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spoondrifts · 3 years ago

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Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Relationships: Number Two | Ben Hargreaves & Viktor Hargreeves

Summary: In which Viktor and Ben's conversation goes a little better.

Viktor flees the parlor with no goal in mind besides to get away, his ears still ringing from Allison's rumor and his head whirling with the dull roar of fury and panic and grief all mixed up together that sharpens to a knife's edge inside him, painful and biting. He doesn't care about where he's going, only that it's away from Allison and her pointed cruelty, her own special brand of rejection that's always managed to sting more than anyone else's.

His vision blurs with tears. He doesn't realize that he's retracing his childhood steps until he's up the stairs and in front of the room that used to be his, all the way on the top floor, as far removed from everyone else as possible. With the wild and violent storm of emotions surging through him, the thought doesn't even occur to him that this is a Sparrow's room now, and he'll be invading someone's space; he just mindlessly shoves the door open and steps inside, slamming it behind him.

Chest heaving, every inch of him trembling, Viktor stands motionless in the center of the room for several long seconds, eyes squeezed shut, desperately trying to breathe. The room is rattling slightly, reacting to his upset, and he knows he needs to calm down before he destroys everything all over again but he can't breathe.

He crumples to the floor and wraps his arms around himself, dragging in a harsh, strangled gasp of air as he uses the floorboards to ground himself. The smooth wood is solid and firm against his palms. He focuses on that, redirecting all his vibrating energy into simply slowing his racing heart.

Slowly, moment by moment, the room stops shaking. His lungs expand and contract, steadily taking in oxygen, and his head begins to clear.

When he finally opens his eyes, his eyelashes are wet and sticky with tears, and he feels overwarm with the aftermath of all the adrenaline and anxiety. He struggles to shed his jacket, to pry himself out of the insulating layers. The emotions raging in his chest have settled to a low simmer, present but no longer overwhelming.

Viktor rubs his eyes and glances around the room. It's clean but not spartan, with baby blue walls, a single bed, an oak dresser, and one wall occupied completely by a large desk and easel covered in half-finished sketches and art materials. The nightstand by the bed has several trinkets and books organized atop it.

Pinned above the headboard is an official Sparrow Academy propaganda poster of Ben, gazing assuredly into the camera with his mouth pulled into a cold, smug smirk.

So this is Ben's room. Shakily, abruptly exhausted, Viktor climbs to his feet, looking over the collection of sketches on the desk. Their Ben had been an artist too. They share an eye for human figures, mainly portraits of people, though their Ben had been fond of oil pastels while Sparrow Ben seems to lean towards colored pencils.

It's an innocuous little preference, but it really hammers home just how different the two are. Viktor suddenly misses his Ben with such a hollow ache that it startles him.

He sits down on Sparrow Ben's bed, lets out a slow, heavy breath, and buries his face in his hands.

At this point, it doesn't feel like things can get much worse. Sissy is gone, Harlan is gone, Ben's spirit moved on permanently after sacrificing himself for Viktor, the goddamn world is ending for the third time and taking the universe with it for good measure, and Allison—

Viktor's lungs seize with anxiety.

Allison hates him. His sister hates and blames him for Claire, because he'd lied about Harlan to protect him and apparently in this family everything he does is an unforgivable offense, and he used to think it was all his own fault that he got treated like shit but he's starting to believe his siblings just liked to have a passive target around growing up to unload all their issues on and then struggled to break the habit as adults. Harlan may have caused this but he was Viktor's son, not just because he was Sissy's but because he was a kind and sensitive kid that Viktor had loved as his own, a kid he should've stayed to raise and keep safe but didn't because he had been too cowardly to believe his presence was capable of creating good.

And now Harlan is dead at his sister's hands, and once again it's Viktor's fault. He should have been there to explain properly, to protect him, but he hadn't been and here they are.

Grief climbs up his throat, thick and choking. A quiet, hiccuping sob escapes him, and he reaches up to fumble with Harlan's headphones, tugging them off and sliding them on over his ears before he can lose himself to his emotions again. When the taped recording of wind whispering through corn fills his head, drowning out everything else, it's a relief.

He isn't sure how long he stays there, sitting on the edge of Sparrow Ben's bed, rewinding the wind tape over and over again until he finally calms, everything going faded and soft beneath the whistling breeze in his ears. He can understand why Harlan had liked to soothe his senses with noise. Perhaps if Reginald Hargreeves had done this for him when he was a kid, Viktor wouldn't have turned out this way, prone to apocalyptic overwhelm.

It does strike him at one point that he wishes someone would have followed him, if only to check on him, but he knows that it's a pathetic thing to want. It's just that no one ever checked on him when they were kids; it would've been a pleasant change.

But he can't expect his siblings to drop everything to comfort him. Even if it would be nice.

Eventually, though, someone does come, though not anyone he'd expected.

Ben steps through the door, easing it shut behind him. He spares Viktor a disinterested glance. Viktor turns off the tape and slides the headphones off, sitting up a little straighter.

"Sorry," he blurts out, grimacing. Ben raises an eyebrow. "It's just—this used to be my room. It's the only place I could think to go. But it's... clearly yours, here."

"Yeah. I hope you weren't crying on my sheets, that's gross. Anyways, I'm just here for my jacket." Ben walks past Viktor to the chair in the corner, where he picks up the expensive-looking dark jacket in question and folds it over his arm.

"You keep your room a lot neater than our Ben did," Viktor notes aloud, without really meaning to.

Ben's flat expression morphs into a scowl at the mention of his Umbrella counterpart. "Well, that's one thing I can apparently do better than him."

With a huff, Viktor starts winding the headphone wires around his hand, tucking the tape away. "It's not a competition. I mean, you don't always have to compare yourself to him. You're both technically different people."

"Your family doesn't seem to feel the same way." There's a taste of something almost bitter in Ben's tone. "They act like annoying the shit out of me is going to make me magically turn into their beloved, saintly brother Ben."

Viktor is quiet for a moment. This is the first time Sparrow Ben has talked to him in a way that wasn't overtly hostile, and he senses that the tentative calm is extremely precarious. Steering away from talk about the other Ben, Viktor tips his head towards the art desk, trying for a small smile. "You're a good artist."

Ben blinks, looking surprised and slightly suspicious. "Thanks."

Silence falls between them. Viktor doesn't know what he was expecting, for them to bond or confide in one another or something, but that clearly that isn't happening.

After an uncomfortable pause, Ben says, "The others are waiting downstairs."

The idea of going down there and having to see Allison again makes Viktor feel nauseous. "I can help, but I don't—" He cuts himself off, staring at the floor. "Is Allison going to be there?"

"If you're planning on jeopardizing the entire universe because you're mad at your sister, even I gotta say, that's pretty selfish of you." Viktor's head jerks up at Ben's derisiveness. He looks flippant, relaxed, like he knows he's said something cutting and is just waiting for Viktor to be hurt by it. A shark scenting blood.

Struggling for a moment for something to say, Viktor cauterizes the wound, settles on, "You wouldn't get it." And it isn't just about Harlan. It's about Allison's parting shot; her comment about the basement. Viktor still has nightmares about being left down there, trapped and abandoned, wasting away in the silence and the dark while his family celebrates being rid of him just a few floors above. He dreams about clawing at the glass and screaming until his voice gives out, while Reginald Hargreeves dispassionately watches from the other side, scrawling down his observations in his journal.

Ben scoffs. "You're an idiot if you think I don't understand soap opera family drama."

"I mean you don't get why I'm angry at her." Viktor casts his gaze downward, clenching his jaw. "She shouldn't have brought up the basement."

"Okay, I'll bite, since you clearly want me to. What about the basement?"

Viktor hadn't actually planned on talking about it to anyone, much less Ben, but the story comes bubbling up inside him anyway, aching to be spoken. Has he ever actually addressed it before? Have any of the others? It's like everyone is pretending it never happened. But he remembers.

He fists his hands in his lap. Lifting his gaze to Ben's, he keeps eye contact as he says, "I didn't know I had powers until a few months ago. Dad made me believe I didn't have any because... he was afraid he couldn't control me."

Ben's eyes sharpen with a blatant, familiar curiosity. Viktor offers a grim smile.

"When I found out the truth, I was terrified of myself. I hurt someone." He doesn't spare a thought for Leonard, but he remembers Allison's slit throat, her wide, teary eyes, the awful gasping sounds she made as she strained for air. There is nothing in this world that he regrets more than that moment. "It was an accident, but..."

"You still lashed out," Ben finishes. "You were still dangerous."

"Yeah. Luther found out, and he locked me in a soundproof cell in our basement. Dad had built it for me, in case I ever..." Viktor swallows down the violent emotions that swell up inside him, exposed in the daylight. "In case I ever lost it and needed to be dealt with, like an animal. So."

The look on Ben's face is hard to read. He scoffs, shaking his head slightly, and says incredulously, "That's fucked up."

Though Viktor no longer needs to be told that what happened to him was wrong, it's still gratifying to hear.

"We would've never done that to one of our own," Ben continues. "We would've never even let Dad try." Something seems to occur to him. He narrows his eyes. "Did they let you out?"

Viktor shuffles his feet. He shakes his head. "I broke myself out. And took the whole Academy down with me." And then I ended the world, he doesn't say, because it doesn't need to be said.

Ben looks faintly impressed, as much as he's capable of the emotion. He shifts his jacket from one arm to the other, taking a step towards the door, before turning his full body towards Viktor, tipping his head to the side. "With raw power like that, and clearly some talents in need of honing, you'd be welcome in the Sparrow Academy," he offers, mouth tugging into a sarcastic but peculiarly meaningful smile. Viktor stares, utterly taken aback. "Obviously your family isn't utilizing you enough. You could've defeated us all at any time, but you didn't. Marcus saw something worthwhile in you, under all the angst and instability." He raises one eyebrow. "I see it too. So, once the world is saved, I want you to think about it."

Stunned, Viktor can only nod automatically as Ben spins on his heel and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

The room feels smaller without him in it.

Despite the circumstances, Viktor finds himself inexplicably warmed by Ben's gesture, as constructed and self-serving as it might be.

He had been telling the truth when he said that this timeline's Ben and Umbrella Ben are two different people, but it's impossible not to see glimmers of similarity between them; and just for a moment, when Viktor had complimented his art, Ben's perpetual shield of frosty antagonism had softened—exactly like their own Ben used to.

There's a good person underneath that shield. Viktor is suddenly certain of it.

But all that will have to wait; there's a ball of lightning under the house to deal with, and they have a job to do.

#the umbrella academy #tua #tua spoilers #tua s3 #viktor hargreeves #sparrow ben #ben hargreeves #fanfic #tua fanfic #writing #tua season three

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malachi-walker · 5 years ago

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Catra and the Performative Nature of Villainy and Abuse Survival

(Yeah, with a title like that you can tell I earned that English lit masters. -.-)

Ok, so I have a lot of She-ra meta bouncing around my skull I need to get to one day, but let’s start with the big one post s4: the psychological and symbolic implications that are made explicit in DT’s epic call out of Catra (please note that I specified “made explicit” not revealed, because a lot of the stuff I wanna talk about was already there if you knew where to look.)

1. Catra’s villainy is inherently performative.

Yeah, pretty obvious but I’m going somewhere with this. If you pay close attention to Catra throughout the series, her words (the stuff on the surface) and her underlying actions don’t match up. Not entirely. No tsundere jokes, please, because it ultimately leads back to a very common pattern among abuse victims and some very interesting implications for Catra herself.

Basically it’s not horribly uncommon for abuse victims, especially those in domestic or child abuse situations, to end up performing on multiple levels. Level one: performing for the abuser in the hopes that this will minimize or stop the abuse. (Check.) Level two: performing for loved ones so as not to either worry them or risk them leaving if the abuse becomes obvious.

Oh, double check.

And lastly, Level Three: the act of performing as a method of keeping people on the outside away from you, either out of fear of more pain or fear of further judgment, which is a huge bulk of what we see Catra spiralling through this entire series.

Like, I myself was a child abuse victim for the first twelve years of my life (I’m fine now after about a decade of therapy) and I operated on all these different levels; alternating between placating my abuser to avoid punishment or rebelling to take back some form of control, deflecting from my other loved ones so as not to worry them, and being absolutely resistant to outside forces coming in, because at that point I had so little control over my life that I was more comfortable with embracing the hell I knew as a way to give myself some measure of control and stability than have someone save me from that situation but take that control away from me. Fucked up, but true. Which brings me into my second point:

2. Words have no inherent value for Catra except as weapons.

Which again, makes perfect sense considering her upbringing. Unlike Adora, Catra never had the luxury of buying into the Horde propaganda. She knew they hurt innocent people because she’d already been enduring torture from the time she was a small child–as other people have pointed out before. Moreover, she grew up in an environment that treated words with varying levels of consistency, where Shadow Weaver can praise Adora for doing one thing and then mercilessly put down Catra for doing the exact same thing equally.

This not only teaches someone about lying, this teaches someone that words are weapons, and Catra took that lesson and ran with it. Even when she and Adora were on good terms, she would still lightly drag her or put her down, but I don’t think it was from any inherent malice at that point. Good example: in episode one she’s perfectly content to mock Adora while she’s stuck in the pit, but immediately after she reached down and helped pull her out. “Actions speak louder than words” is an old clichè, but it’s super important to keep in mind when analyzing Catra’s character. Out of all the characters on Spop, she is the last one who can be analyzed from surface words alone, because so much of it is an act.

In fact, I can think of probably only one instance in which Catra did actually wholeheartedly believe in words…

Yeah, y'all know what I’m talking about.

And again, that makes perfect sense. Because Adora wasn’t just Catra’s best friend, she was explicitly her lifeline. Shadow Weaver’s exact words to little Catra were: “I’ve kept you around this long because Adora was fond of you. But if you ever do anything to jeopardize her future, I will dispose of you myself.” On top of that, the other cadets show clear signs of having sensed the blood in the water, so to speak: it’s an open secret to everyone but Adora that Shadow Weaver hates Catra’s guts, and therefore it stands to reason that in a cutthroat culture like the Horde’s, Catra was probably seen as easy prey until she learned to defend herself. Because it wasn’t like Shadow Weaver would do anything about it.

So Adora was the only person Catra could count on, but that also leads into the double edged aspect of words I’ve been talking about: Catra could let herself believe in their promise, but not enough to actually reveal to her what was going on. In the same way Shadow Weaver lightens up on the abuse when Adora’s around (just compare her use of lightning on Catra in Promise vs the Sword pt 2–the former is very subdued and looks almost like a simple hold, while the latter makes it very obvious this is painful torture) Catra deflects away from the subject around Adora, and the few times she does approach it “Why does she hate me so much” she tends not to get the reassurance she wants because Adora isn’t as clued in on the situation.

I mean, it’s pretty telling that Catra’s first leap off the slippery slope after being more of a nuisance than anything else up to that point came after Light Hope deliberately pushed her buttons by basically taunting her with the one thing that Catra had ever allowed herself to believe in.

I mean, her younger self looks at her as if to drive in the point of “you were a fool to believe in it!” After what we found out in S4, you cannot make me believe that wasn’t Light Hope deliberately twisting the knife to make sure they didn’t reconcile. And immediately after Catra pitches Adora off a cliff. Good times.

Ok, that was a big fucking lead in to my main point, but here we are:

3. Pretty much everything Catra says from that point onward is an act.

And it’s an obvious one, all things considered. Because that’s when Catra gets vicious. That’s when all her verbal barbs start cutting deep. That’s when combat between her and Adora goes from almost playful to outright brutal. And that’s when we start seeing Catra using her words as weapons against herself in addition to everyone else.

Because that’s the point when Catra starts feeding into her constructed persona of being this smug, confident, in-control villain who most definitely isn’t capable of being hurt like that ever again, no siree. We get to see several times across s4 in particular where her feelings clearly aren’t in line with her actions, and what does she do? She forces herself to say something cruel or hard-hearted as a way to essentially drag her actions and internal feelings back into line with that constructed person. Good example is the locker room scene with the Horde Trio: Catra very clearly wants to reach out to them and experience a little of their camaraderie, but she forces herself back into “I’m the boss” mode. And when it’s misinterpreted as her simply being a bitch, she goes into a rage because it’s one thing for her to want to reach out and deny herself that, but another for someone else to try to force their way in.

And all of this ties back into my main point, and why I think DT’s speech is particularly brilliant from a symbolic and psychological standpoint.

Actor vs Actor: Fight!

I’ve already established that Catra is somebody who is a performer and has been all her life in order to survive. That’s part of why Catra is such a tough nut to crack in terms of getting through to her: it’s hard to make accurate hits on someone who is putting on a persona. It’s damn near impossible to get a point through when you don’t have a clear idea of what you should be aiming at in the first place. So how do you beat a consummate actor?

You bring in a better performer.

Now, I do have my problems with DT’s speech: as others have pointed out, tossing Shadow Weaver and Hordak into the guilt trip is severely messed up and victim-blamey, though I do believe that has more to do with the fact that DT themself is not omniscient and therefore doesn’t have all the facts there (though given their sadistic streak, I’m also not sure they wouldn’t still cross that line even if they did know.)

But here’s what made that scene rock me to my fucking core: Catra almost pulled it off. Think about it: she has spent three seasons up until that point convincing her former friends, allies, boss and even the viewers–remember the post Portal moral panic–that she was this completely villainous monster. That she didn’t care, that she wasn’t worth saving, that everything she does is ultimately self-serving and terrible… Only for DT to see right through the disguise.

Adora couldn’t get through to Catra when she couldn’t even pinpoint the real problem. Scorpia couldn’t get through because by that point the defenses were fully up and Catra was going all in on her mask of villainy.

What finally got through? Being outclassed by a much better actor. By someone who is both a world class actor but also in touch enough with their own personality and wants that they don’t interfere with their own performance.

Because that’s the difference between DT and Catra: for Catra, acting the villain has been a matter of psychological survival up until that point. DT, meanwhile, acts for fun, work, and a certain level of sadistic pleasure. They have no moral dilemmas about what they do and thus they experience zero cognitive dissonance, whereas Catra may as well be the poster child. And it’s not too much of a stretch to think that once they figured out Catra’s deal, they probably found it quite amusing to completely demolish the act that had practically everyone else on the planet completely fooled.

That’s also part of the reason why Catra was so suicidal and lifeless after: the crutch she’d been using just to keep herself upright for four seasons just got yanked out from under her along with all chances of ever getting to double back down on that villainy again. Nowhere to go, and not even a mask to hide behind any more.

And honestly, I could keep talking on and on about just… The amazing amount of narrative complexity and precision and psychological depth that went into pulling this moment off. It’s amazing. But I’ve also spent like two and a half hours working on this post, so that’s that. If you read this far, get yourself a cookie or the snack of your choice. You earned it.

#spop #spop spoilers #catra #double trouble #spop meta #my meta #child abuse #and probably #ptsd #if we're being honest #abuse survival psychology

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tcookies777 · 4 years ago

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Here is a sneak peek at a side story I've written for The Anatomy of Love (a KakaSaku modern college au - AO3 hyperlink included)! You don't need to have read the fic to read this side story since this is a flashback to Kakashi's past when he was a teen, but it does help to understand since it's in the context of the fic itself!

The Anatomy of Love: Side Story - What He's Looking For

About 17 years ago on a sunny September day...

They'd raised the prices on the gum again. Under normal circumstances, Kakashi would've thought that was absurd. Really, 4 ryos for a few sticks of gum with a strawberry flavor that would last for only—what?—fifty chews? But it was also understandable given that the war efforts required such generous financial contributions. Money didn't grow on trees and soldiers didn't come back to life. It was to be expected that the economy would tank during war, but looking at the propaganda posters, anyone would think Fire country was thriving. It was the exact opposite, however, and the high inflation, budget deficits, rise in taxes, and reduced consumption of goods only proved that. So he was loathed to think that he would have to waste a couple of ryo on a pack of gum, but he also wanted to support the soldiers on the frontlines.

With a sigh of defeat, he snatched the pack of gum off the stand before traipsing further down the store in search of his journey's main quest item. There wasn't really much supply to offer these days, and even less food to fill the shelves. But Kakashi wasn't here today to buy some bread or milk, so he had no need to worry about that. All he needed to worry about was looking for the right condoms. And as he entered the aisle of pleasure to peruse his selection for the day, his presence did not go by without notice from a nearby clerk. It was not entirely unusual to see a boy in this aisle, but the clerk had certainly not anticipated that the purpose of the boy's presence here was for contraception. Perhaps he thought the boy was buying for his father, or maybe even an older friend—which, technically, Kakashi suppose he was. But the clerk seemed adamant in keeping his eye on him and Kakashi did his best to ignore him. There was also the possibility that the guy thought he was a shoplifter. After all, despite the clean way Kakashi dressed in his slim dark jeans and olive shirt, he did have the rugged gaze of a kid who'd been beaten up by life but was now ready to fight back. That, and the apathetic darkness in his eyes tended to disturb adults whenever they encountered a kid who was too young to look at them like they were the ones who were younger.

Although, to be fair with the clerk, there had been an increase in theft and street crime ever since the war had started, so Kakashi didn't blame the guy for dogging after him up and down the aisle.

"Uh, hi…?"

The words came muffled through Kakashi's headphones. With a heavy sigh, he slowly reached up and tugged the headphones down to let them rest on his shoulders, but the music continued to blare loudly through both sides of the speakers. The clerk's brow twitched when the boy in front of him still didn't even spare him a glance.

A throat was cleared, and then, "Hi?"

Finally turning to meet the annoyed face of the man, Kakashi crinkled his eyes at him. "Yes, I heard you the first time."

The clerk's brows twitched harder and he shuffled a step closer, still not quite sure how to approach him or maybe the subject before them. "Uh, did you need help finding anything today?" he asked in a peppy voice, remembering to plaster his customer-service smile back on.

"What kind of condoms would a girl like?"

The clerk blinked at him. "P-Pardon?"

"What kind of condoms would a girl like?"

Realizing the boy wasn't joking, the guy's face reddened and he stammered, "I-I-I do-don't know!"

Hmm, pity. "Then I guess you can't help me," Kakashi sighed out, wandering further down the aisle to let the guy lick his wounds.

Ignoring the aghast look cast his way, Kakashi studied a box of condoms that were of various colors and various tropical flavors including strawberry, apple, orange, banana, and—oh!—even cherry. If his suspicions were correct, however, he doubted anyone would appreciate a cherry-flavored condom that tasted more medicinal than fruity. Still, maybe Sakae wouldn't care. She'd always had a wicked tongue that could handle the taste of anything, which Kakashi had learned when she'd swallowed down his cum like she was sucking up the last dregs of a vanilla milkshake.

But Kakashi set down the box and picked up the standard, ultra-fine lubricated condoms instead.

Tonight, he didn't plan to get another blowjob in the back of an abandoned lot. Tonight was meant to be the first lay of his life if he played all his cards right, which he'd had no problem doing so in the past few weeks since the night of his birthday when Sakae had taken him into the backyard to give him his first kiss. Even if the kiss had happened through his mask, she'd liked it enough to guide his hand to her generous breasts which he'd always taken the time to admire during dinners when she'd eat across him with her breasts resting on the edge of the table so that he could study the way a stray crumb would disappear down the same cleavage he often dreamt of burying his face in. And then the week after that, he'd guided her hand to cup him through his jeans, encouraging her to slip that hand down his pants and fist his cock well enough to make him burst into the cage of her fingers. The next week, it was her turn to guide his hand down her shorts too.

It should have left him quivering with trepidation when he'd slipped his finger inside her the first time, hearing her cry out either from pain or pleasure or both. Instead, Kakashi had felt no sense of fear or anxiety—or anything, really, save for the sense of satisfaction and curiosity as he explored the velvet insides of a girl for the first time. His fingers had to have been good enough if it eventually had Sakae collapsing against him, shaking and whimpering as if she was in pain but smiling like she enjoyed it. And so it was last week when Kakashi had to tug his mask back on and pull his face out from between her legs to ask if she could repeat what she'd just said.

'If you can get your hands on a condom, I'll do it with you.'

'Do what?' he'd asked her, her orgasm staining the thin cloth of his mask.

'Sex,' she'd purred in his ear, just as he'd expected.

And so in Kakashi's young but precocious mind, of course it only made sense that he would obey the lady's wishes—as well as his own—and seek out the item of his quest. As it was now, he tossed the box of condoms in his hand much like he would as if he was a character from a video game doing a little victory jig, tossing his trophy in a show of smug triumph.

But because it was still too early in the noon to return to the orphanage and catch Mrs. Matsuda breathing fire out her mouth with more bitching, he took a turn into the next aisle full of baby diapers. The efflorescent smell of baby wipes assaulted his nose, sweet as a baby's bum and much to odoriferous for Kakashi's tastes. Then again, he'd always despised the pungent chemicals of perfume. However, the stray pug in the alley across school was in desperate need of diapers since his crippled hind legs always trailed right through his own filth and feces, and Kakashi had grown tired of bathing the old dog daily with a neighbor's sort-of borrowed hose.

In the midst of studying the difference between 'disposable diapers' and 'disposable underwear', Kakashi was indifferent to the cart that rolled up near him just a respectable foot away. At the background of his thoughts regarding the expensive cons of disposable underwear, a woman's voice spoke aloud, her words lashing out with the venomous bite of anger. She wasn't speaking to him, of course, since he definitely had nothing to do with the 'sorry piece of sods who didn't know a leaf from a ryo bill'.

Inclined to give her a wide berth and let the lady yell into the phone without breaking his left eardrum, Kakashi sidled over a step or two. Apparently, it wasn't enough distance, however, as he felt something bump the side of his left sneaker.

He peered down from the disposable diapers and to the stuffed sloth that had somehow ended up against his shoe. Picking it up, he frowned at the sloth that was barely the size of his one hand. Just then his nose wrinkled at the scent that permeated from the stuffed toy—milk that seemed to have been churned up in the stomach and spat back out. Nose still wrinkled, he quickly adjusted his grip so that it was only his finger and thumb that pinched the ear of the sloth.

A quiet cooing sound quickly stole his attention away and to the side where a baby in a cart stared curiously at him. She was dressed in a hideous tuft of pink that nearly swallowed her whole with two chubby little feet poking out from beneath.

Kakashi glimpsed at the woman who was still berating whoever the poor soul was on the other end of the phone. Her back was turned, and she'd taken too many steps away from the child in her cart to notice Kakashi approaching the babe.

Sure enough, she smelled like milk and baby wipes. But there was also another softer, more subtle sweet scent beneath. Not quite aromatic like perfume, but it clung to her gently as if someone's perfume might've rubbed off on her rosy, chubby cheeks after one too many kisses or cuddles. Or maybe she'd just gone rolling down a hill of flowers—cherry blossoms, it smelled like—for all he knew. He didn't know what babies did in their free time besides piss, poop, and play anyway.

"Here," Kakashi muttered quietly, dumping the sloth in the cloud of pink tulle that was the baby's skirt.

Large spring green eyes blinked up at him as if she was asking, 'what the fuck is this doing on my lap?'

He shrugged and stepped away to return his attention to the shelf of diapers. But no sooner did he pick up a pack when he felt another nudge against his left shoe again. He glanced down at the sloth smiling up at him from its position by his shoe, and then he glanced over to the baby in the cart.

She was staring almost expectantly at him as if to say, 'pick it up, dumbass'. Or maybe she was just curious why a boy was wearing a mask when nobody else was. Perhaps she thought he was a creature of the night come to nom on the fat rolls of her thighs and this was her way of testing him. Nah, babies were curious oddities but not too astute.

With a roll of his eyes, Kakashi bent down to retrieve the sloth whose smile seemed more derisive than friendly now. While the mother was still turned away and barking into the phone, he pressed the sloth toy more firmly, insistently to the baby's front.

There it was again, those big eyes staring up at him like saucers of green tea. Huh, now that he thought of it, he hadn't had a cup of tea in a while. Rin had given away the last pack to a younger kid who'd wasted it down the drain anyway. Shit, but he remembered the prices for green tea had risen too. Oh well.

Taking a step away from the baby, Kakashi was miffed when she suddenly threw down her sloth at his feet again before he'd even had the chance to look away from her. He frowned and glared over at the mother who couldn't be bothered to keep a better eye on her daughter who'd decided only a few months old wasn't too young to start acting like a bratty princess already. A bratty princess who was treating him like her dog that she was playing fetch with, he realized belatedly.

As if to assert her royal if infantile position, she looked up at him, spring green orbs glittering with pure mirth as a gummy smile broke out on her face. Kakashi raised a brow at her, none too impressed when a wave of drool spilled down petal-pink lips and painted her poor sloth's face in saliva so that it looked like it was crying for help now.

Sighing quietly, Kakashi shook his head and decided to make his retreat from the diaper aisle. This was a battle he could not win, and the baby only proved that with a gleeful 'mah!' as she waved her hands, gesticulating in a language he could not begin to comprehend beyond grabby, chubby hands reaching for him. The further he retreated down the aisle, the more she kicked up a fuss, kicking up her tiny feet too. Her mother peeked over a shoulder for a split-second but looked away when she saw her baby was fussing for no reason.

Just as Kakashi turned the corner, he caught a glimpse of the baby tossing her sloth back down to the floor like it was her means of summoning her new dog to play fetch with her at her beck and call. Yeah, well, that went against Kakashi's domineering nature and so he stuffed his hands to search for the literature section.

Much to his pleasure, the books were kept at the back of the store where he could read through them in private without a clerk judging him for not paying for the paperback service instead. Much to his disappointment, however, there was no Make-Out Paradise and the selection of books was few and far between, and not to mention somewhat outdated since all the covers were easily recognizable from the days that he'd spent poring through them. Despite the pitiful collection of paperbacks collecting dust in the hopes a perverted reader might spread open their covers and peruse their naughty tales, Kakashi's attention zeroed in on the single brand-new hardcover tempting him with the 10% off sticker. Even more tempting was the cover art of a high school girl wearing a blouse that was buttoned just enough to keep from flashing a nipple, her tennis skirt a plaid black and red color to imitate the style of a uniform a private school girl was mandated to wear. A private school girl who wore that sultry smile just as well as she wore the necktie hanging loosely around her shoulders and arranged to cover a pair of hardened nipples.

Cracking open the cover, Kakashi inhaled the scent of fresh paper and ink first before glimpsing the first string of words that sat beneath the chapter title. He breezed through the first page, mouth quirking up when he recognized the set up for a good fucking. By the third page, however, his small smile had disappeared once he realized the setup was just that: a setup. No fucking. It was even more disconcerting when he flipped through the pages more quickly and concluded that most of the story was just one agonizingly slow striptease that he had neither the time nor patience for. He could even already see the ending from a mile away just by the building premise riddled with clichés and tropes: the professor gets caught and blamed for his sordid affair while his seductive mastermind of a student twiddles her thumbs in a very plausible show of innocence that hid her conniving smile. Of course, the man who gives in to temptation must always be punished for it in the end. It was a theme Kakashi was consistently seeing in almost every book he read.

With a huff of disappointment, he returned the book to the shelf where it could sit with its siblings to collect its own film of dust.

Straying his eyes over to the magazine section, Kakashi hummed in contemplation as he eyed the cover of a girl drawing the shape of a heart over her exposed lower belly with both hands, a peeled banana angled to censor her pussy. He picked up that magazine, flipping over to the section of the sex tips, most of which he already knew and had already practiced several times with Sakae. But, just for good measure, he decided to review the part that advised him how to last long during sexual intercourse.

It was when he was in the middle of studying about technique over speed did the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly rose up at the same time the smell of tobacco and rotten garbage flooded his nose. Kakashi was about to gag but stopped himself when a man stepped into the aisle—into his peripheral view. There was nothing unusual about the guy as he was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt sporting a rock band that had broken up too long ago for Kakashi to even know who they were. What was unusual, however, was the baby hoisted against his hip. The monstrous pink tulle skirt was fluffed up to block her face, but he recognized that hideous dress that nearly swallowed her.

The stench of tobacco and garbage grew stronger as the man stepped closer, and it overpowered the delicate scent of baby milk. Despite having never been a parent before, and certainly not old enough to even have a child, Kakashi was still aware that it was never a good idea to smoke in the presence of a pregnant woman or newborn child. If Rin were with him right now, he had no doubt she would instantly spin on her heel to give the man a good tongue-lashing. And even though Rin wasn't with him right now, he could still feel her elbowing his ribs hard to get him to stop the man.

So with a sigh, he lowered the magazine from his face and sidled his eyes over just to check if the man had some sort of joint in his hand. Nope, nothing but the toy sloth. Kakashi flicked his eyes over to the baby who kept squirming in the man's arms, whining quietly as she swiveled her head left and right as if in search of something. Her toy? No...

Her mom.

Kakashi turned his cheek to glance at the back exit of the store that was reserved for employee use. Just as the man was about to sweep by him, Kakashi dropped the magazine right in his line of path and quickly moved to intercept. The man jerked to a stop, visibly disgruntled by a boy's ass blocking his path to the exit.

"Oh, what a cute baby you've got there," Kakashi drawled out, standing up to set the magazine of sex tips aside. The man paused at the sight of the boy giving him a crease-eyed smile that seemed friendly enough, but hesitation still flickered through his scowling face. Nonplussed, Kakashi tilted his head to the baby beginning to squirm. "What's her name?"

"Hana," the man grunted, moving to step around him.

Kakashi stepped with him, still effectively blocking his path and still smiling beneath his mask although the crinkle of his eyes had smoothened away to display the dead apathy in his gaze. "But that's not really her name, is it?"

The man's eyes widened by a fraction and he stepped back, dropping the sloth toy to reach for something at his back. But Kakashi's instincts were razor-sharp as well, honed by the many late-night street fights he'd often get into on nights when he had trouble sleeping. So before the man could pull out his gun, Kakashi had already pulled out his own pocketknife in a flash and sunk the blade all the way into the man's eyeball so that the hilt rested against the brow bone.

There was an audible 'squelch' that had the baby whimpering louder in distress while Kakashi impassively watched red dribble over the bottom lid of the stabbed eye. The blood started to trickle down a scraggly beard. The man let out a gasp, still staring in surprise at Kakashi as if he couldn't register the knife that'd been jammed into his head or the baby calmly taken from his stiff arms. He stumbled back, reaching up a shaky hand as if considering pulling the knife out even though that would mean taking his eye out with it. With one last gasp, he toppled onto the floor, his one good eye now staring listlessly at Kakashi's scuffed sneakers.

The blood started to pool out from his head rapidly now, spreading across the shiny epoxy flooring of the store. Before the blood could stain the sloth toy, Kakashi swooped down to pluck it off the floor. The baby had stopped her whimpering, looking on curiously as he pressed the toy to her chest.

"This is the last time I'm picking it up for you," Kakashi warned her. "I'm not your dog."

Instead of breaking into tears under his irritated gaze, however, she defiantly dropped her toy sloth (away from the pool of blood, thankfully) in favor of grabbing for Kakashi's face. Faster than he could react this time, she had yanked down his mask to paw and smack his mouth with hands that had probably been in her mouth too. Kakashi's nose wrinkled once more at the weird, somewhat sweet milky scent that he was only now figuring out was indeed saliva.

He jerked his face back in disgust, but that only served to give her a better view of his mouth. She paused, big jade orbs widening at his lips and she broke out into another gummy smile before leaning forth, mouth open like she planned to give him either a great big wet smooch or a great big gummy bite.

"Why not save that for your mom?" He frowned at the river of drool spilling down her chin.

"Agooo!" she squealed gleefully.

"Uh… bless you?"

No longer holding back a cringe, Kakashi held her further away, glancing down when his shoes felt slippery on the floor. He belatedly realized he was now standing in a puddle of blood. And among the sharp scent of copper and the gentle smell of milk, there was now a foul odor that stung his nose and this time Kakashi did gag. The baby giggled aloud, prompting him to glare at her. She only responded with another fart and then a giggle. Kakashi rolled his eyes, adjusting her onto his hip so that he could pull his mask back over his nose even though it wouldn't help much.

"SAKURA!" A woman's voice screamed out—the same woman who'd been too busy arguing on the phone earlier to notice her baby playing fetch with a boy shortly before getting kidnapped by a man.

The woman rushed over in a panic, face flustered with tears and fear. She wrested her baby from Kakashi's arms, glaring murderously at him like he was the culprit and not the dead man on the floor. Well, dead men couldn't tell any tales, so it fell upon Kakashi's shoulders to explain what happened. Maybe it was better to start from the beginning instead of jumping right into the scene where he stabbed the guy's eye out on a hunch. Now the woman was hysterical, crying over her baby's safety and the horror of a dead man on the floor. The woman was still eyeing him warily as the clerk came around to see what all the screaming and blubbering was about. Then he, too, screamed at the dead body on the floor. Which had then resulted in Kakashi retelling his story from the beginning again, this time including how the little babe still farting in her mother's arms had attempted to make Kakashi her toy dog to play fetch with.

The mother hadn't taken too kindly to that part, of course, even though it was the truth and she had demanded him to tell the story all the way from the beginning.

And then the cops had come and now Kakashi was getting really tired of retelling the same story all over again. At this rate, Rin would give him an earful when he got home if Mrs. Matsuda hadn't already blown out his eardrums by then. Of course, it was only until the officers had gotten his statement did they go bother to check the camera footage. And it was only until every microsecond was picked apart and the man was confirmed to have a gun on him did the officers decide to let Kakashi go. If Kakashi had to be honest, he'd thought the police would let him go once he'd mentioned the name 'Sakumo Hatake' to them. Alas, they were too bewildered by the fact that a teenage boy was able to take down a kidnapper with multiple felonies in the blink of an eye. So the fact that said teenage boy was the son of Sakumo Hatake was more or less glazed over.

When the reporters had finally come, it was just a motley crew of young journalists that looked like they were more interested in ordering some burgers than reporting a mere kidnapping attempt. Kakashi couldn't blame them. A burger and a milkshake sound good, he thought to himself, too absentminded when the baby was shoved back into his arms again, this time by her mother who now seemed to have flipped a switch and was giving him—or rather the reporters taking pictures of them—a saccharine smile instead of the accusing scowl from earlier.

One of the reporters had the gall to say, 'smile!' when Kakashi had been forced to pose for a picture, holding the baby against his hip and against his will. Even beneath his mask, it was hard to attempt a smile when she kept making grabby hands at his face. Tufts of pale pink hair tickled his cheek when the mother managed to wrangle her cooing daughter to hold still for just one photo.

"She needs her diapers changed," Kakashi sniffed, all too happy to give the baby back before she really did start treating him like a toy dog to yank around with her.

When the journalists trailed after him in an attempt for an interview, they at least had the common sense to realize their efforts were futile as Kakashi easily sniped them down with curt, one-word answers. Although he'd found it amusing to see them tripping over the cords of their microphones, he was ecstatic (inwardly) when the crew had finally given up and left, having not much else to report but maybe a two-hundred-word essay at most.

Good. He didn't need Mrs. Matsuda blowing up in his face the moment he stepped back inside the orphanage. Not when she was already a ticking time bomb ready to explode over his tardiness and other riff-raff nonsense. She already had disdain for his recalcitrant behavior, and he was sure she was keeping a list of all his shameless shenanigans.

Which was why he hurriedly dumped his box of condoms, the diapers, and the pack of bubblegum on the counter. The clerk, still quietly bemoaning his inevitable duty to clean up the blood at the other side of the store, flinched when Kakashi slapped a ryo bill in front of him.

Only a few years older, the clerk eyed the condoms warily before shifting his attention to the boy who'd just killed a guy like he'd only been playing pin the tail on the donkey—or eye, in this case. "Uh… how old are you?"

"Fourteen."

"You're pretty young."

"There's no age minimum to purchase condoms."

"Yeah, but I mean… aren't you a lil' too young to be..." The clerk trailed off unsurely.

"Fucking?" Kakashi finished for him, deadpan. "Or did you mean killing?"

It was a sincere question. He really didn't know if the clerk was raising his brow because of the condoms between them or because of the pool of blood further away. Or maybe his apathetic attitude to it all exacerbated the awkward atmosphere that reeked faintly of blood still.

There was also the option to just brag to the guy that he was old enough to already have a college degree under his belt and would have his Masters by fifteen years old. After all, prodigies like Kakashi didn't need to follow the guidelines of how to grow up like a normal child. He was far from normal, and they both knew it after what had just transpired today. But Kakashi found it more amusing to see the guy shiver visibly in distraught of how fucked up in the head this kid in front of him had to be to walk away from a crime scene like it was a walk through the park.

"Give me a pack of Spinel," Kakashi nodded to the cigarettes behind the counter.

The clerk hesitated once again. Clearly, fourteen years old was not quite old enough to buy cancer sticks like they were lollipops. But considering what this kid had just done to a full-grown man earlier and without so much as a blink of an eye... Smoking a cigarette seemed to be harmless when compared to killing a man.

With his condoms, diapers, bubblegum, and Spinel cigarettes now packed in a plastic bag, Kakashi crinkled his eyes at the clerk who shivered again when he realized it was the same expression he had just before killing a man. Unperturbed, Kakashi made his way out of the store, but not without suggesting aloud that they restock the literary section for the poor, depraved souls in desperate need of a raunchy book to soothe the ache of their groins.

On his way back to the orphanage, Kakashi stopped by the corner for a quick smoke. He counted his puffs carefully. Mrs. Matsuda had given up warning him of the addiction to nicotine he would develop sooner or later, but she underestimated him. The shrewd woman liked to believe that she knew him like the back of her hand just because he'd been under her wing for a couple of years already. Little did she know that underneath all that 'recalcitrant behavior that brought shame to his father', Kakashi was in complete control of himself. It was almost neurotic for him to fine-tune his body like an instrument—or a weapon—and constantly stay on high alert for any sign of danger. Like a master of his own puppet, he pulled the strings on every single muscle and breath he owned.

He was in control of himself, and he made a promise that no urge would ever control him. If he wanted to smoke a stick, that was fine. But he wouldn't let the cravings get out of hand. Because it hurt too much to want something so badly that it destroyed you, and Kakashi Hatake was all too aware of what that was like. He'd been craving the impossible since he was a five-year-old kid who'd discovered his father's gutted body one stormy night. And though the cravings never really stop, what mattered was that he was in control of himself.

Even so, he finished his last puff and dropped the stick to snuff it out with a quick grind of his heel. The sun was hanging low, signaling that it was almost in time for dinner and Kakashi knew that his tardiness would only add more fuel to Mrs. Matsuda's already raging fire. He could already smell the smoke of danger—or maybe that was just the smoke of his cigarette clinging to him. Still, he couldn't afford to listen to her bitch for an extra hour when he had another appointment to get ready for tonight.

And it was after dinner that he readied himself for that appointment by sneaking out onto the back porch to enjoy the fresh air as well as the bottle of vodka he'd swiped after picking the lock of the alcohol cabinet. The vodka ran down his throat like fire and settled warm in his stomach. He sighed, leaning back to watch a plane fly overhead. The backyard was filled with fireflies at this time of night, the bugs eager to get some fresh, cool air after a balmy day under the sun.

"Someone made the local newspaper today."

Kakashi glanced up as Rin lowered herself down to take a seat beside him. "Front-page?"

"Last," she replied, presenting him with the page of his deed—minus the word 'heroic' though. At the bottom of the page was a photo of him holding the baby, the both of them painted in shades of black ink and icky grey but neither of them even looking at the camera. Kakashi was in the middle of thinking how much the baby's cheeks look a lot like a chipmunk's when Rin sighed beside him. "They say you killed a man, Kakashi."

He raised his eyes to her. Her face was marred by a disapproving frown while his was as smooth and blank as a canvas.

"Yeah... And?"

Rin's frown deepened. "And... you don't seem to care," she said, her gaze heavy with woe instead of bright with fear.

"I don't care that I killed a man that was going to do god-knows-what to that baby?" He couldn't help but get a little defensive. What did she want him to do? Cry and mourn the loss of a man who contributed nothing to society and was more of a fungal infection that needed to be taken care of? Sure, a life was a life and Kakashi had no intention to play god and decide who lives and who dies. But in a situation like that, there was no choice but to decide who lives and who dies—and hadn't he made the correct judgment in killing the guilty to save the innocent?

Every soldier out on the battlefield was doing that right now. Killing people to save people. It was a necessary evil for the greater good, but maybe Rin didn't understand that quite yet. She was still young and naïve in the sense that she was a proponent for idealism rather than realism. She still had yet to take off her rose-tinted glasses and see the world for what it really was and not for what she wanted it to be. And right now, she was squinting through those glasses to scrutinize him.

He didn't know what she saw, but he knew she didn't like it.

"You know what I mean," she sighed, looking at him the same way she'd looked upon that crippled, old pug in the alley. Broken, and waiting for death.

Just like his father.

"Don't look at me like that, Rin," Kakashi muttered darkly. He looked away from her, taking a sharp swig of vodka straight from the bottle.

She clicked her tongue but grabbed the drink to take a sip, wincing from the burn before tapping a finger on the photo from the newspaper. "You know, it almost looks like this is your baby," she said with a teasing smile. "You almost look adorable as a teen daddy."

"Very funny," Kakashi said with a roll of his eyes although he was grateful for the change in subject. "You know I'm never having children, right? They're fussy and needy and I dare even say abusive. This one pulled my mask down and saw my face while I was helpless to do anything about it. She practically tried to assault her own savior!"

"What?! Why, out of all the people in this world, it's a baby who gets to see your face first?!" Now Rin was pouting with him, but a smile was threatening to twitch awake again. "So not fair. I wiped your puke the first time you got blackout drunk and you still wouldn't let me see!"

"I'll show you one day."

But first, he hoped she'd forget about it.

"At this rate, I'll be dead by the time you do show me."

"I promise to show you," he said, taking absolute care not to pinky promise because, according to Rin, those were unbreakable even for him. He dug into his pocket for the pack of strawberry bubblegum and tossed it to her.

"You remembered the flavor I asked for?" She looked pleased.

"I do have perfect memory."

"Only when you care to remember things."

He raised a shoulder into a shrug like he could care less. "Go brush your teeth and make sure to clean your tongue like I taught you. I can smell the garlic chips you snuck in."

Rin sniffed and curled her lip in distaste. "And I can smell the nicotine on you."

"That's from Asuma."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-huh."

She rolled her eyes back at him but stood up, brushing the invisible dust off her skirt. "What about you? If Mrs. Matsuda catches you here—and with her stolen vodka..." she had her brow raised at the way Kakashi had grabbed the bottle to hug it to himself. Then her brow dipped into a frown and she followed his gaze to the shadows of the backyard. Her face scrunched up in disgust. "Wait, are you going to be making out with Sakae again?"

"Of course not," he snorted. "I'm way past first base already."

And second, and third, and now he was on the last stretch of his home run.

"You say you'll never have children but you sure like practicing making them," Rin said dryly.

Kakashi shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a healthy growing boy with healthy hobbies."

That earned him a sharp kick in the ribs from Rin but he hardly winced. "Remind me to not buy you the next installment of the Make-Out series when it comes out next year."

Ouch. She knew where to hit him where it really hurt.

Hearing her leave to get ready for bed, Kakashi sat straighter, knocking the bottle back for another swig of vodka. He had a better tolerance than last year, and at 5 feet and 5 inches, he already had a solid build shaping up even if his bones still ached and his voice still broke. But he'd already become a man at five years old, growing up in the hard blink of an eye. The painful whiplash of his childhood ending so abruptly had already faded away, but he still found his thoughts straying to his father even on a night like this.

Glimpsing the photo of himself and that baby, Kakashi couldn't help but replace the image with him in his father's arms instead. He blinked once, and he was back to staring at his deadpanned face in sharp contrast to the giggling, gurgling baby he'd been forced to carry for the photo-op.

Heaving a sigh, Kakashi scrubbed a hand down his face before reaching for the newspaper to tear off that page. He folded the sides, making sure the edges were crisp and aligned before throwing the makeshift plane out into the garden. It caught a warm breeze and rode on the tails of the wind, rising higher into the night sky. Kakashi watched on, his memory of today's events already miles away like the paper plane would soon be; soon to be forgotten completely by the end of the night. And as the paper plane raced over the neighborhood, Kakashi's thoughts were now racing towards the future, particularly tonight during which he'd get to weigh Sakae's generous breasts in his hands again.

They're definitely just as soft and heavy as I remember, Kakashi thought at the back of his mind an hour later. But he'd also just as soon forgotten those plush breasts once he found himself inside of Sakae, fucking her in the shadows of the backyard with the rest of the orphanage (save for Rin) none the wiser. He'd impressed her when he managed to roll the condom on without a problem, and he'd been impressed when she guided him down on the bench to ride him. Then they'd both been impressed when, in a sudden turn of events, Kakashi had ended up bending her over and fucking her from behind, her hands gripping the bench so hard that her knuckles bled white and his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.

When it was all done and nothing left to be said, Kakashi honestly didn't feel any different from before. Even when Sakae had blushed and stuttered through her words to tell him to take her out on a date, he felt no inclination to return the romantic sentiment. Of course, he'd still proposed to take her to the movies next week, and she'd proposed to give him a handjob if they stayed for the credits. But beyond the primitive nature that drove Kakashi to accept the sex, there was no tug at his heart the way Sakae's had been.

He liked her as much as he liked her big breasts, and he liked the sex just as much as any healthy, hormonal boy would at his age. But his loss of virginity tonight had changed virtually nothing inside him. Sakae didn't seem to notice at all though when she'd peck a goodnight kiss on his cheek, and Kakashi had given her that same crease-eyed smile he'd given to the clerk and the man he'd killed.

After checking that Rin was tucked in bed and asleep, he made his way to the boy's bathroom. There probably would've been a celebration of sorts among his male peers had they known that Kakashi lost his virginity and got to cum inside a girl—four years older than him at that—all in one night. But at the tender age of fourteen and a genius in his own right, the only one he could celebrate with was the old, crippled pug across the school. He was the only one of his peers who'd had sex with a girl, killed a man, and found his father's own corpse, so of course there wasn't really anyone he could talk to except for the pug who was already too tired laying on Death's doors to care about the fucked-up adventures of a fucked-up boy.

And when Kakashi started to strip off his clothes to shower off the smell of sex, it was then that he realized the bit of blood from the store had stained the edges of his sleeve, the red nearly blending into the black fabric. He didn't care for the copper scent, but he did frown at the light smell of thrown-up milk and cherry blossoms. But of course the baby had drooled on his shirt. He was probably lucky enough that she hadn't puked milk all over him too.

"Never gonna have children," Kakashi groused to himself, and then he stepped into the shower to rinse away the last evidence of today's events.

The rest of the chapter will be published soon on AO3 and Fanfiction.Net! Thank you for reading!

#kakasaku #kakashi x sakura #the anatomy of love

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ask-ciaphas-cain · 4 years ago

Text

A Comprehensive Cain Cover Art Ranking

Idea and categories by @thesilentinquisitor, compilation by me, commentary by both.

Traitors Hand

Evren-mun: Drive me closer, I want to hit them with my sword! +1 for classic memery, -1 for apparently being set in a giant bowl of Cheetos Beauty: ★★★☆☆ I can’t really see his face, but it looks alright

Sexiness: ★★☆☆☆

Heroism: ★★★★★

Hat Size: ★★★☆☆ Average size hat. A normal human being’s hat.

Biceps: ★★★☆☆ Perfectly normal human biceps. Very good.

Uniform Structural Integrity: ★★★★★ It won’t come off any time soon

Gun Ridiculousness: ★★★☆☆ It looks like it’s shooting lava, but it’s a good size. Evren-mun: Every weapon is spewing fire, regardless of its actual ammunition

Kissability:★☆☆☆☆ Not with that face.

(Bonus) Jurgen Presence:★★★★★ There he is!!! The lad! Right there front and center!

The Last Ditch

Evren-mun: Dark! Moody! A little pouty! Very ornate! Is that a soul patch or a shadow? The second most kissable because he's already puckering up a little

Beauty: ★★★☆☆ 3 stars for cheekbones, 0 stars for everything else. This seems to be the start of the trend of not actually seeing his face.

Sexiness: ★★★☆☆ Where is his face? I can’t tell.

Heroism: ★★★★★ Broodily pouting in front of charging orkz? Can’t get braver than posing in front of imminent death!

Hat Size: ★★★☆☆ Excellent normal hat.

Biceps:★☆☆☆☆ Is this even a Cain book cover if we can’t see them???

Uniform Structural Integrity: ★★★★★

Gun Ridiculousness: ★★★★☆ Look at that ornate filigree!

Kissability: ★★☆☆☆ He’s pouty, but that’s not really doing him any favors.

(Bonus) Jurgen Presence: ☆☆☆☆☆ WHERE IS HE

Saviour of the Imperium version 1

Evren-mun: 🥔 🥔 🥔 🥔 🥔 🥔 🥔 🥔 🥔 🥔 🥔 🥔 🥔

NO. ZERO STARS, -∞, CAUSES PSYCHIC DAMAGE UPON VIEWING

Saviour of the Imperium version 2

Evren-mun: Stumpylegs McGee How does he lift up a chainsword longer than his own torso and half his legs?

Beauty: ★★☆☆☆ I’m taking off a star because his legs seem to have been taken off a squat and pasted under his belt.

Sexiness:★★★☆☆ It would have been higher if, again, he didn’t look like the illustration of Horus standing on a table.

Heroism: ★★★☆☆ He’s just kind of... standing there, shooting at the ground. Well posed though.

Hat Size: ★★☆☆☆ it looks like it shrunk a little in the wash

Biceps: ★★★☆☆ This is a swole man.

Uniform Structural Integrity: ★★★☆☆ Very tight, but it looks like its holding on for now.

Gun Ridiculousness: ★★☆☆☆ It’s a gun!

Kissability: ★★☆☆☆ He looks very stern here. Not approachable.

(Bonus) Jurgen Presence: ☆☆☆☆☆ Well he sure ain’t here.

Old Soldiers Never Die version 1

Evren-mun: Very nice. Not as tense or horrific as the old cover, though

Beauty: ★★★★★ Now this is more like it! Rosy skin, subtle smirk, this is a pretty pretty man!

Sexiness:★★★★★ That swagger! That confidence! He is unbothered by the zombies behind him and I like that.

Heroism: ★★☆☆☆ He’s posing, not fighting. It’s like the zombies are a green screen background.

Hat Size: ★★★★☆ Oversized, but not ridiculous, this is a good hat

Biceps: ★★☆☆☆ How dare they be proportional to his body

Uniform Structural Integrity: ★★★★★ Holy crap an actually illustrated uniform I can use for reference? GW what happened

Gun Ridiculousness: ★★☆☆☆ This is a very reasonable gun.

Kissability: ★★★★★ Look at that goddamn smirk, you wanna smooch it off.

(Bonus) Jurgen Presence: ☆☆☆☆☆ None! Boooo! Especially as he’s kind of the hero of this story. Booooo.

Old Soldiers Never Die version 2

Evren-mun: Shades of the Walking Dead Not very sexy or kissable but very heroic

Beauty: ★★★☆☆ He’s a little busy! But I can see it under the hat.

Sexiness:★★��☆☆ Again, he’s a little busy right now.

Heroism: ★★★★★ I am convinced that he’s about to be buried in zombies, but he’s still fighting them off. Incredible.

Hat Size: ★★★☆☆

Biceps: ★★★☆☆ I can’t really see them but they look pretty nice.

Uniform Structural Integrity: ★★★★★ He might actually be protected from a few bites before they all start gnawing.

Gun Ridiculousness: ★★☆☆☆ This gun is useful and it’s actively firing. Not a prop.

Kissability: ★☆☆☆☆ Not after he’s been near the zombies, sorry

(Bonus) Jurgen Presence: ☆☆☆☆☆ Where! is! my stinky mans!

Hero of the Imperium

Evren-mun: Very bicep, not very sexy or kissable

Low hat size

Very high hero score

Beauty: ★☆☆☆☆ If he’s beautiful, I can’t see it under his hat.

Sexiness: ★☆☆☆☆ Again, cannot see his face to determine.

Heroism: ★★★★☆ Well, he is posing, but he just capped an ork Nob. Very nice.

Hat Size: ★★☆☆☆ How IS his face hiding under that little hat??

Biceps: ★★★★☆ He’s smuggling some fruit in them sleeves.

Uniform Structural Integrity: ★★★★★

Gun Ridiculousness: ★★★★☆ His hands had to grow to accommodate that hefty chunk of gun.

Kissability: ★☆☆☆☆ Why is his head so damn small

(Bonus) Jurgen Presence: ☆☆☆☆☆

The Greater Good

Evren-mun: Small hat, high heroism, -1 for sword that could get on Disneyland rides by itself

+1 for painted-on trousers

Hey, I’ve seen this one! This is just the Savior of the Imperium cover again, but with a Tau on it!

For The Emperor

Evren-mun: Very ornate uniform Much bedroom eyes wow

Beauty: ★★★★☆ This is my favorite of the “old” Cain covers and the first one I used as a face reference.

Sexiness: ★★★★☆ He’s giving you bedroom eyes on the battlefield. Damn. I’m ace and I feel it.

Heroism: ★★★☆☆ I’m taking a star away just because it’s clearly posing in front of a green screen, but I love the flag.

Hat Size: ★★★★☆ This is a good hat! It accents his head and doesn’t overwhelm it.

Biceps: ★★★★☆ You can see them, but they’re not fit to burst from his coat. Very good.

Uniform Structural Integrity: ★★★★★ Looks battleworn but in a good way. Comfy leather.

Gun Ridiculousness: ★☆☆☆☆ This is the most reasonable gun I’ve seen so far! How dare they give him a reasonable gun.

Kissability: ★★★★★ He holsters the gun and sweeps you into a kiss while still holding his banner. The entire regiment applauds.

(Bonus) Jurgen Presence: ☆☆☆☆☆ I forgive them because it’s clearly a propaganda poster.

The Emperor’s Finest

Evren-mun: 10/10 for cheekbones Not very kissable. The corpse paint makes him look sinister. The chain looks like a nipple piercing. Vacuum sealed for freshness.

Beauty: ★★☆☆☆ He’d be prettier if he didn’t look so damn emaciated in the face. He’s somehow simultaneously really pretty and really ugly on this one.

Sexiness: ★★☆☆☆ Great body, really confusing face.

Heroism: ★★★☆☆ If you’re being BACKED by Space Marines, you’re pretty damn heroic.

Hat Size: ★★★★☆ That is a very pointy hat.

Biceps: ★★☆☆☆ Myeeeehhh they’re unimpressive compared to his titties.

Uniform Structural Integrity: ★★☆☆☆ You could lick your finger and rub the uniform off.

Gun Ridiculousness: ★★★☆☆ It fits in his hand but that is a FAT, FAT boi

Kissability: ★★☆☆☆ His lips are simultaneously nice and look like fist lips. I’m confused.

(Bonus) Jurgen Presence: ☆☆☆☆☆

Duty Calls

Evren-mun: Very heroic, not very sexy because I can't see him. Very topheavy. Muscles like a turtle's shell

*squints* Honestly, I have this up on my large monitor and I still can’t see anything. Gun big, hat big, but that’s it.

Death or Glory

Evren-mun: Duel-wielding guns he probably doesn't even own. How has he not broken both arms by now?

Beauty: ★★☆☆☆ He looks kinda like scared Rambo?

Sexiness: ★★☆☆☆ He’d be sexier if he didn’t look like a Rambo parody. I like muscles, but not like this.

Heroism: ★★★★★ He is actively dual wielding bolters, standing on an ork corpse that he stabbed, with a banner strapped to his back. This is the platonic ideal heroic Cain.

Hat Size: ★★☆☆☆ It’s a normal sized, fine hat, which does not fit the aura of this picture at all.

Biceps: ★★★★★ LOOK AT THOSE MELONS! This Cain lives on plain chicken breasts and pumping iron every night. No wonder his sleeves didn’t make it.

Uniform Structural Integrity: ★☆☆☆☆ Evren-mun: Flexed so hard the sleeves exploded.

And the rest of it is painted on!

Gun Ridiculousness: ★★★★☆ They’re big, they’re chunky, they’re smoking and filigreed.

Kissability: ★★☆☆☆ He’s a little busy at the moment.

(Bonus) Jurgen Presence: ☆☆☆☆☆

Choose Your Enemies

Evren-mun: Jurgen Presence, now with hat - 8/10

Beauty: ★★★★★ Model Cain is back and I love him. Look at that smug knifecat face.

Sexiness: ★★★★★ He’s got the confidence and swagger, and the draped coat. Excellent.

Heroism: ★★☆☆☆ He’s posing while Jurgen and Colonel Kasteen are looking at him like he’s lost his fucking mind. Not very heroic.

Hat Size: ★★★★☆ It is a nice size, but still balanced to his head.

Biceps: ★★☆☆☆ Normal human biceps.

Uniform Structural Integrity: ★★★★★ What a lovely, made of cloth uniform.

Gun Ridiculousness: ★☆☆☆☆ I can’t really see it well enough to make a good judgement on it.

Kissability: ★★★★☆ If he weren’t so DAMN SMUG he’d be very smoochable.

(Bonus) Jurgen Presence: ★★★★★ He’s here and he’s actively judging Cain. This is a very good Jurgen. Excellent.

Caves of Ice

Evren-mun: A very Present Jurgen

+2 sexy for the fur coat

Which appears to be on fire

Beauty: ★★★★☆ He looks very lovely, but he’s really clenching his teeth.

Sexiness: ★★★☆☆ The tight fur coat is very nice I can see his abs through it.

Heroism: ★★★★☆ He’s actively in battle and waving a sword. Among his regiment. Very good.

Hat Size: ★★★★☆ Another large but well fitting hat.

Biceps: ★★★☆☆ They’re there but not overwhelming.

Uniform Structural Integrity: ★★☆☆☆ It’s thin and shows off his figure but it’s still clearly made of fabric rather than paint.

Gun Ridiculousness: ★★★☆☆ Chunky but still holdable and functional.

Kissability: ★★☆☆☆ He looks very bitey.

(Bonus) Jurgen Presence: ★★★★★ THERE HE IS. THE SMELLY MANS!! WHERE HE SHOULD BE

Cain’s Last Stand

Evren-mun: Very heroic, but the corpse paint makes a reappearance

Beauty: ★★☆☆☆ He’s got some hints of nice features but they’re either under the hat or hidden by his grimace.

Sexiness: ★★☆☆☆ He’s being very heroic and shooty, which is nice but not arousing.

Heroism: ★★★★★ He’s carrying a wounded man and walking through enemy fire while firing back! A hero to the core.

Hat Size: ★★★★★ This is a very pointy, big hat.

Biceps: ★★★★☆ I can’t see them but at the same time look at how thick his gun arm is. He’s definitely swole here.

Uniform Structural Integrity: ★★☆☆☆ It’s very thin again, but there’s an actual cloth collar?

Gun Ridiculousness: ★★★☆☆ That sure is a square with fire coming out of it.

Kissability: ★☆☆☆☆ He looks like he’d poke your eye out with that nose.

(Bonus) Jurgen Presence: ☆☆☆☆☆ Aaaaand he’s gone again.

Defender of the Imperium

Evren-mun: Very low Uniform Integrity Very high biceps High sexy for the pose and torn-out boob window

Beauty: ★★★☆☆ He’s pretty but very austere

Sexiness: ★★★★★ Mmmyess, that artfully torn uniform. The pose to show off all the good bits. Very nice.

Heroism: ★★★☆☆ He’s just killed a tyranid and now he’s posing on it. It’s good.

Hat Size: ★★★★★ The biggest, pointiest hat!!!

Biceps: ★★★★★ He hasn’t quite burst out of them but he’s ripped them, probably by flexing.

Uniform Structural Integrity: ★★☆☆☆ It’s very thin cloth again, probably designed to rip upon a flex and to show off muscles.

Gun Ridiculousness: ★★★★☆ It’s like a book with a handle on it. It looks so unwieldy.

Kissability: ★☆☆☆☆ There’s the pointy nose again. He looks too stern for kissing.

(Bonus) Jurgen Presence: ☆☆☆☆☆

#briefly appears to climb back on my bullshit then vanishes again

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justablogfullofrandomrandomness · 4 years ago

Text

Okay, over the past couple of days I've been writing something. It's the Avatar episode The Blue Spirit told from Zuko's perspective. Hope you enjoy, I worked pretty hard on it.

I had many..... What some may call.... Misadventures while searching for the Avatar. Some that people know about, others that are a close kept secret. Especially that one day. But, I'm not above admitting I do think about it a lot. I'm still confused by it. But, it's not like I can ask anyone about it. No one knows, and I'm not going to tell anyone about it, ever. However, the Avatar knows, and if he knows there's no question whether or not his friends know too. But it's not like I can go talk to them, we're enemies. Nothing will change that, not even this. Let me start from the beginning. Not the 'beginning' beginning, the beginning of this story. It started at the Pohuai Stronghold, one of the most secure bunkers the Fire Nation had. Nearly impossible to break into, but I didn't need in. I just needed on the tower. The black hood and the blue mask I wore were a precaution, in case I was seen, which I wasn't planning on happening. But if I was, no one would know it was me. And my Uncle says I don't think things through. I think them through enough! I climbed up the wall in time to hear the conversation between Zhao and Colonel Shinu.

"Absolutely not." Shinu was saying, clearly furious. "The Yuyan Archers stay here. Your request is denied, Commander Zhao."

"Colonel Shinu, please reconsider. Their precision is legendary. The Yuyan can pin a fly to a tree from one hundred yards away without killing it." I looked down to where the Yuyan were practicing their marksmanship. They clearly lived up to the legend. "You're wasting their talents using them as mere security guards." Zhao continued. I hated that guy so much.

"I can do whatever I want with their talents. They're my archers, and what I say goes." Shinu snapped. Zhao scowled at him.

"But my search for the Avatar is-"

"Is nothing but a vanity project. We're fighting a real war here, and I need every man I've got, Commander."

"But-" Shinu cut him off again.

"That's final! I don't want to hear another word about it." Zhao glared at him, but before either could do anything else, a bird screeched. We all glanced towards it as the Messenger Hawk flew to the tower.

"News from Fire Lord Ozai?" I heard Zhao asked. There was the sound of paper rustling. "It appears I've been promoted to Admiral." Zhao remarked, no doubt with a smug smirk painted across his face. "My request is now an order." Zhao walked out to the balcony and looked down at the Yuyan Archers. His archers now. I scowled from behind my mask. The last thing Zhao needed was more power. He was big enough of a problem as a Commander. I climbed down the tower, deciding it was time to leave.

The next day I was back on my ship, in the navigation room. Lieutenant Jee and I were hovering over a map as my Uncle played Pai Sho with some other crewmates in the corner. It was weird, ever since the storm, everyone, especially Jee, had been treating me different. More tolerant. I know Uncle said something to them, but what exactly he said, I wasn't sure. It didn't matter, though. At least they all weren't at my throat anymore.

"We haven't been able to pick up the Avatar's trail since the storm," Jee was saying. He pointed to the map. "But if we continue heading Northeast-" He cut himself off when a large shadow passed the window. It was another Fire Navy ship, and one of the bigger ones.

"What do they want?" I questioned.

"Perhaps a sporting game of Pai Sho." Uncle spoke up, rubbing his hands together. When the soldiers boarded the ship and entered the navigation room, they held out a scroll for us to see. It was a wanted poster for the Avatar.

"The hunt for the Avatar has been given prime importance. All information regarding the Avatar must be reported directly to Admiral Zhao."

"Zhao has been promoted?" My uncle asked, his finger resting on a game piece as he considered his move. "Well, good for him." He finished, pushing it across the board with a smile. The two crewmates he was playing against groaned. I looked away from the soldiers.

"I've got nothing to report to Zhao. Now get off my ship and let us pass."

"Admiral Zhao is not allowing ships in or out of this area." The soldier said. I scowled.

"OFF MY SHIP!" I shouted, filled with rage. Uncle didn't seem to be paying much attention to what had just happened. He was focused on his game.

"Excellent, I take the pot." He pulled the money towards him. "But you're all improving. I'm certain you will win if we play again." I turned away from the others, looking out the window. I went up to the deck and started running myself through Firebending moves furiously, needing to blow off some steam. I knew Zhao's promotion was going to give me issues, but I had no idea it would quite literally halt my search. I didn't know what to do. I kicked one last blast of fire, exhausted, breathing heavily.

"Is everything okay?" I heard my uncle ask from behind me. "It's been almost an hour and you haven't given the men an order."

"I don't care what they do." I snapped.

"Don't give up hope yet. You can still find the Avatar before Zhao." I turned around, looking at him desperately.

"How, Uncle? With Zhao's resources, it's just a matter of time before he captures the Avatar." I turned away and moved to the side of the ship, looking out at the water. "My honor, my throne, my country, I'm about to lose them all." In the two and a half years I had been searching, it had never felt more impossible. I screwed my eyes shut, driving my fists into the metal rim of the ship. "No, I can't lose them. I will not. I refuse to let Zhao win." I pushed off the side and walked off.

"Where are you going?" Uncle asked me as I passed him.

"To figure out a way around Zhao's restrictions. I'll be back." I went to my quarters and looked at the swords on my wall for a moment before taking them down and forcing them into a scabbard. I went to my table and pulled out the blue mask, looking down at it's wide grin. Whatever was going to happen, it would be for the best. It was what needed to be done. I left alone. I didn't need any help from anyone else. They would only slow me down.

When I arrived near the closest village, I quickly changed into a black outfit with gloves and a hood, only touch of color was the blue mask. I listened carefully, hoping Jee was right about his predictions. That's when I overheard some guards walking down the dark street by the alleyway I had crouched in.

"The Yuyan Archers didn't even have to try, I heard they took him down in an instant."

"Guess all that talk about how strong he is was just a bunch of Firelord propaganda after all. Did they kill him?"

"Don't you know anything about the Avatar? If they kill him, he'll just be reincarnated and then they'll have to start their search all over again! No, they're keeping him at the Pohuai Stronghold until they can safely transport him or something. Either that or they'll just keep him there, which seems like the best option considering his reputation." My eyes widened and my breathing hitched as the guards conversation faded from my earshot. Of course they took him to the Pohuai Stronghold, because when was anything in my life easy? I sighed. It's okay, it was all under control. I just had to get to the stronghold and hopefully by then I would have thought of a plan..... Maybe now that I think about it, Uncle had a point about me not thinking things through. Don't tell him I said that.

A few hours later, I watched from the bushes, studying the area before me. It's like I said earlier, the Pohuai Stronghold was one of the most secure fortresses the Fire Nation had, and no doubt the Yuyan Archers would be there, guarding their prize. Sneaking onto a tower to eavesdrop on a conversation is one thing, but actually getting in? That would be difficult. Then I got an idea. There was a road nearby. If I timed it just right, I would have a chance. I waited in silence, mask hiding my face, it would be better if no one knew it was me. Especially the Avatar. After what felt like ages of waiting, I heard it. A supply cart. I waited for the opportune moment before quickly rolling under the cart, grabbing onto the bottom and holding on tight. It stopped at the gate, and a guard checked the back, looking to see if the supplier was trying to sneak anything in. I held my breath as I watched the feet on the other side of the cart, quickly slipping out the other side and climbing into the back behind a crate as the guard checked underneath.

"All clear. Go on in." The guard said. The cart started to move again. I was in. When the cart stopped to be unloaded, I slipped out, sneaking past the guards and running into a nearby stairwell. I could hear Zhao, giving his speech of victory.

"Until today, only one thing stood in our path to victory. The Avatar! I am here to tell you that he is now my prisoner!" Zhao shouted, his voice triumphant. Cheers roared from the crowd. I was crouched as I snuck across the wall, doing my best to ignore Zhao. I had to stay focused. I dropped a rope down the side of the wall and slid down, quickly ducking into a sewer grate. So what if I got a little wet? I effortlessly squeezed through the bars, more cheers roaring from the guards Zhao was entertaining with his gloating. I knew even then his hunger for power would be the death of him one day. I managed to get into the hallways without a hitch. Well, except for that one guard that I stumbled upon. Knocked him out and took his helmet, deciding I could use it. When I reached the corridor I knew they were keeping Aang in, I threw the helmet down. The metal clanked as it hit the floor, rolling to a stop at the guards feet. I heard footsteps of an approaching guard and when he rounded the corner, I took him out, gagging his mouth and hanging him from the ceiling by his arms with a chain. A few seconds later, two other guards turned to corner and stared at the first guard. They didn't even notice me up in the ceiling above them. Too bad for them. The fourth and final guard hadn't left the door. He knew something was wrong and reached for the horn on the wall to alert other guards. I ran down the hall and threw a knife, knocking the horn out of his hand. He saw me coming at him and instinctively shot a blast of fire at me, which I counteracted by throwing a bucket of water at him, and sweeping his feet out from underneath him. I hit him over the head with the bucket, just to be sure. Then I knelt down and pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocking the door and looking at the boy who had caused me so much trouble. The Avatar was chained, defenseless. Everything I had wanted the past two years, served up to me on a silver platter. I drew my swords and his eyes widened with terror. Undoubtedly, I looked like some kind of demon. But I didn't care. I ran at him with my swords and he screamed, screwing his eyes shut and looking away. He opened his eyes when he felt the swords cut the chains. He looked up at me in shock. I realized in that moment he really had no idea who I was. I stepped closed to him and broke the metal cuffs off his wrists and then did the same with his legs, sheathing one of my swords.

"Who are you?" The Avatar asked. "What's going on?! Are you here to rescue me?" I opened the door and gestured for him to follow me, ignoring his questions.

"I'll take that as a yes." The boy remarked, following me down the hall. I got a bit a head of him when I heard him gasp.

"My frogs!" He shouted. "Come back! And stop thawing out!" I took a deep breath and went back for him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging him away from the half frozen frogs he was trying to stuff into his pockets. "WAIT! MY FRIENDS NEED TO SUCK ON THOSE FROGS!!!!" I had no idea WHY he said that, or what he meant by it, but I really didn't want to know. I lead him through the halls, back the way I came, and straight to the sewers. I could see the silhouettes of guards moving overhead and I gestured for the kid to press against the wall so we wouldn't be seen. He was worried, I could see it in his eyes, but I made no move to comfort him. Instead, I left my head through the grate, peering around. Once I decided the coast was clear I gestured for him to follow me up and I climbed out. The Avatar followed after me, having to jump up to grab the bars as he was much shorter than me. I lead him back to where I had climbed down on the rope and he started climbing up the wall, me following short after. We were halfway up the wall when a loud bell rang out. We'd been made.

"There! On the wall!" A guard shouted. Another guard ran up on the top of the tower and cut the rope and we both fell back towards the ground. The Avatar sent a blast of air beneath us, cushioning our fall so we didn't break anything on impact with the ground. Smart kid. We'd need that quick thinking if we were going to get out of here alive. I drew my swords, ready to defend myself. I pointed towards the open gate and I bolted for it, the kid right behind me. Guards ran at us from all different directions as Zhao shouted orders from above.

"Stay close to me." The Avatar said, running in front of me, sending a huge gust of wind at the guards who blocked our path. He got a little bit ahead of me and two guards ran at me at once with their spears. I stopped to fight them off, the kid not seeming to notice. More and more guards came and pretty soon I was surrounded, but I wasn't giving up. I had so much more to fight for. If I gave up here there would be no more hope. I felt a large rush of air and suddenly all the guards had been swooped away. The kid had come back for me. He was holding a spear with the sharp bit broken off. A makeshift staff. He looked at me for a moment before he waved his staff at me, sending my flying through the air, landing on top of the wall. I quickly got to me feet, ready to fight off the guards that were coming at me when the Avatar flew up to me himself, spinning the staff over his head to keep himself airborne. He grabbed me by wrapping his legs around my chest and we took off into the sky again. He struggled to keep in the air with my added weight, every once and a while dropping a few feet, during which I decided I wasn't a fan of flying. Spears flew at us from the ground and I focused on kicking them away before they pierced us, which only made us descend faster. We crashed on the middle wall hard, and I dropped my swords on impact. Only one more wall to clear and we were free. Well, I would be free. I pushed myself up on my elbows, my chest and stomach aching from hitting the stone so hard. The Avatar quickly got up, trying to grab his staff, but a guard kicked it off the ledge and started swiping at him with his sword. I got to my feet myself and grabbed the guard, throwing him off the wall. I quickly grabbed my swords again and we stood back to back. I ran at a couple of guards and the kid sent blasts of air at the ones coming at him. And then he took out the ones I was facing. But we didn't have much time to breath. Guards from below were propping bamboo ladders against the wall and were using them to scale it. The Avatar took multiple guards out at once, clearing off two of the ladders while I struggled on the one. There was only so little I could do with my swords compared to giant blasts of wind. But right now I wasn't the Fire Prince. I was a vigilante. As I knocked the final guard off the ladder, the Avatar handed me the two other ladders.

"Take this!" I looked down at the ladders in confusion as the kid jumped on the third ladder and it started to fall down. "Jump on my back!" He exclaimed. I quickly did as I was told, still holding onto the ladders. He took one of them from me and aimed it down so that when the other one fell, it stood up straight. I realized what he was doing. He was trying to propel us over the wall. "Give me the next one!" I handed him the next one and he did the same. The guards below seemed to see what we were doing and one set the ladder on fire, forcing the Avatar to jump off earlier than what would have been ideal. We both tried to grab onto the ledge, but neither of our grips were strong enough and we fell down the side of the wall only to be surrounded by Zhao's men. I drew my swords again, ready to fight. All at once, they fired their blasts at us, the Avatar quickly moving in front of me to block the blow with a blast of air.

"Hold your fire!" Zhao shouted, causing all the soldiers to stand down. "The Avatar must be captured alive!" In that instant I knew what I had to do. I grabbed the Avatar and held my blades against his neck threateningly. He tensed, but made no move to escape, knowing what I was doing. Zhao seemed to know too. We made eye contact for an intense moment before he spoke again. "Open the gate." He glowered, not breaking my stare.

"Admiral, what are you doing?" One of the soldiers asked.

"Let them out, now." The gates creaked open behind us and I slowly backed out, glancing behind me ever so often to make sure I wasn't going to back right into a tree. Now that would be humiliating. I didn't know how far I had to go, or what I was going to do after we escaped, only that I had to put as much distance between me and that stronghold as possible. I glanced behind me and looked up again just in time to see something flying towards my face. It hit my mask, knocking me back. I fell to the ground, and everything went black.

When I came too, I was staring right up at the roof of a forest. The sunlight pouring in through the leaves told me I'd been out for a long time. I groaned, glancing around, my vision a little blurry. To my surprise, the Avatar was sitting right beside me, on a tree root, his knees drawn tight to his chest. He didn't even look at me before he started to speak.

"You know what the worst part about being born over a hundred years ago is? I miss all the friends I used to hang out with. Before the war started, i used to always visit my friend Kuzon. The two of us, we'd get in and out of so much trouble together." He smiled, remembering the happy memories of his past. "He was one of the best friends I ever had. And he was from the Fire Nation, just like you." He finally turned to look at me. "If we knew each other back then, do you think we could've been friends too?" I didn't hesitate. I jumped up and sent a blast of fire at him, hoping to catch him off guard. The Avatar flew into the air, clearly expecting it, and disappeared through the trees. I looked after him for a moment before kneeling down to pick up my mask. That's when I saw he'd made a bed for me out of leaves. I shook my head. I would never understand that kid. When I arrived back on the ship, my Uncle was on the deck, playing his Tsungi Horn beside that horrible antique monkey that he bought from the pirates.

"Where have you been, Prince Zuko?" He asked as I walked past him. "You missed music night! Lieutenant Jee sang a stirring love song." I didn't turn around as I walked down the hallway, in no mood to deal with his antics.

"I'm going to bed. No disturbances." I said quietly, bringing a hand to my head, which was still throbbing from whatever knocked me out. I laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, a million thoughts running through my mind. He knew who I was. He knew it was me, and yet he still saved my life. But why? Why didn't he just leave me there for Zhao? His life would've been so much easier. He had to have known. So why didn't he let me die? I glanced to my side, looking at the Fire Nation insignia on the wall. Was I wrong? Hunting him? I shook my head, rolling over on my other side. No, it was my destiny. I had to capture the Avatar. It was the only way for me to return home. For things to return to normal. I pushed the seed of doubt to the back of my mind, not wanting to think about it, and I closed my eyes.

No matter how long I think about it, I never could figure out why he didn't leave me there. He's saved my life twice by this point, once at the stronghold and once at the North Pole. Sometimes I wish I could ask him why, or more specifically how does he find it in his heart to show people like me mercy. But I can't. No matter what, we will always be enemies until the day we die. But.... Maybe, just maybe he was right. Maybe we could've been friends, if things were different. But they aren't. It'd like I said, we're enemies. The Fire Prince and the Avatar. But.... No. I shouldn't even be thinking about it. I have to capture him. It's the only way for me to restore my honor. For my father not to think I'm worthless, and I am not worthless. I'll show them. One day.

#avatar the last airbender #the Blue Spirit #Zuko #aang #iroh #zhao #yuyan archers #writing project

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finhere · 4 years ago

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Is anyone else secretly like, one of the worst fans out there? Like a complete asshole but you keep it to yourself so nobody knows—

I mean, much as I hate to say it, I absolutely do have a massive superiority complex when it comes to certain things. Like I’ll hang up a map of beleriand in my dorm room and have it visible in all my photos just to let everyone know that I know more about Lord of the Rings than they do. What’s my profile picture, you may ask? Oh it’s my favorite obscure Star Wars character, you wouldn’t get it. Yeah you see that bunch of propaganda posters on my wall? I can explain all of them in depth I bet you don’t even know-

And obviously I try not to be ~like that~ but there’s a tiny smug part of my brain that needs to prove I know more about this fandom than everyone I talk to

#or am I just an ass lmao #help #fandom #the silmarillion #lotr #Tolkien #star wars #history

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snippychicke · 5 years ago

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Dedicated to @unbiddenrhythm for getting me hooked on this seriously rare-pair. Although our Assistants have slightly different names, Rea is heavily inspired by her head cannons, so she's like, 99% hers.

This started out as a short drabble for OTP prompts, and just...evolved. the prompt was: Which one gets jealous more often.

Short answer: Rea does, partly because she often feels like she Reeve is far out of her league.

Long answer: well, this:

Fluffyish piece of ReevexAssistant below. Mentions of jealous, hints of slight sexual harassment (not between the main couple). Spoiler free!

Oddly enough, Rea tends to get jealous more often.

Reeve Tuesti was really the poster boy of Shinra directors. Granted, compared to the other three males that made up the board of directors, it wasn't that surprising. Anyone would look good compared to Palmer, Heidegger, and Hojo.

The only other Shinra Executive the gossip columnists wrote more about was Rufus, and since his assignment to Junon and virtual banishment from Midgar, he had been forced to the limelight. Leaving Reeve to endure the spotlight and rather unwanted attention.

Rea knew she shouldn't be reading the trashy magazines that were little more than fluff pieces that barely disguised Shinra propaganda. But when Reeve was on the latest cover, it was hard for her to resist. Her official reason was to study the gossip and figure out if she needed to give the poor man a heads up about the latest rumors (like when they published his favorite cafe and the 'fans' were flooding to the small cat cafe in Sector 3 to catch a glimpse) or start counter-arguments derailing the misconceptions that tended to sprout from time to time (like that he was yet another Shinra bastard son).

It was just a coincidence that the side bonus was to be able to.study her boss's appearance without the risk of being caught. (Not that the paparazzi ever got a picture of his true smile, or really captured the small little glint in his eyes he got when he was amused. But they did get a rather good side profile when he was jogging on the treadmill on the rec floor that she was rather fond of.)

However, this time the articles left her more than a little disquieted. It was a special edition covering President Shinra's birthday party from the weekend prior. It had been a through who's-who affair, with everyone dressed to impress. She skipped over the details of the designers, and briefly wrinkled her nose at the image of Hojo and Palmer and their suits. Not even the best tailors in the world could make them half-decent, though she questioned who thought to let Palmer wear a suit that was a rather gross mix of brown and green that reminded her of things that belong in a toilet.

She did have to admit lingering on the first couple images of her boss in the well-fitted black suit made his long legs and thin form even more prominent than usual. The remaining articles that weren't dedicated to praising the President were focused on the Urban Development Director…

...and questioning his relationship with Scarlett.

Nearly every picture had the two in close proximity, and in more than a couple, Scarlett was hanging from Reeve's arm, a sultry smile on her shimmery lips and a smug look in her eyes that made something akin to anger flare in Rea's chest. As if the older woman was looking straight at her and boasting at achieving what Rea could only dream about.

Looking at those pictures...Rea had to admit to the small ember of jealousy that burned in her stomach. She wanted to be able to wrap her arm around Reeve like that. To gaze up into his eyes and see that warmth and tenderness looking back at her.

And unfortunately for Rea, the rumors of Reeve and Scarlett spread like wildfire through Shinra's fertile grapevine. Sure Scarlett was a few years older than Reeve, but many people pointed out that it wasn't that much of an age gap. Then there were the counter-arguments that she had undeniable looks and 'experience', musing maybe it was something right up the soft-spoken man's alley.

The conversations down that particular path made Rea feel physically sick. Few were privy to just exactly how ruthless and abusive the lone female director was, and she had a hard time thinking anyone would find that...attractive, let alone her boss. Granted Reeve did his best not to speak too poorly about his peers, but she was sure she didn't imagine the scowl that graced his features whenever he returned from meetings with her. She had thought that Reeve disapproved of such things...but all the pictures of the two together and the gossip that followed suit made her start to question that maybe she was wrong?

It made her question if she was reading all the signs between her and her director wrong. Over the last few months, she had started hope that maybe this feeling wasn't quite as one-sided as she had first thought. But maybe he was just being kind and helpful and she was just seeing things through rose-colored glasses. Maybe she wasn't at all his type.

And if Scarlett was his type...did she really know him that well?

"Oh please," Reeve groaned, making Rea jump slightly in her chair as he entered the office and caught her flipping through the infamous magazine, "I will literally buy you a fire materia if you promise to burn that wretched thing.

"Sir?" She squeaked, not used to hearing him speak so...candidly. Never through the months of her 'research' had he commented so negatively. Usually, it was a bemused 'really?' Or a 'what are those scavengers lying about now?'

"Those pictures of me and Scarlett," he gestured tiredly. "I swear I am going to retch if I see another one. First I had to endure her pawing at me that entire night, and the nightmare only continues. 'Older and experienced, ha!' The woman is a money digging cougar."

Rea bit her lip trying to contain a smile as that sickly feeling evaporated. Everything suddenly seemed better, and the world once more made sense. Jealousy and doubt had really made her think crazy ideas. Reeve, interested in Scarlett? That was not the man she admired and respected. "...I do think they sell fire materia downstairs, actually…"

Reeve paused for a moment, his dark eyes meeting hers. His expression was serious, but she swore she could see some amusement and gratitude in them."Don't tempt me, because I don't know if I can resist."

Those words made butterflies flutter in her stomach, and she had to look away to regain her senses. The magazine was open to a page where Scarlett was pressed against his side, her cleavage prominent, and now she could see the reserved annoyance on her Director's face as he pointedly looked away from the woman. " ...usually I wouldn't condone such acts, however, this time is a little different." Rea gave a small impish smile as she looked back at him, and was delighted when he started to grin back at her.

"You, my dear, are the best," there was a pause as he glanced at the offending text. "...would you think any less of me if I asked you to use my account to buy the last of those magazines? I could reserve the SOLDIERS' VR training room for after hours. I think it's fireproof."

Rea was shocked by his words temporarily before realization sunk in. He really hated the rumors floating about him this.time, and it struck a nerve. Righteous anger flared along with determination.

"It would be my pleasure. In fact, I'll split the cost with you."

---

It was close to eight at night, and the bonfire of every magazine they could find reached into the simulated night sky. Was it petty? Possibly. Poor use of time to go to every floor and search for every copy they could find? Absolutely.

Did she regret any of it? Not a bit. She felt younger, lighter as she and Reeve snuck about after hours, taking turns keeping watch as the other sifted through the magazine in the numerous lounge areas, stuffing the offending copies into a bag.

Neither were very surprised when the reached the archives, and one of the many library bots merrily greeted them with a stack of magazines. "Scarlett is a whore," it chirped innocently, making them both break out in surprised laughter.

"You know the techs still don't know how or why those bots are 'faulty'," Reeve said as they left the archives, the thick stack split between them.

"Grandad mentioned they keep trying to fix them," she hummed. "Mr. Hart has caught newbie techs trying to hack their system so many times he thinks its a hazing rite."

"I wouldn't put it past them. Their funding for AI is geared towards military purposes, but many of them are interested in creating true Artificial Intelligence. And well, their programming was actually the basis for my own side project."

"You keep hinting at your side projects," she pouted playfully, feeling daring. "But you never talk about them much."

There was a playful light in Reeve's eyes as he winked down at her. "Maybe one of these days I'll introduce you."

---

While the techs of the VR room did give them odd looks, nothing was said as they brought in the bags of magazines and Reeve asked them to generate specific coordinates before they entered.

It always amazed Rea to watch the silver room give way to the virtual reality. The ceiling rippled into a cloudless night sky, the steel floor becoming gently rolling hills that led to a picture-perfect sandy beach. She could even taste the salty air of the ocean as the waves gently crashed near her feet.

"Where are we?" She asked as she helped pile the magazines into a decent mound.

"A beach not far from where I grew up," he answered easily, surprising her. "I spent many nights here stargazing when I was stuck on problems when I was younger. I admit, when I'm facing a challenging situation I'll use this place after hours to help brainstorm. It's still not quite the same though. Usually, you would be able to hear crickets chirping and the occasional seagull."

"Sounds beautiful." Rea pulled the new fire-materia from her pocket and held it kut to him once he was finished organizing the magazines into a suitable pile. "I believe you should have the honor, sir," she insisted when he hesitated. "All things considered."

He looked at the small green orb twinkling with an inner light, illuminating her plain but well-manicured nails. He placed his hand over hers, enveloping the materia.

"How about we do it together?" He offered. "Granted, I haven't dual-casted since I first learned how to use materia, but I think we could manage it."

Rea was thankful it was dark enough to hide the blush she felt creeping across her cheeks as she shifted to stand next to Reeve, their fingers brushing as they cradled the materia. "One...two…" Reeve counted, and on three she felt the magic flow into the materia. Dual casting was usually only used to teach another person how to use materia, because you had the odd sense of the other person's magic, and it was often too distracting to focus.

And it was very distracting, as well as oddly intimate to feel his magic mix with hers as fire erupted from the magazines. His careful arranging assured an even and thorough fire that reached up to the stars.

"I didn't think this would be this relaxing," Reeve admitted as they watched the pages begin to curl. While their arms were no longer stretched out, neither seemed willing to let go quite yet.

"Fire is rather cleansing," Rea replied softly, wondering if it was wrong of her to feel a little smug. Scarlett may have pushed Reeve into allowing her to hang off him against his will, but here she was, more or less holding hands with him...and he didn't seem at all bothered by her close proximity.

"It is… thank you," he added a moment later, looking down at her, his soft expression lit by the flames, "for indulging my moment of insanity."

"Happily sir," she tried for a light tone while her throat was blocked by her heart. Gaia, she though, he was handsome like this. Hair just a little messy, the weight and stress lifted from his shoulders and a true smile pulling at his lips. He looked so...happy. Content. And she was at least partly responsible.

Take that, Scarlett.

There was a long pause before Reeve cleared his throat. "So, um, I heard one of the techs from the science department had asked you out the other night."

"Oh, yeah." Rea wrinkled her nose at the memory of the man she had barely met trying to pressure her to go kut on a date when she had turned down all his subtle advances before.

"How did that go?"

"Mm, it didn't. He's not quite my type."

Rea was sure she imagined the relieved sigh and his shoulder relaxing. "Ah. Good. Well, I mean, I'm glad you know what your type is," he quickly added on, sounding a bit flustered, making her raise a brow. "It's good to know that. I think."

Rea laughed as she looked over at him, wondering if his cheeks were pink due to the fire. "What about you, sir? Do you know your type?"

He paused, his eyes meeting hers for a long moment. "I think I'm finally figuring it out."

"But it's not Scarlett?"

That made him laugh, the rich sound flowing over her along with the sound of the ocean waves crashing against the sand. "Oh Gaia, no. Absolutely not! The woman I like is...kind, and caring. She always puts others before herself, and can be a little bit of a hypocrite for lecturing others on their workaholic behaviors."

Rea's heart thumped in her chest and tried to keep her mind from jumping to conclusions. She forced herself to focus on where the tips of the flames met the night sky. "Sounds less like a type and more like an individual, sir."

"Yeah, maybe," he admitted quietly. A peek towards him revealed he was still looking at her with that expression from before. The same expression she had daydreamed of since this infatuation of hers begun.

Surely not. Surely she was just seeing things through rose-colored glasses again. Except his hand drifted from the materia to brush shyly against hers, almost to ask for permission.

Only to drop away as reality forced its way back in, the sky and ocean disappearing in a violent ripple. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" A scientist barged in, using a fire extinguisher to put out their makeshift bonfire as the two jumped away from each other. "YOU JUST CAN'T BURN THINGS INSIDE THE TOWER! WHAT WERE YOU TWO THINKING?!"

#Reeve Tuesti #reeve #Director Tuesti #Final Fantasy 7 #final fantasy 7 remake #Reeve x assistant #Cait sith is briefly hinted at #So is Mayor Domino

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egg-and-koji · 4 years ago

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“Shadows of a Legacy” Ch 6 Snippet - Mako x OC Slow Burn

MAKO

Later that night, lying awake in his loft, Mako thinks about the lunch at the diner. More specifically, he thinks about Hanai. The vicious words she used to cut into him and Korra. Her icy glare whenever he spoke. The twitch in her brow and the smug grin half-hidden behind her drink whenever Bolin and Asami said something to embarrass him. He flips over on the lumpy mattress and tries to fall asleep. But she won’t leave his head. It doesn’t matter; he has team practice in the morning to focus on. However, that doesn’t stop the thoughts of her from returning while he straps on his gear.

Her annoyed, puffy cheeked pout when he spun around to chew her out for tripping him. The dimple near the corner of her mouth when she ugly laughed that made his stomach tie in knots. A sharp pain aches his heart. The same way it did when he saw her and froze.

What the hell was that? Wait-why the fuck does it matter?! She's still a stuck-up, know-it-all bitch, who cares if she got... cute?

A word he would have never used to describe her before. Thankfully, Bolin comes down from the apartment the same time Korra surfs in through the window and he doesn’t have to think about it.

"You do know there's a front door, right?" his brother smirks at her.

She grumbles something incomprehensible and stomps over to gear up then joins them for warm-ups.

Korra catches the medicine ball and groans, "What's the big idea with making me train this early in the morning?" She bends her elbows to toss the ball to Bolin and dips her voice. "The morning is evil."

Bolin catches it and shrugs. "We're the rookies so we get the worst time slot in the gym."

Mako huffs as it gets passed to him. "And you're the rookiest of us all. We gotta get you up to speed if you want to survive in the tournament." He tries to push away intruding thoughts from his mind and accidentally tosses the ball back to Korra with unnecessary roughness. "Deal with it!"

"You deal with it!" She tosses the ball back to him, and he's knocked completely off his feet.

He lands skidding on his back. Don't. Say. Anything. She's the Avatar and she will kill you.

“There are my little hardworking street urchins.”

Mako picks himself up as Butakha strolls in and introduces himself to Korra, then he replaces his hat and reaches into his coat for a fat stack of Republic City yuans he hands to a grinning Mako. “Here's your winnings from the last match.”

Perfect, a few more wins and we can get out of-

“Ah-ah! Not so fast,” Butakha wags his thick sausage finger at him. “First, you owe me for the Avatar's new gear-” a few bills disappeared from the top “-gym and equipment rentals for last month.”

Mako reaches for his pocket, but the slimy coordinator stops him, takes payment for rent and a new, new to him at least, personal loan for groceries. He’s left empty-handed and snaps an angry pout at his little brother. “A grocery loan?”

“What?” Bolin shrugs and rubs his stomach. “I'm a growing boy!”

“Oh! And one more small item of business. The Fire Ferrets need to ante up thirty thousand yuans for the Championship pot,” Butahka adds nonchalantly.

“Thirty thousand yuans!?”

“Sorry, kids. You've got till the end of the week to come up with the dough, or else, you're out of the tournament.” He pats Mako on the shoulder, then leaves the gym.

Bolin cranes his head in Korra’s direction. “You wouldn't happen to have a secret Avatar bank account, overflowing with gold, would you?”

Her mouth twists into an awkward grimace as she turns her pockets inside out to show that they're empty. “I got nothing. I've never really needed money. I've always had people taking care of me.”

“Then I wouldn't say you have nothing,” Mako says in an indifferent tone. He picks up the medicine ball and packs it into an equipment bag.

“Sorry, I didn't mean…”

“No, it's alright,” Bolin says with a meek smile. “It's just... ever since we lost our parents, we've been on our own.”

“I'm so sorry. I didn't know.”

Mako zips the bag and throws it over his shoulder. “So anyway, I can see if I can pull a double at the plant if you two keep up with drills.”

“Oh oh or I've been thinking I could maybe see if any of the construction sites need a cleanup crew!” Bolin claps.

“I thought construction companies only wanted metalbenders?” Korra asks.

“Yeah, but they hire regular earthbenders to clean up after jobs when the metalbenders are too tired.”

Mako sighs, “you tried that once and got fired because you made Pabu a mini Republic City. Come on, Bolin, be serious.”

Bolin lowers his gaze and brings Pabu close to his body. “I was serious…”

“Don't worry. I'll take care of it.”

His supervisor allows him to take the extra shift but says it will reach his limit for overtime the owner is willing to pay this month. It might be enough to complete the thirty thousand needed for the pot if he adds all of their savings to it. With Korra on the team, they might have a better chance to win this year. It’s another year of being stuck in the attic if they don’t.

Mako leaves his jacket and scarf in the employee locker room and grabs a thick leather protective apron, rubber gloves, and a forging mask. He and the other lightning generating firebenders line up to enter a large open factory floor with several ceiling-high electrical capacitors in the middle of the room. Pairs of firebenders and earthbenders manipulate flames and coal into roaring boilers while the lightning generators file into single strip rows on both sides of the machines.

He stands in front of his station, his partner on the other side who waits for his green light. A few of the council issued “morale” posters reflect on the glass visor of his mask. Pin-up girls clad in all types of risque swimsuits riding giant bolts of lighting. Showgirls clutching onto dim-witted, grinning Lees snapping lighting from their fingertips. All with slogans like: “The City needs it’s Lightning Champs” or “Dames love a Man with a Spark”. Bullshit, it’s all propaganda...

His station light shines red and his partner charges up his hands then releases his bolt. Mako inhales through his nose and on the exhale he points his index and middle fingers together to launch his. Now his partner. Then back to him.

Inhale. Charge.

Exhale. Release.

Back and forth for hours, passing the whistle for lunch and the whistle for shift change. He gets a new partner and the process repeats itself. Sometimes the guys chat while they work; about the latest game, about their wives or girlfriends-sometimes both. One guy always complains about a funny itch he gets after seeing some of the girls around Dragonflats Borough. Sometimes they try to talk to him. Other times they don’t. They know by now he’s too serious. Too focused. On his job, his team, his little brother.

No time to waste thinking about cute girls who return home from a long time away from the city.

The steam whistle sounds. His shift ends.

A quick stop to get dinner for himself and Bolin, and he’s back at the arena by sunset. He drags himself up the stairs and calls out, “Bo! I'm back! Picked up your favorite dumplings.” Mako groans and his body hits the couch with a thud. He stretches his neck over the edge of the couch. After a snap and a few pops, a wave of tension rolls away from his shoulders. The still warm dumplings call to him. He flicks open the paperback and shoves one of the fluffy bundles of meat and barbecue in his mouth. Strangely the sound of the bag rustling didn’t send his brother or Pabu flying down from the loft. Mako slows his chewing to call through a mouthful, “Bolin? You here, bro?”

No answer or sound except traffic outside.

“Huh.” He swallows and reaches for another one, but the briny smell of Yue Bay catches his attention. He twists to look out at Air Temple Island behind him then smirks. “Figures, I bet the little lovebird is making a house call.”

Mako pulls himself off the couch, leaves dinner behind, and walks over to the dock while thinking of a way to convince the White Lotus on guard to radio over to the island.

#breaking the love triangle #legend of korra rewrite #legend of korra fanfic #legend of korra mako #legend of korra #lok mako #lok #lok fanfic #lok rewrite #mako fanfic #Mako headcanon #mako #mako x oc #mako pov #ao3 #SoaL #Shadows of a Legacy fanfic

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grimm-rific · 5 years ago

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Stars In the Sky (A Jake x Briar Fanfic)

requested by @gayunclejake

Daphne sat on the floor of the bedroom, watching her uncle Jake comb his hair.

“Since when do you comb your hair, Uncle Jake?” she teased.

Jake grinned. “Promise you won’t tell?”

Daphne nodded.

“I’ve got a date tonight... with Briar.” He paused and looked at Daphne in the mirror. Her eyes were as wide as saucers and she was biting down on the palm of her hand. “Snow’s gonna drop her off any minute. But don’t tell anyone, alright? If word gets out we’re dating, her godmothers are gonna kill me.”

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” she squealed. She ran to the closet and started sifting through clothes excitedly.

“What’re you doing there, kid?” asked Jake, amused. “You gonna give me a makeover or somethin’?”

“Yes,” Daphne answered affirmatively, and pulled out a green tie. “Perfect!”

She tossed it to Jake. “Here, wear this.”

He stifled his laughter. “Under my overcoat?”

Daphne nodded in response and he reluctantly put it on. Just then, the doorbell rang.

“That’s gotta be her,” he said nervously. He walked downstairs, past Daphne, who was hopping excitedly up and down on one leg, and past Sabrina and Puck, who were squabbling loudly on the couch. He was planning a surprise for Briar after dinner, and he was anxious to see how it would play out.

Jake opened the front door to find Briar wearing a black dress. He immediately forgot how to speak English.

“I, uh..,” he stammered. “You’re... you look...”

Briar giggled and pointed to the necktie he was wearing. “You look nice, too.”

She had the prettiest laugh of any Everafter-- no, any person that Jake had ever met.

“Youse goin’ on a date?” called out Puck from the couch. Sabrina looked livid.

“Ignore him, he’s been watching old gangster movies all day,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t listen to that dame,” said Puck. “She’s loony.”

“Um, no, we’re not on a date,” Jake lied. “Briar’s car broke down and I’m taking her home.”

Relda smiled knowingly. “Ok, leibling, just don’t stay out all night.”

“You got it,” said Jake, as he and Briar began to leave.

“Seeya later, toots,” said Puck with a flick of his wrist. Jake closed the door just before Sabrina lunged at him.

It was so silent outside compared to the rowdiness of the house. Jake exhaled into the cold air. “Sorry,” he said, chuckling. “Kids.”

“It’s no problem,” Briar replied, smiling. “I love children.”

“Er, yeah, um... me too.”

They both got in the car, and Jake began to drive. “So waddya wanna eat? I know this great Indian place a few blocks from here.”

“Ooh,” said Briar. “I’ve never had Indian before.”

“What? And you’ve been alive how long?” Jake teased. Briar giggled.

After they ordered, Jake asked for it to-go, and Briar looked at him with surprise.

“Don’t worry,” he said, grinning. “I have a plan.”

They walked out to the parking lot with their bags of food, and Jake extracted a wand from his overcoat. “Okay, watch this.”

With a wave of the wand, they were transported to miles above the ground, suspended by an invisible platform. Briar yelped at first and held onto him, but then let go once she felt that the floor was solid.

“Jacob Grimm,” she laughed. “You really are something.”

“That’s one thing everyone can agree on,” he said coolly, putting the wand back in his pocket. On the inside, he was so relieved that it had gone well. They ate their food amongst the stars, looking down at the quiet city below.

“Wanna ask each other questions?” asked Briar, chewing on a samosa.

“Sure,” said Jake.

“You first, then.”

Jake thought. “How’s the coffee business treatin’ ya?” he asked finally.

Briar shrugged. “To be honest, my godmothers do most of the work. Someday, I want a business of my own.” She sat with her arms wrapped around her legs, looking up at the stars.

“What kind?”

“Maybe a rescue facility for magical creatures. I really like animals and getting to nurse them back to health would be really cool.”

“What’s your favorite magical creature?”

“I dunno, I really like dragons.”

Jake was taken aback. “I wasn’t expecting that. You must be fearless!”

“I just think they’re misunderstood!” said Briar, pushing him playfully. “And I thought it was my turn to ask you a question?”

“Oh yeah,” said Jake. “I’m boring, though!”

“Well, we’ll see about that.” She thought for a moment. “Hmm... oh! Any exes?” she grinned mischievously.

“Nope,” said Jake with a coy smile.

“What! No way!”

“Hank was the one who got dates-- that’s what we call Henry, by the way.”

“Ooh, did he date any Everafters?”

Jake’s smile faded slightly. He didn’t know if he should tell her.

“Um, yeah.”

“...What’s wrong?” asked Briar, noticing his change in demeanor.

Jake took a deep breath. “Hank dated Goldilocks for a while.”

Briar was stunned. “Goldie? But I thought she escaped.”

“Yeah,” said Jake glumly. “... Because of me.”

He then told her the whole story about how he disabled the barrier to set Hank’s girlfriend free, inadvertently unleashing the Jabberwocky and killing his father in the process. By the end of it, he was sure she would want to go home and never see him again.

Briar was silent when he finished. Then, she gave him a hug. “You didn’t kill him, Jake. It wasn’t your fault.”

They stayed like that for a while, and all Jake could think about was how badly he had screwed up the vibes. He had to think of something else to talk about, fast. Then he got an idea.

“Wanna drive around and magic some graffiti on Charming’s campaign posters?”

“God, yes.”

And that’s what they did for the rest of the night. Every time they saw one of Charming’s propaganda posters campaign ads, Briar would whisper something vulgar to Jake and he would use his magic to make it appear in big black letters over Charming’s smug face. They were laughing so hard while doing it that they could barely talk.

When Jake finally drove her home, he walked her to the door.

“I was having a bad day before this, Jake. Thank you so much,” said Briar softly.

Jake scratched his neck sheepishly. “It doesn’t make me immature that I basically wrecked your ex-husband’s posters all night?”

Briar laughed. “No Jake,” she said happily. She then planted a kiss on his cheek. “It makes you my hero.”

Jake’s cheeks flushed as he stood there, dumbfounded. Suddenly, the lights in Briar’s home clicked on.

“Oh crap, that’s my godmothers,” said Briar. “They can’t know you’re here. They don’t even know where I’ve been all night. You have to run, like, now.”

Jake scrambled back to his car, calling out “Love you”s and “I’ll call you”s. Briar smiled fondly and opened the door to go inside.

As Jake drove home, he felt a warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

When he entered the house, he found that everyone had stayed up.

“Hi Uncle Jake!” called out Daphne happily. “How was your date with Briar?”

Jake put his finger over his lips, but it was too late. Everyone looked at her, and then at him, grinning.

“Whoops,” Daphne said sheepishly. “I forgot.”

sorry i made this one kinda long but I hope u guys like it haha

#sisters grimm #jake grimm #oneshot #request #the sisters grimm #they are so cute im...

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monochromemedic · 5 years ago

Text

Propaganda

I stared at it. We all stared at it. It was so... well done. But so wrong. “The lighting is actually really nice...” Tom muttered, rubbing his chin, “how he managed to find a usable camera... Now that’s the question.” “I might have found a camera in the wasteland and took a few pictures with him... I didn’t think it’d end up like this.” I muttered, hand over my mouth, face deep red. “Ok yeah it’s good but are we all just ignoring the fact that someone HAD to take the picture?” Glory exclaimed “What are you all crowding around” A sharp voice broke through the ideal conversations, making the three of us turn to face the Doctor. “Oh Carrington... uh. Just.... working.” Tom explained. It didn’t help that I was now pulling part of my shirt up to cover my beat red face, earning an eyebrow raise. He pushed through the small crowd, a look of surprise and disgust plastered on his face. “What in dear god...” We all went back to stare at the photo of Deacon, blown up and plastered on the wall of the Railroad. He had a look of smug seduction on his face as he laid on the abandoned railroad tracks, a few flowers in his mouth and his chest bare but on it written in paint was ‘Join the’ The short shorts did NOT help. We all continued to stare at it, a pregnant silence filling the air. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Glory cock her head to the side and squint as trying to understand a complex piece of art. Carrington however had enough of this ‘art’ plastering his work space and ripped it from the wall, his hands shaking in supposed rage. “What the hell is this even suppose to be!” “You ever seen a pin-up Carrington? I thought’d you’d be an expert in those with all those mags you read.” Our heads collectively snapped towards Deacon, who was walking in, sucking on a Popsicle. “You like it? I can make one just for you, if your too embarrassed I get it, just give me a little wink and i’ll know. What kind do you want? Oh I know. Sterile sexy nurse assistant... I can picture it already-” Carrington’s hand was around Deacon’s neck, making his Popsicle fall to the ground and his sentence end in a loud sound that sounded like a Brotherhood of Steel soldier steeping in mud. “YOU SON OF A BITCH, DO YOU THINK THIS ORGANIZATION IS A JOKE? GOING AROUND PLASTERING YOUR BODY LIKE SOME SORT OF PAINTED WHORE TO PROMOTE IT, WHEN WE SHOULD BE IN HIDING!” By now some of more of the Railroad was looking. The other half had heard the whole song and dance before. Deacon was quiet but gave a little smile. “That little twitch in your eye... I got you-” The hand tightened, earning a loud dying duck sound. It took me, Glory and Tom to pry him off of the spy Deacon was on a mattress a little while away, a pack of ice on his neck as he held the crumpled poster in his hands, a frown on his face. I sat beside him, looking at the poster along with him. “Was it worth it?” “Hehe... yeah. I’ve never seen Carrington that mad. Still that crushes my hopes and dreams of being a pin up model. Was it that bad?” He asked, a sad pout on his face. “Um... no it was actually really good. W...who took the picture? I mean it’s the camera we found right?” “Yeah... I found there was a timer setting. It took me like 5 tries of running back and forth to get the perfect picture.” We both stared at the poster for a bit more, before Deacon turned towards me, a smirk on his face. “Did you want a copy? I see that red on your face. I know you’re all riled up.” I slapped his shoulder, turning away and covering my face with my shirt. “Deeks, stop...” “It’s ok I got like half of the camera filled up with photos cause I couldn’t decide, i’ll burn you a copy. You can put it in your pocket and think about me on those long lonely nights~” He cooed as I pushed my hand into his face with a chuckle. The both of us laughed for a while before Deacon coughed, holding the ice pack harder to his throat. “You know... I might take you up on that actually. Just... make sure your balls aren’t showing or something.” “Deacon’s photo developing company is not liable for any accidental Deek bits that may be showing-�� “Jesus christ Deacon...”

#deacon fo4 #Self Insert #shitposty

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returnn-of-the-mac · 5 years ago

Note

The companions (+ Maxson) talk to Sole about an annoying or boring subject and Sole screams Shut Up! 🤐

This one was a lot of fun! Sorry it took so long to complete! If I were a companion in this request, I think I would annoy Sole by fangirling over MCR. Other than that, I’m totally 100% Codsworth (tag yoself when you’re done reading). I also had to change some name brands to made-up pseudonyms to avoid copyright issues. I normally like to write a silent Sole, but this request kinda required a talking Sole. Anyway, please enjoy!😄 (also the movie nickname rq one should be out either tonight or tomorrow!)

FO4 Companions (+Maxson) React: Companions Rambling & Sole Telling Them to Shut Up

Sole’s eye twitched as their companion rambled on for the third day in a row about the same topic. As much as they adored their companion and admired their enthusiasm about the subject, they couldn’t take it anymore. A fed-up Sole stopped dead in their tracks, turned around, and snapped:

Strong:

“Shut up! I‘m done listening to you explain the best way to gut and cook rotting narwhal flesh,” Sole fumed, “I don’t care if you drench it in tato paste or barbecue blood. I’m never going to eat it, Strong. Never!”

Strong frowned, “No be mean human! Or no find milk! Be nice!”

“Strong, I’m sorry. I’m not eating a parasite-infested narwhal corpse.”

“Come on! Rotting horn whale taste like giant fish stick!”

Deacon:

”Shut up! I don’t want to hear about the benefits of changing the HQ password to DEACON IS COOL anymore,” Sole hissed, “Besides, there is a huge hole in your plan. You can’t even spell that with the letters available!”

“Woah there, calm down pal. I didn’t think of that,” Deacon mumbled. He quickly lit up, “But there’s nothing a little permanent marker can’t fix!”

“You think Desdemona isn’t going to notice black marker squiggles all over the door?”

Deacon scoffed, “Um, I’m not stupid. That’s why I’m going to use a brown marker, pal.”

Curie:

“Shut up! I can’t listen to you talk about spinal contusions and brain injuries anymore. It’s making me squeamish.”

Curie immediately stopped talking and her face fell.

“Curie, I’m sorry, I—“

“I’m sorry, [Madame/Monsieur],” the synth began, her eyes welling with tears, “I hope I didn’t upset you. I just find that topic fascinating.”

Gage:

“Shut up! I don’t care about all the pranks you’ve played on Mason. I don’t blame him for being pissed off.”

“Damn. Anyone teach ya manners, boss?” Gage scowled, “Anyway, what? Ya ain’t gonna appreciate the fact that I egged the furry bastard while he was ramblin some mumbo-jumbo-bullshit to his pack of loonies?”

Sole shook their head.

“Or that I lit a bag of Molerat shit on fire right on top of his pompous-ass throne?”

Sole shook their head again.

“Well, boss. You ain’t got no sense of humor, then.”

Piper:

“Shut up! I’m sick and tired about hearing about how Sturges is a synth,” Sole shouted, “I can get behind McDonough being a synth, but there is no way that Sturges is one.”

“But Blue, he has all the signs. He—“

“And so what? What do you want me to do? Even if he hypothetically is a synth, I’m not turning my back on him. I’m still friends with Danse and I’m not dead yet. Curie’s a synth and she’s a sweetheart. X6? Nick?”

Piper‘s face dropped for a moment, before glaring at Sole and turning her back.

Sole sighed, “Piper, I—“

“Don’t talk to me right now.,” The reporter hissed.

Longfellow:

“Shut up! I don’t care about the eight basic knots.”

Longfellow shook his head in disappointment, “I understand you’re sick of this old man bugging you about tying knots, but it is useful information. You never know when you could find yourself in a situation where you need to tie a good ol reef knot, or clove hitch!”

Longfellow pulled a small rope from out of his pocket and Sole sighed.

“Shall we attempt a figure-eight knot today?”

MacCready:

“Shut up! Stop talking about Santa Claus. I know you read about him in an old book we found but—“

MacCready stubbornly crossed his arms, “Oh yeah? I think you’re just being a snob. Some of us haven’t been lucky enough experienced this, [name]. How can you not obsess over a fat guy who spies on people to see if they’re good, breaks into homes, and leaves presents?That’s so cool!” He paused, “I…probably would’ve gotten coal though.”

Sole’s eyebrows furrowed, “Mac—“

“It’s a darn shame he had to die when the bomb dropped. He could’ve brought so much joy to the Commonwealth.”

“—he’s not real.”

MacCready’s jaw dropped, “But the books, the posters, the pictures…there’s so much evidence.”

“Marketing.”

MacCready shook his head in disappointment, “Pre-war Capitalist propaganda…”

Ada:

“Shut up! I already told you I don’t know what a Sara is. How am I supposed to understand what you’re talking about when you tell me you were a Sara prototype?”

“[Sir/Ma’am], like I said before: Sara was a virtual assistant software that was going to be implemented in all future Vault Tec electronic devices. It had a speech recognition engine that could assist users. My biggest flaw was that I could not translate into other languages. I was scraped and remained inactive in a dumpster for years before Jackson reprogrammed me.”

“I still can’t wrap my head around that technological advancement. It doesn’t seem real.”

“Yes, it was highly advanced. That is why it did not make its debut before the bombs dropped.”

Hancock:

“Shut up! I’m done listening to your crazy Daddy-O trip stories. If you hate the chem so much, why don’t you stop taking it?”

Hancock laughed, “Well, [brother/sister], my Daddy-O rides are a lot more fun to talk about than my Jet or Mentat highs,” he thought for a moment, “I mean, besides the time I solved the theory of Quantum Physics on a Mentat high— that was fuckin wild— but other than that it’s more entertaining to talk about the time I shoved an entire summer squash up my ass while on the Big D.”

Cait:

“Shut up! I wish we’d never found that copy of 40 Shades of Silver. Please stop talking about it.”

“Darlin, I never read. But I could not for the life of me put down that book,” Cait sighed, “It was so…wonderfully smutty.”

Sole grimaced.

“That lass really knows how to have a good time. Sounds like a fantasy of mine, gettin hot n dirty n aggressive like that.”

“Stop…”

“Why? Ain’t it a pleasure to talk about?”

Codsworth:

“Shut up! I don’t understand your obsession with Mr. Tidy Magic Erasers. You’ve been talking about them now for. Three. Days.”

Codsworth beamed, “Well, [sir/mum], you know what they say: there’s no tidy like Mr. Tidy!”

Sole rolled their eyes.

“Besides, have you seen how well those suckers eliminate stuck-on grease and grime from dishes,” Codsworth began, “Oh wait, you haven’t. That’s right. You don’t wash your own dishes.”

Preston:

“Shut up! I’m sick and tired of hearing about all the settlements that need our help. Maybe they‘d have a better chance of defending themselves if we didn’t coddle them.”

Preston crossed his arms, “How could you say that, General? I thought you truly embraced the values of the Minutemen.”

“I do Preston, but I think we just need to take a break.”

“Justice never rests. These settlements need us, General. I understand it’s exhausting, but we need to protect these innocent people from the dangers of the Commonwealth.”

Nick:

“Shut up! Please, no more dad jokes. I’m begging you, Nick,” Sole plead, “I’m…I’m annoyed.”

The detective chuckled, “Hi annoyed, I’m Nick Valentine. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Stop!”

“I’m not moving!”

Sole grunted in defeat at the detective wore a smug smirk, pleased by the outcome of his jokes.

Maxson:

“Shut up! I’m tired of hearing about the technological prowess of the Prydwen. It’s not that great. It’s just a blimp.”

“Show some respect,” Maxson growled, “And you think the Prydwen is just a blimp? How dare you deride the work of the prestigious mechanics who designed the Prydwen. It is my pride and joy. It is the most advanced vehicle in the Commonwealth.”

“Maybe you should get those prestigious mechanics to work on your Vertibird death traps.”

Maxson frowned, “Vertibird design overhauls are in the agenda. We just have more important projects to tackle before then…such as the redesign of my quarters,” Sole shook their head as Maxson pulled out a color card, “I’m thinking a Deep Ruby Maroon would feel more homey than the current Grumpy Grunt Grey I currently have. But I also like Apple Cider Brown. What do you think?”

Danse:

“Shut up! Can we please just talk about something other than the Fancy Lad Snack cakes?” Sole pled.

“First of all, don’t talk to me like that, soldier. That’s blatant disrespect and I will not tolerate it,” Danse barked.

“Sorry…”

“Second, that Courser friend of yours is out of his damn mind. How can any sane individual honestly believe that strawberry Fancy Lads are superior to vanilla ones?”

“Each to their own?”

“That only pertains to subjective topics. This argument— if we can even call it that— is a solid fact and therefore cannot be disputed.”

X6-88:

“Shut up! What is with synths and Fancy Lad snack cakes? You’ve been raving about them for three days.”

“Hey, now. I suggest you calm down,” X6 warned, “A lot of people— such as your Brotherhood friend— like the vanilla cakes, [sir/ma’am], but the real delicacy are the strawberry cakes with chocolate icing.”

“Does it really matter who likes what flavor?”

“Yes. This is an urgent matter. We should not have to dispute this to be completely honest. It is a fact that strawberry Fancy Lads are superior to vanilla ones.”

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