. She could hear the panic, the confidence fleeting as their swords were met with the sound of growls. She did as she was told, gripping the handle for whatever attack may come. Kagome was fighting her own battle, wanting to leap out and assist, yet knowing full well she would be a hinderance. She was taught to attack if necessary, but only if there was no man left to defend her. Should a princess put herself in the line of danger, a soldiers natural instinct would be to protect his ruler, putting all parties in danger. Even knowing this, her conscience cried! She could help, she must defend her people! To hell with her grandfathers rules, with Narakus wise words; real people were in trouble and if she could help-

It was silent, no familiar sound, no rallying cry.

In her indecisiveness, the last of her guard had fallen, his cries overshadowed by the growing number of growls, hungry and dark, nearing her at an alarming pace. There was a voice among them, almost human to her ears, and she dainty heard him give an order before pulling the door wide open.

He looked wild, his brown fur pelts strapped across his chest in mock armor, hair knotted and twisted, leaves clinging to the strands as if he had emerged from the trees itself. Wolves surrounded him in either side- a pack larger than those she heard in tales- their eyes yellow, hungry. He grinned at her, lewd, unnerving, and reached inside to grasp at Kagome. Fearfully, she scuttled to the back, not wanting to be this mans conquest nor his clans dinner.

“Don’t be shy, missy. We were lookin’ for you.” His teeth were yellow, pointed in an inhuman way. He was a demon, and she was trapped. So hard was Her heart pounding in her ears, she did not notice the murmurs of the wolves down. It was only when one howled, chilling to the bone that caught her attention.

The beast turned, drawing away from Kagome and looking back towards his pack. He cursed at an invisible figure, soundless, skilled. Having abandoned the princess for a fight, Kagome knew that though her options were limited, she now had them. She could jump out of the carriage, fleeing for safety, taking her chances that the culprit would not hunt her down. On the other hand, she could barricade herself inside, hoping that whoever laid in wait would simply pass by.

In the end, the choice was not hers; Kagome realized in that moment how few choices she had had in the last 24 hours, how she had taken for granted the plethora of options she had before her only a day ago.

She heard the footsteps before she saw them, heavy black boots that came into view of her tiny window. They stopped, just in front, as if examining the carriage. There was nothing discerning- it was a simple cart that would fetch a small sum, but hardly worth the lives that had clearly been taken. In one swift movement, the door flung open, revealing an armored man, beautiful, frightening.

His silver hair, long and thick, was tied into a bun, red speckles of blood marring it’s fine color. Kagome fell backwards into the carriage, stumbling at the sight of such a being. He narrowed his eyes, golden, blazing against the light of the day, causing the trapped princess to shiver. He was no ordinary man; then again, she was no ordinary woman. She was a princess, and had a duty to uphold. She would not tremble as she had done with the wolf; She was raised with dignity, and if these were to be her final moments, she would go with pride. Kagome set her jaw, doing her best to stare him down. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw him smirk.

The man reached in, grasping her arm and pulling her forward. He held her, considering her as if she were a piece of merchandise. He sniffed once, as if testing the air for her scent.

“Well, you ain’t a whore.” He rasped, tone flirting with the trace of amusement. His eyes took notice of her body, resting on the swell of her chest. His lips turned up in a teasing manner. “Then again, this look isn’t too bad”

With her free hand, Kagome readied herself you slap him, but his reflexes were too fast, the hit blocked with minimal effort. Kagome realized his claws, razor sharp, were not digging into her skin, but easily could.

“Do you always hit people who save your life?” He barked.

“Only the ones with vile mouths.” She spat.

The man cocked his head, considering her. “Feisty, eh?” The man seemed genuinely amused at the situation, although princess Kagome could not figure out why for the life of her. “So, what are you?” He sized her up, eyes raking over her state of dress. “A mistress? Lady to a small lord?”

“I am none of your concern.” Kagome met his eyes, steeled, refusing to break contact. She pulled, attempting to free herself. “Let. Me. Go.”

He smiled this time, his grin toothy, revealing a sharp, dangerous fang. “No, you’re none of that.” He leaned in closer, making Kagome realize how much larger his body was than hers. He was muscled, his armor heavy, but he wore it as if weightless. “You’ve got a defiant look in your eyes. Not used to answering to anyone, are you?” She twisted, the silk fabric falling off her shoulder, revealing more than intended; in a normal situation, she would have the good grace to blush, and he the manners to let her adjust her state of dress; but that was not now, and he was not that type of man. He wrinkled his nose, the smirk still plastered, lazy. “Feh, you reek of Higurashi roses.”

Kagome pulled once more, demanding he set her free. “I can pay you.” She promised. “Return me, and I can give you ransom.” It was a bargain, one she hoped he would take.

“And why would I want that?” He smirked again, a knot growing In Kagome’s stomach. “It’s not every day princess Kikyo makes an appearance in these woods.”

She froze, eyes wide at his realization.

He didn’t know.

This man- the wolves- all of them- thought she was Kikyo.

It was not a huge leap, anyone would assume that the carriage would belong to the first princess, on her way to be wed.

Except it was the second princess on the road. The second princess who was sent out as a place holder, buying time until Kikyo was located. She escaped in the night, always one step ahead of the court, refusing to wed a foreign man and forgo her future.

It should have been an easy trip. It should have been Kikyo, not her, staring down a solider with burning amber eyes.

“Word travels fast, princess. You’re not so secret engagement has been the worst kept secret I’ve ever heard, and because of that, those bastard wolves snuck through our land, slaughtering an entire village along the way, just trying to get to you.” He rubbed his chin with his free hand, a slight trace of stubble growing in as the daylight grew dim. “Lucky for you, I hunted them down before any real damage was done.”

Any real damage? Countless men laid on the cold ground, never to rise again, yet he talked of ‘real’ damage and casualties. Kagome knew this was a time to bite her tongue, not wanting to upset him further. When she said nothing in response, he sighed, as if unamused with her display of dissatisfaction.

“Can I trust you to walk, or do I have to tie you up? Your choice, princess.”

#ajoy3 #inuyasha #inukag #kagome #inufanfic

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darlingpetao3 · 5 years ago

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Seducing the Gem (Nash Wells x Reader, Chapter 8/9)

Rating: M (Smut in Chapter 6 only)

Summary: When a mysterious package shows up at your front door, you (a famous Romance novelist) are hurtled from your virtually uneventful life and into one of danger and adventure. In a quest to save your captured friend Caitlin from impending harm, you run into a suave adventurer named Nash who helps you along the way. Or is the charming Nash simply after something in your possession…?

Tag List: @tardis-23 @thecaptainsgingersnap @the-marvelatic @itsprongs

Walking (well, maybe more so stumbling) into the hotel feels surreal. You were meant to be here days ago. Poor Caitlin… You just hope she remains unharmed.

The woman at the front desk hands you the key to your room, which you are now thanking your lucky stars you reserved for multiple days just in case. The room itself is the most basic one the hotel has to offer and you have no qualms whatsoever. It’s a thousand times better than a broken down van.

Immediately, you locate the room’s phone and dig out the number Caitlin gave you to call. This is it. You’re getting your friend back.

“Good afternoon,” greets a smug male voice on the other end.

“Is she alright?” you ask desperately. “Have you hurt her?”

“So, you finally made it.” The voice deflects your question. “Took you long enough. Did you bring the GPS?”

“Yes, I brought it, but I want to speak with Caitlin.”

“I’m afraid I can’t arrange that until I get the goods,” the stranger counters. He sounds like a man with a constant smirk. The kind you would love to smack off his face for what he’s done. “Now, look out the window. You’ll see a barge. Meet me there in two hours. And make sure you’re alone, got it?”

You hang up without so much as an “okay.” You are a ball of stress, worry, and anger. Picking up the hotel phone again, you call the front desk downstairs.

“Hi, I’m just wondering if a man named Nash Wells has checked in at all today?” you ask tentatively.

“No, I’m sorry. No one with this name has checked in.”

Damn.

“Alright, thank you.”

You hang up and speedily clack your fingers on the desk as if that will help rid you of your anxiety. Great, only two hours to let myself go completely insane. Just what I needed.

Night has already begun to fall.

You clutch your bag that holds the holographic map in it a little tighter and wander closer towards the docks. You’re so on edge that any small movement or sound throws you off. The kidnapper didn’t give you any direct address, so it was down to your basic sense of direction at this point.

“Over here,” eventually comes a voice from the shadows - the one from the phone call.

You take a few careful steps forward. “Where are you?”

“Don’t move any closer,” they order you. “Show me the GPS.”

“Let me see Caitlin,” you counter.

At long last, you lay eyes on your friend - Caitlin moves out from around the corner looking unkempt, but unharmed. What a relief!

“(Y/N)!”

“Caitlin, it’s going to be okay!” you assure her. Cautiously, you begin to pull out the piece of tech and hold it out in front of you, despite still being unable to see where the man’s voice is coming from.

“Set it down and back away.”

You do as the stranger says. After a beat, he finally reveals himself - a tall man with a buzzcut wearing a trenchcoat. An odd choice of attire for freaking Africa. The man moves towards the device, picking it up to inspect it. He presses the power button, which brings up the illuminated hologram map. He studies it.

The man gives you a sideways smile, then shoves Caitlin into you.

“Better late than never, I guess.”

You hold onto Caitlin for dear life in a long-overdue hug.

“Cait,” you cradle the back of her head, then pull away to search her eyes. “They didn’t hurt you, did they? Because I swear-”

“No, I’m okay,” she assures you, “I promise.”

“Good, then let’s get out of here.” The pair of you probably only make it ten steps away from the drop when you stop in your tracks at the sight in front of you.

Nash appears under the warm light of the streetlamp on the corner.

Your breath is positively stolen from you.

“I missed you at the hotel,” Nash says. “I missed you in general.”

He did come for you.

It’s at this moment that armed men emerge from the shadows to force Nash forward with the tip of their guns. He’d been caught… Then, as if the icing on a grotesque cake, Wade steps into view.

“I should have known you’d be at the end of this wild goose chase, Snart,” Wade says, effectively ignoring you for the time being.

“Eiling? Dammit, you let the government follow you here!” Snart pins on you. Excuse me?

“Cool it, Ice Man. They already have the gemstone,” Wade informs the criminal. Shit. You were hoping to get away without this Snart fellow finding out. A series of growls grow louder as Mick Rory struggles while bound among a pair of additional army men.

“I had it in my hands, Len,” Mick tells his partner. “So beautiful. The colour of fire… And now I feel like a cookout-!”

The pyromaniac fires up his flame-gun but is instantly disarmed. Mick roars in frustration.

Amidst the chaos, Wade turns his narrowed eyes to you. It still feels as if this is all some insane dream or scene you’ve written while drunk on your hot chocolate.

“What is it, Missy?” he asks you. “Got something to share with the class? Where is it?”

Nash squints at you - a signal.

“What, the stone?” you play dumb. “We never found anything. The spot was empty.”

“Nice try. Why don’t we see if our little friend can shake the truth out of you?” Wade and his weapon-toting entourage lead you, Caitlin, Nash, and the Fire and Ice gang into one of the warehouses running parallel with the water. There’s a loud rustling in the darkness, followed by heavy breathing. It isn’t until someone switches on the shoddy lights in the room that you spot it - a cage holding an enormous gorilla and her baby.

The mother ape shakes the metal bars and screams, only to have Wade laugh at her failure. He taunts the poor creatures, and when you show the slightest bit of discomfort, the general pushes you closer and closer to the cage.

The ape roars in your face, or maybe it’s directed at Wade’s, so vehemently that her saliva ends up on your face.

Remain. Calm.

“Let her go, okay? Enough!” Nash raises his voice. “I have it. I have the stone.”

“Tell me where!” Wade demands, still clutching you forcefully.

“It’s in a safe place.”

“Out with it, Wells!”

The gorilla bellows in her cage once again at the commotion between the humans. Wade cues a gesture to one of his men, who proceeds to hit Nash in the nether region with the butt of his rifle. There’s a clunk sound.

You don’t remember him having a literal… ahem of steel.

Nash tries to recover, but something is off. He shakes his leg and wiggles around a bit as if he’s performing some bizarre dance. But soon enough, you all witness it - the gem falls out the leg of his pants and onto the ground.

The room goes silent.

“I promise I was still extremely happy to see you, Princess,” the adventurer jokes.

You snort loudly, despite the time and place.

And then, all hell breaks loose.

Nash kicks the stone over to an open space for you to launch after it, but Wade beats you to it. With the gleaming red beauty in his hand, all other sides in this battle seem to have lost. But suddenly, the mother gorilla violently grasps the general’s arm and yanks it around, causing him to drop his precious treasure.

Gunshots are everywhere, mostly used as a scare tactic, you decipher. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the baby gorilla manages to squeeze out through the cage’s bars and picks up the stone in his hands. It doesn’t take long for him to take off outside, and you know you can’t just let him get away.

“Nash, hold them off!” you tell your partner, who at once removes a gun tucked away behind him.

“As you wish, Princess!”

You make a break for it, following the ape with Caitlin in tow (she is not leaving your side ever again). He’s a quick little fella, even as he scuttles up the back stairs of the building leading to the roof. By the time you reach the top, you’re a smidge out of breath, but find the animal on the ledge opposite you.

Step by step, you slowly make your way towards him. His tiny black eyes watch you the whole time, that is, until you make it a foot away from him. In which case, they dart behind you. You turn warily, finding that damned bastard Wade, forcing Caitlin and now yourself even closer to the ledge than you’d intended.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” he says pointing his gun at you.

“Or we can do it my way,” you counter as a bluff. Think fast.

Wade fires a shot into the air. A startled Caitlin slips on the edge in confusion.

“NO!” You let out as a horrified yell, watching her fall over the side. However, a speedy swoosh of flames flies downwards at an incredible speed. Caitlin’s screams stop, and you don’t want to look.

What was that?!

You aren’t able to question it too long, though, because Wade has you in his terrifying grasp once more.

“Let go of me,” you growl, trying to wrench your arm free. There’s a screech, and the next thing you know, the young gorilla scrambles up your captor’s leg and chomps on his hand.

“Aaarrrghh!” Wade recoils and backs off a safe distance, clutching his wound. “You little shit.” The creature laughs and climbs to sit on your shoulder in a protective action.

A bright glow illuminates from behind - and you scrunch up your eyes to get a better look at what seems to be hovering with Caitlin in its arms. It looks like… a man? A burning man?

This phenomenal being releases your friend with a familiar gentleness. Oh my God, it can’t be...

“I thought I killed you!” Wade shouts at the burning man.

“You thought wrong,” he replies.

“I won’t make the same mistake.” He raises his gun, and you can see his finger begin to press the trigger, but a bulldozer of black fur barrels in his direction from the rooftop entrance. Mama Gorilla, in all her loud ferocity, jumps on and disarms Wade. The wild animal shakes him around like a G.I. Joe action figure, and ultimately jumps across to the next building’s roof. And the next. And the next, until eventually they’re both out of sight.

Everyone remains speechless.

The one to break the silence is Nash, who now sprints up the stairs onto the roof, bolting towards you. His hands find your arm and waist.

“Are you okay?” he checks.

“I’m okay. You?”

Nash exhales. “Still here.”

You maybe only have a brief moment to collect your thoughts and relax before Caitlin shrieks, setting you to red alert again. You whip your head in her direction to find the man who was previously in flames splitting into two people.

“Ronnie!” Caitlin exclaims, throwing her arms around her fiancé’s neck. It really is him…?

“Ronnie? How are you alive?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Martin?” Nash says warily to the other bespectacled, white-haired man who has seemingly appeared out of thin air. The two hug it out happily.

“It’s all thanks to Professor Stein,” Ronnie explains. “Remember that highly classified internship I took, Cait?” Your friend nods slowly in response, also obviously stunned by this nearly impossible scene. “It was an experiment-

“-Fusion, Ignition, Research Experiment and Science of Transmutation Originating RNA and Molecular Structures,” Martin Stein clarifies for you all.

“And I was a match.”

“But why did you send me the GPS?” you ask him the question that had been eating away at you since the beginning of this whole crazed debacle.

“Because Professor Stein needed to hide it, and the government was already hot on our trail with the F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M. experiment, which wasn’t exactly given the go-ahead. But I mean, can you imagine the US military getting their hands on the means to locate highly dangerous gemstones with mystical powers?”

You file that premise away in your mind for potential novel material.

“It hasn’t been the first time the government has stolen my work from me,” Martin adds bitterly.

“But I knew it would be safe with you, (Y/N),” Ronnie continues. “We couldn’t have it falling into the wrong hands.” It’s wild to believe that one piece of mail could change your life forever.

“But Ronnie,” Caitlin speaks up, still verging on joyful tears, “I thought you were dead. They told me you were dead.”

“We had to make it seem that way, Caity. I’m so, so sorry.” The couple shares another tender embrace.

“In the meantime, however,” Martin says, turning to Nash, “as we assumed our false demise, Ronald and I nearly finished the Trans-Dimensional Navigation System.”

“You’re… you’re serious?” Nash laughs like he can’t believe his ears. Truly ecstatic. You wonder what this means.

“Yes. We just need the final elemental piece of dark matter found within the gem’s ore for the project to be fully operational. Did you find what you were looking for out here?”

“I found more,” Nash says, turning to you. You blush fiercely. The roof falls quiet.

“Alright… well, we’re all here, we’re all okay,” you confirm. “So- wait. Where’s the little guy? He had the gem last. Where’d he go?”

As if he heard you, the baby gorilla calls out from down below. Each one of you rushes to the building’s edge to peer down - the ape bounces up and down on a boat motoring away. A flash red reflects off the moonlit water. Two sets of men’s laughter fade into the night.

“Quick, go inside him and fly over there!” you tell the fiery duo.

“Oh, Princess, you had to have heard that one,” Nash bumps playfully into your side. The two men attempt their merge, but nothing happens. Ronnie and Martin glance at each other, then try again.

Nothing.

“Why isn’t this working?” Ronnie wonders aloud.

“I’m embarrassed to say I can’t think of a probable theory as to why…” Martin replies. He doesn’t strike you as a man who is often confused. The more time they take to keep attempting to merge, the further the gorilla sails away on the getaway boat.

“I can’t see the boat anymore,” you note at the solid blackness of the water.

“I’ll find him,” Nash announces. He takes you by the waist so suddenly, your hand presses to his chest to steady yourself. “I’ll find him and the stone, and I’ll come back for you.” Your breath is momentarily caught in your throat.

“How can I be sure you will?” You bite your lip, trying not to tie all your hopes to this wild man.

“Because our adventures together are far from over.”

Despite his words, Nash kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever see you again. Deep, firm, and lingering. You wish it would linger forever on your lips.

As he unholsters his grappling hook gun, he gives you one last brush of his fingers against your cheek. You want to tell him something bubbling up inside you, but before you can decide whether or not you should, Nash shoots you a wink and zip lines down to the ground to commandeer a stray boat.

You stay on that roof until after your adventurer is no longer in sight.

You stay on that roof until after the sound of the motor is gone.

You stay on that roof until you admit to yourself that you’ve fallen head over heels in love with an extraordinary, fearless, flying-by-the-seat-of-his-pants man.

This kind of love doesn’t just happen in the pages of your novels anymore.

You’re living it.

#reader insert #harrison wells x reader #harrison wells imagine #harrison wells fanfiction #nash wells x reader #nash wells imagine #harrison nash wells x reader #the flash imagine #the flash fanfiction

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pi-cat000 · 5 years ago

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MSA time travel idea (part 36)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25 Lewis POV 3, Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29, Lewis POV 4, 31, ViVi POV 4 , 33, 34, Lewis POV 5

Part 37: Here

Content Warning: (chapters got some light descriptions of blood right out of the gate. So watch out for that.)

Mystery POV:

Blood splatters, leaving a long trail which arcs in a circle around him. Mystery flings Lewis’s arm, now containing the cursed abomination, across the ground. It bounces twice, skidding to a stop several feet away. He bares his teeth, snarling, fanning out his tails so he occupies as much space as physically possible. It is a warning to anything that would dare challenge him. The forsaken creature twitches and spasms pathetically, helpless without a proper host. Only his sworn oath not to pursue holds Mystery back from ripping it into smaller chunks and burying it in the desert.

The disembodied limb flips itself upright and, at the centre of its palm, is one green eye marred with gold flecks. Lighting flashes accompanied by rolling thunder which amplifies his growls so they shake the ground as his anger grows. When he concentrates, he can feel water collecting in the clouds, the static in the air and the arid land, anticipating rain. Mystery cannot channel the full might of the storm, that is beyond him, but he can still funnel some of its latent natural energy into the space around him. The air crackles.

Rightfully, the creature inhabiting Lewis’s arm immediately about-faces and scuttles off, disappearing behind a low-growing shrub. Oh, how he longs to give chase and punish it for threatening what is his.

“My…Mystery?”

Vivi’s voice pierces his rage, slicing it apart like a knife. Mystery tears his attention away from the challenger, looking over his shoulder. Vivi's eyes are wide, face pale, breath shallow and rapid. Lewis is unconscious, blood pooling under him. The human’s aura dims as his body fails, connection to the physical world weakening.

“Help me.”

If there were ever a moment that Mystery had felt true shame, this would it. Hastily, Mystery spits the blood collecting at the back of his throat onto the concrete. It tastes like iron and broken promises, conjuring unpleasant memories. He is beside Vivi in one elongated jump, examining both Lewis and Arthur. Both are dying, Lewis faster than Arthur. In his attempt to save the human, he may have inadvertently hastened his death.

/I am here./ Mystery reassures even as he desperately sifts through several centuries worth of memories and experience for a solution. Healing others and repairing damage had never been skills under his preview. Healing was the domain of different, more benevolent, entities. Ask him to erect a protective ward or cast an illusion and he could do so in a heartbeat, but foxes weren’t healers.

Vivi is now breathing hard, glancing from where she is holding Arthur and over to Lewis, lying prone. Dying.

No. Not good enough. Perhaps a spell to slow decay and put both humans into a stasis state would work. Once upon a time, he had held enough power to speed or slow the growth of whole rice fields, matching them to weather patterns. Acres upon acres grew or failed at his command. He hasn’t been able to call on that ability since his oath to the Yukino family replaced his oath to Inari. But…he knows the theory behind that sort of time-based magic, and even without divine help, he should be able to accomplish something similar on a smaller scale. It would just require personal sacrifice.

He glances back at his seven tails. The physical manifestation of his skill and experience. One tail for each human should do it. Two hundred years’ all up. Mystery has never willingly given one up, let alone two tails at once…but it would be more than adequate payment for the ritual he wants to perform. A spell to extend their lives by slowing decay.

Why is he even hesitating?

/ I will save them./

Carefully, he reaches for the intricate web natural energy which makes up the living world, feeding in his own power. Behind him, his tails still, then sway in a very particular pattern, weaving a dome-like structure which tightens around Lewis and Arthur.

Time slows.

So focused is he on the task, that he barely hears the car pull up or see how the area around him lightens in its headlamps. It is not until Vivi speaks, voice scratchy, that he registers a second presence.

“Dad…”

Touma Yukino drops beside him, flustered yet determined. Mystery has never been gladder for the human’s presence. In this trance-like state, both Yukino’s glow a bright, fluorescent blue. They seem to be moving doubly fast now that Mystery has detached himself from the regular flow of time.

“You’re doing fine honey. Keep holding that down,” Touma says. More footsteps and louder panicked voices sound behind him.

“…heard gunshots? What’s happening?”

“I need the lights on.” Touma yells, “Quickly!”

The building’s lights flicker on and there is a low gasp and more commotion. Mystery closes his eyes and concentrates, attempting to block out the humans panicking and yelling.

“No…keep the girls inside…bring the medical kit.”

Alongside the yelling is the scent of fear, thick, almost overwhelming now Lewis’s parental figures have joined in assisting Touma.

“Lewis…calling the hospital… need an air-lift...only way…”

The sounds fade. All the chaos drops away becoming a soft silence. Mystery inhales and exhales, opening his eyes to examine the faint transparent outlines of Arthur and Lewis’s auras, no longer weakening.

“I was beginning to think I would fade to nothing before I had this chance to talk.”

The oddly familiar voice comes suddenly, causing circular wrinkles to form mid-air. Mystery’s eyes dart up, searching for the source. The sound disperses, ripping away in all directions. He cannot move far while in the middle of this sort of ritual. If he is interrupted now, the consequences would be catastrophic.

“Over here.” The air shimmers and a second Kitsune, wearing a set of eye-glasses and sporting suspiciously familiar black and red fur, appears. Judging by the human’s lack of reaction, Mystery is the only one to see it.

/This is a trick./ He growls, suspicious of the creature mirroring his appearance. /What is your business here?/

His snarled question is met with a dismissive tail wave. A single tail wave. This Kitsune only has one. “Only to give a warning, late as it may be.”

The other fox flickers, losing transparency, like it is not wholly there. The very act of speaking seems to be weakening it.

“In my timeline, between now and two years into the future, Lewis, Arthur and Vivi die. It was, in no small part, due to my inaction. With help, I sort to send Arthur’s soul along with this echo to act as a guide. I had hoped to avert the disaster. I thought my death would be payment enough for this transgression against the Natural Order. “

Mystery narrows his eyes. /Arthur’s aura./ He interrupts, /That was you. What did you do?/

“Mid-way through attempting to merge the older and younger soul I was interrupted. I am sorry.”

Before Mystery can snap another insult the other continues, “When I initiated the ritual someone or something intervened and I was trapped, helpless, watching history repeat itself. It is just as well that Arthur and Lewis’s fates are not solely reliant on my ability to act or everything would have all been for naught.” It looks somewhat reproachful now, fading so it is barely visible.

“Shiromori is coming and I fear that, in reversing time, I have put you all in greater danger. But ..." Now there is a clear note of hope in the other's voice, "at least I have managed to give this warning. Protect them and do not make the same mistakes I did.”

The echo disappears completely, leaving Mystery cold with fear.

When Mystery completes his stasis spell, he immediately shifts to his dog form. Even the small transformation leaves him wholly exhausted. He feels the fatigue in his bones, and in his head, fuzzy and distracting. Quickly, he staggers out of view, so he does not accidentally trip one of the many humans who arrive and begin to prepare Lewis and Arthur for transport. The loss of two tails, two hundred years’ worth of experience, is disorientating. It is like having his insides scooped out and replaced with empty space. His memories swim around, disjointed, as he attempts to stitch them together. He hopes he has not lost anything too important but only time would tell.

Uncomfortably woozy and lightheaded, his thoughts turn to the warning.

The other Kitsune had talked of an alternate future and oncoming danger. Fretfully, he scans the horizon. All he sees are clouds and a wall of rain coming towards him from across the desert. The taint left behind by the demonic abomination is faint. Most likely, it is attempting to put as much distance between itself and Mystery before sunrise. As it should. Mystery growls. There is one final flash of lightning and the downpour reaches him, falling in a thick sheet, drenching him in seconds. A wind picks up, turning the droplets into tiny needles.

Shiromori cannot have escaped her seal. It was guarded by the Yukino main family. Touma would have heard word of it breaking and informed him. Surely, this was a trick or a trap. No sane creature went against the Natural Order.

Mystery tries to shake the image of the faded Kitsune, painfully weak, its single tail curled over its paws. The creature had spoken like someone mourning the loss of a loved one. His kind are not meant to love. Mystery stares down at his dog paws and his vision blurs, water running into his eyes. He feels himself shiver, growing cold. This form had always been one of his weaker ones. A poor choice of disguise. He blinks the exhaustion away, staggering to his feet, having to brace all four paws.

Vivi. He should find Vivi. He owes her an apology and an explanation. Whatever otherworldly dangers may be approaching, it was useless to fret without properly examining Arthur first. He could start panicking once he had confirmed the existence of time-travel.

Slowly, he trots around to the door of the Pepper’s diner. Whereas moments prior the driveway had been alive with commotion, it is now empty. All that is left of the evening’s chaos are two puddles of blood being quickly washed away. Would Vivi still be here? She might have followed Lewis and Arthur to the hospital. He sniffs, and finding the rain too heavy, searches his connection to the Yukino family.

Vivi is, indeed, inside the diner. He scratches at the door, hoping to be let in.

Vivi answers, looking down at him with a blank expression. Then she turns and walks away. Silent. Mystery waits for a beat before following, shouldering the door closed to shut the rain behind him. The many times he has been in this building, it has always been awash with colour and activity. He could barely walk two steps without getting petted and pulled in various directions by Lewis’s younger relatives. Not that Mystery had minded, the younger ones always reminded him of when Vivi was small and would follow him around attempting to grab his tail. Concerned by the room’s unnatural stillness, he listens. Several feet away he can hear the mummer voices belonging to the Pepper patriarch and the three smaller humans.

Satisfied that the family seams safe, he continues into the next room. Vivi has moved to sit on the large family-sized couch. She is balled up in one corner, knees drawn to her chest. Before her, resting on the low coffee table, is a cup of flowery tea with steam slowly rising above it. Her clothes are clean, and her hair is damp, smelling of soap and shampoo. From his position of the floor, in spite of the rooms low lighting, Mystery can make out how the skin on her hands and face is red like she’s scrubbed them a little too hard.

/Arthur and Lewis?/ Mystery asks, because, after setting his spell in motion, he had been too tired to see its aftermath.

“A helicopter picked them up. Dad and Lew’s mom are on their way to the hospital. Apparently, I need to stay here and ‘get some rest.’” Vivi falls silent after a sarcastic imitation of what Mystery thinks is Touma. Rain pelts against the window, rattling the glass, and wind whistles around the building.

He sighs, sits, and waits. There was nothing more for him to do. Last he had seen, both Lewis and Arthur were stable enough physically. They should live with proper care.

Vivi is the one to break the elongated silence, “That demon, the body snatcher, is it…”

/Gone./

“It’s not in Lewis?”

/No. I removed and sealed it to the best of my ability. It will not be possessing anything for a long while./

“I see.”

Vivi falls silent and glares at him, eyes accusatory. Tentatively, he tries wagging his tail. He knows it is far past too late to continue the dog act, but Vivi always loved when he wagged his tail. A small part of him hopes it will make her smile.

“You lied.”

Mystery winces.

“All this time. You were lying. You were all lying. Dad, gran….did mom know?”

/She was aware, yes./

Her expression darkens, stricken. “Why? I thought dad was just a paranoid stick in the mud. Maybe, if you’d told me the truth, I could have actually been useful.”

/I believe the reasoning was that you were safer not knowing./

“Well, congratulations you failed.” Vivi stands, stomping out of the room and to the kitchen sink, dumping out her tea. She paces back and forth for a minute before turning to the door.

/Where are you going?/

“I’m not waiting here. I'm driving to Milton...I'll sit outside the emergency room all night if I have to.”

/It is raining./ He points out helplessly, following on her heels as she picks up a jacket which is coloured purple and several sizes too large.

She spins and glares again, “Does this look like the face of someone who cares?"

Mystery hesitates, pausing to watch her pack a bag and have a brief discussion with the elder Pepper. The short man escorts Vivi to the door, visibly tied and worried, giving Mystery an expression of acute unease. The faint smell of fear collects around him.

“Are you coming or what. It’s a forty-minute drive. Plenty of time for you to start explaining things.” Vivi orders, facing away, freezing at the door, silhouetted in the frame.

Mystery skirts in close. Despite her brash words of action, Vivi remains still, eyes fixed on the pavement just visible through the rain. The blood from earlier has all but washed away, soaking into the ground. The faint red streaks remaining have Vivi transfixed. Tears are dripping down her face, falling in time with the rain. Her hands tighten on the jacket. Mystery watches and aches. Many myths and stories caution against becoming too attached to humans. Mystery thinks of his failure to save Arthur, and the forced decision to pick Lewis instead. His inaction had almost killed them both, and it should not have affected him as much as it has. He can still feel the echo of rage and fear. A decade ago, he would have simply chosen the route with the greatest chance of success and thought of it no further.

Now, all he wants to do is stop Vivi’s crying.

/I am sorry./

NOTE: Mystery joins the angst party. The next part is either going to be a Lewis or Arthur POV. Since they’re interchangeable, which would people rather read first?

ALSO: I realised as I was editing. I accentually cut the foreshadowing for echo-Mystery out for some reason. It was supposed to be in part 22 but I think that it was before I decided to add several Mystery POVs to the fic so it wouldn’t have made much sense back then. Might add it back in at some point. I should really keep better plot notes.

Part 37: here

#mystery skulls animated #MSA #fanifc #fanfiction #Vivi Yukino #Lewis pepper #arthur kingsmen #Mystery the dog #angst #descriptions of violence #tw: blood #blood and injury #they're not out of the woods yet #and the moral of this fic is that lying is bad #timelines #time travel

71 notes · View notes

jiminscaramel · 6 years ago

Text

pretty in pink | shownu [mx]

[GENRE] smut, fluff

[COUNT] 4k+

[PAIRING] fem. reader x Shownu

[WARNINGS] dom. Shownu, unprotected sex, public sex/sex in a public place, cream pie, oral (f. receiving), fingering, overstimulation, spanking, daddy kink, dirty talk, mirror play?, lingerie

[AU] sugar daddy au

[A/N] as requested by anon however it is completely self indulgent, I adore this concept and had so much fun writing it!

Shownu had been the one to suggest spending some quality time together, quietly and casually mentioning it over a dinner date slotted into his crammed schedule. It had come as a pleasant surprise, the mere thought of spending alone time with him, without the pressures of work or expectancy looming overhead, sounded almost too good to be true. In fact you half expected him to cancel last minute, even as you waited to be picked up, basking in the late afternoon sun.

His car pulls up outside, a flashy sports model that looks dangerously small and sounds deafeningly loud and waits for you to hop in. You smile excitedly and peck him on the cheek, admiring his less formal, casual attire to fit the weather. Always the gentleman, he asks how you are, how your day’s been, how your work is going and you happily provide answers, chatting away over the music.

You’d only known him for a year, casually dating at first in exchange for lavish gifts, holidays and covered bills. But something was different about Shownu; he seemed almost too genuine and too doting to fit the stereotypical sugar daddy role, drawing you in no longer with his money and promise of expensive things, but with his debonair and charm.

You pull up into one of the country’s most prestigious and luxury high streets, your eyes bulging with unrestrained excitement as you ogle all the flashy signs and colourful displays. He lets you have free reign and let’s you decide on where to go, completely indulging in your every wish. He never says no and instead prefers to hang back and watch your face light up, a small smile tugging at the corners of his usually stoic lips.

In more ways than one he’s grown incredibly fond of you and has made a conscious effort to spend more time together. Not just to fulfil a quota or to meet the criteria of a prior agreed contract, but to get to know you better. He now leaves trivial tasks in the hands of his assistant and cancels unimportant meetings all in the hope of putting that time to better use with you. It’s awfully telling, the way you look at him when you think he isn’t watching, accompanied by your bold advances and displays of affection in the past few months. A little nagging voice at the back of his mind warns him that it could just be his imagination, that it’s all act in order to gain a bigger allowance but the reason in his heart tells him otherwise.

He carries half of your bags on one arm and you on the other, your warm palm absently caressing his bicep. You struggle to hold your half of the load, their awkward shapes making them hard to carry.

“You should just give them to me, I don’t mind holding them,” Shownu suggests, tucking his sunglasses into his shirt, flashing his toned chest beneath the fabric.

“No,” you refuse, teetering awkwardly into the next shop, sighing when you’re met with the relieving blast of cool air. “You’re my man, not my slave. I’m more than capable.” You blush as you realise all too late your little slip up, fanning yourself even harder when he raises his eyebrows in playful question. “I mean–”

“I know what you meant, baby,” he laughs and follows you to the store concierge where you dump all your bags behind a screen, granting you a hassle-free shopping experience.

The store is lowly lit, black glossy floors and dark walls accentuating the gaudy and brilliant items on display. It’s empty at this time of day, giving you all the space and time you need to carefully pick something out. Shownu looks highly unbothered at being surrounded by lingerie – something many other supposed men you’d been with had freaked out about – and even picks out a few he likes for you to try on.

Having chosen your favourite picks, you clutch your little selection of knickers and tot over to the dressing room, Shownu hot on your heels.

“I should get you one of those,” he smirks, pointing to a discreet shelf stacked with sex toys. “For when you’re missing me.”

You swat his hand down and stare at him incredulously, the tips of your ears flaming hot. “No!” You whisper fiercely out of embarrassment, though there is a little truth to his suggestion. Often times you’ve been desperate; lonely in the small hours of the night with nothing but lewd thoughts and your fingers, Shownu’s name tumbling past your lips as you work yourself to release, wishing you had more. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea.

The store clerk leads you to the lavish dressing rooms, directing you to the biggest and most discreet. It only has one spacious stall, all dark woods and mahogany with gold accents, decorated with potted flowers and fairy lights. A plush loveseat is positioned opposite, allowing Shownu to rest his feet while you try on your picks. She leaves and shuts the door behind her, leaving just the two you alone.

“I like the yellow one,” Shownu suggests, spreading his legs wide as he sits back on the cushions. “Try that one on first.”

You shrug and disappear behind the heavy black curtain, laying out all the sets on the rail. The yellow one is quite eye catching, you think, deep mustard accented with a white trim. Your next pick is a cute pastel pink set with suspenders and stockings to match and the last one is a deep emerald and black cami suspender.

You shuffle around while you undress, your toes peeking out from the bottom of the stall. The bra is a size too small but the overall colour is extremely flattering. You twirl around in front of the wall mirror, admiring the way the colour makes your skin glow. “Nice choice,” you call out, smiling at your reflection.

“Do I get the pleasure of seeing?”

You push past the curtain, sudden shyness making you draw into yourself. Despite your brief time as a model and your arrangement with Shownu, you’re actually quite a diffident girl. You’d lacked the definite confidence your peers and competitors had and it had taken a while for you to get comfortable with him. It was never personal, never the fault of others, but rather a result of years of self-doubt and second guessing yourself. If anything, Shownu had brought out the best in you.

He hums in clear approval and motions for you to spin around to give him a full view. “You look gorgeous, baby. I love it.”

You’re suddenly aware of how intimate the setting is and the stark contrast between your near naked body and his fully clothed frame. You lean against the frame of the stall in a provocative way, his words boosting your confidence and making your heart flutter. His eyes darken and roam the planes of your body, his jaw drawing taught. A frisson of excitement ripples along your skin, your hair standing on end in response to his lingering gaze.

“I think you should try the others,” he clears his throat and sits forward, trying to hide his evident excitement growing beneath his jeans.

You nod in agreement and disappear once again behind the curtain to try on the cami suspender. It fits much better, tightly hugging your curves and accentuating your favourite features. You tug on the stockings and fasten the suspender clips to complete the look, stepping out more confidently this time.

A low groan sounds at the back of Shownu’s throat, his chest falling heavier with his laboured breathing. His eyes are hungry, almost starved and he shifts eagerly on the chair. “This one...”

“I like this one,” you smile, running your hands over the satin fabric and along your curves, drawing his attention to where you want it most. You saunter over to him, standing in between his legs, inviting his touch.

He almost looks relieved, his mouth hanging open in awe at your beauty. “Baby,” he whispers, his hands finding your waist, hurriedly tugging you down onto his lap. You sigh as his hands trail along your thighs, catching on the frills and lace, desperate to touch your skin. “You look so fucking good. I don’t think I can wait until we get home.”

His confession has your thighs tightening in anticipation, the mere thought of getting up to no good in a place where you can get caught is enough to make your core throb. Your breath catches in your throat, a little whine escaping as he presses kisses to the column of your neck, your back arching to offer him more skin. His calloused palm tugs at your garments, eager to remove the barrier between him and your skin.

“Shownu,” you sigh half-heartedly in poor effort to make him stop. But in all honestly, the whole situation is terrifyingly new and although it’s not usually something you’d go for, your curiosity – and arousal – get the better of you.

He pulls down one strap with his teeth, nipping along your shoulder and sucking marks into your skin you know will show up tomorrow. Your heart skips a beat at the intimate and personal action; you’d slept with Shownu a few times before so that was nothing new but he’d never... marked you. Things were usually pretty vanilla, straight to the point and satisfying each other’s needs. But you can’t deny that for the past few weeks and from the very moment you walked into the changing room, things had felt different. A static, heavy electricity that seemed to spark every time your gazes held, a thick tension that shrouded and guided the two of you into complete intimacy.

“Wait,” you breathe before he can get any further south. He looks up, pained and needy but also alert, afraid of making you feel uncomfortable. “Wait. I want to– to try the last one.” The heat from your core seems to bloom and spread across your body, your cheeks aflame.

He swallows what’s left of his composure and presses a kiss to your shoulder and you scuttle away into the changing room to rush in to try the final piece on. It’s by far your favourite, from the lace embellishments all the way down to the little crystal heart hanging on the underwire between the cups. It may be a typical, cliche colour, lumped in the same category as black and red lingerie, but it’s perfect in your eyes. Original.

You’re still adjusting your garments, making sure nothing is askew when the curtain opens in the reflection of the mirror. You spin around on your heel, ready to berate Shownu for ruining the surprise but the look in his eyes is dangerous.

His lips find yours before you can blink, crashing down into a hungry, open-mouthed kiss and his hands circle your waist, pulling you flush, so that there’s barely a sliver of space separating your bodies. Everything about him is desperate, as if he’s making up for lost time or making the most of what little time he has, you’re not sure. But something in your chest unravels, a familiar feeling of relief satiating your nerves. Of all the times you’d been intimate with Shownu, this already is by far the most special.

He pulls away, giving you both time to catch your breaths. “I couldn’t wait,” he pants, marvelling your figure in the new set. He moans once again in approval, his eyes never losing focus. “God, I want you. I want you so bad.”

“Then take me.” You lunge forward, capturing his lips once again, savouring his flavour on your tongue. He tastes of tobacco and cherry drops, the sweet tang coating your lips and seeping into your mouth. Your kisses are kittenish, almost impish; undoubtedly teasing yet curiously sating.

His hands discover a mind of their own and untangle themselves from your hair to explore the rest of your body, squeezing and pinching almost painfully in all the right places. You sigh into his mouth and press your body close once more, impatiently waiting for the next inevitable scene to unfold.

He pulls away again, this time abruptly and crouches down on his knees, his palms traversing your stockinged legs. He kisses a trail from the bottom of your thigh to your hips and finally to the apex of your thighs, growing dangerously close to your heat. The butterflies in your stomach silently rage, a flurry of excited wings turning your stomach in anticipation. You look down at him with needy eyes but you’re met with a dour, challenging stare, almost questioning your ability to handle him.

He grips your thigh and lifts your leg up, resting your foot on the cushioned seat, exposing your heat to him. You cover your face, ashamed of how deprived you are, almost embarrassed as you bare yourself to him. He mutters dirty nothings and compliments into your skin, his fingers drawing deliberate circles on your clothed clit. Your body jerks in response, limbs tightening and tensing out of your control.

“Shownu,” you whine, his name getting caught in your throat as another mewl tumbles past your lips.

He hushes you gently, in a way that almost feels as if he’s chiding you for being so impatient, before finally hooking his finger in your panties and pushing them to one side. The stuffy air of the changing stall hits your core, making you feel even more exposed and sends a shiver running down your spine.

“I need you to be quiet for me, kitten. You can’t let anyone out there know what a dirty little girl you’re being. Can you do that for me? Can you keep quiet for daddy?”

You nod silently, your lip held tightly between your teeth in a bid to stay silent. Though you don’t realise how much of a challenge it is until his tongue dives into your folds, making quick work of your clit. You gasp, a sharp intake of breath at the feeling as he eats you out like a man starved. Heat pools in your stomach and your legs begin to shake, and sensing you’re close, he slows down, slipping a finger into your entrance.

A moan escapes the confines of your tightly sealed mouth, loud enough to be heard, but it only eggs him on further, a second finger slipping in, his hand pumping in time to his laps. He moans against you, the vibrations sending magical sensations straight to your bundle of nerves, and your head falls back against the wall, your chest heaving with laboured breaths.

When he pulls away his mouth is glistening with your arousal, his pouty pink lips swollen and abused from the kissing before. “You taste so good, baby.” He whispers wantonly, his fingers maintaining their relentless pace. “So sweet, I can’t get enough.”

He swirls his tongue faster than before, fingers pumping furiously to bring you closer to the edge.

“Oh, fuck,” you curse, one hand tangled in his hair, fisting his locks awfully tight. Your other hand is tightly fisted in your mouth, teeth sinking into your supple flesh to stop any further sounds from escaping. The lewd squelching of his ministrations only serve to turn you on further, and with a final brush of your g-spot, you unravel all over his lips, a long drawn out whine filling the room.

You don’t know how it’s possible for you to get any wetter but it seems you do, a mixture of his spit and your slick dampening your inner thighs as he continues to work you past release. You squirm at the overstimulation, crying out with your hands pressing his head closer.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” he gets to his feet and presses a few sloppy kisses to your lips, your mouth opening to taste yourself on him. “But I want to see your pretty face when I make you cum. Take those off.”

He nods towards your soaked knickers and you don’t hesitate to step out of them; the less between you and him, the better.

He fumbles around with his zipper, fingers moving with practiced dexterity and his cock finally springs free, dribbles of precum leaking from the tip. You suck in a breath as he hoists both your legs around his waist, pinning your back to the wall and holding you by the thighs. You arms snake around his neck, tightening as you feel the head poke your entrance. Your thighs clench around him, prompting him to hurry.

“Please,” you plead, rutting your hips into his, trying to find his length.

“Please what? Use your words, kitten. Tell me what you want.” His hands grip your ass tightly, keeping you perched above the tip of his cock, his eyes locked onto yours, demanding you answer and voice your dirty desires out loud.

“I want you to fuck me, daddy, please,” and it’s almost pathetic, how desperate you sound, but you’re way beyond caring. Your head spins with ridiculous levels of lust and unfulfilled promises and you’re desperate to satiate every last one of them.

Without warning he lowers you onto his cock, his length sliding in and bottoms out inside you. Your mouth falls agape, a gasp rattling your rib cage. Shownu buries his head in your neck, suckling red splotches all over your skin, his teeth sinking in to bruise.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out as his hips start to thrust at a steady pace, your position against the wall allowing him direct access to your g-spot. “Oh my god,” your fingers find purchase in his locks in a desperate attempt to stay grounded, but Shownu has other ideas.

His breath is searing against your neck, muttering how pretty you look in pink, flustered and needy for his cock. Blessed with sizeable girth and length, he fills you up to the brim, each thrust more delicious than the last. His eyes are fixated on the sight below, staring in awe at the way he disappears inside you, the way you coat his length with your juices. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good. So tight, I can feel you squeezing around me.”

His hands knead at your supple flesh, squeezing tight before one hand flies up to knead at your breast through the lacy bra. His thumb flicks over your clothed nipple, eliciting a hushed gasp which he captures in his mouth. Your other hand grasps at the curtain, holding on for dear life as he pistons his hips relentlessly.

“Look at you, dirty little slut. So hungry for daddy’s cock,” he pants in your ear and grabs your jaw in his hand, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror.

To say you’re a mess would be an ultimate understatement but something about your dishevelled state only adds to the feeling in your gut. Shownu hoists you up even further, bouncing you on his length, so much so his grip on your thighs causes one of the stockings to rip. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember the lingerie hasn’t even been bought yet and you feel ashamed of yourself for behaving in such a way, making a mess of such perfect garments.

He growls, low and sinister in his chest as his hips stutter. Your hands slide under his shirt, nails digging into his skin and silently begging him not to stop. Slowing inside you, he senses your discomfort, your thighs aching and burning with the position he’s holding you in. He lowers you to the floor and bends you over the seat in front of the mirror so that, not only can your see your own reflection, but his too.

You flinch as his hand comes down on your bare ass, the sound ringing through the stall, your eyes squeezing shut and anticipating the next strike. He spanks you again, groaning as he watches your skin bloom a pretty shade of rose. You clench around him in response, your skin stinging, his lips lifting into a wicked simper. “You like that?” His voice is low and deep, slow and sensual, evoking the deepest feelings of salacity within you.

You nod, too lost in the countless sensations to give a comprehensible answer. Though it doesn’t seem Shownu is too fond of your silence, his hand coming down against your ass again but with more conviction.

“Yes? Yes, what?” His hips move at a torturously slow pace, your own hips pushing back to try and meet his and fill you up.

“Yes daddy,” you choke back a sob, forgetting that anyone could walk in at any moment.

He struggles to hold back as he feels himself close to release but is determined to satisfy you first. He laces his hand in your hair and pulls your head back, your back arching perfectly, dipping and dimpling in all the right places. You have a clear view of the both of you, sweaty and slick with each other’s love, panting and heaving.

“Please,” you sob, your legs shaking as the familiar knot in your stomach tightens with tension. “Please let me cum. Please.”

“You’ve been so good for me, baby,” he sighs into your ear, his thrusts becoming sloppier. “You’ve taken daddy’s cock so well.”

His other hand snakes around to your bud, rubbing circles with his nimble fingers and your cries start to crescendo, getting higher and louder with each stroke.

He bites his lip, stifling his groans as he leans forward and looks you in the eyes through the reflection in the mirror. “Cum for me, baby.”

And his eyes never leave your face as your legs start to give way, your orgasm powerfully ripping through your body and making your walls flutter around his pulsing cock. Your eyes squeeze shut but not before you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; Shownu a sweaty mess, panting down your neck, benhind you.

“That’s my baby,” he praises while continuing to fuck you through your orgasm, your heat throbbing from the overstimulation but edging you a little closer to the promise of another. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, squeezing around me like that.”

And with a last, definite thrust and sinful, guttural groans he spills inside you, painting your walls with his seed. You watch as his face contorts into one of pain and mass effort, the relief of his release evident in the way his muscles relax.

“Shit,” he huffs under his breath, peppering the nape of your neck with kisses, reluctant to pull away. Still inside you he reaches over to grab your discarded underwear. “One more thing,” he whispers pulling away, fixing the panties and pulling them up. “Keep this on.”

“Shownu!” You exclaim, eyes widening in shock as his cum seeps from your entrance, soiling the cotton lining of the lace knickers. Your cheeks flush again, this time out of embarrassment. “I– I haven’t even chosen which one I want. And we haven’t even bought them yet–”

“I’m buying all three.” He states matter-of-factly, tucking himself back in and smirking at your stunned silence. He watches you carefully as you get dressed, removing the ruined stockings to replace them with another pair. “I want you to stay the night.” He blurts out avoiding your gaze, snapping the tag off to hand over to the clerk.

You bite back a smile and flutter your eyelids up at him, peering abashedly from beneath your eyelashes, a flurry of foreign feelings keeping your heart afloat. “I’d like that,” you mumble into your chest.

He quickly kisses your forehead, his thumb tracing over your lips before checking you both over to ensure you look as presentable as possible. You head over to the counter, absolutely mortified at the thought of having to interact with another living person, squirming in discomfort at the feeling between your legs, but it seems like the woman at the register is none the wiser. You place the sets on the counter, along with the empty hanger and Shownu slides the tag across, tapping it intently with his finger.

“Can I get another two of these, please?” He clears his throat and adjusts his collar once more, stealing a glance at you from the corner of his eye. “She looks pretty in pink.”

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thesnadger · 5 years ago

Text

Quiet Hours

(It was inevitable I’d write something for The Magnus Archives. A small conversation set during the weeks Jon and Martin were in Scotland before everything went sideways.)

Ao3

When Martin woke up, Jon was already gone.

As soon as he saw the empty room around him, Martin knew he wouldn’t find Jon anywhere in the safehouse. He looked anyway, checking what rooms there were and walking a slow circle around the outside. He moved slowly, taking his time not out of any sense of thoroughness but to delay the inevitable moment when expectation became certainty, when what he’d sensed the moment he woke up was confirmed.

Jon had left. And he’d taken any trace that he’d ever been there. The bag he’d been living out of, the scattered papers on the kitchen table. Even the empty cigarette package that he’d left crumpled on the floor next to the wastebasket, all were gone. He hadn’t stepped out temporarily, he’d taken his things with him and he wouldn’t be returning.

Martin found he didn’t feel any need to speculate on why Jon would have left so suddenly, without a word or even a note. There was a logic to it all. Jon had a history of going off on his own, following some plan of his to its natural, likely dangerous conclusion. And Martin had known in the back of his head that those plans probably wouldn’t involve him for long. Eventually, Jon would leave him behind.

He had only hurt himself by entertaining any other possibilities. He had no one to blame for the dull ache in his chest but Martin Blackwood.

A quiet unease crept through him, as if there was someone standing behind him. He didn’t want to look, not because he feared there would be someone there, but because he knew that there was nothing and no one, and that was so much worse. It made him uncomfortable in the safehouse, and he went outside.

The sky was dim and overcast and a mist dampened his skin as he walked out. The air had a numbing chill to it, but he didn’t shiver. He was focused on the view. In some ways it was the same as always, green hills dotted with rocks stretching out in all directions. But today there were no animals outside, and a dense fog had gathered on the horizon, obscuring the village from his view. Somehow, Martin knew that even if he walked to the end of the road and pushed through that fog there would be nothing on the other side. Just more empty green. More mist and overcast skies.

It was better this way. Or, no. Not better. Definitely not better. But this was the way it was meant to be. Martin closed his eyes and let the mist gather around him, until he couldn’t feel anything at all.

Then he woke with a start, disoriented, eyes darting around the room. It was night and he was indoors. A sliver of a moon shone through the window. The sky was free of mist. A dream. It had been a dream. Just a nightmare.

Martin kicked free from the tangle of blankets and dragged himself off the futon. He didn’t want to fall back asleep where the dream might still be waiting, ready to take him back to the mist and the quiet and the numbing cold. He’d stretch his legs a little, maybe get a glass of water. Anything that might clear his head.

He was surprised to find Jon in the kitchen. He was slouched in one of the chairs, staring out the window and fiddling with a pen. It was only when he saw Jon there that Martin realized he should have been surprised to not see him in the room where they’d been sleeping.

A floorboard creaked and Jon started, turning in Martin’s direction with an intense stare that softened as he realized who it was.

“Just me.” Martin said, raising a hand for a wave and trying to smile. He was still re-orienting himself to the waking world.

“Ah. Yes. I see that.” Jon nodded. “Sorry. Startled, that’s all.”

“Have you not been to bed?” Martin asked.

“Not yet, no. I’m, er, getting some work done.” He gestured vaguely to the table in front of him. “Trying to see if I can work out what we should be worrying about, I suppose. Where the next danger is coming from."

Martin glanced down. There was a pile of old statements that looked untouched--Jon always lost interest after recording, thought for whatever reason he refused to throw them away. Next to them was a yellow legal pad that had barely been marked. A small list of names, question marks and one or two scribbled words were in one corner. That was it, aside from a spot in the margin where something had been scratched out and scribbled over so thoroughly that it was nothing but a dense black square. Martin couldn’t guess what was underneath it. Jon saw him staring and flipped the page over.

“You look like hell, you know.” Martin said. “You shouldn’t burn the candle at both ends. It’ll catch up to you if it hasn’t already.”

“It probably has.” Jon sighed. “What about you? What are you doing awake at this hour?”

“Oh. You know. . . .” Martin shifted, standing in the doorway. “Nightmares . . . trauma. The usual.”

“. . . Ah.” Jon replied. “Right. Of course.”

He looked uncomfortable at that, and Martin shrugged dismissively, hoping to clear the air. “Well, we’ve all been through a lot.”

“Still. That doesn’t make your troubles any less important.” Jon said. His voice was soft and serious, and something about it put a twinge in Martin’s chest.

“. . . It’s only a dream.” Martin said. “Can only do so much about it. Just thought I’d clear my head before trying to sleep again.”

“I see.” Jon gestured towards the chair across from his.

Martin sat down, then gestured at the notepad. “So. . . what exactly are you working on? Any leads?”

“Oh. . . no, not really.” Jon shook his head. “Just trying to, sort of. . . .” He trailed off, looking at the blank page. “Nothing. Honestly, nothing at all.”

“. . .Oh.” Martin smiled a little. “Well. It isn’t as if you’ve got to worry about being fired.”

Jon smirked at that. “Suppose not.”

“Don’t imagine there’s much to do but wait.”

“Yes.” Jon sighed. “Just keeping myself busy, really. Well, trying to. I, ah . . . .” he glanced off to the side, lowering his voice to a mutter. “I know what my dreams will be like.”

So that was it. Martin knew what he meant, of course. He’d heard the tape Jonah recorded while Jon was dead to the world.

“I don’t know.” Jon continued, “maybe. . .maybe if I don’t sleep I can . . . give everyone a night off?”

“Is that how it works?” Martin asked.

“I’ve no idea.” Jon sighed. “It might?”

Martin considered this. “Well. Even if it does, never sleeping again isn’t really a solution.”

“I know, I know,” he reached up and rubbed his eyes. “I suppose I still need sleep as much as anyone else does.”

“Bet that drives you crazy.”

"At least we’ll both be alert if there’s a midnight attack from some paranormal creature. One that’s fond of the Scottish countryside.”

“Sure. Evil bagpipes, probably.” Martin said. Then he saw the expression on Jon’s face. “No. No. You’re kidding me.”

“Statement #9931907.” Jon nodded. “A manifestation of the Slaughter in Lancraig.”

“ Bagpipes though?”

“The sound of them, anyway. Not some sort of. . . homicidal wind instrument scuttling along on pipe legs, if that’s what you’re imagining.”

“That was exactly what I was imagining, yes.”

“Mmm. The man who witnessed it mentioned how much sheep sound like people pretending to be sheep. I can’t help thinking about that every time I hear one out here.”

“What?” Martin laughed, “that’s ridiculous. Sheep sound like sheep.”

“I suppose I haven’t had enough exposure to tell yet.”

“Well, neither have I. Still.” He shook his head. “Suppose we’ll have plenty chances to hear them out here. Might be holed up for a while, until some other monster or something forces us out.”

“To be honest, Martin, I think it’ll be a relief when something does.” Jon said. “At least we won’t be waiting anymore.”

Something about Jon’s tone made images from Martin’s dream come creeping back into him, and he frowned. The feeling of the vacant safehouse still lingered. The emptiness in it that had been. . . deeper than a room that simply had no one in it. It was a palpable absence, like the silence after a question or a vacant hospice bed. He found himself focusing on it in a way that he didn’t want to.

Jon must have noticed something, because he cleared his throat. “Not that the waiting’s been all that bad,” he added. “It’s quiet at least. And both of us were in need of a holiday.”

“Are you--” Martin hesitated. “I still think you should get some sleep. For the record. But if you’re not going to, would you mind if I stayed up with you? I. . . .” He paused a moment, then decided to be blunt. “I really, really don’t want to be alone right now.”

”. . .Of course.” Jon hesitated, but when he spoke his voice was gentle and sounded sincere. “That’s. . . completely understandable. Given everything. I, ah, I wouldn’t mind the company either.”

Martin let out his breath, surprised at the relief he suddenly felt. Some tension he’d been holding since waking up eased, and he sagged forwards in the chair. “Right. I mean, thanks.”

Jon nodded and stretched, checking his watch. “Sunrise is at 6:27 am today. Just a few hours from now. The world should feel a bit safer in the daylight.”

“Yeah. That’ll be nice.” Martin didn’t ask Jon if he’d looked the time up or just Known it. It didn’t seem worth pressing.

By the time sunrise actually came, they’d fallen asleep in their chairs. Slumped forward on the kitchen table, unconsciously pressing against each other for warmth.

(Note: @squeeneyart made this beautiful image based on this idea as I yelled about it in Discord to them.)

#tma spoilers #the magnus archives spoilers #tma fanfic #tma #the magnus archives #fanfic #who's driving this cursed bog

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mrneighbourlove · 5 years ago

Text

Majora’s Puppet: A MM Fiction

The Skull Kid looked at the adult with purple hair walking with something wrapped under his armpit and clutched underneath by his left hand. Upon closer inspection, he saw it was that icky love bird, Kagami. No... Kalhi. Kefka?

‘Kafei’

That was it. Ever since acquiring his new mask, Skull Kid felt his head was more clear, and that his inner thoughts were louder at times. Looking to Tatl and Tael, Skull Kid pointed to Kafei from the rooftop. “Hey, what do you think he has there?”

Tatl and Tael buzzed around Skull Kid, glowing yellow and white, and purple and red respectively in the dark. The older sister and younger brother fairies had been friends with the impish child for a while now. They pulled the odd prank with Skull Kid, but robbery was new territory for them. Tael didn’t dare speak up his own thoughts as he was too shy, and Tatl was unsure how to feel about it, so when Skull Kid told them it was no big deal taking the mask he wore now, they were put at ease. Tatl wanted to be cool around Skull Kid, and give her brother piece of mind. “Hey Skull Kid, why don’t we go see what he has!”

“Huh, that sounds like a fun idea.”

Hopping onto a log next to Kafei, Skull Kid scared the crap out of him, causing a jolt from the man. “Spirits sakes! You scared the piss out of me!”

“Hehehe, that would have been funny.” Skull Kid watched Kafei look at him with worry. Was a nice change of pace from those who viewed him with indifference or disgust before. “Hey. How’d you like to play a game after showing me what you have wrapped up there.”

Kafei held his item protectively. “It’s just my wedding mask. I child like you doesn’t need to know anymore about it.”

“That sounds boring. So how about we go have fun?”

“No. I don’t have time to waste playing games with a child in a mask. Buzz off.”

Skull Kid frowned behind his mask. This man was awfully rude to look down on him.

‘Make an example out of him’

Skull Kid thought that was a great idea to come to mind. “I suppose a child doesn’t need to get involved with the business of marriage.”

With a laugh, Skull Kid shook his head back and worth, and waves of magic enveloped Kafei. The man felt sick, nausea overwhelming him. Falling to the ground, he closed his head, a massive migraine hitting him. Opening them, he spoke out to yell at the Skull Kid. “Hey, what did-“

Kafei paused mid sentence, terror filling him. What was wrong with his voice? And why did Skull Kid get taller? Reaching down to grab his wedding mask, he got a look at his hand. The skin was so smooth. God no. He was child.

Skull Kid leaned back, snickering at Kafei’s new appearance. “Hehehe, now you won’t have time to worry about such things as weddings now that you are a child again!”

It felt good to do that. With one last laugh Skull Kid jumped away from view. He looked to Tatl and Tael for confirmation on that being funny. “Did you see the look on his face? Priceless.”

Tatl and Tael had no idea that Skull Kid could do that. “Yeah. You can turn him back anytime right?”

“Of course I can Tatl. But why not let him think about his arrogance for a while?”

Tael felt unsure about it. “I don’t know Skull Kid, he looked pretty upset...”

Skull Kid looked to Tael slowly. ‘Shouldn’t he find it funny if he’s my friend’ Reaching up, Skull Kid gave Tael a flick. He wasn’t sure why, he just felt it was the right thing to do. “You got to lighten up. The guy was a real jerk, trust me Tael, it’s ok to laugh.”

Tatl thought about saying something, but Tael seemed ok with it when he let out a laugh. “Yeah... ok... I guess it’s alright to do.”

Skull Kid patted his fairy friend. “See, that’s the proper spirit buddy.”

Skull Kid had the mask for a week now. Tatl wondered why he was just sitting a top the clock tower, looking at the night sky. Maybe he was thinking about ideas of fun to pull of during the carnival? Sometimes he just stared off into space, and it would take a while for Tatl to snap him out of his trance. She couldn’t read his expression with that mask of his.

The Skull Kid found out he could do so many amazing things now. He had more magic than ever. His abilities were extraordinary. Heck, he could even float in the air just by thought now. All this power, yet he still felt lonely. He felt... angry. He had all this power now, so why didn’t his old friends pay attention to him?

‘The giants used to be my friends... until they left me. Did I do something wrong?’

‘Or did they wrong me”

Skull Kid tapped his fingers against his arms. ‘They abandoned me’

‘Left me in despair. Like the rest of the world’

‘Why is this world so cruel to me? They knew what they were doing when they left me’

‘That’s why they will pay for what they did’

Skull Kid made up his mind. Yes. They’d pay indeed. Without alerting Tatl and Tael, Skull Kid looked with barely any motion upwards, and floated to the sky and beyond. With the masks power, Skull Kid entered a realm unlike any other. Looking South, North, West, and East, the masked Imp caught the deities of this realm off guard. His presence was hidden with the scent of a friend, masking the threat of danger.

“Fools. You can’t stop the power I wield.”

The Skull Kid felt a deep hatred rise up, and screaming it out, waves of dark power enveloped the unprepared giants. In this realm they were merely souls, not able to quickly use a physical form. The giants cried out, feeling as though they were dragged from their legs into the dark. The power of the mask was insidious indeed, as it quickly created shells for the giants souls to be trapped in. These shells were launched to the four corners of Termina, landing in temples located high and low. From these shells formed masks and from these masks formed monsters.

These monsters quickly laid the seeds of their curses in the lands. A frog drinking from the water of Woodfall suddenly croaked as it fell into the water, which turned a sickening shade of purple. The winds picked up in Snowhead, and the Gorons, who were expecting spring soon, were suddenly caught in a terrifying snow storm. In Great Bay, a typhoon formed from the temple, and monsters crept from the ocean depths as the water turned murky. In Ikana Valley, souls of the damned swarmed from the Stone Tower. A few saw a man outside with his daughter, and quickly set out to curse him.

Skull Kid returned to Clock Town, laughing to himself. He didn’t know why. He just felt compelled to. Looking to the sky, he thought of a funny story he heard about the sky falling. How great would it be... to make all those that scorned him, feel the fear of that very thing.

‘But I can do better than bringing the sky down’

Skull Kid tilted his head, and reached out both arms. Squeezing his hands, he pulled his arms in, and along with it, while slowly, the symbol of terror and destruction that would plague Termina and the world.

The Skull Kid had grown bored of pranking people around Termina. When he found a boy in the woods who wore green, he had a familiar sent. It was weird though. His mind had been so clear before, but when he looked at this boy, it was if something that was supposed to be there wasn’t.

‘It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter to you’

Skull Kid agreed with his initial thought. But maybe they could scare him good. Coordinating with his fairies, they quickly set out a plan. Tatl and Tael flew in suddenly, scaring the horse the boy in green rode on. As the horse reared back, the boy was flung back and unconscious. Making his move, Skull Kid appeared from as if he came from nothing, and laughed at how his plan was pulled off successfully.

Taking his mask off briefly, he felt some fresh air as he congratulated his friends. “Hee, hee. You two fairies did great.”

Tatl spoke up, wondering what rewards they could reap from this. “I wonder if he has anything good on him...”

The Skull Kid pondered that, looking down to make sure the boy was really out. “Huh? This guy... Well, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Putting his mask back on, Skull Kid scuttled over to the boy, only stopping for a moment to make sure the horse wouldn’t do anything funny. Reaching him, he kicked the boy’s body over. Mugging him, the Imp felt through all the pockets he could, until he found a shiny ocarina. Taking a blow into it, it made a musical sound, and Skull Kid laughed with joy.

He didn’t even care about Tatl arguing with her brother over using the ocarina or not, as he kept laughing at each new note he played. The fairies suddenly jingled, and Skull Kid turned around to see the kid looking at him with apathy. It actually got a jolt out of Skull Kid. After the panicked yelp, Skull Kid hid the ocarina behind his back, like nothing ever happened.

‘How the heck is the guy even awake?!’, the Imp thought to himself, trying to play it cool with his stance. When the boy leaned back and lunged at him, Skull Kid realized how fun this was turning out to be.

Jumping over his head, Skull Kid gave a laugh as he landed on the horse, commanding it to gallop away. The truth was though, Skull Kid could barely hold on as it ran through the lost woods, with the boy hanging on by the Imps foot. When they rounded a corner, Skull Kid used the momentum to kick the boy off, and laughed as he rode off into the darkness.

Traveling back to Termina, the Skull Kid took a short cut. He tried his best to command the stupid horse, but it was too freaked out to listen to him, kicking and screaming in his presence. “Fine you stupid animal. Who needs a pest like you anyways.”

Charging a small ball of magic, Skull Kid shot it at the horse, transporting it to a random location in the world. He honestly didn’t care. What did intrigue him, was the boy in the woods.

Returning, Skull Kid felt him coming to him. Hovering in the air, the masked imp watched as the boy crashed on a Deku pad. With the snap of his fingers, he shot stream lights on the boy from the dark. He must have looked so cool hovering in mid air. Tatl and Tael flew beside him, and the Skull Kid started to wonder why his companions were more well behaved than the green boy.

“What’s with that stupid horse of yours?! It doesn’t listen to a word that’s said to it... There’s no point in riding a thing like that, so I did you a favor and got rid of it... Hee, hee.” Skull Kid laughed at seeing the boy’s reaction to his missing horse. It was priceless.

“Aww, boo-hoo. Why the sad face? I thought I would just have a little fun with you...” When the boy scowled and gripped his sword, Skull Kid’s thoughts went dark.

‘Is he... challenging my power’

“Oh come now... Do you really think you can beat me as I am now? Fool!” With the shake of his head, Skull Kid used the power of the mask to transform this boy as well. He wondered what fun he’d create this time. His magic must have sensed that the kid was sounding on a flower, because when he was finished the transformation process, the boy turned into a Deku Scrub. Skull Kid took a sitting position from his menacing pose to take a better look.

The boy panicked, screaming in a high pitched voice at his new form. Skull Kid reeled back. He took it back. Now THIS was truly priceless. “Hee, hee! Now, that’s a good look for you! You’ll stay here looking that way forever!”

He floated back, content on leaving the boy suffer. He didn’t even notice or care when Tatl flew forward, knocking the Deku boy back. Tael realized that Skull Kid was leaving his sister behind when he turned around to hear the door shifting. “S-s...sis!”

Skull Kid kept floating away, laughing at the misery that boy was in. Once again, he felt rejuvenated for using the masks power in such a way. The energy feedback was amazing!

Tael was incredibly nervous for his sister. “P-p...please Skull Kid. We need to go back for her...”

“Well, maybe she shouldn’t have been so dumb as to stick around. Come on Tael. We have the day of the festival to look forward to. So hurry up. Before I leave you behind too.”

Tael knew something was wrong with Skull Kid ever since getting that mask. He wanted to say something. He wanted to tell him to get rid of that mask. That they could just have fun making drawings and playing in the fields like they used to. But the words never came. With his fear chocking them, he ran away with the Skull Kid farther and farther from his sister.

The Dawn of the First Day arrived. Skull Kid felt off. He had been feeling off for a while with a sick feeling of deja vu. He knew something was wrong. He heard that damn bird caw for the new morning so many times now. The ocarina he stole was gone. That... kid had it. The kid in green. Why? Why did he feel that he knew that? It felt obvious. He felt light, heavy, energized, yet tired...

Stretching out his limbs, his bones cracked. What mischief could he get up today?

‘Will it matter when the world ends in fire’

Skull Kid’s thoughts grew louder as he the moon had grown larger and larger in the sky. It’s face was... emotional was the best way to put it. It got a laugh out of the masked imp when most of the townsfolk fled for safety. There was no running from this.

Skull Kid could suddenly feel the boy in green look up to him. The boy in green couldn’t see him, but the Skull Kid knew he left those doors from beneath the clock tower. Time was ticking away. How long until they saw each other again?

Tael never left Skull Kid’s side, but he listened to the masked imp brag about how his powers could do anything, from turning a Deku into a tree, to sealing the spirits of the guardians away. How he wished to see his sister.

For the next few days, Skull Kid felt his whimsy slowly drain. He felt the green clothed boy undo his fun. He had no idea how the kid was so fast, but he somehow, in such an organized way, traveled to every corner of Termina, and stopped all the curses in the span of two days. The brat even made the time to help two stupid sisters on that dumb farm, and was helping that Kafei kid with his own problems. For what? For love? For friendship? What drove him to find the time to help all these people?!

Skull Kid growled just thinking about why being nice accomplished anything. No one wanted to be friends with him... so why did that kid have the strength to find friends in others?

On the Dawn of the Final Day, Skull Kid stood on the clock tower. Tael watched as he... twitched. The Skull Kid wasn’t moving from his spot. He wasn’t dancing about or spanking his ass at people who got a look at him, he was just.... twitching on the spot. The Skull Kid, with his special, special mask felt someone look at him from a telescope. So he looked right on back, his head twitching from side to side. He only looked up when he heard something fall from the moon.

‘What... what was that-’

‘Nothing. Nothing of concern’

The Skull Kid looked back at the boy in green who looked at him from afar. Soon, he felt it in his bones. Soon they’d see each other face to face. Earthquakes shook the earth, and as the stroke of midnight hit, the clock tower changed form, and fireworks launched for the carnival. No one celebrated though.

The crashing moon brought dread to almost everyone. Those who evacuated lived in fear. A postman who couldn’t leave due to feeling honour bound. A swordsman who cowered, not wanting to die. A mother, sitting with the barman for the end. A carpenter, who gawked at the moon to end it all already. An older sister who drugged her sister so she’d sleep blissfully through the end. Yet there was also a women, who waited with the boy in green for her lover to arrive, even if the end would come first. And there was the Skull Kid, who hovered over clock town as the skies turned a dark red and the bells kept ringing. Tael was almost sure he was devoid of thought at this point.

Suddenly, from the steps of the clock tower, the boy in green and his fairy companion stepped forward onto the platform.

“........” The Masked Imp didn’t care for the boy. He didn’t care for his presence.

Tael, who was overjoyed to see his sister again, flew forward with desperation in his voice. He couldn’t be afraid anymore. Not now. “Sis!”

Tatl knew what was going to happen. She saw it before, but time had been played with so much that she didn’t care anymore about warnings or threats to the Skull Kid. She just wanted her brother to be safe. “...Tael!”

The purple and red fairy flew forward, begging the heavens to hear his plea. “Swamp. Mountain. Ocean. Canyon. Hurry... The four who are there... bring them here...”

Something inside the Skull Kid snapped to life at his fairy.

‘How dare Tael help them’

‘He has betrayed you’

‘He’s left me like all the others’

‘He mustn’t fuel our enemies cause’

‘He must be silenced’ ‘He must be silenced’

Skull Kid quickly leap forward, and, with the back of his hand, struck Tael backwards. His voice was full of malice when he spoke, dripping venom in words of hate. “Don’t speak out of line! Stupid fairy!!!”

Tatl rattled her alarm, furious at the Skull Kid for constantly hurting her brother over and over. “!!! That’s it! I won’t things go the way you expect them to!”

The Masked Imp merely chuckled, finding Tatl’s threat pathetic and utterly useless. “... Well, whatever. Even if they were to come now, they wouldn’t be able to handle me... Hee, hee. Just look above you. If it’s something that can be stopped, then just try to stop it!”

The power of the mask filled the Skull Kid, and his body let out a scream as energy poured into the moon. The tool of Armageddon accelerated to hit the planet.

When all hope seemed lost, the green boy pulled out the ocarina, and played a tune. Suddenly, the Skull Kid could feel his body shake, but not from the effects of the moon. It came from the four corners of Termina. That was when a cry rang out across the land. The Imp looked around, trying to figure out what it was, when it hit him. It could only be the giants.

The voice in Skull Kid’s head rang out in anger, and both his own thoughts and cries of his old friends made Skull Kid panic, as well as feel immense pain. Gripping his head, the Skull Kid screamed out, begging for sweet release from the agony he felt. How he wished his mind could find healing. Then came emptiness.

It woke up. The moon was temporarily stopped by the guardians giants. The body of the Skull Kid heard the two fairies embrace, then turn into arguing. “Tael! Why are you protecting him?! Aren’t you mad at him for hitting you so much?”

“He was lonely... the Skull Kid.”

“He was trying to destroy everything around him. That is not the same as a lonely child. We cannot allow that!”

“The power of the mask made him do it. It was too much for the Skull Kid to handle.”

“It’s ‘cause he doesn’t know his place! On top of having a weak will and no strength of heart... he’s a fool!”

“Certainly, he had far too many weaknesses to use my power.”

“Yeah! That’s right! Admit your stupidity!... Huh?”

Both fairies froze when the terror quickly dawned on them. The body of the Skull Kid suddenly rose up, being dangled by the head. The boy in green expression turned to shock and horror as he watched the body slink back and forth.

“A puppet that can no longer be used is mere garbage.” The mask had used the child for all the time it needed, planting ideas and manipulating events, but it’s shell was no longer needed. Dropping the body, the mask floated in midair, and its eyes glowed with evil. “This puppets role has just ended...”

The Evil of Majora would not be denied. In the end, all beings were its puppets. Their strings had been cut now, and everything would be consumed.

#How I interpret the symbiotic relationship between Skull Kid and Majora #Skull Kid isn't some perfect kid #He was mischievous #But I believe the power of the Mask did corrupt his judgement #It might have also made him violent to his friends #Majora #Majora's Mask #Legend of Zelda #Skull Kid #Tatl #Tael #Tatl and Tael #Fairies #Link

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magmasliveblogs · 5 years ago

Text

1.02

it is the third day of this, and the third chapter of this lets read has arrived!

to recap, in the previous chapter the first floor of the inn erin found was cleaned by erin and she leveled up and gained skills, which have not been explained yet.

It was nighttime.

However, despite the late hour one figure moved restlessly around the room. A young woman. Her progress left a trail in the dust as she walked around the room. She paced from wall to wall, muttering to herself. Then she tripped over a chair.

“Ow.”

Erin brushed dust off her pants and t-shirt in disgust. Well, her clothes were officially dirty now. Parts of her t-shirt were burned black, and her jeans had been cut by the Goblin’s knives. But that wasn’t important at the moment.

“Did I just level up?”

yes i think it is pretty safe to say you did level up, also as i have said before, she is in one sorry state

“Right, right. Let’s recap. I’m in another world which is actually a video game. And there are monsters in this world and I can level up by doing stuff. I even get skills and when I do, a voice in my head—no, more like a thought appears that tells me I’ve accomplished a task.”

She nodded to herself.

“Yep. Makes complete sense.”

…

“Like hell it does!”

Erin screamed and kicked a chair hard enough to send it flying into the air. The chair landed with a tremendous crash which was satisfying to hear. Less satisfying though was Erin’s foot, which had hit the chair hard enough to jam every toe.

yeah i dont think kicking a chair was the best course of action. fun fact though, when Aragon kicks the helmet in the twin towers movie, his scream is because he broke his toe!

After screaming in pain and hopping around a bit, Erin sat at one of the tables and cried for a while. It wasn’t that she liked crying or did it a lot. It just helped at the moment.

After about ten minutes of crying, Erin finally started sniffing and choking back tears. She felt better, but quickly hit upon another problem when she went to wipe away her tears and snot and remembered there wasn’t any tissue paper nearby. So she used the rag.

The wet, disgusting rag. But it was better than her shirt. And after that, Erin sat, staring at nothing in particular as the darkness surrounded her.

“I’m tired.”

That was the last thing Erin said before she fell asleep.

an exhausting first day in the life of our protag, erin. lets hope tomorrow brings if not joy and happiness, at least a chance to use the bathroom,

The next day hit Erin in the face. She groaned and sat up, head aching. Her neck felt twisted, and she was sore from lying on the floor. She still would have slept in longer if it weren’t for the sun and her stomach.

Hobbling around, Erin looked at the bright daylight streaming through one window.

“This is why drapes were invented, you know.”

Windows. These ones had no glass or curtains. They were square holes in the wall, but they did have shutters. Too bad Erin had chosen one of the open windows to nap underneath.

ok yeah her stomach really needs some food

“I’ll die here if I don’t find something to eat.”

So she opened the door. It wasn’t courage that made her do it; just the will to survive.

The day was so bright that Erin was blinded for a moment. She walked outside, shading her eyes. And then she stopped. Because a thought had struck her suddenly. Something she had realized but not taken to heart before.

“This—really is another world, isn’t it?”

not going to clog my post, but suffice it to say the realization hits her like a truck

The plains stretched on and on without pause—

Or did they? Erin stopped as she started to pick out small details on the horizon. Far, far in the distance between the mountain range and the rising sun she saw what looked vaguely like buildings. Was there a town out there? Or a village? A…city?

It was impossible to tell from where she was standing, but the sight of that gave Erin hope that she wasn’t alone in this world. However, just the thought of travelling that far on her empty stomach was impossible so she kept looking.

yes lets fix the issues of hunger and bathroom breaks before taking a hike

“Are those…trees?”

Erin squinted. There was a small collection of trees in the distance, nestled in one of the valleys. They were trees, weren’t they? Erin felt they looked off—until she realized she was looking down at them from her vantage point.

It was surreal to feel herself looking down on a forest, but that was the only answer she could think of. It looked like there was a small – well, relatively speaking – valley to the east filled with trees. It didn’t look too far away, and if Erin looked closely she could see small specks of yellow and blue on the trees. Fruits?

food located! now to get there

That was the plan. It was the plan right up until Erin found herself walking by a huge rock.

There was nothing too important about the rock, except that it was more like a boulder, a gigantic mound of stone rounded at the top and like a small hill. It was twice as tall as a normal person and just as long across. In short, it was a big rock.

Erin ignored it at first, except to look at it and wonder if climbing on top of it would give her a better view. But she was hungry, so she walked right past the rock. It was that which saved her.

ominous

As she put the large boulder behind her, Erin felt the whoosh of air and a terrifying loud crack right next to her ear. She jumped, turned around and screamed. Just as quickly she ran as the second pincer nearly took her head clean off.

The thing that had been hiding underneath the rock lifted it up off the ground and scurried after Erin as she ran screaming. She spared only one glance over her shoulder, but that was enough. She ran even faster.

Two large, long pincers made out of a dark brown chitin were poking out from beneath the rock as the crab-monster scuttled towards her. It had lifted the gigantic, hollow shell enough so that Erin could see countless crab legs tearing up the earth as it propelled itself along the ground.

Oh, nonononononononono—

lets hope she can get away from this crab without injury

“What…the holy…crab?”

Erin could only gasp and clutch at her side. She felt like her legs were about to fall off, and her lungs were about to burst. She was also lightheaded, but she really didn’t want to sit down.

Instead she forced herself to keep walking. It hurt. Everything hurt. But she was still alive, crabs or no crabs.

and she does! nothing like a good run in the morning to get one awake

Erin tried to smile. Her legs ached, but eventually she got her breathing back under control. And even better, she was at her destination.

“Is—is that a tree?”

Erin gaped up at the strange plants before her. They were probably trees. They had bark, leaves, and fruit. But in each aspect they were slightly—off.

The tree in front of her was thin and squat. Well, squat for a tree. It was still about ten feet tall, but its trunk looked far too narrow to support its weight. And not only that, but its leaves were huge.

“It’s like a palm tree, but with branches. And blue fruit.”

fun fact: palm trees irl are technically a type of grass! also lets hope these fruits arent overly deadly

Erin’s shouts of frustration echoed in the small valley. She tried to grab the branch again, but she couldn’t even pull herself up anymore. She screamed in frustration, grabbed at her dirty hair, and then kicked the tree.

The entire tree shook slightly with the force of Erin’s kick. The leaves trembled, and the blue fruits moved—

And one fell to the ground.

her battle with the tree was fruitless until this moment, where it bore fruit! lets hope its edible

“Um, shouldn’t there be some kind of announcement?”

No response. Erin kicked the tree again and picked up another fruit.

“[Mysterious Blue Fruit acquired!] Dun dun dun dun!”

…

After a little bit, Erin put her head in her hands to cover her blushing face.

“…I hate this world.”

this isnt your grandpapies text based rpg

Slowly, Erin stood up and brushed the seed vomit off her clothes. That did nothing to get rid of the smell, though. Then she picked up the pieces of the seed’s core and hurled them as hard as she could against one of the trees.

“I hate this world!”

sadly it looks like the seed core isnt edible

After a while her stomach began to growl again as the smell from the seed pod dissipated in the morning air. Hesitantly, Erin grabbed the second blue fruit and brought it to her lips. This time she bit into the outer skin and chewed. The texture was unpleasantly rubbery and tough to chew, but thankfully it was edible. And what was more—

“Wow. This tastes really good!”

That was the remark Erin made after she’d consumed eight more of the blue fruits, all in rapid succession. The seed pods she left untouched on the ground, but she happily devoured the outer rinds, stripping an entire tree clean before she was finally full.

but it looks like the rest is! i bet the core is dangerous to consume though

Groaning with satisfaction she sat back against the tree. She felt good. Sticky, smelly, true, but good. The day was fair and warm, and with her stomach full and the soft grass beneath her there was only one thought on her mind.

Bathroom.

and the initial issue is brought back! no one around so this should be easy

A few seconds later Erin felt refreshed and happy. Her stomach was full, other parts were empty and best yet she was alive.

“Now, how am I going to get back past that crab rock-monster?”

Erin’s stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought and her heart began to pound in her chest. But an idea struck her as she looked at the countless seed pods on the ground.

i see erin had similar thoughts as i did,

Erin caught the rock-crab crawling towards her stealthily. In just a few seconds it had covered nearly twenty feet. She stared in horror as it reared upwards.

Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick—

The rock-crab began its high-speed shuffle towards her. Two enormous claws and a pair of dark antennas—or were they eyes? – curled up from underneath the rock.

Erin stepped back, half-turned to run, and remembered what was in her other hand. She took swift aim and threw the seed pod she had been holding.

and the dice shall roll, will this half bakes plan work?!

Bullseye. The seed core smacked the rock-crab right in the antennae and burst into a shower of pulpy liquid. Even at this range Erin could smell the toxic odors on the breeze.

If she was honest, Erin didn’t know what she expected. Pain, or shock from the rock-crab maybe. She’d nailed it pretty good on the antennae and she was sure that hard to hurt. But still, it wasn’t as if the seed cores were that heavy. She expected the crab to recoil, and maybe get scared off by the scent at best.

What she didn’t expect was for the crab to freak out and start smashing itself with one of its claws. It was panicking, frantically scraping away at the spot she’d struck it with the seed core, ignoring the damage it was doing to its own antennae. At the same time the rock-crab was making distressed sounds.

It sounded like the loudest cricket in the world, only a lot deeper and echoing out from beneath the rocky shell the crab was wearing. That was enough to make Erin back up until she was back among the trees and the crab was barely visible.

Even after she’d gone a ways she could still see the crab doing an unhappy dance as it tried to scrape off the seed pod fragments.

“Huh.”

Erin scratched her head.

“Well, it’s good to know they hate fruit.”

and we have found that this bug rock type is weak to grass! or poison...

“Gobliiiiiiiiins!”

The green skinned monsters stopped and stared as the young woman screamed and took off running at top speed. But they followed her doggedly despite the insane speed at which she sprinted. These Goblins had learned to hunt other species, and knew that Humans panicked easily and grew tired. They’d catch her as soon as she slowed down.

…Assuming she ever slowed down.

adrenaline is a powerful thing

It was evening. The sun cast long shadows across the plains. All was silent. Aside from the screaming rock-crab smashing itself in the head and the screaming human, there was no sound in the world.

All was calm.

A single figure sprinted across the grasslands. She was running as fast as she could. Behind her a group of squat creatures followed. It was nearly dinnertime.

Erin Solstice, age 20. A young girl—woman from Michigan with a casual interest in video games and a deep obsession with strategy games. Her hobbies include snowboarding, watching Youtube videos, playing chess, shogi, go, etc. She dreams of one day becoming a professional strategy game commentator.

Currently—

Running for her life.

and we have backstory! a random midwestern girl get transported to an unknown world. at least it wasnt involved with any tornadoes! plus that strategy game stuff might come into play eventually. also hey, commentator, similar to what im doing right now!

will our protag get back to the inn? will we find out if that truly was a city she found? will erin ever truly find a way to deal with this goblin problem? these are questions that will be answered eventually

see ya’ll tomorrow, hopefully. i dont post assume i have been captured by rock crabs and forced to cook goblins for them

#chrono

2 notes · View notes

myriadimagines · 6 years ago

Text

Trust Me

The Man From U.N.C.L.E. One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Illya Kuryakin

Other Characters: Napoleon Solo

Warnings: Violence, torture, death and injury

Request: “A little last minute, but I would really like to request a one-shot with Illya Kuryakin, where the reader is an american agent and they have to work together on a case, and first they don't like each other, but the case goes bad and it goes dangerous and they have to realize they fell for each other and in the end they admit it. Thank you, you are so amazing I can't even describe. Really, thank you for doing all this for us ❤❤❤” — anonymous

Word Count: 3,909

A/N: Oof so I’m sick while I’m writing this and not feeling too good but your little message made me smile so thank you so much lovely 💞I hope you like it! Sorry it’s a little long (I’m pretty sure this is the longest thing I’ve ever written on this blog yikes but I needed ~time~ to develop the relationship from hate to love ya feel) and the technology is not very accurate akjshdkjasd I ended up liking this a lot more than I thought I would

please reblog/leave comments, they’re very much appreciated!

Your name: submit What is this?

You had heard stories about Illya Kuryakin. Former KGB agent now affiliated with U.N.C.L.E.. You had never met him, even after recently transferring from the CIA to U.N.C.L.E., although you had heard plenty from your colleague, Napoleon. However, all the stories in the world couldn’t prepare you for when you met him the first time, and learned you were partnered with him for your first mission with U.N.C.L.E..

Despite knowing he was on your team, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy working with Illya. Back at the CIA, there were only a handful of agents you worked with, although you mostly worked alone. Working with Illya felt like a test you weren’t prepared for, an unknown factor, and you didn’t like the idea of having someone you couldn’t trust watching your back on a mission. Illya obviously seemed to pick up on your distrust, something which quickly created tension in your relationship, even before the mission started.

“Isn’t he supposed to be your partner?” you argued, folding your arms tightly across your chest as Illya’s head snapped towards you, evidently offended that you had reduced him to Napoleon’s partner. The three of you were in the briefing room, where Napoleon was explaining the mission to you and Illya. The mission required you and Illya to go undercover as a couple in Paris, where you would be shadowing your target, Adam Moreau, who was rumored to be purchasing dangerous, chemical weaponry.

“I am not his partner.” Illya clarified, his comment falling upon deaf ears as you and Napoleon ignored him.

“Look, I don’t see what the big deal is. The target and his agency know me already, so the minute I’m spotted they’ll know we’re onto them. Your time in the CIA was mostly covert, and they don’t know you now work for U.N.C.L.E., so they won’t recognize you. Illya will be your backup and part of your disguise, which is essential.” Napoleon leaned against the desk, arching an eyebrow at you as if challenging you to continue arguing with him. “Besides, Peril isn’t that bad of a partner.”

“Fine!” you exclaimed, glaring at Napoleon as he flashed you a triumphant smirk. You looked over your shoulder at Illya, who frowned at you, and you pushed past him to prepare for your trip.

“This is not going to go well.” Illya grumbled, pointing an accusatory finger at Napoleon, who let out a chuckle as he turned to rearrange some files on his desk.

“Really? I think it’s going to go perfectly.” Napoleon replied, his tone laced with sarcasm. “You and y/n make a perfect match.”

—

You and Illya sat silently in the taxi on the way to the hotel. Illya had an arm around your seat, a stiff gesture supposedly meant to contribute to your disguises. Your hands were folded tensely in your lap as you stared out the window, focusing on the buildings instead of Illya. You could feel him shifting in his seat, his leg lightly brushing yours as he opened his mouth, attempting to make conversation but no words left his lips. By the time your reached the hotel, you had practically run away from Illya in an attempt to escape the suffocating tension in the air.

Your entire travels had been similar. You had barely spoken on the airplane, gruffly exchanging one worded conversations and nodding at each other in acknowledgement when you’d pass a file to him. The both of you stood rigidly beside each other while waiting for the taxi, looking more like business partners than the married couple you were supposed to be. Even the concierge flashed the two of you uneasy smiles as you checked into your room, barely acknowledging each other as you grabbed your backs and headed up to the room, rushing ahead of Illya.

Illya slammed the door behind him as he entered the room, storming out to the balcony where you were standing, leaning against the railing as you looked at the city down below. You didn’t bother to look over your shoulder as Illya folded his arms angrily across his chest, demanding, “What are you doing?”

“Enjoying the view.” you replied curtly, and you could hear Illya scoff behind you. Such a small noise normally wouldn’t have bothered you, but you could feel annoyance rising in your chest as you spun around, shooting Illya a look as you snapped, “Is that a problem?”

“The problem is that you are ruining our cover.” Illya replied, his voice low and venomous as he stepped closer to you. You rolled your eyes, clearly unfazed by the infamous Illya temper, which you had heard plenty about from Napoleon. You didn’t flinch as he practically pressed up against you, his gaze burning down on you as he continued, “You barely look at me, and this is the most words we’ve exchanged in the past twenty four hours. You treat me like the enemy instead of your ally. We are supposed to act married.”

“There’s no need to keep up appearances when we’re not around the target.” you scowled at Illya, and he let out a frustrated sigh.

“Don’t act stupid, y/n, you never know when they’re watching.” Illya pointed out, the anger in his tone still prominent as you jerked back at his insult. “You are being immature and jeopardizing our mission-”

“I’m being immature?” you exclaimed, outrage bubbling from your throat. “You haven’t been the most forthcoming, either!”

Illya opened his mouth, raising his finger as if to scold you, but a loud knock at the door distracted the both of you. You instinctively reached for your gun, noticing Illya had mirrored your movements, before the both of you quickly relaxed as a meek voice called out, “Room service!”

You and Illya exchanged glances, the unresolved anger from your argument still lingering, as Illya called for the maid to come in. Suddenly self conscious about how close Illya was as the maid entered, flashing you a warm smile, you could feel your cheeks getting hot as Illya wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. Improvising, you rested a hand on Illya’s chest as the maid explained she had brought a clean pillow she had forgotten to drop off earlier. The both of you turned around, pretending to enjoy the view as the maid quickly scuttled toward the bed to place the pillow before leaving. As soon as you heard the door click shut, your hand slid away from Illya’s chest as he smoothed out his shirt.

“That looked more believable.” Illya finally spoke, his shoulders tense. You could tell he was still angry, frustration still bubbling behind his eyes, but his subtle comment acted like a peace offering, a chance to make amends. He studied your expression as you debated your response, yet you weren’t ready to so easily dispel the obvious tension between the two of you.

“Don’t get used to it.” you simply responded, moving past him. Illya let out a quiet sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as you paused, turning to narrow your eyes at him. “I only work with people I trust, or I work alone. And I don’t know if I can trust you yet.”

You retreated into the bathroom to change into a different outfit, and Illya shook his head as he leaned up against the balcony railing as he mumbled to himself, “What do I have to do to show you can trust me?”

—

The first few days of the mission were uneventful. Your days were mostly filled with shadowing your target and his associates, exerting minimal effort to upkeep your appearance as a couple. Both you and Illya had warmed up to your covers, getting slightly more comfortable in public, but in private, things were still icy. Illya spent his nights sleeping on the couch, the both of you savoring your nights as they were the only times you could have some degree of privacy. Every now and then, Illya would make some attempt to patch things up, yet you kept your guard up, refusing to let him break it down. The amount of arguments between the two of you had lowered, yet the hostile silence somehow felt worse.

You tried to push Illya out of your thoughts as you crouched behind the crates you were standing behind, making sure not to be seen as two men walked by. Peeking through the cracks, you watched as they loaded two boxes onto an unmarked truck. Reaching for your radio device, you quietly whispered, “They’re loading something into the truck. I’m going to go investigate.”

“There is no sign of Moreau.” Illya’s voice filtered through the radio. While you were in the alleyway, Illya was in the building out front looking for any sign of Moreau, who you predicted would be here to oversee the transportation. Illya needed to take some photos of Moreau with the chemicals for the headquarters, while you needed to stop the chemicals from being transported. You grabbed your gun, preparing to hijack the truck when to your surprise, Illya added, “Be careful.”

You frowned, opening your mouth to come up with a snarky comeback when you heard the familiar click of a gun behind you. You gulped, freezing as someone behind you snapped, “Get up.”

You could heard Illya’s concerned voice from the radio as he asked, “y/n? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Not having time to respond, you quickly spun around, shooting the henchman in the foot. He yelped in pain as you smacked him across the face with your gun, rendering him unconscious. The gunshot alerted the other henchmen of your presence, and they quickly loaded the chemicals onto the truck before signalling the driver to go. You rushed after them, ducking behind a wall as you tried to shoot the tires of the truck. You let out a frustrated groan as you missed, allowing the truck to speed around the corner, out of your view. You turned around to aim at the two henchmen who were firing at you, cursing when you fired off one shot before you ran out of bullets. Just as the henchmen drew nearer, the gunfire suddenly ceased, and you looked up to see Illya standing over the bodies of the fallen henchmen.

“You left your post.” you spluttered, unsure of what else to say. Illya rolled his eyes as he examined the bodied before straightening. “What if Moreau was there?”

“Saving the life of my partner was more important.” Illya gruffly responded before glancing over his shoulder. You were momentarily speechless, taken aback by his answer before he continued, “Come on, we have to go.”

—

The both of you sat in the hotel room, a newfound awkwardness in the air. You still hadn’t thanked Illya for saving you, and it felt like the window of opportunity had passed after you had left the alleyway, and it seemed strange to bring it up again. Neither of you had spoken, and Illya was fixing himself a drink, before you noticed he reached for another glass for you. Before you could say anything, he walked over to where you were sitting on the edge of the bed, offering you the drink.

You nodded at him as Illya clinked his glass against yours before taking a sip. To your surprise, he sat beside you, savoring his drink as the both of you stared ahead.

Illya’s actions had surprised you. The fact that he had come back for you, instead of sticking to the mission, shocked you. You didn’t know how to interpret it, in terms of what it meant for the both of you and what it told you about his personality, but you couldn’t help but suddenly feel closer to him.

“I was betrayed.” you suddenly revealed, and Illya looked up at you in surprise. The words had so easily escaped your lips, and you knew it was too late to go back. You glanced over at him, before quickly looking away as you continued, “By someone I really trusted, too. The mission was ruined, obviously, and I almost got killed. But that… that wasn’t the worst part. That simple betrayal ruined everything for me. I was never able to trust anyone afterwards, because… because if my own partners, people who are supposed to have my back, can turn against me, then who am I supposed to turn to?”

“You have me.” Illya immediately replied, his tone firm as he instinctively reached for your hand. You flinched, looking up at him in surprise, taken aback by the sincerity in his eyes. “You can trust me, y/n, I promise. I will prove it to you as many times as I need to.”

A small smile flickered onto your lips, and despite every voice in your head, every defensive, skeptical voice in your head which had driven you to distrust others yelled at you to pull away, something inside of you felt like you could truly believe Illya. That finally, there was someone you could let past the walls you had built up around yourself instead of giving you reason to build more.

“Thank you.” you whispered, and Illya nodded. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table, straightening when he realized how late it had gotten.

“We should get some sleep.” he remarked, and you nodded in agreement. He moved to get up, but your hand remained wrapped around his, and he looked at you, a hint of confusion in his expression.

“You… you don’t have to sleep on the couch.” you stammered, and Illya couldn’t help but smile at how flustered you had suddenly gotten. “I mean, unless you’d prefer it-”

“No,” Illya cut you off, already sitting down beside you as you let out a tiny sigh of relief. “I’d prefer to sleep here with you.”

Smiling at each other, suddenly privy to parts of each other neither of you had never known, it felt as if things had been restored, as if things would finally run smoothly from here on out. And as the two of you lay down, and you subtly rested your head beside Illya’s shoulder, you wished that it could be true.

—

Illya knew something was wrong the second he woke up. For one, his vision was blurred, and there was a dull pain coursing through his head. He groaned, rolling over, trying to recall the events of last night. His vision finally cleared as he looked at his bedside table, and he shot up when he noticed a syringe.

He snatched it, yet there was no fluid inside to inspect, as it had obviously been injected into him. He spun around to your side of the bed, reaching out as it to wake you, and his heart skipped a beat when his hand was met with nothing but empty sheets. He jerked the sheets aside, his heart pounding out of his chest when he realized you had disappeared, and despite his frazzled state of mind, he tried to put together the pieces as well as he could.

You had been taken. He had been drugged, explaining why he had no recollection of hearing or seeing anyone after you had fallen asleep. Had he not been drugged, he would most definitely sensed if someone had entered the room or if you had been dragged away, and he would’ve been able to stop your kidnappers.

His hands balled into fists, blaming himself for the turn in events. If anything had happened to you, if you had been killed, Illya would never forgive himself. Especially after how vulnerable you had been to him, finally letting him in instead of pushing him out, Illya couldn’t let you down.

And he loved you. He had finally admitted it to himself after you had been taken from him. You were stubborn and guarded, and frustrated him to no end, but especially after how open you had been to him the previous night, Illya had still fallen in love with you.

Trying his best not to give into the fury that was clawing at him, he took a few deep breaths as he tried to think about how to track the people who had taken you. The two of you had been careful not to make sure you were followed every time you returned to your hotel room. You had not revealed your names to anyone, meaning there was no way someone could’ve checked to see which room you were in at the concierge desk. No one had been in your room either.

Then it hit Illya. The maid from the first day. It was the only explanation, the only link. Frantically searching the bed, Illya practically tore it apart before he finally found what he was looking for — a bug that had been planted at the bottom of the bed frame.

Carefully carrying it over to the computer monitor, he gently pried it apart, honing in on the frequencies with the computer to try and trace where the bug was transmitting. Illya almost threw the monitor aside in frustration when it didn’t work the first time, but knowing your life was at stake helped him try again for a second time, a third time before it worked. Scribbling down the address on a scrap of hotel paper, Illya grabbed his guns and headed out.

—

You gritted your teeth, letting out a strangled groan of pain as you spat out the bitter taste of blood that had formed in your mouth. More blood trickled down your nose, streaming over your lips and down your chin.

“I don’t have your precious little chemicals.” you manage to wheeze through the pain. “The truck drove off before I could stop it. Obviously, one of your people betrayed you because it wasn’t me.”

“Because we have sources telling us you were last seen with the disappeared shipment.” your interrogator returned to his table, his tools spread out. “And my boss really wants those chemicals back.”

You didn’t know how long you had been in here, but you weren’t sure if you could handle any more pain. Despite the fact that you were telling the truth, it appeared you didn’t seem very convincing.

“My partner is going to find me.” you changed tactics, scowling at your interrogator as he strolled up with a hammer. “And you’re going to regret all of this.”

“He’s not coming to save you.” your interrogator mocked a frown, his tone condescending as he circled you. “He didn’t save you before, and he’s won’t now.”

You braced yourself for more pain, cringing as the interrogator loomed closer. The both of you froze as the door was suddenly kicked down, the wood splintering against the floor as you saw Illya standing in the doorway, the bodies of the guards fallen behind him. Guns aimed, he snarled, “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Before your interrogator could react, Illya shot him dead, before rushing over to you. You could barely think of anything other than the pain, but his name finally reached your tongue.

“Illya.” you gasped, unsure if he was truly in front of you, or you were in so much pain you were hallucinating. You could feel the warmth of his skin against yours as he reached around you, untying your hands before his hands flew up to your face, gently holding it as he looked into your eyes.

“Do you trust me?” Illya simply asked, and without thinking, you nodded. Nodding back at you, he continued, “I will get you out of here, I promise.”

Illya hauled you out of the chair, pulling your arm around his shoulders before he secured an arm around your waist. The two of you limped out the the building, Illya easily shooting down any henchmen who had come to stop you. You and Illya burst out of the door, the sunlight burning into your eyes as you buried your face into Illya’s shoulder, cringing. You lost your balance, nearly collapsing onto the floor as Illya quickly grabbed you, resting your head on his lap. His voice sounded muffled as he urged, “y/n, stay with me. y/n?”

“I trust you.” you whispered, reaching up to lightly touch his cheek. Before you fainted, you weakly repeated, “I trust you.”

—

You heard murmurs of a conversation as you began to stir, and as you slowly opened your eyes, you saw Illya and Napoleon sitting by your bedside, quietly discussing something. You shifted, realizing you were in the hospital as you tried to recall everything that had happened.

Torture. Torture. Saved by Illya-

“The mission.” you suddenly said, sitting up in alarm as you gripped the edge of the hospital bed. Illya and Napoleon jolted upright upon realizing you were awake, and Illya was quick to place a gentle but firm hand on your shoulder, guiding you back down. “What happened to the mission? We didn’t finish-”

“It’s be dealt with.” Illya responded vaguely, his tone even, and your eyebrows furrowed as you looked between him and Napoleon, awaiting an explanation.

“After Illya brought you to get medical attention, he finished up the mission.” Napoleon finally spoke. He snickered as he continued, “He went in like a bulldozer, guns blazing. The clean up crew will surely love him for that. Wasn’t the best way to deal with things, but Peril stopped the purchased and destroyed the weapons, which is what matters at the end of the day.”

“Can you give us a moment alone?” Illya suddenly asked, his tone firm, making it clear to Napoleon it was more of a demand than a question. You turned to Illya as Napoleon smiled, raising his hands before he backed out of the room. He quietly closed the door, and the both of you remained silent for a few seconds before Illya quietly said, “After all they had done to you, I couldn’t control my anger anymore. If you didn’t make it, if you had…”

“Hey.” you squeezed Illya’s arm, stopping him before he could finish his morbid scenario. “I’m okay. That’s all that matters.”

Illya nodded, although you could see he still looked troubled. Your hand lingered on his arm, the touch feeling natural instead of forced, and you gently urged, “Talk to me, Illya. What’s on your mind?”

“I fell in love with you.” Illya confessed, immediately feeling a weight off his shoulders as the words spilled from his lips. Even if you didn’t reciprocate the feelings, he needed to tell you. “That was the reason I was so… upset when you had been taken. I almost couldn’t control myself.”

You flashed Illya a small smile. “I fell in love with you, too. More so when you came and rescued me.”

Illya’s eyes widened, and his usual stoic demeanor seemed to melt away as he gave you a shy smile. He leaned forward as if to kiss you, and you leaned towards him until you heard someone clear their throat from the doorway. The both of you jolted apart, and Illya frowned upon seeing Napoleon in the doorway, a smirk on his face.

“I told you so. You and y/n make a perfect match.” Napoleon chuckled, and you buried your embarrassed face in your hands as Illya rolled his eyes.

tags: @melody-of-scream ↳ want to be added to the tag list?

#tmfu imagine #illya kuryakin imagine #reader x illya kuryakin #illya kuryakin x reader #tmfu #tmfu one shot #illya kuryakin #illya kuryakin one shot #imagine #imagines #reader insert #one shot #oneshot #fanfic #fan fic #💜#hope this doesnt flop like how i feel 90% of my one shots do ajkdshkasdjasd

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