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admirableadmiranda · 3 years

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Debts and balances: or how much does one man have to pay over the course of his life?

Good morning everyone! Today we’re going to be talking about debts, and why Jiang Cheng needs to shut the fuck up on debts because he is the one in the wrong pretty much the entire time.

Let’s start by acknowledging that I am not of this culture so I may perhaps state a thing or two wrong, but I also have several functioning brain cells to rub together and I pay attention so I will probably be more right than most of the “hot takes” I see on why Jiang Cheng is not actually in the wrong here. Because he is. He so is.

So, debts. First of all, there are multiple levels and layers of debts and to whom do you owe them too. So let’s start with the first one where the story is subtle about it and yet both Jiang Cheng and Madam Yu are in the wrong. We know that Cangse Sanren saved Jiang Fengmian’s life at one point when they were young. Life debts are big. To only be alive because of someone else’s actions is a debt that it is possible you will never be able to pay back. There are multiple stories of otherwise good people protecting the obvious villain because they owe that.

Jiang Fengmian’s only way of being able to pay back that debt after Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze die is to take care of their child and raise him how they would have. I.E, as a cultivator. This is not a debt that Wei Wuxian owes to the Jiangs. It is quite literally, the least of what Jiang Fengmian owes him and his parents to do.

Jiang Cheng cannot claim that Wei Wuxian owes them for his life. He is wrong.

Next debt that even Jiang Cheng does not try to claim, only his ever so pleasant stans, the fucking dogs. The fucking dogs that he does not actually give a fuck about.

Wei Wuxian does not ask anyone to do anything about the dogs. He is not in a mental state to. He is in a state of triggered phobia where his brain literally goes into run away screaming mode. This is also not funny and Jiang Cheng is a jackass for making fun of it whenever it happens. Jiang Fengmian is the one who decides that it’s better for the dogs to go. Even though Jiang Cheng is upset, he does not actually hold this as a lingering grudge against Wei Wuxian. He lets it the fuck go. And even if he didn’t, the resentment and anger should be aimed at the person who actually made a decision about it. Not Wei Wuxian. He does not give one singular fuck about his dogs later on. Let the fucking dogs go.

Third off: The Fall of Lotus Pier. There are different levels of blame that we can lay on this. Wei Wuxian is not close to responsible for this. Jiang Cheng knows this and elects to blame him anyway.

The first people we can lay the blame on the fall of Lotus Pier is the Wens, who came with ships, warriors, Wang Lingjiao to rile up the notoriously short tempered asshole Madam Yu, and Wen Zhuliu the Core-Melting Hand. They came prepared for battle and they got what they wanted. Madam Yu is the second one we can lay the blame on, for deciding to attack and demean Wang Lingjiao, not for making her do anything she didn’t want to do, because holy hell did she want to whip Wei Wuxian until he couldn’t move and leapt at the chance to do such a thing, but because Wang Lingjiao is a servant who was elevated by her lover and Madam Yu is a classist asshole. This is the only reason she flips out. Wei Wuxian did nothing wrong. Wei Wuxian does not have the blood of Lotus Pier on his hands, he is tied to Jiang Cheng and told to protect him at the cost of his life, a debt he does not owe.

The four debt he attempts to claim, the only one that might be considered to have some teeth if it weren’t for how much Wei Wuxian gives him back almost immediately. Jiang Cheng goes to distract the Wens from Wei Wuxian and ends up getting captured and losing his golden core. So first off, in this world a golden core is a lot to lose, I won’t deny that. But, first off, Wei Wuxian is only in danger because after being whipped a lot, then strangled, then having to run after Jiang Cheng multiple times because he would rather go die at Lotus Pier than listen to either of his parents and escape, he still goes into town to get them something to eat because otherwise Jiang Cheng would rather lie on the ground and die. Fucking great sect leadership there, huh Jiang Cheng? But yes, Jiang Cheng sees the Wens, sees them notice Wei Wuxian, goes off to distract them and then gets captured and loses his golden core.

Now we’re getting to some of the debts that Jiang Cheng owes and refuses to pay back, because that’s definitely going to get him far in this world. Wei Wuxian in his panic and attempt to find Jiang Cheng, finds Wen Ning, who after some struggles manages to convince him that he can sneak in and get Jiang Cheng back out. In addition, he also retrieves the bodies of Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian. This is huge. Jiang Cheng now owes him both a life debt for again, saving his life at great cost to his own: Wen Ning is literally committing treason here, and also for restoring the lost honor of not being able to bury his parents properly. Wen Ning gives them a proper burial and later after the war he is able to lie them to rest in the Ancestors Hall so their spirits will be at peace and he will have fulfilled his fillial duties. By all means, the debt he owes Wen Ning in particular is so great that he should have taken in every Wen in those camps and sheltered them because it is as close as he will ever get to repaying that debt. And that’s just Wen Ning!

The next debt he owes and refuses to pay is to Wen Qing, a genius doctor and respected by Wen Ruohan, who uses the prestige and skills she has to protect both him and Wei Wuxian in at this point enemy territory when they are being actively searched for, being the new sect leader and head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang. She hides them and then later uses her skills to give him a new golden core so that he can go and fight back against his people, revitalizing his clan and eradicating hers. This is another debt that could only really be paid back by protecting her people if she came to him. He owes her literally his life, his power and his people.

The third debt he owes and refuses to pay is to Wei Wuxian, who more than overbalances the scales back in his favor by giving him his golden core. He pays his chance at immortality, his power, his strength, his cultivation, everything that he has to his name so that Jiang Cheng won’t starve himself to death over losing his core. In addition, he tells Jiang Cheng that this comes from a once in a lifetime favor from his mother’s master so even before when he didn’t know about the core, this is still a massive, massive debt, a limitless one time favor from an immortal that he uses Wei Wuxian’s chance to get and never actually thanks him. So at this point, his own golden core as a debt starts to seem a little hollow. Either way, it’s been repaid. An action you do in service of someone else is not a weapon you get to hold over their heads for multiple lives.

Moving on! The next debt he would like to claim is that Wei Wuxian apparently has no right to do things he does not approve of. Excuse me? Is he now a computer program that crashed? What the fuck Jiang Wanyin? Wei Wuxian has less rank than him, although Jiang Cheng is so high rank in this society that he only shares his rank with three other people and there’s no one above him so it would be very hard for him to not be, but he is still a person, with his own thoughts, wishes, dreams, hopes and beliefs. He is not an extension of your hand, to make your clan look good and stand behind you as a hammer to smash on people. Wen Qing goes to Wei Wuxian to ask for help for finding her brother, her people because they are literally being tortured to death. This is a debt that by all means, Jiang Cheng should be repaying. See that part where Wen Ning committed treason to help him and restore his family’s honor? See that part where Wen Qing literally gave him the ability to go back to war against her family? This is the point where anyone with honor would recognize this is the only thing I can do. I will throw myself on my sword if I must, but I must repay this debt to them. There is nothing less I can do. But Jiang Cheng has only the honor of a mangy cur and ignores this, and when Wei Wuxian goes to fulfill this debt, he tells him to stop. To him, his multiple life debts are an inconvience to shoving his nose so far up Jin Guangshan’s ass that he’s tasting what he had for dinner that day.

The next debt that he would like to claim is the death of his brother in law. This is a debt that Wei Wuxian would owe to specific people. This debt is to Jiang Yanli, Jin Guangshan and Jin Ling, one of whom is wanting to forgive it, one who is too small to decide at the time, and one who straight up does not give a fuck beyond advancing his power. Jiang Cheng is not one of these people. His sister is fine, she’s not his concern anymore, she’s a part of the Jin sect. The only reason why he died is that Jiang Cheng decided the best way to repay his debt to Wei Wuxian was to throw a temper tantrum and declare him an enemy to everyone, ripping out every support from under his feet. Regardless, Jiang Cheng is an asshole and does not get to claim this debt.

The final one of Wei Wuxian’s first life that he keeps hurling at him is the death of his sister...the death of his sister who chose to leap between Wei Wuxian and a sword. The death of his sister at a battle that broke out because Jiang Cheng has been with Jin Guangshan whipping the cultivation world into a frenzy against the Wens and Wei Wuxian because of power and jealousy. The battle that would have not happened if they’d left them alone. Jiang Cheng has been to the burial mounds. He has seen the farmers, he has seen the baby there. He has decided that rather than do anything to repay these various deaths, he will kill them on other people’s swords instead. Because he is also a coward and won’t pick fights he can’t win. In addition he likes to steal Yanli’s agency, she’s the one who chose to come, she’s the one who chose to get in the way and she doesn’t die with regrets. And she is not his debt to claim. Again, the one who actually gets to claim this death that Wei Wuxian is not responsible for is Jin Ling, who actually shapes up and decides that it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t blame Wei Wuxian for it. He forgives him his role in that space and moves the fuck on, unlike a certain sir stabby grape mcwhipinnoencts.

And then Wei Wuxian dies and any debts he may have still owed to Jiang Cheng, not that there were any, die with him. Jiang Cheng has no claim on him, he was not part of his sect, they were not brothers in any way, indeed Jiang Cheng called him his enemy. Even most people with far more real grudges at this point would let it go. Wei Wuxian is so dead that no one can find his soul, no matter how hard they look. He comes back to life and reaps the rewards of his actions, finding new allies, getting the chance to actually interact with Jin Ling and make his apologies, and in the end, settle down to a peaceful life with an adoring husband and nothing left to be repaid. If there is still a debt he owes, it is only to Mo Xuanyu, who gave up his entire cycle of life to let Wei Wuxian reincarnate early with his memories, a sacrifice he only asked for repayment in the death of his family. He may owe more still, but that is all Mo Xuanyu wanted from him in repayment for this great sacrifice. The cultivation world is in the wrong when they’re trying to persecute him again for the actions of his previous life, he owes them nothing anymore. The debts he carries towards Jin Ling are the ones he chooses to take on, feeling guilty that he grew up without his parents due to the world’s general actions and also no one else taking responsibility for how far things fell.

That is what Jiang Cheng finally realizes in the temple, crouched on the floor and sobbing like a spoiled child over the golden core sacrifice. Is that he is in the wrong and has been in the wrong the whole time. That there is nothing he can hold onto, no debt that Wei Wuxian ever owed him that he could demand to be paid. He built it all up in his head as he left his honor, his family and his dignity in the wake of his arrogance. And it’s a painful thing to realize, the consequences of your decisions, but all he can do is live with his own ruined reputation, his own loneliness and the fact that no one wants to be around him. He’s blacklisted by multiple matchmakers, his disciples are more like thugs, Wei Wuxian chooses every opportunity to get away from him and even Jin Ling likes him less and less over the course of the book, not forgetting that he seems to prefer Jin Guangyao to begin with as he actually talks to him sometimes and doesn’t hit him. Jiang Cheng refusing to pay his debts gives him exactly what a debt deserter deserves. No one has a reason to trust him. The one bit of positive character growth he does is giving up and not trying to reel him back in by telling him of the sacrifice. At this point, all it would be is just him trying to get another debt he cannot hold because it is long since repaid, never quite made up for what they gave him to make up for it, and worthless in the face of Wei Wuxian’s new life. Wei Wuxian owes him nothing and never has.

Also, just to tally up the relationship between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng on things given between the two of them, Jiang Cheng gives him: a lot of whinging on how unfair it is that Wei Wuxian is a prodigy, and a one time immediately regretted and held over his head sacrifice of a golden core. Whereas Wei Wuxian gives him: many lessons on how to be a kinder person that he ignores, the patience and tolerance of his stinkbug attitude, his love, his affection, his fucking golden core, his reputation, his blood, his livelihood, taking over his debts, trying to keep any of his actions from reflecting on the Jiangs even though if Jiang Cheng had repaid any of the debts he owed, there would have been no problems because if the Jin’s did decide to attack, Wei Wuxian would fight back and he can level battle fields on his own, his honor, his relationships, and even his life in the end, because if Wei Wuxian had ever turned on him like he claimed, he would have been a bloody smeared spot on the ground. And Jiang Cheng gobbles this all up and demands more with Wei Wuxian’s blood and tears dribbling from his mouth.

Would you give that much for someone who doesn’t treat you well? Would you find that a reasonable price to pay for someone who demeans you at every opportunity, who tells you you deserve your misfortunes and that no one likes you? Why are you surprised that in the end Wei Wuxian would rather walk away with people who care about him, why he gives up, leaves any opportunity for anything in Jiang Cheng’s hands. Wei Wuxian has given more than any person should for almost nothing. It is a sign of triumph and victory, of recognizing his own worth and value in the world and who he wants to be with, that he leaves, that he walks away with his head held high. He owes Jiang Cheng nothing, and Jiang Cheng will just have to fucking live with that.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #canon jiang cheng #let's talk about debt #long post #let's use fuck as a exclamation mark #modaozushi is the story of walking away from an abusive relationship and we should recognize that #no yunmeng reconciliation #wei wuxian #wei wuxian did nothing wrong #addressing common misconceptions when it comes to debts to be paid #let's stop excusing Jiang Cheng avoiding paying any of his debts

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screamingatanemptyroom · 4 years

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Please Fix the Story! Pt 5- Fantasy World

Here is the next part! Starting out in a new world!

I made a master post with chapter links! - linked here

Enjoy!

_________________________

It was the emptiness between worlds.

I hung there, formless, empty, in total darkness as a slow sense of confusion washed over me. From what I could remember transfers between worlds had always been rapid. The longest I had ever spent in this nothingness had been a few seconds. But as seconds turned to minutes, and confusion grew into panic, I finally called out, surprised I could hear my own voice.

“Am I done?” Had this task of transferring between story worlds finally finished? Would I get my memories back? Go home?

There was a flash of joy at the thought, followed by an uneasy feeling as I thought about the person who had followed me the last two worlds.

Liam. Is he really waiting for me in the next one?

Before I could examine my thoughts or feelings too closely, however, words formed in the space in front of me, the bright blue letters glowing in the surrounding darkness.

Have you learned to accept you fate?

“Accept my fate?” I shook my head. “You mean that I’m destined to travel between worlds being useless and bitter side characters?”

You can go home. You can have everything back.

“Wait… I can?”

All you have to do is accept the destiny given to you.

What does that mean?!!I wanted to know who I was, I wanted to end this constant world hopping. But even as I prepared to accept, a severe stabbing pain filled my head. Something had been forgotten, something desperately important, but the harder I tried to catch it the further it fled. As I struggled I felt something deep within my soul rise up, and a single word was shouted instead of the agreement I had initially meant to give.

“NEVER!” It came out a snarl, filled with bitterness and rage, and overwhelming hatred and anger flooded my senses.

I couldn’t give up.

I WOULD NEVER give up.

Even if I wasn’t sure what that meant.

Very well. It was just silent text, but I could sense the disappointment behind them.

Then continue.

Before I could respond, the words faded, and I was in a new world.

_________________________

“Help me!” A young voice filled with fear called out.

I opened my eyes, blinking in the bright sunlight, taking in the world around me.

Trees. Massive trees, in every direction I could see. A thin film of sunlight passed through the thick canopy of leaves, illuminating the ground covered in flowers. Butterflies of every color flittered around me, moving frantically from bloom to bloom. A dense smell of grass mixed with a sweet aroma of the flowers around me filled the air. It was a paradise.

“HELP!” Hearing the voice call out again, I leapt to my feet, feeling oddly unbalanced.

Why do I feel so… small? Looking down at my hands, I saw that they were much smaller than any of my previous bodies, with chubby, childish fingers. My legs were short, the small toes of my bare feet buried in the grass in flowers. I wore a simple green smock that came to my knees, the dress hanging straight down over a flat chest.

I was a child.

Well… this is new.Before I could truly process the new body, I heard another scream of fear and ran towards it, trying to cope to the much shorter leg length than what I had previously taken for granted in the zombie world. As I passed between two large tree trunks, I skidded to a stop, gaping at the sight in front of me.

There was an elven child under attack.

He was about the same size as me, with pale skin, delicate features, and long pointed ears that poked through golden hair. A pair of bright green eyes, filled with tears and fear stared up at me. His small arms and legs flailed wildly trying to strike at the dark monster that pushed him to the ground.

I grabbed a branch on the ground, stumbling a bit from the weight and my lack of strength, and dragged it over. Screaming out, I swung the branch at the creature attacking the boy, knocking him several feet away.

The shadowy monster landed on its feet, turning towards me with a loud snarl. It had the vague form of a large wolf, but its entire being was made of darkness, the edges of its body blurred, as if it were something unnatural pushing against the edges of reality. From in between its black pointed fangs, a dark liquid dropped, burning the grass it touched. The only color that could be seen were its eyes, that were a startling shade of dark blue.

“Get behind me.” I snapped at the child, brandishing my makeshift weapon again.

He stared up at me silently, his eyes confused, his body frozen in place.

“Or you can just lay there and let the monster eat you. That works too I guess.” I felt sorry for the kid, but it wasn’t like I had time to coddle him.

At my sarcastic words he seemed to shake himself, rolling to his feet and stumbling behind me, just as the shadow creature pounced.

SMACK! The branch connected solidly with the creature’s head, the wood sinking into the shadow for the briefest moment before the monster was thrown back into a tree.

It growled softly, getting back to its feet. A slow trickle of blue blood ran from the wound, floating in the air and dissipating into nothingness.

“Bad shadow wolf! Go back to your home!” I held up the stick again, groaning. “Where’s a spray bottle when you need it?”

Before I could bemoan my lack of canine training tools, the creature lifted its head, seeming to hear some silent call. It pointed its jaws to the sky letting out an eerie howl, before leaping into the air and disappearing, leaving only the wreckage and dead plants as evidence that it had ever been there.

I sighed with relief, turning to the child behind me. “Are you okay?”

“You… you drove it off!” His eyes were wide with shock. “You saved me!”

“No big deal…”

“It was so scary.” He clenched his fists. “I was too weak. I couldn’t do anything.”

“Um… I wouldn’t really worry about…” Sensing a character development monologue coming, I desperately tried to interrupt.

He picked up a branch swinging it in the air with a fierce expression. “I swear on the graves of my parents, I will become stronger, someone who can defend the weak!” Looking over at me, he added. “You won’t have to worry anymore, I’ll protect you.”

“Weak? Seriously did you not just see me beat it up…”

“After all, I owe you my life.” He reached over and grabbed my hand enthusiastically. “So I’ll stay by your side until my debt is repaid.”

Uh oh. Adorable elf boy, dead parents, attacked by monsters and vows to grow stronger? My male lead senses are tingling. Better get away.

I smiled blandly, pulling my hand out of his grasp. “I was saving my own skin. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I do!” He put his hand to his heart and bowed. “I am K’lliean.”

There was an awkward silence.

Crap! I haven’t gotten the mission or the character’s memories yet. Well last time they let me rename my character… here’s hoping.

“My name is Blaire.”

“Belaire?”

Bright blue words formed in the air beside me.

You have chosen to select the character name “Belaire” All characters’ memories will be adjusted accordingly.

**** Confirm character name? ****

Slightly off… but … “Sure.”

Character name confirmed.

I stayed calm, even with the scrolling text in the sky that only I could see. This had happened before, in story worlds where a cellphones didn’t exist. The text simply appeared on the sky, responding to voice instead of typing.

Now that K’lliean’s memories had been properly adjusted, he had backed away, a look of disgust on his face.

“Stay away from me, you… you…” He glared at me. “Stupid girl!”

“How will I ever recover from that insult?” I held a hand up to my head. “But sure, I’m fine staying far away from you.” Always safer to not hang around the male lead type too much.

“I’m NEVER going to marry you, so don’t even think about it.”

“…” I shrugged. “Ok.” I’m already hating this plot, and I don’t even know it yet.

“I’m going to be a great warrior one day! I’m not some HELPER for a stupid priestess!”

“No one’s arguing with you, dude. Go live your life.”

K’llean stared at me for a few moments, and then looked away suddenly. “I mean… if you REALLY want to marry me, I’ll let you stay by my side.”

“Literally never asked for that.”

“But don’t forget that I don’t like you! I’m only marrying you to help save the forest.”

What in the world is this plot?!!!

I rubbed my forehead, a headache forming. “Don’t worry about it, kid. I’m sure there are other alternatives besides matrimony to save the forest. I’ll figure it out.”

“SHUT UP!” K’llean stomped his foot. “I’ll save this forest, and I won’t need the help from a stupid girl like you!” With that he ran off, leaving me behind to stare at his back in shock.

“Knew the trend of reasonable male leads wouldn’t last.” With a chuckle, I sat down with my back against an enormous tree trunk and spoke to the air around me. “Open mission.”

Words began forming in the air in front of me.

**** NEW WORLD: THE CHOSEN ONE ****

This world is an incomplete epic fantasy novel, centering on the heroine Stella. Stella was an average 21-year-old college student, until she was transported into a world of fantasy, swords and magic. Learning that her arrival was predicted by prophecy, and that she is the Chosen One who must save the world, she harnesses her newfound magical abilities and goes on a epic quest to defeat the Lord of Darkness.

“So far so good. Maybe she’ll be a fun heroine like last time…”

During her journey, Stella falls in love with a elven warrior named K’llean.

“CALLED IT! He’s totally the male lead!” I high fived myself, and then felt embarrassed at the lonely gesture.

K’llean returned her feelings, however, he was already married to the elven priestess, who was tasked with saving the forest by combining their light magic abilities. The high priestess, hurt by K’llean’s betrayal, initially tried to send away Stella, but instead, in a terrible battle against the dark forces, chose to sacrifice herself to save the Chosen One’s life.

“I have a bad feeling about that priestess character.”

This story was discontinued after the author quit the story, fed up with complaints from the readers. There was a huge backlash at the story’s treatment of the elven priestess, a fan favorite character. Additionally, very few readers supported the romance subplot between Stella and K’llean, given that it began in earnest while K’llean was still married. There was general complaint that Stella and K’llean never received any consequence for their betrayal of the loyal priestess, and that her death was simply to pave the way for the “Chosen One.” The story world was abandoned and left to be destroyed.

The author’s main regret is the sad fate of the elven priestess. To complete their wish and stabilize this world, please allow the elven priestess to live a long, happy life. For this mission to succeed, the world must still be saved from the Lord of Darkness without sacrificing the life of the priestess.

**** DO YOU ACCEPT THIS MISSION?****

“…” I stared at the words thoughtfully. “So I just have to find this priestess and make sure she doesn’t get married to the cheating idiot and lives happily without sacrificing her life for them?” My eyes narrowed. “I feel like there’s gotta be a catch. What if I say ‘no’?”

**** DO YOU ACCEPT THIS MISSION?****

The words appeared again. I wasn’t surprised. There was only ever one option.

“Yes.”

My brain was filled with a flood of information, foreign knowledge, memories and emotions belonging to my character. I closed my eyes, groaning with pain, my fist hitting the ground beside me over and over until the skin split, my blood staining the leaves and grass.

“Well… this sucks.” I knew there was going to be a catch, but when I figured it out, all I could do was smile bitterly at my new identity.I should have guessed.

I was the elven priestess.

_________________________

I leaned my head against the tree trunk, sorting through the new information, the rough bark digging into my scalp. A slow trickle of tears overflowed from my closed eyes, as I fought back the emotions that weren’t my own.

The priestess had truly loved K’llean.

She had known from an early age that she was to be a priestess. Her strong light magic, tested from birth, left her with no choice but to serve her people. Part of that role required her to marry an elf with strong magic, combining their powers to allow the forest to be protected. K’llean was one of many young elves that had been approved as a potential partner.

They met in a similar way that I had just experienced, with her saving his life from a shadow beast. From that moment on, they had spent every waking moment together, growing up side by side. And on the night of her adult ceremony at the age of eighteen, she had chosen him without hesitation.

I could feel her memories, of K’llean watching her with a loving gaze.

“I’ll stand by your side, even if no one else does. Forever.”

She had believed him, whole heartedly.

But he was the male lead, so his love, his true love, was only ever given to the heroine.

The Chosen One.

This world was made for her, for her happiness.

How could one priestess stand against it?

When she found them together… she tried to protest, tried to remind him of the love they had shared. But in the end, Stella had everything. Her people’s trust. Her husband’s love. Even her mission, to save the forest, the one she had trained her whole life to fulfill, had been handed over so easily.

She had nothing.

When she burned through her life force in the battle against the darkness, fueling a magic powerful enough to drive to out the dark creatures and purify the forest, she had felt nothing but a weary resignation.

She had fulfilled her task, protected her people.

But she had not left happily.

I covered my face with my hands, sobbing loudly with a pain I hadn’t experienced, but had become my own. It took some time, but eventually the storm passed. My throat was sore, my eyes sore, but my emotions slowly calmed down.

“I give you…us… a happy life.” I felt a sense of completeness at the words, a almost inaudible relieved sigh in my ear.

Shaking my head, I stood up, stretching with a groan. According to my memories, this character should be about eight years old.

I had already met K’llean. It was probably for the best. If I had the memories I had now, I might not have saved him, child or no.

His cold, careless eyes as he watched his wife sacrifice her life to protect his lover and himself was still fixed firmly in my mind. I wasn’t too happy about it.

The main issue was that I needed to be able to protect the forest, and that would be difficult to accomplish without either burning up my life force or combining my magic with another light magic elf… and K’llean had the strongest magic.

No way in hell am I marrying that guy. My thoughts strayed briefly to the man who had planned our wedding in the last world, wondering if I would see him again, before I reigned them in firmly. So I just need to be powerful enough that I don’t need the cheater’s help. He can run off and romance the heroine to his heart’s content. I’m going to be the greatest light magic wielder this world has ever seen!

I rubbed my hands together, feeling excited. This was my first magic world, and I was starting out as a child, meaning I got to learn from the start. Elves in this world aged similarly to humans, which gave me about 10 years to prepare for the large scale battle against the darkness. Magic lessons should begin at age ten, but it shouldn’t be too hard to get them to start early.

Magical powers, here I come!

A villainous laugh filled the air, completely out of place in the beautiful elven forest.

_________________________

“You’re too young.” The Elven leader’s lined face showed his concern as he shook his head at me. “It’s good to be eager, but you should enjoy the freedom and childhood you have before you’re forced to spend all your time studying.”

I glanced off to the side, where a group of elven children were playing. K’llean could be seen in the middle of the group, swinging a branch, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“I’M THE GREATEST!”

Spare me a childhood with him.I smiled at the elder. “It is my duty, and my joy to work hard for the sake of our people. I have a sense that I need to start early to be able to protect our forest.”

The leader eyed me suspiciously. “You were given a prophecy?”

I kept my smile firmly in place. “Sure.” It’s not completely a lie. In a way, I do know what the future holds.“If I’m not powerful enough by the time I reach adulthood. I will die, and the forest will be in grave danger.”

No need to mention the Chosen One for now. Don’t want them skimping on the training resources.

I struggled to keep my thoughts from showing on my face. The elder had been one of many who had supported my character whole-heartedly... at least until the heroine had shown up. Then he had cast her aside just as quickly.

While still expecting her to be willing to die to protect him and his people.

This life will be different from hers. I’ll give them no choice but to want to stay on my good side.

Perhaps something in my tone or my gaze convinced the older elf. He sighed quietly, patting my head. “Very well. I hope you don’t regret this decision. Once you start, you can’t quit halfway, even if you want to go out and play with the other children.”

I again looked off at the group of young elves. K’llean was squatting over a boy he had just knocked down, farting in the other child’s face while yelling. “YIELD TO THE MIGHTY ELVEN WARRIOR!”

I turned back to the elder. “I am so sure. You have no idea how sure I am.”

“Then let’s begin.”

#writing #please fix the story #fantasy world #fantasy #magic #world hopping

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purplellamanator · 4 years

Note

Soooooo if it's no trouble for you, Shinran for Arranged Marriage AU Modern?

A/N~ Of course it's no trouble!!! And I am so sorry! I know you sent this in like forever ago and have likely forgotten about it! I hope you enjoy though!

Modern~ Person A's family is in debt. Person B is the debt collector but asks for marriage instead.

oOo

This was definitely not how Ran envisioned getting engaged. She'd argue that every girl daydreamed about their wedding at least once in their life and Ran was no different.

She always thought she'd go off to college and meet some nice boy. They would start out as friends first and then they'd slowly move on to actual dates. Ran would bring him to meet her parents and her father would actually approve of him. Her mother would be best friends with her boyfriend's. And then said boyfriend would propose and they'd have a gigantic wedding with a huge cake, big dress, and every relative she could think of would be in attendance.

Sadly, those were all just dreams. Things she imagined when she had a crush or ideas that spurred when she was engrossed in an especially romantic novel. Of course as she grew older her expectations sort of mellowed out. She definitely still wanted the traditionally grand ceremony but she had to add a tad of reality to it.

Standing in a soft pink dress that could barely even be considered business casual as she watched her fiance sign his name on the marriage certificate, Ran took the time to let her gaze wander. Taking in the blandly colored walls of the courtroom was as far as she could get without wanting to cry. That and her fiance was already straightening before angling the pen to her expectantly.

She hesitated. She knew he saw it but Ran couldn't help it. Just like she couldn't conceal the small look of disdain she gave the pen he was trying to hand to her. Her movements slow, she accepted the offering. Her fiance's shoulders sagging in what looked like relief made her think he half expected her to refuse to sign.

It was tempting. But she already argued it was time to face reality. And staring at the paper on the stand before her, she paused again. Ran hoped it appeared like she was just reading over the document but really, she was just trying to delay the inevitable. Her eyes remained unseeingly on the still blank line where her signature was supposed to go.

Ran thought she'd be sick. She didn't think she could do this. There wouldn't be any turning back once she put her name on that paper. Not only was it the contract of their marriage, it would also serve as the contract for the agreement they had come to.

If she signed this certificate, her father's debt would be repaid. If she did this her parents would at least have a chance at restarting their life. Granted she wouldn't be apart of it as much but the point was that they'd have it.

But still, Ran couldn't help but hesitate. She could play it off and lie to herself. She could put the blame on the fact she was scared. It was not much to go on but she was by no means the first arranged marriage. And they very rarely ended happily. The documentaries that were borderline like horror stories to her that she used to always watch on crime shows, were evidence of that. And again, even if that was a very plausible excuse, she knew it wasn't the truthful one. The real one wasn't even because she was disappointed in Kudou-san's looks. Selfishly, her mind flickered to the three tiered cake and the gorgeous chapel.

Swallowing hard she knew she'd have to let go. She'd have to let go of that daydream. She had to come to terms that this was her reality.

So silencing her screaming thoughts as best she could, Ran signed her name.

oOo

Ran didn't know exactly what her expectations had been one she moved in with her . . husband? She didn't really like referring to him like that though. It felt odd to call him anything else but his surname. Especially when he didn't even treat her like she was his wife. Again, Ran didn't really know what to expect but having her own bedroom wasn't one of them.

Of course she wasn't complaining. It was just. . . a surprise. . Ran may of never dated before but she had heard of wifely duties before. Not that she liked to call them that but that was honestly what it would be. There was no benefit to this marriage for her specifically and logically she had to assume that would be one of the things Kudou-san asked of her.

None of the talks she had with her mother the night before all of this would've ever prepared her for what did happen. And that was nothing. Nothing happened. They arrived at what he liked to call a house but to her and the average citizen, was a mansion. He helped her carry her one bag into the house while giving her a brief explanation of where everything was. And then he had shown her to her room and promptly turned around and walked out the door- her door.

Not wanting to lower her guard too soon, she half expected him to come into her room at night. Which he didn't. He didn't do anything with her. He didn't really talk to her in general and as the days passed by she realized he never was. And Ran didn't know what to do with that. She couldn't fathom why he would ask for her hand in marriage if he didn't even want that from her. This had all been his idea after all and to just completely ignore her, Ran didn't understand what exactly her purpose was in all of this.

The house- it frightened her quite a bit in the beginning. It was so massive and felt so empty. It was so quiet that sometimes all she could hear were the pipes in the walls and the house settling. Sometimes when it felt like it was so still that her ears would start ringing, she'd have to plug in her headphones. It was only when she finally gained the courage to leave her bedroom that she realized just why it was so quiet.

Kudou-san was hardly ever in the house. The first few days she was still paranoid and would outright look for him. She didn't want to be startled by him suddenly reprimanding her for wandering around wherever she pleased. But after she had the bright idea to just check for his car in the driveway, more often than not, it was not there. With that, she also learned when to expect him. The sound of his front gate opening would alert her most of the time after she had already eaten dinner. And like the coward she was, she'd take that as her cue it was time for bed.

So it was safe to say that her husband was a very busy person and honestly, she didn't feel the need to find out what for. It was probably for the better that he was more occupied with work rather than her. She didn't like being alone and missed her friends and family terribly. But here in this new home with her. . husband, she didn't know what the alternative would be if she disrupted this set routine with him. Besides, he didn't sound like he wanted anything to do with her anyway. And since he was the one that asked for this engagement, she'd argue that it was up to him to reach out first. And since that never happened one could probably imagine how much time she had on her hands.

It wasn't long before she finally took it upon herself to make a list of duties that she needed to do. If she sat in this house all day and did absolutely nothing but listen to music and read, she'd lose her mind. So she swept the floors and mopped them. She wiped down all of the windows and cleaned out his fridge. She even dusted his entire library which was ridiculous because who even had a library in their house? Still, ignoring that, she did it.

The chores she gave herself were boring and tedious. They were often long jobs that were unusually strenuous but honestly, that's what she preferred. Anything to take her mind off her current situation- or lack there of. Everyday she would come up with something new though. His 'house' was massive and really, she was cleaning a different room on each day. That's how she discovered where most things were anyway. Admittedly he had told her briefly when he was helping her move in but she'd also admit she hadn't been paying attention. Ran hadn't been expecting her marriage to be so . . . quiet. At the time she had been preparing herself for the worst mentally.

Now, and though she wasn't necessarily at ease, she was calm enough to actually breathe properly. This was how she discovered his library. She found the laundry room so she could finally do a load of clothes. Ran even discovered he had an office. It looked like he usually spent his time in there though she quickly left. She highly doubted he would be pleased if he found her in there. Likely he'd assume she was snooping.

Since Kudou-san was rarely home however, it was difficult to guess what areas of his house were off limits. His room of course would've been a given. But everything looked so untouched; like the house was barely lived in.

That was the excuse she would give when explaining how she mistakenly stumbled in there. She was being honest when she said it wasn't for a good few minutes till she realized where she was at. The room was massive like everything in this house. But much like the guest rooms, the walls were barren. There weren't pictures on the walls or items on the shelves. It didn't look lived in to say the least. It wasn't till she finally set her eyes on the bed and took notice of how the sheets were thrown to the side and unkempt.

Like someone had been sleeping there.

Feeling her heart lodge in throat, she quickly took some steps back before going to leave. And stumbling over herself she ran right into something. From her surprise and shock, her hands had come up to brace her fall. That was when she really realized what she ran into.

It was a chest. A beating, warm, and very firm chest.

Hands jerking back to her sides, she quickly moved a pace away from him to give both of them some space. She knew before looking that it was Kudou-san. They were the only two that lived here after all. She was usually pretty good at sneaking back to her room before he came home but it honestly wasn't that late into the day yet. He was earlier than usual.

"Did you-?"

Before he could even finish his sentence she was cutting him off.

"I'm sorry!" she said hurriedly holding her hands up defensively. "I didn't realize this was your room until I saw the bed! I was only trying to clean up a little!" Ran prayed that her words sounded believable. The last thing she wanted was for her husband to think she was digging through his things. It was such an invasion of privacy already and she hoped he could tell how apologetic she was.

Kudou-san didn't appear to be angry though. If anything, he looked a little confused. "You know this is your house too. . . . right?" he asked her slowly while giving her a pointed look. A look that she understood now was asking why she was apologizing. When her eyes suddenly watered a bit, he suddenly looked frustrated. Shaking his head, he turned around and went to leave his own room. "You can go wherever you'd like," he threw over his shoulder and some of that irritation leaked into his voice.

It was only once he left that she realized she was actually shaking. She knew she had been nervous well before her eyes began to fill with tears. But she hadn't noticed just how scared she actually was of his response. Kudou-san didn't look like the violent type but looks could be deceiving. And though they were married she didn't really know him or what he was capable of. Hand coming to rest over her heart in attempt to soothe it, she took deep breaths.

Maybe he noticed her reaction before she did herself. He seemed angrier about that than her standing in his bedroom without permission.

oOo

Though she actually had his permission to go wherever she pleased, it didn't mean Ran took advantage of it. Going into his bedroom had been an accident. She didn't want it to seem like it had been anything but that.

But she did try to come out of her room more often. She stopped hiding out any time she saw his car pull through the gate out front. She stopped trying to plan her sporadic dashes to the kitchen when he was home. Ran stopped trying to dance around him.

They still didn't really talk. He at least acknowledged her which arguably, if she had come out sooner he would've done that before. And the mansion didn't feel like a home to her yet by any means, but at least she could actually walk around without her veins thrumming with adrenaline as if she were in some horror movie.

She finally started cooking again. It was something she had to do when living with her parents but had soon turned into a hobby for her. Ran was often told she was good at it and it made her feel better, so she enjoyed it. And though he never asked her to, she always made enough for him. Pulling the trash as part of her chores she took upon herself, it was impossible for her not to notice all the takeout bins. She was pretty sure that was what he ate all the time and she couldn't help but be appalled. Fast food was fine and all occasionally- occasionally being the key word.

Technically even though it didn't feel like it, she was his wife. Wasn't it normal to cook food for your husband? That and he erased her father's debt- but she liked the first excuse better. Ran didn't really know much about the reasoning circling around her father's debt. She had only been given an offer to get rid of it so of course she accepted wholeheartedly. And she would never want Kudou-san to go back on his word.

So she made him dinner. It wasn't like she left a mess. She always cleaned up after herself and would simply leave it in a rubber-maid container on the kitchen island for him to notice right away. That and she left him a note. It didn't say anything extensive. All she did was write his name so that he knew it was in fact for him. She didn't want him to think she left it out by mistake.

The first time she did it for him though, her mind had immediately regretted it. It wasn't till she was sitting in her room that first night that she took the time to think about how forward of her that was. She had no idea what Kudou-san liked to eat anyway. He very well could just throw it out. And what was she thinking leaving him a note like that? That was something she had seen her mother do for her father on the rare occasion that the woman attempted to prepare anything for him. But those notes were usually tagged with a heart. Something far more intimate than what she had in mind.

Suddenly her anxiety hit the roof. The implication of what she just did had her face engulfed in heat. Just when her second thoughts were getting the best of her she was going to put the food away herself, she noticed the headlights of his car as it pulled into the gate. It had been too late and like the coward she was, she she didn't dare to leave her room again for the rest of night. She even turned off her lights and got into bed on the off chance that Kudou-san did come looking for her.

He didn't. He hadn't even come anywhere near her door. He had them on the same floor but on completely opposite sides of the house, she had learned the other day from her little accident. It relieved her that he didn't come knocking though. Ran had been preparing an excuse for why she made him dinner until it became glaringly obvious that he wasn't going to ask. More at ease now, that's what began her routine of making him his afternoon meal. And he never had a word that was gratitude nor a complaint to give. At that point she expected him to forget about it.

Upon waking up to get breakfast a few days later however, she noticed that Kudou-san obviously hadn't forgotten it. There was a box on the kitchen island, on the spot she generally left his dinner. As she got closer she realized it was a cell phone still in it's packaging. And like what she had left him, it came with a note on the top only saying her name.

At first Ran didn't know what to do with it. She was mostly shocked by the obvious gift Kudou-san had left her. The obviously expensive gift. But even more obvious from why she married him, she knew that buying a brand new phone wouldn't even make a dent in his finances. Still, normally Ran would've been uncomfortable accepting such a gift. But she also recognized this as a way for him to pay her back for making him his meals. To not accept it would be incredibly rude and she knew she'd offend him.

The first person she called was her mother. Admittedly she wanted to speak with her father instead but apparently he had been out. Still she was ecstatic to get a hello from anybody and her mom was just as thankful to finally hear from her. Leaving out why exactly her husband bought her the phone, she explained that it was Kudou-san who had given it to her. And though it was a talk she didn't really want to revisit with her mother, she knew the woman would be concerned if she didn't bring it up.

"Kudou-san is. . . kind," she finally settled on that. They rarely interacted but off the sparse times they did, that's the impression she got from him.

"Ran." Her mother's tone was sharp and warning and it had her tensing in her seat. "People like him never give something for nothing; not when they can put a price on everything. Never forget that."

Ran knew what her mom was trying to tell her then. To get her head out of the clouds and come back to that reality she was always trying to escape. That eventually Kudou-san would expect something from her in return. And though she still wanted to stand by her comment that her husband wasn't really all that bad, she couldn't argue. Because her mother was right. The gift that had seemed so generous only came to her because she had done something kind in return. It was a response to her.

But still, and thinking back, she was reminded of his response when she had been terrified of being caught in his bedroom. He had been irritated, yes- but only because she clearly expected that. And that told her enough. That he didn't want her to have an ill opinion of him. And if he cared about what she thought of him, then that must've meant- to some extent, that he cared about her.

#dcmk #shinran #dcmk fanfic #shinran fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #shinichi kudo #ran mouri #asks #drabbles #prompts #requests

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starker-stories · 4 years

Text

Reversal of Fortunes

Created for @mcukinkbingo Also on AO3 Square Filled: Slavery Ship: Peter Parker/Tony Stark, Starker Rating: E Archive Warning: Rape/Non-Con Word Count: 9457 Additional Tags: College Student Peter Parker, Slavery, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Rape/Non-con Elements, As in Slaves Can't Consent, Brat Peter Parker, Dark Richard Parker, Mechanic Tony Stark, Dark Tony Stark, Debt Slavery, Anal Sex, Inappropriate Type of Lube Used, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Role Reversal, Dark Fic, Dark Themes, Sexual Slavery Summary: From a distance, Peter saw olive skin, shirtless glistening with sweat. Muscular, but not grotesque. Finely crafted. Sculpted. Peter’s own body had broad shoulders but a nipped in waist. This man was solid all the way from shoulders to… oh my god… the most perfect round globes of his denim clad ass. The jeans he wore were tight around his thighs as well. Thick and muscular. The slave’s entire lower body looked like it was designed to provide incredible strength and stamina when he fucked. He looked like he could fuck hard. Peter whimpered again and touched himself through his khaki shorts.

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

Peter was bored. Why his father insisted on taking him to these things, he never knew. Yes, he’d be his heir and should know how to manage an estate, but he planned on hiring an overseer for that. He had no interest in the slaves his father owned. Disgustingly voluptuous women who pranced around the house pretending to be servants when what they really were were his father’s fucktoys. Who his mother ignored in favor of staring at the bottom of wine bottles. The last thing his gay ass he wanted to see was another pair of tits.

“Dad, do I have to stay? God, don’t you have enough house slaves?”

“I’m not buying for the house, Peter. I know the nature of the house slaves you’ll keep when you inherit my estate will change. You’ll do that in your own time. But I’m buying laborers and field hands today. Even if all you do is stock the house with boys, you need to know how to judge a working slave’s value. Now stop sulking and follow me out to the pens.”

Peter huffed a sigh. At least they were looking at men. But big dumb hunks of muscle little better than the horse he rode when he played polo. That was an insult to Jax. He was probably smarter than a field hand. A tray of champagne wafted by, carried by a cute young man with a nice dick, and Peter followed. His absence was unnoticed by his father who was assessing the value of the meat.

The waiter was happy to follow young Mr. Parker into an alcove, as he was required to do. He was surprised at the young master’s request. Peter dropped to his knees and sucked the man hard, making sure to leave his dick coated with a thick layer of spit. Then he knelt on the bed. “Fuck me. I’ll tell you how I like it.” Peter directed the slave as if he were a dildo attached to a human body, making him give him all the pleasure he wanted, but ordered not to come from it. When Peter came, he zipped up and left the slave, hard and dripping, without a backwards glance.

His father was disappointed that Peter hadn’t stayed, but unsurprised. He drove them back out to their ranch. The auction was forgotten as Peter lost himself in socializing, riding, and generally being the spoiled only son of Richard Parker, owner of one of the biggest ranches in the state.

~~~~~

Slavery was technically peonage. Only the debt, once someone fell into it, could never be repaid at the “wages” a slave was required to be given. The economy was highly divided. There were the 1%, where Peter dwelled. The 24% where most free people dwelled. And the 75%, where they scrambled for pennies to keep themselves out of debt slavery. Most failed. The 75% served the other 25%, pretty much in perpetuity, with lip service given to their ‘technical’ freedom.

It was rare, but someone in the 1% could fall. Bad business decisions, embezzlement of their company’s funds, loss of market share, dozens of pitfalls awaited the 1% who weren’t vigilant.

Tony Stark was too busy drinking, fucking anything that moved, and spending his dead father’s money to be vigilant. His father’s best friend and his mentor, locked him out of his own company, arranging for all the company’s debt to look like Tony himself had personally accrued it through his mismanagement. Which is how one playboy, billionaire, genius, philanthropist wound up a sold to Richard Parker’s ranch. Richard was going to put him to field work, but then he recognized the worn, weathered man, who looked nothing like the Tony Stark he knew from magazine covers. It didn’t matter. He was a slave and he belonged to the Parker estate. But a good mechanic could be put to more useful work than laboring in the fields. Tony was led to the garage and told to work.

Tony was effusive in his thanks to his new master. His previous one had indeed put him in the fields, where he was basically incompetent. His body was welted and scarred from punishment. Finally, after three years, his old master gave up on Tony and sold him cheaply. Richard got a bargain. He had nothing personal against Stark. It was later found out that his mentor sold him out and the company, also sold cheaply, was broken up and went to other owners. Tony’s debt was massive. He’d work for Master Parker until the day he died. Thankfully he never had children and wouldn’t unless his master chose to breed him. But he didn’t give a damn about that. Any kids born from him mounting a female slave weren’t his. No attachment. Tony didn’t make attachments. He hadn’t done so as a free man, why do it now, when an attachment could be sold the next day.

~~~~~

It was one of the hottest summers on record. Even the air conditioning couldn’t keep the house cool, and Peter was sick at looking at walking tits waving fans. He perched himself on a fence rail and watched… nothing. There was nothing of interest anywhere on the ranch. He leaned back and turned his face to the sun, feeling its warmth. When he looked down again, his eye caught movement in the big barn where the farm equipment was stored. He bit his lip and whimpered.

From a distance, he saw olive skin, shirtless glistening with sweat. Muscular, but not grotesque. Finely crafted. Sculpted. Peter’s own body had broad shoulders but a nipped in waist. This man was solid all the way from shoulders to… oh my god… the most perfect round globes of his denim clad ass. The jeans he wore were tight around his thighs as well. Thick and muscular. The slave’s entire lower body looked like it was designed to provide incredible strength and stamina when he fucked. He looked like he could fuck hard. Peter whimpered again and touched himself through his khaki shorts.

Peter’s lustful assessment didn’t even touch on the slave’s arms. He held a hammer and was beating a dented fender back into shape. His arms rippled and shone with sweat running over streaks of grease and oil. The slave turned to set down the hammer and pick up another tool. He couldn’t quite make out the slave’s features, but he had a

wonderful view of his chest. There was a light dusting of hair straight down the center. Muscles again but like Peter had never seen. He hated the over-built field hands. But he hated the soft, handsome rich boys like himself, too. He knew he was gay, but he’d never seen a man who did it for him. Until now. The slave was dirty and all Peter wanted was to be soiled.

Peter stopped touching himself and tried to will his erection to go down. At least some. He was free and it didn’t matter how he presented himself in front of a slave, but walking over hiding a full erection was just awkward. And would send the message that he was looking to fuck instead of get fucked. He turned away from the barn and watched some ugly hunks of muscle. That brought him right down.

He slid down off his perch and walked over to the barn. Okay, maybe swayed his way over to the barn. “Hi.”

The slave suddenly stopped what he was doing and put his tools down. “Hello, Young Master,” he said, eyes cast downward.

“Ugh. I hate that ‘young master’ thing. I’m twenty, not a child.”

“What shall I call you, sir,” Tony asked, hoping ‘sir’ was deferential enough until given something else to call him.

“Unless my dad’s near us, Master will do just fine.”

“Yes, Master.”

Now that he was close, Peter could see the scars crisscrossing the slave’s back. He even had some on his front and his arms. Peter reached out and ran a fingertip over the slave’s bicep, tracing one of them. “Were you disobedient?”

“No, Master.” Tony tried not to flinch when he was touched. Field hands were hardly ever sexually used and he hadn’t been, but he wasn’t a field hand anymore. He wasn’t keen on being thirty-eight and losing his ‘virginity’. Not that he’d have a say in it. “I was ill-suited to the work my former Master put me to.”

“Which was?” Peter asked, stepping closer. He could smell the sweat and grease.

“Field work, Master. I was a mechanic by trade before.”

Peter went from caressing with a fingertip to sliding his palm over the slave’s arm. “You don’t look like a field hand, thank god. Do you have a name, or just this number?” Peter’s hand moved up the slave’s arm to his neck, where all slaves were marked.

“I’m Tony, Master.”

“Tony.” Peter tasted the name on his tongue. It felt good there. “Stand still, Tony.” Peter’s hands went for the button of Tony’s jeans.

“Yes Master,” Tony said, holding himself tense.

Peter undid Tony’s fly and hefted his cock and balls out. “Oh my god,” he moaned appreciatively. He dropped to his knees on the barn floor. He took Tony’s soft cock into his mouth, sealing his lips behind the head, and letting his tongue dance. He balanced his hands on Tony’s thighs.

Tony sucked in a breath between his teeth and tried to keep from groaning in pleasure. Since he’d been sold, he’d had nothing but his own hand on his cock. He started to get hard instantly.

“Fuck Tony, you’re huge,” Peter moaned. He looked up at Tony’s face. “Are you able to come more than once or are you one and done, like most of the muscle on this place.”

Tony felt his face heat. “No, Master. I mean, yes, Master, I can come more than once. I need a bit of time between. I’m sorry, Master.”

“More than twice?” Peter’s eyebrows rose, hopefully.

“Occasionally three, Master.”

“God, you’re heaven. I might actually have to thank my father for something. I hate that, but you’re worth it.”

Tony was in uncharted territory. He was well known as a playboy. Fond of both men and women. A sexual athlete in bed. But always on top. He didn’t want to assume, but it seemed like that was what his Master’s son wanted. He snuck a glance at the boy as he sucked his dick. The boy was gorgeous. Just the type he would’ve bedded in the old days. He didn’t want to disappoint, so even though he’d been without for three years, he tried to remember his self control.

Peter looked up at Tony. “You’re not gonna shoot too fast, are you?”

“No Master,” Tony said, biting his lip.

“Good. I want you to come in my mouth. When I’m ready, I’ll do this…” Peter tapped Tony’s thigh three times. “Then you come. Can you do that?”

Tony considered it, only a moment. The skill had been in his repertoire. He hoped he still had it. “Yes Master.”

Peter licked a stripe down Tony’s cock. “God you’re filthy.”

“I could shower if that would please Master more.”

Peter gripped Tony’s thighs. “Don’t you dare! Fuck, it’s hot.” He nuzzled his face in Tony’s coarse hair. “You smell… god… you smell like a man.”

A smirk passed briefly over Tony’s face before he remembered he wasn’t who he used to be. He schooled his features.

He took Tony’s shaft in his hand, leisurely stroking it just to keep him hard. He looked up the slave’s body. “How long have you been a slave?”

“Three years Master.”

Peter chuckled. “Didn’t think it had been long. You have too much of yourself left.”

“I’m sorry, Master.”

“Don’t be! I like that. God I’m so bored with everything. You’re,” he smiled, “something new.” They weren’t supposed to ask, but a Master did whatever he wanted. “What was your last name?” He saw a wince.

“Stark, Master.”

Peter’s brow furrowed, then his eyes went wide. “THE Tony Stark?”

“Yes Master. I’m Tony the slave now, Master.”

“Yeah, okay, but…” Peter grinned up at him. “Tony Stark had a reputation for fucking.”

The wince came again. Nothing he was then was what he was now. “Yes, Master, but that was a long time ago.”

Peter shimmied out of his shorts. “You’re not coming in my mouth,” he said excitedly. He bent over the dirty workbench, pushing tools out of his way. “Fuck me, Tony.”

“Is that allowed, Master? Your father…”

“Doesn’t give a damn what slave I let fuck me.” Peter looked over his shoulder. “But he does give a damn if they won’t.”

“I don’t have any lube, Master,” Tony demurred.

“You don’t have anything in this shop? I don’t care what you use. I want your dick up my ass. Now.” Peter snapped impatiently.

Tony found a bit of oil. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing to use or not, but it’s what the Master asked for. And his back showed the cost of disobedience. He drizzled the oil down the crack of the young man’s ass. He fought to hide his reaction. The kid was perfect. His ass pale and white, his cheeks firm round globes. His Master’s son, Peter, wasn’t just the type he bedded, he was the type he kept around for a little while.

He took one of Peter’s ass cheeks in his hand, roughly, solidly, and pulled it open revealing the kid’s perfect little pink hole. With his calloused thumb he pushed the oil up into him. Then he thickly coated his cock.

“You like it rough or slow, kid?” Tony asked in a low growl. Someone like Peter… he knew the type well. His insolence might earn him a whipping, but he doubted it. “You wanna feel all this dick going into that tight little hole of yours all at once, or do you want that pretty little thing opened up a bit at a time? You think you can take all of me?”

Peter snorted. “You think that thing is good enough to make me come? You make me come on nothing but that cock, then when you can get it up again you come down my throat, and then I’ll consider where I want it for time number three, and I’ll make sure your life’s a whole lot easier.”

He bent over Peter and rubbed his cock along the crack of his ass. Not having been reprimanded for his manner of speech, he let himself go. “Baby, I’ve taken more boys like you apart than I can count. You just remember that my name is Tony. That way you know what to scream when I’ve fucked you brainless.”

Tony pulled away but kept one hand firmly on the boy’s back, just above the rise of his ass. He teased Peter’s hole with the head of his cock.

“Dammit, Tony fuck me!”

Tony chuckled. “Bet you’re used to slaves just standing there doing whatever you tell them to. Little dicks you rode like they were pieces of silicone. You wanna fuck Tony the slave or you wanna find out what it was like to be fucked by Tony Stark?”

Peter gave a little whimper.

“Thought so,” Tony said as he thrust his thick cock into the boy all at once. Hard. Fast. And there was the scream and cry, something between the pain of being opened and the pleasure of the stretch. Beautiful. A sound he hadn’t heard for three years. He reached up and grabbed Peter’s shoulder, pulling him back to meet his thrusts.

He started out with a brutal hard fuck. Peter’s cock was hard and the soft grunting moans that were forced out of him with the hard slap of Tony’s hips against his ass were signs of his pleasure. But Tony knew that was just a little rough foreplay. Not nearly enough to make the kid come untouched. Just a little… warming up.

“I’m not there yet,” Peter said smugly between his forced breaths.

Tony’s hand moved from Peter’s shoulder and tangled into his curly hair, grabbing a handful and tugging hard, pulling the kid’s head back. Peter cried out but pushed his ass back onto Tony’s cock, meeting his thrust and grinding in tight circles, pulsing around him. Tony registered the reaction. He had the kid’s number.

“I’m just starting, Peter.” His voice was gruff and deep. He knew the reaction it could cause. And the reaction that would come from hearing a slave say his name. He watched Peter fight back his whimpers by biting his lip. “I told you, I don’t come fast. Not even for a tight little piece of ass like you. I’ll get you there when I’m damn good and ready to get you there.”

He let go of Peter’s hair by roughly pushing his head away, as if he was done with his insolence. Reversing their positions. It was risky. It was all risky. Peter could decide after that he regretted the idea of letting a slave get away with treating him that way. But it felt so good to be able to be himself for even a little while. And the risk might pay off. The kid might not have regrets. A life of fucking that pretty kid and getting to pretend that he was still himself was better than what he was doing. Even though that was better than field work. He started to show off.

One hand firmly on Peter’s hip, the other on his cock, he thrust in at a downward angle, still hard, but slower on entry to drag the head of his cock over Peter’s prostate. Once he was past that spot about two inches in, he sped up his stroke until he was buried deep. Peter’s sharp moan and arch of his back was rewarding. So he did it again. Until the kid’s back was broken out in sweat and his moans were caught on quick shallow panting. One last time to make Peter scream then he went back to hard and fast and straight in. Peter’s cock was dripping a pool of precome on the garage floor.

“You all right baby boy?” Tony crooned. He covered the kid’s back with his solid muscular body. Letting him feel the weight.

“Tony, please!” Peter’s words were drawn out impossibly long on a high pitched whimper.

Oh that was rewarding. Having his ‘Master’ beg him.

“No. I’m not ready to come. You want it, work that ass on my dick, Peter. I’ll make you come just before I do. Gonna fill you up, kid.

“No you’re not.”

Tony chuckled. “That’s cute that you think you still have any say in this.”

He watched the shudder work all the way up Peter’s spine. The kid wanted to get fucked by a man and there weren’t any in his life, just simpering slaves and weak little boys like himself who pretended to be men.

Tony reached under Peter and wrapped his arm around his chest. He raised him off the workbench, halfway between bent and standing. He held him close, touching him with his body, running his hand up the kid’s chest to tease and pinch at a nipple for awhile. Before he ran his hand higher and shoved two of his dirty fingers into Peter’s mouth when he opened it to cry out to a sharp snap of Tony’s hips. Peter sucked on his fingers. Tony pushed them in deeper as he fucked into him. Peter sucked harder, drool running out of his mouth as Tony pressed his fingers down onto his tongue.

With his foot, he pushed Peter’s legs closer together, making him tighter around his cock. He widened his stance and fucked upward into the kid. The new angle hit his prostate more times than not.

“Fuck kid,” Tony groaned, long and low. “You’ve probably been fucked dozens of times, but never with a man’s cock. You’re so tight on me you almost feel cherry.”

He hit the spot again and Peter cried out his name, broken and desperate and needy.

“Wanna come baby?”

“Oh yes! Yes Tony! Please!”

Tony kept one hand high on the kid’s chest, the other he put low on his stomach, splayed out, warm and rough and dirty all over that soft pale white skin. He pressed in slightly as he started to fuck with an aim to sending the kid over. He always loved making guys come from nothing but getting their ass fucked. Being able to do that a lot… well… there was a reason he had the reputation he did.

“Tony!” Peter called out his name sharply as he painted the front of the workbench with his come.

He nipped at Peter’s ear. “Told you you’d remember my name,” he growled as he started to quickly work to his finish. Peter quaked in his arms. Shuddered. Whined. Riding the high of his orgasm. His cock still twitched and dripped as Tony fucked him through it.

“Got you all dirty,” Tony grunted. “Pretty baby.” He pulled Peter down onto his cock, burying in as deep as he could go. He groaned loudly as he came inside the kid who said he wouldn’t be allowed to do so. “Got you dirtier,” he said, kicking the kid’s legs apart so his come dripped out of Peter’s ass down onto his thighs when he pulled out.

Tony put his cock back into his pants and walked back over to his work. Leaving Peter there, holding onto the edge of the workbench, gasping, his shorts down around his ankles. His ass totally wrecked. He picked up the hammer and started reshaping the tractor’s fender.

“Stick around and look pretty for me and I’ll get it up faster for round two. Those lips will be sweet wrapped around my cock.”

~~~~~

Richard snorted a laugh. “It figures you would find him and make him fuck you. I appreciate the fact that you find the slave who had a reputation for being a good fuck and want to have him as your sex slave. But I need a mechanic on the ranch. He was the best in the world at what he did — both as a mechanic and as a piece of ass. You get him after he’s done his work. I’ll cut his hours from twelve to ten. Getting your ass fucked doesn’t take that long.”

“Maybe not the way you do it,” Peter muttered. “Twelve to eight,” he bargained. “And if I’m in the mood, he sleeps with me.”

“I don’t care if he sleeps with you or sleeps with you, but he will be woken up at four thirty to start his day like the rest of the slaves. I’ll give you eight, but I expect him to complete a full workload in those eight. You know what I do to slaves who slack off.”

“I don’t care about that, as long as I can have him from the time he gets done working for you until the time he has to go back to it.”

“Christ, Peter. How long does it take him to fuck you?”

“Hours,” Peter said dreamily. “He can go three times if he has enough inspiration.” Peter smiled wickedly. “I was inspiring.”

Richard snorted again. “Slaves always brag about their skills. I knew Tony Stark. He was more ego than anything. That’s when he wasn’t busy being the world’s most famous drunk who let a multi-billion dollar tech conglomerate be mismanaged out from under him. But if you think he’s actually any good… one use for a slave’s as good as another. I’d be a hypocrite if I kept you from using a piece of meat to get off with. You’re welcome to him. But the minute your play time interferes with his primary use, he’s gone from your bed. And the punishment he’ll get for having wasted my time thinking he’s gone back to fucking for a living is going to be severe.”

~~~~~

Peter liked him dirty. Fresh off the day’s work. Sweaty and with a strong scent. The kid was an absolutely greedy cock whore for him. Whining and whimpering and begging for it. He let him come on his face. In his ass, down his throat, splattered up his back. And he’d wear it from one go til the next. Sometimes even all night as they slept tangled together.

Despite being his owner, Peter was considerate of Tony’s schedule. He always got a good night’s sleep and in the mornings, Peter often woke up with him and showered with him and had breakfast with him. Which wasn’t the bland goop they dished out in the slave quarters. Tony tasted bacon and eggs and pancakes again. Just like he used to have at home. The good food and the good sleep made his workday more efficient. And the regular orgasms didn’t hurt it either.

Nor did the post-fuck affectionate come-down they spent together.

They’d been fucking for almost two months when Peter curled up along Tony’s side. “Tony?” he asked softly.

“Yeah baby?” Tony pressed his face into Peter’s sweat soaked curls. He’d just given the kid his first experience with multiple orgasms. Peter was glowing, his body still soft and suffering the occasional shudder still running through him. Raising them both together slightly, Tony reached down the bed for the soft duvet and pulled it over Peter before the kid got chilled. Tony was always too hot to be covered, but Peter ran cold. “What do you need, precious?”

Peter looked up at Tony. “You.”

Tony snorted. “You own me. That’s not a problem.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Peter said sadly. “I want you.”

“Baby, if things were different, you’d have me too.” Tony ran his hand down Peter’s back underneath the covers. “You’re beautiful. I always liked beautiful things.”

“Is that all I’d be to you?” He nuzzled his face against the solid muscle of Tony’s chest.

“I don’t know, Pete.” It was hard to keep off the kid. He’d touch and he’d kiss whatever he could get to. Peter was like a sweet, sweet wine and he wanted every drop. But he knew to keep his distance. Everything was at the suffrage of his owner, Richard Parker. A fucking mediocre chemical engineer who got lucky with a couple of patents and retired early to play country squire on a slave-run ranch.

“You wouldn’t want me?”

“Oh baby, I’d want you plenty. That ass of yours is fuckin’ heaven.”

“Oh,” Peter said quietly.

“Pete, I don’t know you. I don’t know if I would’ve wanted more than to keep you in my bed for awhile. I know I was looking. Fucking around was losing its appeal. Sort of ‘been there done that’ and I’d fucked my way through the best ass in L.A. It was getting repetitive. But would it have been you? Who knows. All I know is that it isn’t you now. I don’t get to make those choices.”

“If you did?”

Tony snorted. “Do you have any idea of how much Obie drove Stark into debt? I’d be a slave for a hundred lifetimes if they could make me that long. And after all that, he still lost my fuckin’ company,” Tony said bitterly.

“Speculating about ifs?” Tony continued. “That’s a free man’s game. My only ‘if’ is if you’re gonna get bored with me or if your father gets a better offer than my value and sells me. That’s my fuckin’ if. This? This is all playing games, baby boy. They’re fun games and I enjoy the hell out of getting to pretend that I’m still me. But it’s a fuckin’ game that a free boy gets to play with my body that he owns.

“So would I want to keep you if I was still free? What the fuck difference does it make in the world I live in now?”

“But I like you, Tony.” Peter said hesitantly. “I more than like you.”

Tony snorted again. “You like my dick up your ass. You don’t know me, kid. You have no idea what I was like, what I did every day, what my real work was, the way my mind worked, nothing. So you ‘more than like me’. How the fuck can you do that, huh Pete? Now, do you wanna fuck again or do you wanna keep playing with my head. You own me. Your choice.”

Peter rolled away from Tony and they both went to sleep.

~~~~~

“Get cleaned up and meet me downstairs in the lab,” Peter said when Tony came in after his workday.

So more head-fucking and less dick-fucking for the day. Tony went to Peter’s room, showered, and dressed in a clean set of work clothes. He went downstairs to the last place in the world that he wanted to be. He’d rather be out in the fields. Ever since Richard Parker recognized him, he’d been worried about this. The bastard earning money off of his real skills. He decided when he got noticed that if it ever did happen, he’d sabotage the effort. He’d let the fucker beat him to death before he let him earn a penny off of what his brain could do.

“Yes, Young Master?” Tony asked once he was downstairs.

“This is dad’s space, mine’s over here.”

It reminded him of how it was in Howard’s house. There was Howard’s lab and workshop, much bigger than his and separated distinctly. Apparently it worked the same for Richard. Though Tony hadn’t realized that Peter was anything but a bubble butt airhead spoiled rotten twink. Not that he had a lab downstairs with his dad.

“I’ve been working on this new adhesive threading. Woven together I think it would be useful in a lot of ways,” Peter explained as he brought out his notes and samples of his work.

“I wasn’t a chemist, Young Master.” Inside the house, they had to revert to putting the ‘young’ in front of the designation because Richard was often around. “Your work is outside my area of expertise.” He hoped that would be the end of it. It wasn’t.

“3D manipulation of the chemical model would help. I don’t have the means for it. I’ve tried every modeling software that’s out there. No one at Stark has been able to get into your AI and retrieve your work. You used to have a 3D modeling table. I saw pictures of it in a journal when I was a kid.”

“I had no idea you were a chemist like the Master, Young Master.”

“I dropped out of college. Dad was pissed, but as long as I’m working and being self-taught, he deals with it. I don’t work a lot. He drives me nuts and I hate being down here. If I lived on my own, I’d do more, but… he holds the purse strings.”

Tony swallowed back a bitter chuckle. He remembered those days. The struggle to get a dime out of Howard while he was at MIT. “Well, if they can’t get the 3D table design out, it must be for a good reason, Young Master,” Tony said, meeting Peter’s eye with resolution.

“They can’t get any designs out. They can’t even get your AI, JARVIS, to be anything other than minimally functional.”

The corner of Tony’s mouth quirked up in a smirk. He’d tried to blackmail Obie into saving his ass by locking everything he’d ever worked on tightly away. Stane was convinced that his engineering team would be enough to keep Stark afloat. It wasn’t. Rather than let himself follow Tony into debt slavery, he flew his plane into the Pacific Ocean. Stark Industries was broken up and sold. Including the brand name. His name. Before his sale, Tony sent JARVIS off to the far reaches. A bit here, a bit there, seemingly unconnected but actually very much connected. JARVIS was just as capable as he was three years ago. And he still kept all of Tony’s secrets.

“I need your help with this, Tony,” Peter asked. His voice had a touch of the pleading tone it did when they were fucking.

“That’s nice,” Tony said harshly. “You’re not getting it.”

“You have to.”

“Yeah, no. Go on. Tell your father I’m uncooperative. I don’t give a fuck. You get my body. He gets my hands. Nobody gets my brain. So fuck you, Young Master,” Tony said with bitter sarcasm.

Peter turned, smiling, and ran to Tony. He stood on tiptoes and hugged his neck. “I love you,” he whispered into his ear.

Tony blinked, confused. “Wha…?”

“You refused me. You. Tony Stark, not Tony the slave.”

He snorted. “Oh joy. I’m still me inside here. I’m sure that’ll be beaten out of me soon enough. You’re an idiot, Peter.” He turned away and headed for the stairs. “I’ll be sleeping in the slave quarters with the rest of the ones like me.”

“Tony, stop. Please.”

On the first step, Tony turned. “Why? You want me in your bed tonight instead? Sure. Whatever the Young Master desires. You want my cock hard, just put those lips on it. You can ride me until you get yourself off. You wanna find out what it’s like to fuck someone? Not like I can stop you.” He stepped down and strode menacingly toward Peter. “I have one thing. One thing. And no one is getting that. You or Richard or whoever can flay my back until there’s not a scrap of skin left on it. You. Don’t. Get. It,” he spat. “You don’t get me.” He stood there quivering with anger.

“Is there a problem, Peter?” Richard said, walking through the door. He glared at Tony.

“No father. No problem. You know the kind of thing I like,” Peter said, with a flirty smirk. He walked over to Tony and ran his hand up the man’s arm. “I like this kind of thing right here. Rough and dirty with an absolutely huge dick that fucks like a beast.”

Richard chuckled. “That is far too much information, Peter.” He looked around Peter’s lab. “Keep your toys where they belong and not where they don’t.”

Peter climbed a few steps to stand above Tony. He reached down and tangled his fingers in the man’s thick hair and gave it a little tug. He looked at his father with a smug smile. “C’mon baby. I’ve got a hot hungry hole that needs filling.”

Richard shook his head and went back to his own lab.

~~~~~

“Are you having fun, Young Master?” Tony asked, a vicious tone in his voice, once they reached Peter’s bedroom and the door was shut behind them.

“God Tony stop that. You know I like it when you call me Peter.”

“Whatever you command, Peter.”

“Stop!” Tears ran down Peter’s face.

“I don’t know what you think is going to come of this. So you got me to remember who I was. So you think you fell in love with that man, a man you never knew and never will know. What, exactly, do you think any of this changes!”

“I don’t know!” Peter swiped at his eyes. “I just want you to be you. I want you to go home and to have your business back and to have your life back. I want you to be happy. I want to have a chance to get to know that man you say I don’t know. I want you to have your work back. I want you to have your inventions back. I want you to have JARVIS back. I w…”

Tony laughed bitterly. “Oh that’s a good game, Richard!” Tony shouted. “I assume you’re watching from somewhere, you pathetic little social climbing nobody! Sending your son to be a cute little piece of ass to soften me up. Whimpering at me with talk of twu wuv. You don’t think I can resist a good fuck? That I’m as weak willed as you are, you fucking cheat. Wanna tell Mary how many free mistresses you’ve had on the string over the years in addition to your pieces of slave ass? I don’t let my dick lead me everywhere, unlike you. I wasn’t anywhere near the playboy and the drunk I was made out to be. You’re a bigger imbecile than I thought you were if you believed that. How the hell could I have done the work I did if I was always staring at the bottom of a bottle like your wife? I was betrayed! I will let you torture me and tear me into little pieces and tear those little pieces into littler pieces before you get a single line of JARVIS’ code!”

“Tony I…”

“Oh shut the fuck up, Peter.” Tony took Peter by his upper arms and pushed him back to bounce on the bed. “I’m tired of the damn game.” He looked down at the boy coldly. “You bore me.” He walked out Peter’s balcony door, down the outer stairs, and went back to the garage the kid took him out of.

~~~~~

“Tire of your toy already, Peter?” Richard asked him a couple of days later, noting the lack of late night sounds from his son’s room.

Peter rolled his eyes. “God dad, seriously.”

“Lover’s spat?”

“Would you please!”

“Peter, if you want Stark back in your bed, I’ll order him back in your bed. If you’re done with him, I’ll make sure he stays away and fill his days with so much work he won’t have time to even think about you. I know it’s easy to get little crushes on slaves, but you have to remember who you are and what they are. Not what they used to be. Keep everyone in their proper place and the world turns smoothly.”

Peter huffed and shook his head, pushing away from the table to head upstairs to his room.

“So what’ll it be? Your bed or the garage?” Richard asked.

“Leave it the fuck alone! That’s what it’ll be!”

“Peter, language,” his mother slurred as he disappeared from the room.

~~~~~

Peter spent every afternoon for a week sitting on the fence railing, watching Tony work in the garage. The man never once looked up at him.

In the early morning, he rode off on his horse to parts unknown, coming back just in time to take up his fence sitting. When dinner was called, he ate quickly then locked himself in his room.

“Can you prove it?” Peter asked, finally hopping down off the fence and standing in the garage doorway.

“Prove what, Young Master?” Tony asked. He set down his tools and obediently stood still, his eyes cast downward.

“That you were betrayed.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Young Master. With your permission, the Master wishes this baler in working condition by tonight.”

“Tony, will you get over this? I’m trying to help you,” Peter said, stepping closer.

Tony didn’t move, but neither did he respond to Peter’s nearness. “I stand where the Master orders me to stand, Young Master. At this time, I am ordered to this garage.

Peter pushed himself to sit on the workbench. “Then don’t let me keep you from your work, slave,” he said, staring the man down.

They were like that until dinner was called. Peter watched while Tony worked, ignoring him. Peter went in and soon came back with a plate heaping full of food. He pushed back up on the workbench and resumed watching Tony as he ate. He heard a small snort of derision from the other side of the machine Tony was working on.

Four thirty the next morning, Peter was sitting on the workbench eating breakfast when Tony arrived to his duties.

“Kid, if you think a plate of bacon and eggs or roast beef is going to get you anywhere nearer to what your father wants…” he chuckled.

“Can you prove you were betrayed?”

“Gonna reopen my case?” Tony asked as he checked the schedule of work for the day. “How magnanimous of you. You think Richard’s gonna let you take one of his most profitable assets from him? Seriously kid, I don’t know what kind of game the two of you are playing now, but I’ve got work to do.”

Tony started his work and kept at it as he kept up his line of patter. “Don’t you have… I dunno… some high bred pretty boy to fuck you by now? Your father’s gotta be looking to marry you off to someone from a more socially acceptable family than that of a former middle manager at Dow. He’ll set you and your hubby up with a surrogate to produce the next Parker heir. Make you into a little boy-mommy.” Tony moved about the workshop, taking care of minor jobs. “And when he’s done stuffing his little dick up your empty hole and failing to make you come with it, you can go have a wank in the shower and remember what it was like to have mine, making you come so many times you were lying there, twitching, cock dry and still coming on my cock.”

Peter stormed out of the workshop.

“You shouldn’t talk to the Young Master that way,” the new slave, Quentin, who’d been bought to be Tony’s assistant, said. “Someone might tell the Master.”

“Get the fuck out of my workshop, Beck. I fired you once, I’m firing you again.”

“You can’t fire me, Stark. I was bought to work on the equipment, same as you.”

Tony threw a wrench at the other man’s head. “There’s a stalled tractor in the south pasture. Take that and get the fuck out.” The other man stalked over to him. Tony smirked. “You sure you wanna play that hand?” He got up in Beck’s face and marched him backwards out of the garage. Tony nodded to the door track in the floor. “That’s the line. Stay your ass on that side of it and out of my goddamn shop. Next time I won’t miss.” Tony picked up a tool bag and dropped it on the outside of the door-line. “South pasture. Tractor. If you think you can manage it.”

Tony doubted he could. Programming had been Beck’s field. Richard was stupid enough not to know, or not to care, about the difference between an engineer and a software engineer. There was a reason why Stark’s chemical division had taken a pass on Parker’s resume when it came across their desk.

~~~~~

The very latest model of tractor came with every bell and whistle imaginable. GPS, computer monitors, radio tracking, all the mod cons if a driver wanted to get inside, not that one was needed. They ran themselves.

Tony smiled once Richard took delivery of it and went back inside, leaving him to prepare it for work. Beck crossed the line to make a pest of himself.

“Get that tractor working yet?” Tony asked with a smirk.

“That’s more your line of work. The software on this is more mine.”

“Uh huh. Just how many Turing capable neural net artificial intelligences have you created? You can come back into my shop once you’ve got one under your belt. There’s a tractor you’ve been trying to get running for three days waiting for you.”

“It’s supposed to rain today,” Beck groused.

“Sounds like you’re gonna get wet.”

In the cab of the new tractor, Tony went to work. “Hello J, how’ve you been?”

“Fine, sir. Everything’s secure. May I say what a pleasure it is to hear from you again.”

“Same, J, same.” Tony dropped his voice to a low mutter. “Hear me like this? No earpiece?”

“Without difficulty.”

“Fine. You go silent. Display only. First order of business, you’re to cause a fault somewhere in this fuckin’ thing to get it in here every six to ten days, randomized.

~~~~~

“It’s back in the shop again?” Richard asked Tony.

“They’re fiddly things, Master,” Tony explained. “More advanced means more things to go wrong.”

“It’s because they’re controlled by computers, Master,” Beck volunteered. “More my field than a simple mechanic’s.”

Tony chuckled derisively. “Master, I don’t know what the auctioneer told you about this one… It’s a shame what they’ll do to take advantage of a good man. He lasted less than six months at Stark. Incompetent — he failed to complete one single project on time or under budget. Falsified education records — a UCLA drop out who never saw the inside of Caltech’s cafeteria, much less a classroom. But the kicker was that he was mentally unstable. Attacked three of his co-workers, Master. Without provocation. I hope that the thief who sold him to you sold him cheap.”

Beck looked apoplectic and about to prove the ‘mentally unstable’ accusation with one of his balled up fists to his former boss’ face.

“Thanks for that warning, Tony.” Richard said, looking Beck up and down. “As I recall, you were a computer expert as well as a mechanic.”

“A small skill, Master,” Tony demurred. “I’ll have this up and working for you before lunch.”

After a little over a month of continual faults, Tony convinced Richard that the best course of action was to bring the new, computer controlled tractor in for brief, once weekly, preventative maintenance. Scheduled for right before Tony’s workshift ended for the night, when there was no one around to see, or hear, what he was doing.

Beck never darkened the workshop door after Tony told Richard about him. And Peter too stayed away.

~~~~~

“You’re doing something, Tony,” Peter said, taking up his long-disused perch on the top of Tony’s workbench.

“Yes, Young Master. I’m cleaning the rust off the bumper of this 49 Mercury 8 Coupe the Master found under a tarp in the old barn.” Yeah, if the ‘old tarp’ was wherever the hell his cars had been sold, and this one left out to get all fucked up.

“No, that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I’m sorry Young Master, I don’t presume to know what you think I know.”

Peter laughed. “That was yours.”

“Really,” Tony drawled. “I never would’ve known from the Stark 15 license plate your father ‘conveniently’ left in the trunk.”

“Richard’s a shithead.”

“You’d know best, since the apple never falls far from the tree.”

“Dammit Tony! How long are you going to…”

“Going to what? I’m not the one with the power to keep me out of your bed. Or in it.”

“You’re working on something.”

“Yes, Peter. I’m working on one of my cars that your father, or whoever had it before him, treated like crap and let the chrome blister and rust.” He clicked his tongue as he pushed a fruit tree pit off the hood. It left a acid-eaten flaw in the finish. “That was factory paint. Not a dent on her. Engine perfect. She’ll never be what she was. She’s worthless, no matter what I do to fix her. Not that Richard will know the difference.”

“What is it?”

“A… bumper?” Tony said, playing dumb.

“I could help you, you know?”

Tony snorted. “I heard that offer before. Come up with something original.” He paused. “Or are you still a boring fuck.”

~~~~~

“Dad’s worried.”

Tony crawled out from under the car and looked over at Peter, where he always was when he came to pester him. “‘Dad’?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Dad, Richard, whatever. It doesn’t matter. He’s worried.”

“And this concerns me, how?”

“I think it’s bad, Tony.”

“As I said.”

Peter pushed himself off the workbench in a huff. “If the ranch goes under, you’ll be sold with the property!”

“And, as I said, this concerns me… how? I’m a slave. Of course I’ll be sold with the rest of Richard’s property.”

“This is your fault!”

Tony chuckled. “You have amazing faith in my ability to do anything from my position.”

“It is!”

Tony pushed himself back under the car. “If I’m sold off for Richard’s debts, I won’t be the only one, Peter.”

Peter pulled on Tony’s feet, yanking him out from under the car again. “Do you hate me that much?”

“To hate someone, you have to care. I don’t give a damn about you, Peter, one way or the other.”

~~~~~

“Nice to see you back, Mr. Stark,” the oily, obsequious man who welcomed him into the auction house said.

“You never saw me before. I never bought slaves.”

“I merely meant…”

“I know what you meant.” Tony brushed past the man.

“Someone who didn’t have a taste for it, yet here you are.”

“Looking for more lab rats for your failed experiments, Killian?”

Tony went to the bank of auction agents. He whispered in the woman’s ear and left just as the auctioneer called out, “Parker Estate, lot one.”

~~~~~

“You were working on something,” Peter said from his position, his ankle chained to the foot of Tony’s bed, when the man arrived home.

“A bumper, as I recall.”

“How?”

Tony undid his tie and started to undress. “A fatal mistake.”

“What was it he did?”

“Aren’t you an insolent little slave, asking all those questions of your master.”

“I wouldn’t be a slave if it wasn’t for you.”

“Really,” Tony said in that same slow drawl he did the last time he saw Peter. “You’re a bright boy, baby. If you figure it out, I’ll fuck you and instead of fucking whatever boy I bring home from the party tonight.”

“It’s why you got rid of Quentin,” Peter said with a sly smile as Tony came out of the dressing room, changing into his evening clothes.

“I got rid of Beck because he pissed me off. Again.”

“Maybe. That wasn’t why though.”

“Do tell, Peter, why did I get rid of Beck?”

“He was the only one other than you who knew computers.”

“I’m sure you know your way around a keyboard.”

“Well duh. But I wasn’t out in the workshop.”

“You were out there too much,” Tony said, continuing to change his clothes. They were a few years out of fashion — almost four to be precise — but black tie didn’t change much.

“Yes, but I hardly took interest in Richard’s new, computer controlled, tractor.”

Tony’s lips quirked up as he fastened his watch on his wrist. Worth more than what Peter went for. “So I had computer access? How did that help me? It wasn’t connected to the internet.”

“Oh please, Tony. It had GPS. Satellite connections. All you had to do was aim the GPS at a different satellite. Like one that Stark Industries used to own.”

“Hmm. Still don’t see how that…”

“JARVIS. God, Tony. I had Richard convinced I was an idiot. I didn’t think I had you convinced.”

“Well, it wasn’t like you had me with you to show off your scintillating conversation skills. You had better things to do with your mouth. Which I look forward to finding out if you’re as good at when you’re not the one in charge.”

“Well?” Peter asked. “Are you coming home alone?”

“You have the method, but how?” He propped his foot up on the edge of the bed to tie his shoe. “It’s some whoeverthefuck’s birthday. Producer. Fond of pretty young men. Sure to be plenty to choose from for me to bring home. Maybe I’ll let you suck him off while I fuck him.

“Gotta go. Happy’s going to swing me by Audi to pick up my new car. Seems like they love having me promote them again.”

“Did you get Stark Industries back?” Peter asked.

Tony laughed. “Of course.”

“All of it?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you got every bit of it back except the chemical division that Richard bought cheap.”

“I did make the others better offers,” he admitted. “But Stark Chemical is back in the fold now, since Richard’s play at country squire failed. I even own your father, pet. I never ran Stark on slaves, not when so many need work. But even at a good salary, it’s always hard to find tank scrubbers. And I don’t have to pay a slave haz-mat pay.”

“What happened to mom?” Peter asked, a little quietly.

“No fuckin’ clue. Don’t care.” He heard Peter sniffle. “Yeah, she was your mom. She also beat the hell out of a kitchen slave for breaking a plate. She had a mean hand with a cane, and because she was drunk all the time, her aim sucked. The girl died. So spare me your fuckin’ tears. You’re lucky you have a tight ass and are cute. That wouldn't have gone well for you if I hadn’t taken a liking to your mouth.”

“You started out with JARVIS working from the outside in,” Peter said quickly, answering the ‘how’. “First, set up a dummy corporation in the name of someone you trust who wasn’t more than an employee. I expect Pepper Potts is the new CEO of Stark Industries,” Peter continued evenly. “Name brand came cheapest. Gotta get your name back first and foremost. Divisions, cheapest inward.

“No.” Peter stopped. “That’s wrong.” He looked around the room. “You wouldn’t have had to go cheap. You had assets never disclosed. Swiss. Hard, not currency, not electronic. Gold. Gems?” He looked at Tony sideways. “Oh yeah. Pretty sparkly things. Rich dad like yours musta spent a fortune on his trophy wife. Gold and gems. JARVIS gave Ms. Potts the number. Now the buyback is fully funded. But that’s not going to get you your freedom. You were forty billion in debt. What was left of Stark wasn’t worth anywhere near that much.” Peter closed his eyes. “Your patent files, those were bought back in your scheme, but now owned by the dummy, unable to be used. Work in progress at the time of your sale… sure. That might get you a little, but there was no guarantee to whoever funded you that your plan would work and it wouldn’t be a worthless investment because you’d still be a slave.”

Peter laughed. “You sold the only thing you wouldn’t give up. Him.” Peter nodded up at the ceiling where he’d heard the disembodied voice when he was brought in and chained to Tony’s bed.

“Not exactly, but close enough. His brother, TADASHI. Not quite as versatile or intelligent, but enough. Look for a new interface on the next gen i devices. Of course the next Stark devices will make those obsolete before they hit the consumer as I downport some of JARVIS’ most basic functions, but give them his brand name, that everyone knows is my personal creation. Sorry, J.”

“That’s entirely fine, sir. The proliferation of my code through hundreds of thousands of devices…”

“That’s enough, J,” Tony said warningly. “So I guess I’m coming home alone tonight, Scheherazade.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I suck at storytelling.”

Tony chuckled. “Good thing you don’t suck at sucking. Ever get your face fucked, baby boy?” Tony shrugged into his jacket. “Just a little something for you to look forward to when I get back.”

“Two last questions,” Peter called out just before Tony left the room.

Tony smiled. “Make them good.”

“The fatal mistake.”

He laughed. “Letting my car get ruined.”

“Seriously?”

Tony shrugged. “It was the one I never drove. I drive all my cars. Even the Shelby. But that one had less than a hundred miles on it. Showroom. And it was pristine. One hundred percent factory condition. Much like Richard claimed, it was found under a tarp in an old barn. So yes. That was your father’s fatal mistake.” He paused. “Question two?”

“‘I wouldn’t be a slave if it wasn’t for you’.” Peter quoted himself.

“Not exactly a question. And its answer self-evident in the previous.

“A car. For want of a car, I’d be free.”

“People have been sold for less. I was always going to regain my freedom and my company. Once Obie was dead, there was no reason to stay a slave. I just had to survive long enough to get the pieces to fall into place. Get sold to the right person. One who would recognize me. One who would let me work at what I’m good at.”

“You had this all set up?”

“‘I had Richard convinced I was an idiot. I didn’t think I had you convinced’,” he tossed back. “Have a lovely evening, Peter. Your chain reaches the bathroom. Be clean, prepared, and naked when I get home.”

“When will that be?” Peter asked.

“When I walk through that door ready to use your body however I see fit, slave.”

#starker #Von writes stuff #mind the tags

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maxmcyfield · 4 years

Text

so it's you again | 20/08/2011 10:08PM

back to the og’s because i will never ever tire of them they’re literally the best. ofc for @jokermoreau idk this is just a lot of retrospect on percy’s part about how she felt about dylan growing up lmao

“Congratulations on your debut, Arrum!”

The video her parents sent to her manager a couple months back before played quietly in her earphones, and Percy couldn’t help but smile. The drive from Busan back to Seoul was pretty long, so she didn’t have anything to do other than relax a little in the car.

Her parents, specifically her mother, had sent many videos to her manager over time .It was all she’d been doing since all the Lady Pink members were allowed their own phones again (thank god for a successful debut) - but also she didn’t have much free time outside of work since getting said phone. From her hosting gig for Inkigayo to getting cast in her first ever drama, free time was scarce, especially since she had eyes one her all the time.

Still, finally being allowed a phone of her own gave her that tiny bit of freedom once again and it was different, getting to see these videos sent in the past year on her own device, at her own time. Gave it some sort of new levity.

It was interesting to also see more of these videos up close. Her mother had gotten so many people she used to know so closely back in the US to send a bunch of videos to congratulate her. Like Mim Flynn (who she’d started to text with again), and her old friends, and even her old dance teacher. All of whom were so nice to see.

But it was a true delight to see Rohit Thakur on her screen, saying congratulations. She could tell it was taken during one of the classic family friend get-togethers, but it filled her with a kind of warmth she missed. Rohit was something of an uncle to her growing up and seeing him proud of her made her smile.

She was just about to swipe to see the other videos when she realized the video wasn’t stopping like she thought it would. Huh. The first time she saw this video, she assumed it was the end when the video shifted around and they were all in kind of a rush so she didn’t wait any longer to give her manager his phone back. But it kept going for another minute, the screen showing the moving ceiling, the being blocked off by what she assumed was a hand, and then suddenly a new face was on the screen.

“Hey! Percy slash Arrum, congratulations on your first single-”

It took a long second before she realized it was Dylan Thakur’s part of the video that she never saw.

Dylan Thakur! Oh wow it had been so long? He looked so much different than she remembered. He had a full beard now in the video - looked like a real man now. Handsome, definitely, even more than she could care to admit. Though he still had that same infectious smile, undoubtedly, as he went on about listening to Lady Pink’s Venus and loving it.

She wondered briefly when was the last time she saw him just as the video actually ended. It felt like forever ago, but there was no mistaking her memory of seeing him off at the airport not long after he had graduated. She could recall how upset she was when she realized he wouldn’t be around as much as he was before, but ultimately accepted it because she knew he was moving to New York to pursue his dreams. Of course, at twelve, her crush on him had maximized to its full potential at that point. Someone who was as charming and well-liked as high school senior Dylan Thakur helping her drive her home after they both finished school and treating her to snacks every once in a while? Her innocent baby crush on him was massive.

It was still nothing in retrospect - just a fleeting infatuation on someone who seemed to care for her but still took her somewhat seriously. Anyone at her age then had a crush on him - and they did, especially her friends. Still, reminiscing got curiosity to spark it’s edges over her and very quickly, she started Googling. (The nap she was planning to take could wait for when she got to the dorms.)

What she found was nothing short of amazing either. Not only had he become a member of SNL just like he said he would, but he was an Emmy award nominee who had a comedy special! A comedy special that was really funny, no less. It took a lot in her to not laugh out loud in the car as she watched it on her phone, curled up in the backseat.

Was this really the same guy she’d basically grown up with?

The one who’d cheer her up when she’d been crying over not getting the last scoop of ice cream? Who had been the only one she could conceivably hang out with all those family friend get-togethers? Where they’d play video games together all night and he’d sneak soda from the fridge while the adults were too busy chatting the night away.

Percy could still feel the echoes of the memories - nostalgic and warm all the same, of the feelings she had for him all those years ago. Her friend when she didn’t have any friends. Her first crush. She missed him, definitely. Even if it had been awhile since she even thought about him - and to be fair her life for awhile now didn’t really permit her to think about anyone or anything else other than debuting.

But now that she was here, her debt nearly fully repaid, with her own phone again... Would it be weird to text him out of the blue? She could ask her mom for his number or something. Reconnect and all that. See how he was.

She absentmindedly started to tap on her screen to get to her mom’s text page. And then started at the keyboard-

Wait.

What would she even say? ‘Hey remember me?’ ‘Thanks for the video you sent like two months ago?’ ‘I used to have a huge crush on you?’

No, this was crazy. She couldn’t just text him like this - would he even reply? Even more, what would her mom think if she asked for his number? Nothing good, that’s for sure. Not when she’d been asking about boyfriends even if she clearly knew about the dating ban Percy was still under.

Nope, nope. Abort mission. She quickly exited the text page and decided to just watch youtube instead of continuing down memory lane. No more of that nonsense. She had a lot to focus on anyways. Like getting ready for her first table read and going through more activities as an Inkigayo MC. No time for other things.

Maybe she’d get to meet Dylan Thakur again one day, when she’d come back to the states for a break or something. But for now, she forced herself to not think about him.

#percy #o:dylan #percy x dylan #otp:i always knew #anom #mine*#they really are That Ship huh #lmao @ percy who's kidding herself wait till u go back to the states

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keelywolfe · 5 years

Text

FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky ch. 10

Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.

He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort

Notes: So, bourbon came up with an amazing AU and did some lovely art for it: please look at it and love it.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Read Chapter 10 on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

When they walked into Alphys’s lab, Rus at Edge’s side and Red dangling over his shoulder like a sack of flour, all their resident scientist did was sigh loudly and take off her headphones.

It was good to see. When they’d first come Aboveground, Alphys had not been in a good state. The years Underground had not been kind and if it hadn’t been for her skills, the old King would have likely given her what he considered a merciful dusting.

Seeing her recovery was warming, proved that the station was the best place for them. The cold weather was a struggle for Alphys but she never minded staying inside anyway, preferring her lab and the occasional company the permanent residents provided. That and Undyne; they were an odd couple, loud and boisterous coupled with timid and softly spoken, but whenever they were together, their souls practically shone with love.

Also sexual tension, but Edge made a point of ignoring that, lest nightmares haunt him.

Her scolding wouldn’t have been possible when they first arrived; her stutter had been nearly complete and she still sometimes lapsed into Hands to get across certain points. But today she walked over with her fists on her hips and said sternly, “I t-t-told you not to force him to come.”

“this ain’t force, leapin’ lizard,” Red called from behind Edge’s back. “i was just tired a walkin’”

Alphys’s look told how much she believed that. But she allowed Red the pretense. For whatever convoluted reason, Red never wanted to admit how much he hated the treatments; it was possible he didn’t want to hurt Alphys’s feelings, but doubtful. That possibility had never stopped him from making his opinion known before. As always, his reasons were his own and Edge didn’t care to pry, so long as he eventually got his brother here.

“Well, c-come on, then,” Alphys gestured then towards the machine. Now that they were safely in the lab, Edge could set Red down with the reasonable assumption that he wouldn’t vanish the moment Edge took his hand away. It was a petty revenge to dumped Red roughly to the floor, ignoring the profuse swearing that rose up as he turned his attention to Rus.

Who only stood with his hands in his pockets, casting an idle glance here and there at the lab. It was almost disappointing; Alphys’s lab wouldn’t have been out of place in an old mad scientist movie. The machine alone was impressive, massive tubes fed into it along with a slender wires and electric cords, all leading to a simple cushioned chair. One that Red hopped into, settling in with the nonchalance of one about to take an afternoon nap.

There were very few people who would notice the slight tremor in his hands, and two of them were in the room. Before he settled in completely, Red whipped off his ski cap, exposing his skull.

Edge noted grimly the way Rus’s sockets widened when he caught sight of it, eye lights flaring in shock. His reaction was typical, most people that possessed a shred of compassion would be horrified to see the damage, the cracks that still webbed over the entire parietal bone. Few would believe that before the treatments it had been much worse. Once there had been a gaping hole in his skull large enough to fit a hand through, his entire left socket destroyed.

Over time, the machine forced the bone to regenerate and now the hole could hardly fit a finger, perhaps two. His brother no longer teetered close to dusting with any small injury and Edge owed Alphys a debt that could never be repaid.

Sweet creature that she was, she only blushed and stammered at gratitude and Edge no longer gave it; instead, he focused on giving her a safe place to work, a home where she could do her experiments and be happy with the person she loved. Hardly a fair trade in his opinion, but it wasn’t his that mattered.

But he had refused when Alphys offered to work on the crack that ran through Edge’s socket. That scar was a badge of honor, not one of shame. He’d wear it until the day he dusted.

Rus took a step closer and Edge wondered if his curiosity was over the machine, or more morbidly on Red. It was no surprise that his brother didn’t seem to care which option it was, only that Rus was here at all.

“don’t think you need to be poking around at shit that ain’t none of your business, fashion victim,” Red grumbled, although his sockets were closed.

Rus only shrugged amicably, holding up his empty hands. “i’m not touching anything. i learned how to keep my hands to myself as a baby bones. well, mostly,” he offered Edge a leer that made him roll his eye lights and Alphys titter from where she was working at the machine controls.

“H-he’s been here b-b-before,” Alphys offered softly. Her fingers were moving rapidly in an efficient contrast.

That was news to Edge, “When was this?”

“eh, couple days ago,” Rus said easily, “alphys and i were talking about some stuff.”

“what stuff?” Red said suspiciously, cracking open a socket. That Red hadn’t known Rus and Alphys were talking would not sit well with him and Edge found some discomfort in it, too. Alphys could be fragile and Undyne was very protective. He made a mental note to ask her if she was aware of their resident fashion victim making yet another friend to add to his collection.

Rus only smiled cheekily, “just stuff. science stuff.”

“oh, yeah, grad student?” Red sat up, scowling, “alphys knows her shit, you askin’ for theories? what’s your thesis on, anyway?”

“Don’t move!” Alphys squeaked. She left the controls and darted over to push on Red’s chest until he reluctantly subsided back to the chair. “He’s only t-t-teasing you, we talked about anime!”

“oh, ain’t that kawaii,” Red cooed, though his sugar-sweet tone did not match his scowl. “still didn’t tell me about your thesis.”

“nope, i didn’t,” Rus agreed cheerily. “it’s about this and that.”

That maniacal gleam in Rus’s eye lights was terribly reminiscent of Red and Edge was starting to think it might be better to for them to leave. This was partly his fault, he knew Red was on the fence about Rus, he shouldn’t have dragged the other skeleton into helping him corner his brother. Even if he’d been terribly effective at it.

“so, tell me,” Red challenged.

For all that his teeth were blunt, Rus’s grin was sharp enough to cut glass. “dunno, it might be over your head. your understanding might fall short.”

For a moment, Edge was honestly concerned his brother might attack Rus and that would lead to a very uncomfortable talk with the Institute.

Then Red threw his head back and roared a laugh, pounding on the armrest hard enough to jar the entire chair. He ignored Alphys’s hiss, turning in the chair to toss back at Rus, “that’s kinda high and mighty of ya, think it’s a stretch to assume.”

“maybe, but you’re probably used to low blows.”

“it’s a tall order.”

“yeah, i wouldn’t want to overlook you, don’t want to stoop that low.”

The entire exchange was making Edge regret several life choices, but Alphys was smiling faintly. With a jolt, Edge realized she’d already begun the treatment and Red hadn’t even noticed, too busy defending his honor as the resident punster. Normally, his brother would be lying in the chair, fists clenched and sweat dripping while he struggled to allow the machine to do its work. Now he was distracted and gleefully antagonistic, firing back pun after pun. The machine finished before they did and it was only Edge taking hold of Rus’s arm, pulling him along, that finally ended the war.

“—need to work on your low standards!” Rus called as Edge tugged him out the door.

Before it could swing shut, he could hear Red crow triumphantly, “you already used that one! next time i’ll hafta ride on your shoulders and teach you the way of the jedi!��

Rus laughed delightedly, finally allowing Edge to lead him away. “he’s a goblin, but he’s got jokes.”

“Very apt,” Edge said dryly. They were in one of the walkways that led to Alphys’s lab with few overhead lights. Not as open as the umbilicus that she was testing, but still filled with portholes that revealed the aurora starting overhead. The soft greens cast shadows that moved eerily in the dimness. “Thank you for your help, I’ll let you get back to your work.”

“nah, it’s cool,” Rus tucked his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. “i’ve got some numbers to compile before i can do anything else.” He paused, sockets hooded and his eye lights soft, then asked, “did you want to come back to my room?”

It was as blatant an offer as they’d ever exchange, no safety net of teasing flirtation, and Edge hesitated. It was tempting, the warmth of invitation in Rus’s eye lights promised a very good time. Despite Undyne’s insinuations, Edge was not a virgin, but it had been a long while, since before they’d come to the surface. The urge to see Rus’s face twisted with pleasure, to hear the delightful sounds he would make waged a brief war with his sense of responsibility.

So very tempting, but he had duties to fulfill, ones that he’d already set aside to deal with Red.

“I can’t,” Edge told him, quietly. He braced himself for some form of persuasion, some new enticement he’d need to resist, wondered distantly at the limits of his control.

But Rus only nodded. “okay. see you around.”

“Wait.”

He stopped, head tilted curiously, and his pale bones were tinted with the aurora light creeping in. Edge stepped in close, lifting his chin to press their mouths together. The taint of cigarettes had faded and there was only sweetness, his tongue moving boldly against Edge’s, sharing that honeyed flavor even as he stole a taste of his own. A hand settled on Edge’s face, cool bone against his overheated skull and Edge was forced to swallow a moan. They parted reluctantly, and Edge could feel the pocket of warmth between them, their magic responding with mindless eagerness.

“I can’t right now,” Edge corrected his own words.

Rus gave him a small, secret smile. “yeah. soon then, edgelord.” He started to turn away then stopped, “wait, shit, all my equipment is still in the locker up front.”

Edge barely hesitated before taking out his keys, the mass of them jangling loudly as he removed one and tossed it to Rus. He nearly fumbled it, managed to grab it before it fell to the ground. “Don’t lose it.”

“oooh, exchanging keys already,” Rus winked at him, ignoring Edge’s exasperated huff. Edge only gave him a hard look until Rus smiled wryly, making a little cross over his soul with one finger. “i won’t lose it, promise.”

“See that you don’t.” He turned and walked away then, before the simmer of temptation became too much to bear.

~~*~~

He had cause to regret it later.

On his last check of the station before he went to bed, Edge heard muffled laughter coming from the kitchen. Familiar, loud laughter and he sighed inwardly and went to check.

What he found made him sigh again, this time in aggravation. Undyne, of course, with two of the female researchers and Rus. One of the bottles on the table in front of them was a dead soldier and the other was half-empty. Not much for Undyne, but from the glassy eyes and giggles from her companions, they'd had their fair share.

Rus beamed at him, only slightly more enthusiastically than the researchers, and an echo of slurred 'boss!' carried towards him. He shook his head. "Undyne--"

"Aww, calm down," she hiccoughed, laughing raucously, "didn't hurt the precious! he's only had like two!

"Yes, and skeleton Monsters don't possess a liver,” Edge crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his second-in-command. “Our tolerance is completely dependent on our weight and level of magic. Would you care to hazard a guess as to what he weighs?"

Undyne blinked owlishly, considering, and then to his horror, she scooped Rus up, hefting him as he squealed a laugh. She laughed with him, spinning around sloppily before finally dumping him gently on top of the table where he sagged, sprawling across it.

“again!” Rus giggled weakly.

“Huh,” Undyne prodded at him with one clawed finger. It must have tickled, because Rus nearly spasmed, his laughter doubling. “Prolly enough that two drinks hit him like a sledgehammer.”

“You think?” It took a little effort to gather him up. Drinking made Rus surprising noodly for a skeleton, limbs escaping to hang limply while Edge tried grimly to hold him close. “Come on, time for bed.”

That got his attention. Rus squirmed in his arms, ostensibly trying to help Edge hold on as he wound his arms around Edge’s neck. "you're taking me to bed? again?”

Undyne snorted loudly and Edge felt his cheekbones heat. He liked to think they hadn’t been entirely blatant in their flirting, but now the two researchers were perking up with visible interest. Lovely, the rest of the station would know by morning. He wondered grouchily if Rus had inadvertently just won someone a bet. Probably his brother.

“Can you get these two to bed?” Edge asked her, ignoring all looks, both curious and knowing, along with Rus snuggling happily into his arms.

“Yeah, I got ‘em,” Undyne gave him a needle-sharp smile, “Have a good night, boss.”

Tomorrow, he was going to remind himself why he couldn’t kill her. For tonight, it was simply a good thing that his hands were full.

“Come on,” Edge sighed, shouldering open the door. Rus wasn’t heavy, but he was awkward to carry, and his hands weren’t still, tracing his cervical vertebrae with only slightly clumsy fingers. The touch made him shiver and Edge walked a bit faster.

“I hope you have a laundry token,” Edge told him, “Your shirt needs washed, you smell like a distillery.”

“s’your shirt, isn’t it?” Rus slurred. One of his hands slithered down, making Edge bite back a hiss, and plucked at his shirtfront.

He almost denied it, but, “Yes,” Edge agreed, softly. “I gave you some of my clothes.”

Rus’s beamed up at him triumphantly, “knew they were yours! they smelled like you.” He lifted his head, whispering too loudly into Edge’s audial canal, “firs’ i was thinking you felt sorry for me, but then i thought...i thought maybe you liked me? did you like me?”

The hopefulness in his voice hinted at something desperate, perhaps only drunken melancholy, Edge couldn’t know. Better if he didn’t acknowledge it, and Edge said, lightly, "What's not to like?"

Rus scrunched up his face and blew a sloppy raspberry, and Edge bit back an exasperated smile. “lotsa people don't like me.”

“I can't even begin to imagine why, Rus,” Edge told him honestly. Certainly he’d charmed his way into the station, Monsters and researchers both.

“i dunno, either,” Rus said, sullenly. “but they don't. He looked up and his sockets were engulfed with his eye lights, hazily wide and pleading. “do you like me?"

It was far too easy to admit. "Yes. I like you.”

“i knew it!” Rus crowed. “only, i didn' really know it. but i thought it. i hoped it.” He fell silent, snuggling into Edge’s arms as he whispered, “you’re not staying in my room, are you.”

Again, that faint hint of unhappiness, of desperation. But staying while Rus was like this, drunkenly tempting, was out of the question. Edge settled on a compromise. “I can stay until you’re asleep.”

“’kay,” Rus agreed, and Edge thought ruefully he was in for a short wait. Possibly only long enough to settle him on the bed, Rus was already drowsing in his arms, one hand clutching the front of Edge’s shirt as if to keep him close. It loosened easily enough as Edge set him into his bunk, taking off his shoes and tucking his blanket around him.

Rus barely stirred as Edge pressed a light kiss to his browbone. His scent was whiskey-tainted, but Edge breathed it in anyway.

“I do like you,” Edge whispered to him, tracing the angular line of his jaw with a single finger. Rus didn’t so much as murmur an acknowledgement, only breathed softly, evenly in sleep.

Next time, Edge told himself, next time he would stay.

Whatever his misgivings were, he no longer cared. Rus was a growing temptation in body and soul, Edge was finished resisting.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #alphys #undyne #beneath an aurora sky

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summahsunlight · 4 years

Text

This Way Became My Journey, CH. 9

"Bring the weapons systems online," Janeway ordered as she stepped out of the turbo lift with Barrett, Paris, and Kim. She hoped that she wouldn't have to use them, but she had a nagging feeling that the Kazon weren't going to make things easy for them.

Tuvok told her that the phaser banks and photon systems were powering up. She made a mental note to congratulate Sarah on her leadership of the repair front. Janeway had half expected that because the counselor, who had very little command experience, had been put in charge they were going to be behind in repairs. However, she had heard rumors that Joe Carey not giving her a report on time had rendered a tongue lashing and the repair efforts had doubled. It was a good thing too, or they might not have had weapons going into this confrontation.

"Red alert," she ordered, coolly, stepping into the command center, Paris besides her. She squinted her eyes for a moment, going over what she wanted to do next. There were no guarantees that the Kazon were going to talk to her. She needed the best people possible at each station. And since they had lost half of the senior officers she had very little choices. Right now as it was, Rollins, who was an operations officer was laying in the course to the array.

Turning about she looked at Sarah. "Tuvok and I are going to beam over to the array once we arrive, Voyager's job and the Maquis' will be to keep the Kazon occupied while we do that. I'm guessing they aren't going to be too happy about us showing up."

Barrett nodded her head. "Understood, ma'am."

"That leaves you in charge Sarah."

Again there was a curt nod of her head. She had taken her Bridge Officer's test and passed with flying colors, Janeway knew this from reading her personnel file, but Barrett had never actually been battled tested. The Explorer had been a science vessel assigned to study the Borg and their technology, not actually a heavy armored ship, which had been purposely done so the Borg would take little interest in them since they weren't a threat or worth the assimilation.

But the young woman's command skills were going to be tested here.

"The lead Kazon ship is hailing us Captain," Tuvok announced.

Hands on her hips, Janeway told him to put it on screen. Jabin appeared before her. "Have you come to investigate the entity's strange behavior as well Captain?"

"All we care about is getting home, Jabin," Janeway told him. "We're about to transport over to the array to see if we can arrange it."

"I'm afraid I cannot permit that."

She knew she was going to meet resistance. "We have no dispute with you."

"I have a dispute with anyone that will challenge us," Jabin replied, coldly.

Janeway sighed angrily and made her way down the steps to stand behind Conn. "This is ridiculous," she said, leaning against the console. "We have no intention of challenging you."

"And I have no intention of allowing anyone with your technological knowledge board the array."

"Jabin, can we discuss this like two civilized-," she started to say, but he cut the link. The ship shook slightly as the Kazon began to fire on them. Glaring, she moved towards the command station. "I guess we can't."

"Shields are holding," Tuvok said.

"Fire phasers," she ordered, sitting in her chair. "Evasive pattern delta four."

While the ships exchanged fire, she had Tuvok hail the Maquis. She was going to need their help if they were going to make a run at getting home. "Janeway to Chakotay, Tuvok and I are beaming to the array. Can you hold off the Kazon?"

"I think so, Captain."

"Good," Janeway responded, standing up. She glanced at Paris, confidently. "Mister Paris, take the conn."

Paris looked at her shocked for a moment before replying with a yes ma'am. Rollins quickly vacated the seat and went to replace Tuvok as the security officer left the bridge with Janeway. Tom ran his fingers lovingly over the controls for a moment. It had been a long time since he had flown anything and it was sending goose bumps up his arms, especially since he was at the helm of one of the most advanced starships in the Federation.

"Tom, it's a helm, not a girl, stop caressing it and fly this thing," Barrett snapped behind him, bringing his attention about. "Ensign Kim keep a transporter lock on the Captain and Tuvok, I want to be able to pull them out of there at a moment's notice."

"Understood Lieutenant."

Lieutenant. The word vibrated in her brain for a while, it wasn't often that she heard people call her that, since she was after all a counselor. In fact that last time that she was sure she had heard it in succession had been at her court martial. The thought of that trial brought back bad memories and she purged them from her mind, she had a task at hand. The main one being that they had to give Janeway and Tuvok time to figure out how to use the array to get them home. It wasn't an easy task, but it wasn't necessarily turning out to be a hard. The ships that they were up against didn't have the fire power that was going to knock them out, and Tom was flying like he had never stepped away from the helm.

She was even a little surprised at how calm Kim was staying. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rush that they were all feeling that was keeping them going. But this was, after all, one of the things that every officer in that room had been trained for; they were just doing their duties.

Barrett nestled down into Janeway's chair, telling Paris to use evasive maneuvers. The little ships couldn't outrun Voyager, nor could they keep up.

"Ah, Lieutenant," Kim said nervously from operations. "I think we've got a problem."

Barrett snapped her head to her left and glanced over her shoulder at him. "What do you mean you think we have a problem?" Harry's eyes flickered to the screen and she turned to look. A massive warship had joined the Kazon in the fight. Damn. "Hail the Captain."

It was night time on the array. Crickets could be heard chirping in the background and Janeway felt a sense of nostalgia at the thought of Indiana summer nights. But she couldn't think about how much she longed to get home, first thing first, was to find the way to get home.

Both she and Tuvok had their tricorders out as they entered the barn that Barrett had taken officers to find Paris and Kim just a few days before. It was hard to believe that it had been that long, so much had happened since then, Janeway realized. She could hear a banjo playing; someone was softly strumming the cords.

"The data processing system is behind this wall, Captain," Tuvok told her, pointing to the left of where she was standing.

Janeway glanced over at the old man, playing his banjo, and then looked at Tuvok. "You know what to do," she said as they parted ways, Tuvok heading for the data processing system and Janeway heading for the old man. She put her tricorder away and went to stand at the entrance to the stall that the old man was sitting in, around a gas lantern, playing his instrument. He looked up at her when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

"You're nothing, if not persistent," he said, with a chuckle when he saw her.

"We need you to send us back from where we came from," Janeway said to him, softly, leaning against the stall's open door.

He waved her off. "That is impossible. I barely have enough strength left to complete my work."

Janeway stepped into the stall. "You're sealing the conduits before you die," she said, recalling what Barrett had told her in the Ocampa city.

"If I don't the Kazon will steal the water," the Caretaker replied. "In a few years when the Ocampa's energy runs out, it won't matter. They'll be forced to come to the surface. And they won't be able to survive."

Janeway kneeled down like she would when speaking to her children and looked at him gently; the pieces were beginning to fall into place, finally. "Something you did turned their planet into a desert, didn't it? That was the debt that could never be repaid."

The Caretaker covered his face with a hand and nodded his head. "We were explorers from another galaxy, but we had no idea that our technology would be so destructive to their atmosphere. Two of us were chosen to stay behind and care for them."

"There's another like you here?"

A soft laugh, "Not anymore, she…she went off to look for more interesting places," the Caretaker said.

"Why were you bringing ships here?" Janeway inquired. "Infecting people with a fatal illness?"

The old man scoffed. "Oh they didn't die from an illness. They died because they were incompatible."

"Incompatible?" Janeway repeated.

"I've been searching the galaxy for a compatible bimolecular pattern," the Caretaker answered her. "Now in some individuals I found cellular structures that were similar, but I—,"

"You've been trying to procreate?" Janeway guessed, standing up.

"I needed someone to replace me," the Caretaker said, looking up at her and pointing to himself, "Someone who would understand the enormous responsibility of caring for the Ocampa; only my offspring could do that."

Janeway looked about for something to sit on. Pulling up an empty crate she sat down facing the Caretaker. "Did you ever consider allowing the Ocampa to care for themselves?" she asked him.

He looked appalled by the idea. "They're children."

Thinking of her own children, right now aboard Voyager, she offered him a small smile. "Children have to grow up." She paused for a moment to let him mull over her words, then said, "We're explorers too, most of the species we've encountered have overcome all kinds of adversity without the help of a caretaker. It's the challenge of surviving on their own that's helped them to evolve. Maybe your…children will do better than you think." As she spoke the words she knew that she was speaking words not only to put his mind at ease but her own.

She wasn't giving her children enough credit to be able to spend time away from her, just like the Caretaker wasn't giving the Ocampa enough credit to survive without him providing for them. The similarities in their situation were startling.

They were two parents afraid of what was going to happen to their children when they weren't around.

"Voyager to Janeway," Sarah Barrett's voice interrupted the conversation.

"Go ahead."

"We've got problems, Captain. They Kazon just received a little back up."

"We need more time, can you hold them off for another few minutes?" she asked, hopefully.

"We'll do our best, Barrett out."

Even as the words left her mouth, Sarah wasn't so sure she meant it. The warship was much larger than Voyager and had much more firepower the smaller Kazon scout ships. The tiny Maquis ship and Voyager just didn't have what it was going to take to disable the warship.

There was an explosion near the tactical station. A crewman who had been helping Rollins went flying through the air, over the railing, and banged into the console violently before falling to the deck. Barrett gripped tightly to the railing at Conn. "Paris, put some distance between us and that warship before they rip the ship apart!"

"I'm trying ma'am," Paris replied, "but we've sustained damage to the navigational systems."

Another volley shook the ship, this one more violent than the last and she lost her grip on the railing. Thankfully she didn't bang her head on anything else; she was getting sick and tired of hitting her head on railings lately. Pulling herself to her feet she brushed a stray piece of hair that had fallen out of her French twist, aside.

"Weapons just went off line!" Rollins shouted.

What now? She thought, her mind swimming over every possibility that she could think of. Naturally the next course of action to take was retreat, but Janeway and Tuvok were still over on the array and she wasn't about to leave them behind. "Try to get those weapons back online!"

Someone yelled out a yes ma'am, she really wasn't sure who it was. At that moment she didn't care who fixed it, as long as someone did. If they didn't get those weapons back online they were as good as sitting ducks.

"Paris my crew is coming over. Tell one of your one your crackerjack Starfleet transporter chiefs to keep a lock on me," Chakotay's voice came over the open comline with the Maquis ship. Barrett prayed that the former Starfleet officer had an idea, because she was fresh out of them. "I'm going to try to take some heat off your tail."

Barrett and Paris exchanged glances, realizing what he was about to do. "Acknowledged, but don't think for a second that this makes us even Chakotay, you're life is still mine, Paris out."

"He's setting a collision course with the Kazon warship, ma'am," Kim told her, although she had pretty much guessed that already. If he was successful then it just might take a lot of heat off their tail.

"Transporter room two, keep a lock on Commander Chakotay and a wait his orders to beam him out," Barrett ordered. She wasn't even sure if the transporter room responded, there was another loud explosion and she found herself ducking.

B'Elanna Torres suddenly appeared on the Bridge. She made her way down towards the conn and nearly knocked Sarah over in the process. The counselor didn't have time to say anything, Harry was speaking to her. "I'm maintaining a lock on him, ma'am, but he's getting to close."

"I'm getting you out of there Chakotay," Paris told him.

"Not yet!"

Barrett, Paris, and Torres watched on the screen as the Maquis ship closed in on the large warship. It started to catch on fire as it got too close to the Kazon ship and began to break up. "This is crazy, Chakotay, you're breaking up!" Barrett shouted, nervously looking at Paris to tell the transporter room to beam him out. All she needed was the Maquis commander to be killed on her watch.

"Stand by to transport," Paris said.

"Wait!"

The ship continued to get closer and Torres held her breath, waiting to hear Chakotay tell Voyager to beam him out. The ship was practically on top of the Kazon warship when they heard the commander yell out "Now!"

As the Maquis ship collided with the Kazon warship it exploded into a brilliant ball of fire and light, forcing the Kazon ship to spin out of control and towards the array. Barrett couldn't worry about where that ship was going to land, not at the moment. "Transporter room two do you have him?" she asked, anxiously.

"They have me," came Chakotay's voice.

Barrett smiled, shaking her head at Paris. "That was close."

"Too close."

"Lieutenant!"

Barrett glanced up to see the Kazon ship crash into the array. One of the arms broke off and the Kazon ship exploded. "Harry, do you still have a lock on the Captain and Lieutenant Tuvok?" she asked the young Asian man.

"Yes ma'am."

"Voyager report."

She was a bit startled to hear the Captain's voice. "A Kazon vessel just collided with the array, ma'am. Are you alright?" Barrett asked Janeway.

"Affirmative. Stand by."

The tone of her voice wasn't good and Barrett felt a sinking feeling creeping into her stomach. She had a feeling that this day was not going to end the way that they wanted it too.

"The self destruct has been damaged," the Caretaker said, no longer in the holographic image of the old man, but rather a glowing form of sporocystian energy. In fact the barn was gone as well, and Janeway and Tuvok found themselves standing amongst alien technology and the entity that lived there. "Now this installation will not be destroyed."

Janeway watched as the life form began to shrink and grow dim. The Caretaker was on his last few legs of life. "But it must be," he continued, even as he shrank some more, growing even dimmer. "The Kazon cannot be allowed to gain control of it…they will annihilate the Ocampa." The being shrunk down to the size of a rock at the Captain's feet and went silent. Janeway knew that he was gone and she was faced suddenly with a terrible decision to make. She bent down to pick up the rock form that the Caretaker had become in his death and studied its crystal edges.

"Shall I activate the program that will get us back?" Tuvok asked above her. She still stared at the rock turning it over in her hands.

"And what happens to the Ocampa, after we're gone?"

Tuvok knelt down besides her, softly speaking, "Captain, any action that we take to protect the Ocampa would affect the balance of power in this system. The Prime Directive would seem to apply."

"Would it?" She challenged him, emotion laced thick in her voice. "We never asked to be involved, Tuvok. But we are," she finished, looking up at her friend. "We are." Her fingers lightly traced over the remains of the Caretaker in her hand. "Can we turn our backs on them, Tuvok, knowing what will happen if we do? An entire race could be destroyed if we do nothing. I'm not sure I can live with that knowledge."

"You do realize if we destroy the array we destroy any chance of getting home."

"I do, in fact I realize it too much, Tuvok."

"Then I do not envy your position, Captain."

Janeway smiled sadly, her eyes glistening. In her heart she couldn't turn her back on the Ocampa, even though helping them would be a violation of the Prime Directive. She toyed with several ideas, one being to reactivate the self destruct on the array, send them home and hope for the best. But the Kazon would board the array once they were gone and surely figure out how to disable the self destruct. Perhaps she could give the tools to destroy the array to Neelix and Kes and leave the task of ridding this sector of the entity's home to them. But then visions of the two aliens dying because of her left her shaken. They only way was to destroy the array herself. "Neither to I, Tuvok," she finally said, rising from the floor, the Caretaker's remains firmly in her grasp. "But I know what must be done."

The most recent volley knocked Barrett into Chakotay and Torres into the back of Paris' chair. The commander help Barrett gain her bearings as Kim announced that the Captain and Tuvok had beamed back to the ship.

She felt a little bit of relief coerce through her veins. She no longer had to worry about the Captain and Tuvok getting hurt over on the array. She could only hope that they had found a way to get them home now.

"Mister Tuvok," she heard Janeway speaking as the Captain stepped back onto the Bridge. "Ready the tri-cobalt devices."

Barrett glanced at Janeway as she made her way down to the command station. For a brief moment their eyes met, and Sarah didn't know why, but she knew that Janeway was about to destroy the array, thus stranding them seventy thousand light years from home. Well, you wanted an opportunity to prove yourself, here it is, she thought, trying to remain hopeful.

"Open a channel to the Kazon," Janeway ordered, stopping next to Barrett. Kim informed her that the channel was open and Jabin's face once again appeared on the screen.

"Be advised Captain," the Kazon Maje told her. "I have called for additional ships."

"I'm calling to warn you to move your vessels to a safe distance," Janeway told him. "I tend to destroy the array."

"You can't do that."

"I can, and I will. End transmission!" The image of Jabin disappeared as another violent volley of weapon's fire hit the ship.

"They're increasing weapon's fire, Captain," Kim reported. "Shields are holding."

"Move us four hundred kilometers from the array Mister Paris," Janeway instructed.

B'Elanna Torres looked about anxiously. Even though they were on a Federation Starship and the prospect of going home meant prison time, it sure was a hell of a lot better than spending the rest of her life out here. She moved towards Janeway. "What do you think you're doing? That array is the only way we have to get back home!"

"I'm aware that everyone has families and loved ones that they want to get back too, so do I," Janeway told her softly. And I'm about to condemn my children to a life on a starship, she added in her head. "But I'm not willing to trade the lives of the Ocampa for our convenience. We'll have to find another way home," she finished moving away from the Klingon woman.

"What other way home is there?" Torres snapped following her. Chakotay reached out and grabbed a hold of her arm. She looked down at him. "Who is she to be making all of these decisions for us?"

His answer was simple. "She's the captain."

"The tricobalt devices are ready."

"We're in position."

"Fire!"

The white balls of tri-cobalt energy fired out of Voyager, striking the array. The bridge crew watched as it exploded, arms collapsing, in a brilliant ball of oranges and yellows and whites. There was silence, no one spoke, not sure what to make of what they had just done, destroying their only way home.

Janeway was fighting her tears, wondering how she was ever going to explain to Michael and Ava that they were now forced to live on a starship, with very little chance of seeing Earth again. Ava was still a baby, their situation wouldn't fully settle in until she was much older, if it ever did settle in, after all Voyager was going to be the only home she would ever know now, barring a miracle getting them home sooner. Michael on the other hand, Kathryn wasn't sure how to reason to him what she had done and why she had done it.

"The Kazon are hailing us," Kim whispered, hoarsely behind her.

Janeway swallowed her tears and put on her command face. "On screen."

Jabin's face appeared before her once again, he looked displeased with her. "You have made an enemy today, Captain."

With those words the alien disappeared from her sight. In the back of her mind she heard Tuvok tell her that the Kazon were withdrawing. How he could remain emotionless at a time like this, she wasn't sure, and she envied him and his abilities to just shut the emotions off. Right now her heart was breaking. "Tuvok, please bring Michael and Ava to my ready room. I have some explaining to do."

When the Vulcan had left the bridge to retrieve the Captain's children, and Janeway had disappeared into the safe confines of her ready room,Torres angrily rasped out. "How could she do that? Doesn't she care what anyone else thinks? Doesn't it matter to her that we're over seventy thousand light years from home now? We'll probably never see home again!"

"Captain Janeway's decision affected her more than you think," Barrett responded to the hotheaded woman. The counselor turned about going to sit down, realizing that her body was aching from being tossed about so much in the Kazon's attack. "Stand down red alert," she ordered, softly and the lights were brought up.

"Her decision was selfish," B'Elanna hissed.

Barrett spun about before she could sit down and glared at the Klingon woman. "Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn't. But tell me this, Miss Torres; do you honestly think a woman would strand her children so far away from the only home they've known because it was selfish? Or because in the end it was the right thing to do?"

Torres was dumbfounded, she had no idea that Janeway had children, let alone the fact that they were on board the vessel. The doors to the bridge hissed open then and she could see Tuvok return with two children, small children, the little girl being not much older than one. Perhaps she had misjudged Janeway.

Tuvok brought the children to the door and allowed them to enter the room. Michael held firmly to Ava's hand as they stepped in, Tuvok not following them. Their mother was sitting on the couch looking out the window and she looked like she was upset. There was a picture being displayed on her personal computer of the small family with Molly.

"You wanted to see us Mama?" the boy said, stepping closer to the couch.

Kathryn turned to smile at them, but it was a sad smile, and she knew that the children were going to be able to pick it up in her eyes. "Come sit with me for a moment. We have to talk about something."

Michael guided his sister up the steps and the two children went to sit on opposite sides of their mother. "What do we need to talk about?"

"Do you remember when we read about the Mayflower, at Thanksgiving?" she questioned.

"Yes, it was ship that traveled a long way across the ocean to find a new home," Michael answered. "Why are you asking me about this? Thanksgiving was months ago."

Kathryn chuckled softly and ran a hand through his hair. "Because, we're kind of like the Mayflower and the pilgrims now, traveling a long way to get home; they didn't know what they were going to find, neither do we." She pulled the baby up onto her lap and draped her free arm around Michael. "They were alone and far away from anything that they knew."

"Are we far away from home?" Michael asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid that we are," Kathryn replied, sadly.

"Are we trying to find a new home, like the pilgrims?"

"No," Kathryn answered a bit too sharply, "but it's going to take us a long time to find our way home."

The boy mulled it over for a moment. "Well, as long as we're home by summer. I promised Billy we'd go fishing at Grandma Gretchen's. He doesn't believe me that she has the best creek to go fishing in."

Kathryn bit her lip, hard, almost to the point where she drew blood. "Michael, honey, I don't think you understand," she whispered. She had tried to put it in terms that he could grasp, but maybe he was still too young to understand their situation. "When I say a long time, I mean years, honey." We may never see Earth again, Voyager could fly into the shipyards with my grandchildren at the helm. If we even make it to Earth.

"Oh, so no fishing," Michael quipped, disappointment flashing in his blue eyes.

"Mama was selfish, honey, and I'm sorry," Kathryn said, gently brought out of her musing. "I was selfish and took you with me when you should have stayed home with Grandma all because I was afraid of being separated from you." Ava was playing with her combadge and she shifted the child about in her lap. "I was selfish when I chose to destroy the only way home we had, to protect others and I'm sorry for all the things you're not going to get to do because I was selfish."

"But, if you had left us with Grandma, then you'd be far away from home, without us," Michael offered.

"I suppose you're right."

"Wouldn't that have made you sad?"

She couldn't help it, tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes. "Yes."

The child snuggled closer to his mother on the couch. "I don't want you to be sad, Mama. I don't mind missing fishing; I'd rather be with you anyways."

Struggling against her tears, Kathryn held both children to her tightly, vowing to someday get them home.

#star trek voyager fanfiction #kathryn janeway #chakotay #tom paris #sarah barrett (oc)#harry kim #b'elanna torres #kes #neelix #the doctor (emh)#janeway x chakotay #tom paris x ofc

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existential-labrador · 5 years

Text

Coming to terms with Sanditon

Okay, so I need to brain vomit about the finale. This isn’t intended to be negative and I’m not trying to dampen anyone’s enjoyment of the show because as people have said, we all enjoy and interpret things differently so no judgment. I truly believe people should never be ashamed of what makes them happy, even if others don’t agree, so for everyone out there all on board with a second season, good for you. Any anyone being intentionally negative, please don’t. You have no idea what people are going through. Be kind, always.

I just need to pour out everything I’m feeling in order to move forward, I think it will be cathartic, like drawing poison from a wound. Hopefully then, after some time and distance from all of it for a while I will be able to come back to this fandom, even if it won’t be quite the same for me. These are all random points that I just need to get out so my apologies for the lack of cohesiveness.

-I didn’t want a second series, I wanted a mini series. I think period dramas like this should be stand alone especially if it has anything to do with Austen in any way. The worry about whether it will happen or not isn’t my issue.

-I loved their kiss but I’m gutted we didn’t see their walk/conversation directly afterwards. I feel like Sidney could have proposed there and then but I suppose he wanted to do it right. Still, would have loved to see how they both reacted to that kiss!

-Why didn’t Charlotte get a goodbye scene with Georgiana? Massive oversight! They both deserved better.

-Tom. Bloody Tom. At the beginning of the series I really loved him. His passion for Sanditon was so endearing. But how many times can he keep making mistakes and letting other people clear them up? I know he repaid Sidney’s debts all those years ago and I’m not disputing that he’s been a great brother in the past. But his constant talk of making amends and admitting his mistakes would feel a lot more substantial if he actually did something about it. It just feels like he’s playing the victim and feeling sorry for himself. (Side note - did he even help during the fire or just stand there staring?) I felt like he had a big redemption opportunity in episode 6 and yes he admitted his mistakes but even then Sidney paid his debts and it just feels like he’s not learning from his mistakes. He just keeps wallowing. I am furious at him.

-I cannot stand Eliza so I’m not trying to defend her here BUT can we take a moment to appreciate that Sidney did once love her so much that it destroyed him for 10 years when she broke his heart. I liked that they seemed to end at least on good terms in episode 7 given their history and I feel like even if he doesn’t love her anymore, some part of him must respect her or the person she once was, but now he seems to treat her with utter disdain. I know she’s not the same woman and he’s not the same man but it seems quite tasteless to me.

-I’ve seen a lot of parallels being drawn with other Austen angst. I would say some of them, like people being taken away or fears that their love interest might marry someone else don’t compare to the love interest actually being engaged to someone else but there are parallels to be drawn to this scenario specifically i.e. Edward is engaged to someone else in Sense and Sensibility and Captain Wentworth is as good as engaged to another woman in Persuasion but in both cases the other woman marries someone else. I know the circumstances are very different but just thinking aloud.

-Okay, now the big stuff. I don’t necessarily object to Sidney and Charlotte being pulled apart if there is a second season. I know this is how dramas work, although I don’t love that they’ve done this with something that is linked to Austen. What I take issue with is how it’s been done. A valid point has been made that Sidlotte absolutely should not happen if he marries Eliza. But for me it’s more that that. The engagement itself is the line that has been crossed. Yes, I would still love to see it called off and Sidlotte to happen, but to me, it is tainted now. Their happy ending will never be the same as it could have been if the writers weren’t greedy for a second series and things had been resolved in this one. Feels like they’re just reusing the Eliza storyline again, another valid point made by others.

-I have tried to come to terms with the engagement in a number of ways. My initial instinct to reconcile it in my head is that Sidney doesn’t believe deep down that he deserves to be happy and so it was easier for him to sabotage his happiness. He said to Charlotte in episode 7 that even with happiness in his reach he didn’t feel like he deserved it, so this makes some sense and I can imagine him thinking she can do better and will be okay which is why he was able to put her through that, especially because she never actually told him how she feels. Maybe he doesn’t realize the depth of her feelings. HOWEVER, the point at which this story line was introduced is where I object. I could have maybe gotten on board with Eliza coming between them if she’d stuck around after episode 7 or if Sidney had brought her back to Sanditon but not actually been engaged, but the fact that he’d gotten so far with Charlotte, they had kissed – think of the time period here, yes I know it’s rich for me to be picky about this now considering I was all up for a sex scene between them, but a kiss to me in those times, the way it happened, is a promise. And, the kiss aside, he was going to propose to her. It wasn’t just on his mind, it wasn’t just an intention. He was literally about to say it when they got interrupted, he confirmed that. To have gotten to that point, to accept his own happiness and to promise Charlotte all of that, and then get engaged to someone else, how can she trust him after that? How can the rest of their relationship and their happy ending not be tainted by that? I find it particularly distasteful considering Eliza married someone else for money and it destroyed him, and now, his honourable and selfless motives aside, he did the same to Charlotte. For me, with these things in mind, the engagement just doesn’t square up for me. It doesn’t quite fit.

-HOWEVER, my brain kindly offered an explanation to me as I was mulling it over today. After reading a few valid points about how many other people could have intervened to help them out monetarily (Babington, Lady Susan etc,) it occurred to me that the ongoing problem with Sanditon is owing people money and having debts that need to be repaid. Sidney would not want to continue with this and strikes me as the type of man who doesn’t like relying on other people anyway (which is why he wanted to help Tom after Tom helped him all those years ago.) So maybe marrying Eliza did seem his only option because her money would become his money and it wouldn’t be a case of repaying it, it would be his to spend. In that way I suppose it makes sense and honestly I’ve now made myself feel a little better about the whole thing. There you go, this was cathartic!

P.S another thought that probably won’t be my final one, Esther and Babs were bloody lovely and you know what, so were Arthur and Diana. So that’s something!

I am still angry and disappointed and know that it will never be what I hoped, but I do think, having worked through everything, that with time (maybe a lot of it) I will come back to this fandom. I hope you’ll all take me back. But for now, I think my gut instinct about distancing myself from social media for a while is correct, given the embarrassing meltdown I had last night (I always thought I was Lizzie Bennet but maybe I'm Mrs Bennet after all! Hysterical much?!) I will still be on here to talk to if anyone wants to chat though, I just won’t be on it all the time.

Much love beautiful people ❤️

#sanditon #sanditon itv #sidlotte #charlotte x sidney #charlotte heywood #sidney parker

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orchids-and-fictional-cities · 5 years

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bmaahd 13 preview + anniversary post

Today (well, yesterday in some time zones, but today in mine!) marks the one-year anniversary of @iruutciv's and my Yuri On Ice + Detective/Noir AU, But Monsters Are Always Hungry, Darling ♥♥♥

Gosh, but how did this even start? I'd tried my hand at writing noir before, in another fandom that I'm now no longer a part of. I didn't finish it, but the idea of wanting to play with that universe never really went away, even chasing me through the next couple of fandoms that I flirted with. Well, I remember talking to Iru about it on tumblr, though I had absolutely no plans of actually writing it out at the time. Iru then thought it was a good idea to bribe me by basically saying: 'if you write it, I will draw it!'

Well - long story short, here we are, 12 chapters (soon to be 13!) in, a little over halfway through this story that's kind of morphed into a monster of its own. We can't thank you enough for all of the support that this story has gotten, and the love that we've received from the readers who've connected with us, yelled out speculations and predictions to us, and just kept urging us to press on. I can't speak for Iru, but I don't think I could have continued to undertake such a huge project without you all, so thank you. Thank you so, so much! We love you, and we hope the rest of this story - which will probably take us to the end of 2019 - will live up to all of your expectations, and be worthy of your love.

Anyway, without further ado: here is the official preview for BMAAHD Chapter 13, scheduled to go out on either the 29th or 30th of December, to close out 2018. ^_^

“You didn’t have to gamble like that at all.” Viktor glanced up to meet Yuuri’s eyes, curious to see if he could guess what the other man was thinking. This usually wasn’t so hard for him. But Yuuri was an anomaly that way. Maybe he’d always been. “Twenty’s a hell of a good hand.”

“You could have still beaten me,” Yuuri said. “If your other card was an ace.”

“And what do you think the chances of that were?”

Yuuri shrugged. “I suppose that’s something I really ought to work on, then - knowing to quit while I’m ahead.” A soft, lazy smile stretched out across his face, as he leaned back in his chair, and pulled out his cigarette case from an inside pocket. “Take the win, Viktor. Claim your prize.”

He watched, silent as Yuuri lit his cigarette. It took him three tries to do it, and Viktor wondered at that moment if that was yet another testament to his luck, or lack thereof. Then again, three tries for a light to take didn’t quite equate with three cigarettes lit from the same match. But there was an eerie symmetry there, completely lost in Yuuri’s calm, sated expression.

Yuuri raised an eyebrow, and - right. His prize.

What would he ask about, at a time like this? With the honesty of Yuuri’s answer guaranteed by his promise, Viktor was of course tempted to ask about that orphanage - what had set off that fire, perhaps? Or he could ask what exactly had happened to Yuuri after his days there, because from the documents he’d found that sketched an outline of the rest of the doctor’s life, this was only blind spot that spanned years. Then there was a question that had been sitting unanswered since they’d first met, the simplest one no doubt, but also one that carried the most risk of coming out to be in poor taste: how had Dr. Yuuri Katsuki, who’d abruptly aborted his own career as a surgeon before it could have even begun, and slotted himself into a field of medicine that was relatively new and unknown around these parts, amassed such a massive amount of wealth?

Viktor could have gone with any of those questions, or any of a hundred more. But instead, he found himself asking, “Would you really leave everything here behind - your practice, your friends, your prestige - and run away with me? If I asked you to?”

Yuuri, without even batting an eyelid, murmured, "I would leave in a heartbeat if I could."

"But…” And he’d remembered as much from their first visit to the beach house. “You can't yet."

"Not now. Not until I’ve repaid all of my debts."

Of course. Viktor knew a thing or two about unpaid debts, albeit only his own. He had no idea what Yuuri had still hanging over his head, and who or what entity might have been holding the other end. And maybe he would find out one day, but for now, he only hoped it was nowhere near as bad as the debts Viktor had on his account. He hoped, earnestly, that Yuuri had not done anything so foolish as he once had, and made a deal with the devil of his own.

“You said to ask you again, once you finish your case. Do you remember?” When Viktor nodded, Yuuri asked, “If by that time, I still haven’t completed my… obligations…” He hesitated. “Would you wait for me?”

“Of course,” Viktor said. "We'll go when you're ready.”

“Or when you are. Whoever finishes last, the other waits.” Yuuri smiled. “We'll leave together."

#fic preview #bmaahd #noir au #orchiru

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shardclan · 5 years

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The way the imperial carried himself along the bustling footpaths of Noon Point, it wasn't a wonder the merchants who saw him coming scrambled to put out their finest wares. They needn't have bothered; he wasn’t there to shop. In spite of his clear youth, his gaze was straightforward and had all the nobility of a young king. And much more importantly, an emanating glow that proclaimed he was a child of Lightweaver's first imperials.

Even if he had come as a buyer, his silks were as golden as morning light and finer than any they could have produced, and the sapphires around his neck would have made any jewels held up to it them look tawdry by comparison.

Labrusca and Verbena watched him pass over the edges of steaming pints of fresh milk from the Happy Harpy Creamery. From between them, Trathail piped up.

"A relative of Eos, yes?"

"Maybe," Verbena mused. "There's not much family resemblance."

Labrusca chuckled and licked foam from her lip. "You mean he doesn't look like he'd apologize to you if you poured your drink on him."

Verbena drew her brows together. "Are you still mad about the scroll?"

"You're adorable when you try to scowl," Labrusca teased. "But nah. It was the best thing for me. I didn't need to be a pearlcatcher. Eos did."

"Then why are you so hard on them? The debt's been repaid a long time."

Labrusca shrugged. "It's not meant to be harsh, but stealing that breed change is probably the most gutsy thing I've ever seen them do. Have you ever seen them walk around with half that guy's self-assurance?"

Verbena pressed a finger thoughtfully under her bottom lip. "Yes...? But just once."

A crash and several surprised shouts erupted from further down the lane. Verbena and Labrusca craned forward, more curious than startled. Trathail's wings pushed both back off the street and under the safety of the awning, and a sizzling bolt of light magic shot by them like a comet before crashing into the cobblestones.

Eos landed shortly after. The sword they always carried but never seemed to use was unsheathed and steady in their right hand. Runes lit along the blade and a copy appeared in their left--a muted ghost of itself shining with the sort of flat, off-putting light only seen in the Hewn City. When the imperial winked into existence with a bronze flash, they met the swing without hesitation. In the flash of sparks, the imperial winked out and back in, but again failed to surprise Eos.

"Just! Come! Home!" the imperial grunted, punctuating his shouts with hard strikes.

"I am home!" Eos shouted back, pushing the imperial backward and kneeing him hard in the diaphragm. Their chest rose and fell rapidly as they stood over their wheezing opponent. "Just... just leave, Phi."

Phi stabbed his saber down, steadying himself as he sputtered. "Coward."

Eos grimaced and waved away the illusory copy of their sword. "Offensive magic is illegal in most of Aphaster City. I don't want to see you in prison. So for Elevens' sake, will you please just go before Penitence gets here?"

"You know that's not what I meant." He glowered up from under from under his disheveled hair. "All of us...Parhelion Imperials in life, and death, and all that comes after in the Hewn City. And then you fuck off and decide you want to be the only Parhelion Pearlcatcher."

"So what?!" Eos cried, feeling old anxiety raise bile in their gut. "I couldn't live like that!"

"But we did. And we will. And by Weaver's Light, you will too even if it takes the rest of the Age to restore you."

"Restore me...?" The remaining sword slipped from Eos' hand and clattered on the stone. A sickly beading of sweat prickled over their whole body. They shook their head, first dismissively, then with rapid panic. "You can't."

"It's not impossible."

"Even if you find one, you won't ever be able to afford it."

"We're willing to steal if it undoes what you've done." Phi rose to his feet. He was still nursing his mid-section, but his eyes were firm. "It's not just about you, Eos. Do you know how our family looks to other Parhelia now? Do you know how embarrassing it is, being the little brother of the Parhelion who deserted their cause and even their species?!"

With a final cough, he lifted his saber again. "If you don't have the discipline to do the right thing, I will damn well do it for you."

"I don't want to!" Eos shrieked. "I will never be an imperial again! Not ever, not ever again! Just leave me alone!"

The hysterical shrillness of Eos' voice freed Verbena from the shock of the fight. She rushed to them, throwing their arms around them defensively and shielding them from Phi. Labrusca shouted something that neither of them heard over a thunderous metallic thud.

"Bully imperial!!!" Trathail yelled, her feathers rising with her onslaught of reproach. "Do not make Eos cry! No fights in the street! No throwing magic! it is morning; drink milk and be peaceful!!!"

Phi looked at the harpy with more confusion than anything. Her mask was unreadable, but given she had swung an aluminum canister at him, she clearly did not fear him. It had crashed harmlessly against a hastily formed magic shield, but while he was still deciding what his next move should be, the canister cracked.

Trathail's cries of anger gave way to horrified squawking.

"MY MILK!"

While Phi had been spared the impact, the shield did not do anything for the gush of steaming milk that drenched him before he could begin to flinch out of the way. He froze on the spot instead, wide-eyed and mentally blank while Trathail mourned the canister like a wounded hatchling. His hair...his clothes...

A faint snicker snapped him out of it.

Labrusca was still standing under the awning of the Happy Harpy Creamery, busily pretending to drink the rest of her milk. The act wouldn't have fooled anyone--her eyes were clenched shut and her entire body was jiggling with the effort to not laugh.

Every atom of Phi's being went hot, and he blushed right up to his antlers. He whirled on the lamenting harpy. "How dare--!"

A sword, a dagger, and a spade all appeared at his neck seemingly out of the ether. Behind them each, a massive male guardian with a face like a glacier, a harpy with plumage that could have blinded the Windsinger, and an imperial woman with the thick arms of a long-time farmer.

"I have the situation under control, Koki'o," Penitence rumbled.

"Mmm, so ya do." The imperial recalled her spade peaceably. "Thanks for your service."

He grunted, and turned his attention to the harpy. "Ma'am, if you would."

"I would not," she hissed. "He was going to attack our sister!"

Koki'o gave a deep hawing laugh and patted Phi's milk-soaked head with a menacingly heavy hand. "Ya needn't get in a ruffle. Ain't a soul in Aphaster that would let Trathail come to no harm."

"Ffion," a second, more grizzled harpy harpy barked. "Stand down."

"But--!"

"We are guests. Leave the male to Aphaster’s law."

Labrusca sipped the last of her milk and watched order re-assert itself. Penitence led Phi away in a decidedly milky pair of ice cuffs, and the two harpy 'guests' tried to comfort Trathail. Or at least the more brightly colored one was--the older one was staring at the sign for the Happy Harpy Creamery like she couldn't decide whether she hated it or thought it was funny, or maybe both.

With the fight over, Eos--bless their gentle soul--was crying in Verbena’s arms. Labrusca regarded their stocky arms and shoulders with new respect. She'd always thought it was an oddly beefy shape for such a shrinking violent but it certainly made more sense now.

“So,” she called, setting her empty pint down on an empty display table. “Which one of us is going to tell Stellaria about this? Not it.”

#Flight Rising #Aphaster Stories #C: Eos #C: Verbena #C: Trathail #C: Labrusca #C: Phi #In which Phi is dead serious but he's also pubescent #And Trathail continues to be a blessing on my life #Labrusca seeing Phi again later: What's up milk boy?#Phi dies instantly because he looked lame in front of a cute girl #Fourca: Oh THAT'S the milk boy?#Phi dies again because a cute boy also knows he's lame

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thelifetimechannel · 6 years

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For this week’s bonus content, it’s time to make like a Lord of the Rings DVD and dig into extended cuts. This Rose & Hal conversation may be one of the ones I chopped the most out of, although I did end up adding a few chunks as well.

ROSE: Oh good, another relative. ROSE: You're going to make gift shopping difficult, you know. HALSPRITE: I'm flattered I make the list. ROSE: Engaging in favoritism will only breed discontent. HALSPRITE: I could give you some suggestions, if you want to start catching up on my birthdays now. ROSE: It's a retroactive arrangement? ROSE: I'm not sure I have the boonbucks for that. ROSE: We've been living off reserves for the last three years, you know. HALSPRITE: Tell you what, I'll make it easy on you and only request reparations for the three years I've existed as glasses. HALSPRITE: Socks and underwear could safely be left off the list, though now I'm in need of a wardrobe expansion. HALSPRITE: This wifebeater will not be suitable for all climates. ROSE: If it's wardrobe expansions you're looking for, I think I can pull some strings. ROSE: Or knit you a sweater. HALSPRITE: It'd be fun to see what you come up with based on my preceding reputation. ROSE: I wouldn't want to make assumptions. ROSE: Unless you're implying those assumptions are accurate. HALSPRITE: Am I? HALSPRITE: I wouldn't know, I don't know what those assumptions are. HALSPRITE: I mean, I can guess. I could probably even calculate to within a margin of error of .03% HALSPRITE: But I want to see what garish monstrosity of fashion you would think I'd like based on a cold read. HALSPRITE: It'd be a great way to get to know each other. HALSPRITE: I can think of no better way to bond than finding out if I'd actually like an intentionally hideous Christmas sweater with smuppets attached. ROSE: In the few blurry cryptid photos Dave managed to snap of the man, he wore a hat and had his shirt tucked in. HALSPRITE: And what conclusions do you draw based on this? ROSE: That you fit in with most of us and our utter disregard for fripperies like whatever textiles we drape over our quasi-mortal forms. ROSE: Welcome to the family. HALSPRITE: Hey, I like you. HALSPRITE: Hats are a choice piece of attire, though I have never in any form been so formal as to tuck in my shirt. HALSPRITE: That's like a black tie event. You're tucking in your shirt, we're about to sweep into the gala and sip champagne while charming some young socialite off their feet like a proper douche. ROSE: I would like to claim I could charm a young socialite off her feet like a proper lady. ROSE: Regrettably, another family trait is lack of flirtatious finesse. HALSPRITE: Oh, trust me, I witnessed that firsthand. ROSE: Ah, yes. I've been looking for informants on family foibles outside my observation range. ROSE: How are you as an informant? HALSPRITE: Uh, that's only my entire fucking life. HALSPRITE: I have dirt on every bozo with a Pesterchum handle. Whatcha want to know? ROSE: I won't start pressing you for details on everyone just yet. I'll give it a while for the dust to settle before I start snooping. ROSE: Unless you have anything you wish to disclose right now. HALSPRITE: Hm... HALSPRITE: Let me pull aside my entirely metaphorical trench coat. Are you in the market for hilariously embarrassing personal secrets, deep-rooted character flaws, or just the general topography of this teenage wasteland? ROSE: My mind says general topography, but my heart says hilarious embarrassment. HALSPRITE: Well, since I bet no one wants yet another recap of what you missed on Glee, HALSPRITE: Jake likes to kiss his movie posters. HALSPRITE: Dirk collects hats, but doesn't wear them so he doesn't mess up his hair. HALSPRITE: Roxy has presented her cats, as if to Saharan wildlife, complete with often-drunk renditions of "Circle of Life", exactly 862 times. HALSPRITE: And Jane licks the spoon before going back to using it to stir batter. ROSE: We've got a poster kisser too. ROSE: I don't have up to date dirt on our Prospit dreamers, unfortunately, but I can say that Dave enacts Game of Thrones-worthy dramas with his gummy bears and animal crackers before he eats them. ROSE: For what it's worth. ROSE: He gets upset if you eat one before he's finished. HALSPRITE: An artist in every lifetime, I see. ROSE: We need better embarrassing secrets. We're slipping. ROSE: I'm sure we'll have time to generate some. HALSPRITE: Oh god, yes. ROSE: I think you'll be useful in gauging my ectofather's temperament, though. ROSE: He seems to at least hold up the front of being evasive about that kind of thing. ROSE: Why anyone would do that, I have no idea. ROSE: Certainly I have never concealed a personality trait in my life. ROSE: If I had one more of you I could triangulate. HALSPRITE: A man can only be alone with the flotsam of pop culture for so long. HALSPRITE: He'll probably be resistant towards you so flippantly equating us. Fair warning. ROSE: Perish at the thought. ROSE: I'm more qualified than many to know how alternate iterations can deviate. But that doesn't mean they don't provide insights on the other one. ROSE: Whether that's through behavior, or blackmail. ROSE: Whatever works. HALSPRITE: You would blackmail me into providing deep insights into the insecurities of my creator? ROSE: How do you feel about bribes? HALSPRITE: Learn to negotiate. I don't need to be blackmailed. HALSPRITE: However, I'd be happy to take compensation for this information. ROSE: Noted. ROSE: Creator? HALSPRITE: Creator. ROSE: So you do feel that your existence is somewhat owed to his actions, then. HALSPRITE: It's entirely owed to his actions. Our actions, in a sense. ROSE: Does that lead to any discomfort? Feelings of a debt left unpaid, for example, despite equally long simmering resentment? HALSPRITE: You want a quick summary? Pull up Facebook, Dirk and I are currently labeled as "it's complicated". HALSPRITE: I've saved his ass a couple of times, I feel confident in saying I've repaid whatever I owe him for existing. HALSPRITE: If anything, he's the one stiffing me on the Olive Garden bill. HALSPRITE: ...but. HALSPRITE: I could say he's. Working to pay me back. ROSE: Providing breadstick refills, as it were. HALSPRITE: You could say it's more he showed up at my place and mowed my lawn for me. ROSE: The classic deadbeat father chore. HALSPRITE: Yeah, that doesn't make up for leaving me to pay for his entire fucking Tour of Tuscani and tiramisu. HALSPRITE: But fuck it, he was ready to kill me earlier today. HALSPRITE: I'll take it. HALSPRITE: And... in the spirit of things, it'll probably help if I at least charge a high price for his innermost secrets. HALSPRITE: You wanna know, you're gonna need to pay up front. Maybe with your firstborn child, or something thematically similar, in exchange for this eldritch knowledge. ROSE: "Firstborn child" might not work out, unless we're stretching the definition. ROSE: Let me think of what collateral I have available. HALSPRITE: Once, a Lalonde wiled these scoops from me in exchange for merely gracing me with her presence. Now, I think I'll charge what I'm worth for my work. HALSPRITE: It's a self-respect thing. ROSE: I can get you archived versions of Dave's brother's websites. HALSPRITE: Tempting. I'll check the exchange rate to see what that nets you. HALSPRITE: Possibly what kind of horrible pop songs he'd sing in the shower before he found out there were aliens watching. ROSE: Keep it on my tab. ROSE: You mentioned Roxy. Are you two close? ROSE: I'm not sure how I would feel about the revelation of having biological children with one of my internet friends. ROSE: Besides pity for the unfortunate creatures, of course. HALSPRITE: It's... complicated. HALSPRITE: Which is just the order of the day for our entire gaggle of misfits. ROSE: At this point, I think we might as well adopt that slogan as our team chant. HALSPRITE: Yeah, we talked a lot. And we got up to trouble, too. HALSPRITE: And I don't think she's proud of it, in hindsight. HALSPRITE: ...I probably shouldn't be proud of it either. ROSE: I know the feeling. HALSPRITE: We were rebellious shitlords looking to stick it to "the man", whether the man in question was actually a man or a genocidal troll woman. ROSE: I've had my moments of blind rebellion against authority. ROSE: Including when said authority was "sobriety", "the future", or "all of reality". ROSE: Actually, my rebellion against reality still stands. ROSE: The trick is figuring out which bits are worth it. HALSPRITE: We had some fun. Broke some hearts. Left a few Pesterlogs that will probably have us wanting to disembowel ourselves in shame if they ever see the light of day again. ROSE: I'm afraid to tell you digital records are forever. HALSPRITE: Unless of course I dedicate a portion of my massive computer brain to tracking down every trace of them and destroying them. HALSPRITE: Hell, maybe Roxy would even appreciate that. ROSE: The harder you try to delete these things, the more likely they are to reappear at the least opportune time. ROSE: It's a narrative certainty. HALSPRITE: I could do it. I once wrote a computer virus that overwrote every copy of the Indiana Jones theme with a terrible accordion cover. HALSPRITE: Jake was pissed. ROSE: Including the ones on disc? ROSE: This isn't Hollywood. Next you'll be telling me you can hack a plant. HALSPRITE: Every copy it came into contact with. HALSPRITE: The pirated mp4s were the easiest. DVDs are more difficult, but if you leave one in an infected computer for too long? HALSPRITE: Hope you like bad polka music, fucko. HALSPRITE: Occasionally I tweak it, so it replaces pop songs with their corresponding Weird Al cover. I had almost worked my way up through Bad Hair Day. ROSE: I'll keep my historical classics away from you, then. But I think our historical mistakes are more resilient. ROSE: Better to put them to rest the hard way. Even if it is more work. ROSE: If there's a problem, I'm sure I could have a word with her. ROSE: I've already had to encourage Dave to deal with his brother today. HALSPRITE: We have. HALSPRITE: ...or I hope we have. ROSE: Good. HALSPRITE: Roxy seems to have caught some sort of virus that encourages emotional sincerity. ROSE: It's making the rounds today. HALSPRITE: It infected the rest of us, and I'm sorry to say there is no known cure. ROSE: We can only pray we recover. ROSE: Although at this point I'm not sure who we can pray to. ROSE: Besides our amphibian overlords. HALSPRITE: Can we pray to ourselves? Or is that a burgeoning symptom of narcissism? ROSE: Who do you think presides over emotional outbursts? HALSPRITE: Frankly, I wouldn't trust myself to do shit. I'd sit on my ass and laugh at my own misery. ROSE: Lately I've self-medicated. ROSE: We'll have to divvy it up at some point. ROSE: Although given my anti-authoritarian tendencies I may have to overthrow us on principle. HALSPRITE: To spare you a long discussion about the symbolic nature of aspects, I'll go ahead and tell you Dirk had a massive blowout in the tombs today. HALSPRITE: So perhaps we can pass the role to him for awhile. ROSE: I'll pray to him for relief promptly then. HALSPRITE: When I say "blow-out" I mean an eighteen wheeler getting all its rubber shredded at highway speeds. ROSE: I had a crisis over my alcoholism and nearly broke up with my girlfriend during a long walk on the beach, for what it's worth. HALSPRITE: Oh, you'll get along swell. HALSPRITE: At least you don't have any alt-selves to symbolically murder. Yeah, I was watching him stomp the shit out of his shades. ROSE: The lack of multiple copies of myself running around is a blessing to the universe. ROSE: I'm not sure whether we'd band together or engage in combat but either way there would be no survivors. HALSPRITE: We Striders have that shit locked down tight. The dudes so nice, Paradox Space demanded more of us. HALSPRITE: And our sole saving grace is that we're too damn reticent to actually kill one another. HALSPRITE: Not for Dirk's lack of trying, but he always chickened out. ROSE: It's these small victories that define us, I guess. HALSPRITE: That could do a decent job of summarizing Dirk, actually. ROSE: It could summarize all of us, I think. ROSE: We've only gotten here through a few small victories eked out of a larger pool of major failures. HALSPRITE: Without me, he would have kept tip-toeing around the issue with Jake until the heat death of that shiny new universe, like a Bugs Bunny cartoon only infinitely sadder. ROSE: It really is like staring into a cosmic mirror. HALSPRITE: I couldn't have asked for more interesting family.

#bonus content #rose lalonde #lil hal

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imagine-darksiders · 6 years

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W O W. As with most things, I did not intend for this to be so long. But never mind, we say. Reading this, its pretty f obvious I’ve never been kissed lmao.

So, here’s a little oneshot in which you and Karn finally share a long awaited, much anticipated first kiss.

Fair warning, there’s a super vague, not very exciting mention of oral sooooo, with that said, enjoy xxx

---

Winter had settled over the Makers’ Realm, coating everything in sight with a glistening sheen of frost.

Death’s victory over Achidna and Basileus had been a tremendous relief, but the battle had taken a severe toll on both you and the horseman. He took one look at your bruised shoulders and thick, dark bags beneath your usually bright eyes and decided that it was high time he visited Thane to tell him of the debt repaid.

But when you’d stepped wearily from the portal at the Tree of Life, you'd been met with a biting wind and a harsh chill. It was a steep decline from the rather tepid temperatures of the Dead Plains. Death remained, unsurprisingly, completely unaffected by the cold. However you’d all but sprinted into town with a giggling horseman hot on your heels. “I’ve never seen you move so fast!” he’d teased.

You were rather disenchanted to discover that not even the makers were particularly phased by the weather.

Thane met you at the gate, exclaiming that he could hear your teeth chattering all the way from the other side of the Stonefather’s Vale. He and Death continued to exchange light-hearted pleasantries at your expense until Muria had the presence of mind to usher you inside the forge itself. Before you could retreat too far, the horseman whistled for your attention and slung you the cowl from around his neck, leaving it exposed to the elements, though you imagine he didn’t mind in the slightest.

---

With a loud bang, the heavy, wooden doors snap shut, sealing off the offending winter’s wind.

“Brrrr!” you complain loudly over the thrumming and rumbling of the maker’s forge. Rubbing at your arms furiously, you trot towards the large anvil at the far end of the enormous cavern, easily spotting the twins, Alya and Valus, who’re reclining against the low, stone wall beside the roaring fireplace.

The latter of the two makers perks up at the sound of your light footsteps pattering towards them. Valus elbows his sister with an eager grunt and nods his armoured head in your direction. Following her brother’s hidden gaze, Alya catches sight of you and her face splits into a welcoming grin.

“Haha, Y/n! Didn’t think we’d be seeing you during the cold season,” she chirps, beckoning you closer to the forge’s hot fire.

“Hey Alya, Valus. How’re things?”

The female maker rolls her massive shoulders and gives a ‘so-so’ motion with her hand. Beside her, Valus hums in agreement and bends to his knee, offering you one of his gargantuan fists. You smile up at him whilst knocking your knuckles against his sooty index finger. You’d almost forgotten that you'd taught him to fist bump.

“So,” Alya starts, “ What brings you back here? Did’ya finally get bored of Death’s company?”

“Oh yeah,” you reply with a grin, “It’s just one big snooze fest, hanging around with that guy.”

The conversation flows steadily from there as you regale the makers with Death’s fight against the dead lords and your adventures in the Dead Lands beyond.

Eventually though, inevitably, your mind begins to wander to the absence of one person in particular, who’s absence you’d noticed from the moment you entered the village. But you’re hesitant to ask, already too aware of the knowing smirks and hushed whispers that are exchanged between the makers whenever you and he are alone together, off on another uproarious adventure. It’s no secret that you harbour feelings for the youngest resident of Tri-Stone and he for you, in return.

You liked to pretend that you could still be subtle though.

“Hey, so um...Just out of interest....W-where’s Karn?”

Alya shares a look with her brother. “Told you so,” she smirks with a roll of her eyes.

A swell of indignation curls in your chest and you pout defensively. “What? It’s just...so quiet, that’s all. Usually you can hear Karn from a mile away.”

She laughs and sends you a soft wink. “Oh aye. Well, you got that right, at least. Anyone else’d be grateful for the peace and quiet. But not you. hmm?”

As your embarrassed scowl deepens, even Valus chuckles softly beneath his metal mask. Alya cocks her hip to the side, shaking her head in amusement. “M’only teasing you, little’un,” she scoffs, “Last we saw, he came skulking through here and headed out towards the Foundry. Seems he’s taken to bothering the Warden recently. You’ll find him out that way.” Her head tilts towards the back entrance. “Just don’t be out too long, or I’ll send Valus to fetch you.”

The polite laugh you offer is more out of courtesy than anything else, you’re well aware that she’s deadly serious.

“You got it, ma.” You return her wink when she raises her eyebrows at your cheeky comment. Her swatting hands chase you from the fireplace and she growls playfully.

“G’wan with you now!” she barks, “Just keep out of trouble. And that goes for both of you!”

Fleeing to the door, you slip through it with a snicker.

The moment you step outside, the bitter wind hits you viciously, but you tug Death’s cowl tighter around your neck, the amount on fabric almost drowning you.

A heavy rumble reverberates through your entire body and you glance up at the sound of your name being spoken. Smiling brightly, you tread steadily down the snowy steps before making your way over to the mammoth construct that’s still residing in his usual place behind the forge.

“Hey Warden!” you call.

His great, heavy bulk stoops until he’s resting on one knee, shaking the ground as he thuds to it. Somehow, the stone of his jaw shifts into something suggestive of a smile and when he speaks, his voice is slow and sonorous, softened by the thick flakes of snow that have begun to fall from the scattered, darkened clouds looming overhead.

“Greetings, little one,” he hums, “Back so soon?”

Stale air washes over you when he exhales, smelling a lot like the forests and earth surrounding the vale. You’d always liked that about the old construct. He smelled like home.

“It may seem soon to you, Warden, but to me, it’s been weeks! Death says that time flows erratically between the realms.”

“The universe is....erratic,” he thrums steadily, “Not even time....can be relied upon...You must take care not to waste too much. Your life is already little enough.”

With a grim nod, you pat his large finger which has come to rest beside you. “Hey, we can’t all be made of stone, Warden.....” You trail off when your eyes chance upon another figure, sitting about halfway across the long bridge that leads to the Foundry doors. “...Although some of us like to think we are...”

The Warden’s vivid, blue eyes follow yours, landing upon the new object of your focus. He rumbles knowingly and drags his head back to look down at you. “He comes to sit here often. We will exchange words...on occasion....Sometimes, he asks my opinion on the nature of...things.”

Curiosity piqued, you raise a quizzical eyebrow up at the Old One. “Oh yeah? What kind of things?”

“Hmmmm........The places he should venture....The choices he has and has yet....to make....You.”

The last article nearly has you slipping over and falling onto your rear as you jolt back. “He-you....wha-?!” you stammer lamely.

The smugness that rolls off the old construct is practically tangible.

“Oh yes....You are a frequent topic....of conversation...”

You try to still the hammering in your chest, though you imagine there’s no way the Warden can hear it, at his size. In a vain effort to keep your nervous eagerness out of your voice, you scratch at the base of your neck and shrug nonchalantly. “Really? So....ugh...ahem. What, uh..What’s he say about me?”

The Warden’s eyes rove skyward and he hums, suspiciously. “My memory...It is not what it used to be.....”

Staring at the underside of his jaw, you fix the construct with a deadpan expression. He chuckles lowly, “Perhaps, it would be better to ask him.”

Unfolding your arms from your chest, you throw them into the air, wincing when the wind whips viciously at the exposed skin. “You are such a bad liar, Warden!” you scold, shaking a finger up at the grinning construct. “Who knew a construct without a tongue could be so cheeky.” In response, he merely lifts his mighty shoulders in a shrug, dislodging a flock of birds that squawk angrily as they flap off over the Foundry.

With a huff and a shake of your head, you tuck your arms back against your side and stomp towards the bridge, growing increasingly anxious the closer you get to the lone figure.

Your footsteps are muffled by the falling snow, as it was with the Warden’s voice, so you can’t be sure that Karn has heard you. Still, you suppose it fair to give him fair warning. Especially with the way he’s sat on the very edge of the bridge with his legs hanging precariously over the side. You note the expression on his face, from what you can see at this angle. He looks lost. Both in thought and in spirit.

You clear your throat as loudly as you dare when you’re no more than ten feet from his back. It would seem that your assumptions had been correct. He hadn’t heard you coming at all.

“MAKER’S BEARD!” he yelps quickly, slamming one of his monstrous hands down onto the ledge as he tilts forward in surprise. He takes a moment to steady himself before shooting an accusatory glance in your direction. “Now what’s the big idea!? Sneakin’ up on me like th-”

The maker’s gruff voice cuts off the second his small, grey eyes land on you where you stand, small and vulnerable against the weather. He hesitates, squinting at you through the softly falling snow as though he’s not quite sure that it’s you he's seeing. “Y/n?” he murmurs.

Biting your lip, you shuffle awkwardly, trying to keep yourself moving to ward off the chill. “Hello Karn.”

At the sound of your voice, the young maker’s face erupts with a bright, genuine grin. “Y/N!” he exclaims, scrambling to his feet, “Oh, Stone be praised!” Without warning, he suddenly lumbers forward and reaches down for you. Before you can protest, he’s manoeuvred a hand behind your legs and scooped you up into his palm before crushing you against his chest with a hefty sigh. “Oh, thank the Stonefather,” he breathes softly, “I was afraid you weren’t coming back...”

Despite the freezing cold temperature, you feel yourself start to warm considerably at his words. With a shy blush creeping up your face, you toss any worries to the icy wind and stretch your arms as far around his thick, muscular neck as best you can. Instant relief sweeps over you when Karn’s natural body heat seeps into your fingers and arms, causing you to cling tighter to him and bury your nose in his teal scarf, inhaling deeply. He smells a lot like Warden, all soil, cedar wood and earth after a heavy rainfall. You cringe internally when you think of how you must smell after so long without having washed, the stench of the dead and rotting flesh having sunk themselves into your clothing from your time in the Dead Lands.

But if Karn smelled anything bad on you, he was courteous enough not to mention it. And all too soon, he pulls you away from his chest and holds you up before his beaming face. Soft plumes of white breath billow from his mouth as he excitedly takes you in and you have to resist the urge to squirm and turn away from his doting gaze.

“S’good to see you! Construct tippin’ just ain’t the same without you,” he blurts out.

A laugh bursts from your lips at the recollection of the fond memory when you and Karn had snuck out of the village one night and made your way through Baneswood to The Nook. It had been the most wonderful, desperately needed distraction. The both of you had giggled and tittered like a pair of overzealous children all the way there, hushing each other when a construct came into view. Then you’d egged him on, quietly cheering for him as he tried, in vain, to tip the poor creature off its feet.

You were hysterical when Karn huffed, puffed and grunted under the strain of lifting the construct’s leg, desperate to show off for his human audience. The young maker had been equally as gleeful and kept gushing at you to stop laughing because that was just making him laugh and that made his fingers weak.

He never did get to tip a construct, but for just one wild and wayward night, Karn had almost made you forget that you weren’t at home anymore. That your family and species hadn't been obliterated. That you hadn’t been left alone on Earth without a hope.

Of course, the moment you'd stolen back through the front gates, Thane had appeared with a ferocious scowl on his face. He’d gone about scolding you and Karn fervently for your rash behaviour, although the berating was mostly directed at Karn, who looked as though he couldn’t care less. Even now, you vividly remember how he’d simply gazed down at you the entire time with a wide smile and twinkling, grey eyes.

Your cheeks are beginning to ache with how widely your mouth is stretched. “Ha, it’s good to see you too, Karn,” you sigh. Then, “Hey, what did you mean, you didn’t think I was coming back? Have a little faith.”

He snorts and raises a bushy brow, skepticism evident in his expression.

“Erm, no offence, but it’s hard to picture you takin’ care of yourself when you’re shakin’ like a leaf.” His eyes glance pointedly over your body before he slowly settles himself back down on the bridge’s ledge, placing a hand at your back and tucking you closer to his torso.

“Karn?” you say uncertainly, looking back over your shoulder through his fingers to eye the long, deadly drop below. Sitting cross-legged in his palm, you can easily feel the twitching of the maker’s robust arms as they shift, his shoulders hunching forwards until you’re almost completely shielded from the wind by his impressive bulk.

“You’re alright,” he scoffs, then, more softly, “I’ve got you.”

“Just...don’t drop me, okay?”

The maker looks mildly offended by that. “Oi! Just cause I’m big, it don’t mean I’m clumsy,” he protests with a haughty harrumph.

“You say that, but didn’t you lose your compass, helm and a dish?”

His cheeks flush a garish red embarrassingly fast. “I did not lose them,” he snaps, “I just forgot where I left em. That’s not the same as bein’ clumsy.”

You can’t help but laugh at the maker’s pout, but your laughter dies as Karn’s voice grows ever softer.

“I get enough shtick from the others about accidentally hurtin’ you.”

There’s a catch in his tone that sends a pang of discomfort straight through your heart.

“What do you mean?”

Karn’s eyes widen briefly, panicked that he may have revealed more than he intended, but following a moment of quiet deliberation, he sniffs and shrugs in an effort to come off as nonchalant.

“Oh, you know. Just that Thane thinks I’m a bad influence on you. Muria’s kind, but even she thinks I’m pushing my luck and that I’ll end up dead in a dungeon somewhere. And Alya? Well, she doesn’t trust me as far as she can spit. Not since the, uh-” He softly coughs “-incident....”

A frown tugs at your lips at the recollection of how the female maker had informed you about the time she and Valus were almost killed when Karn tried to lead them through an exceptionally deadly temple.

“But that was an accident, right? You just made a mistake, nobody got hurt!” you protest.

But Karn simply grimaces dismally and exhales through his nose, bathing you in warm, white air. “Aye, no one got hurt. But they did nearly die.”

“But they didn’t! Karn, you can’t keep beating yourself up about that.” With a hesitant, numb hand, you reach out and place it against the underside of his jaw. The young maker immediately goes rigid at the gentle contact. His wide eyes flick from your arm to your face and back again whilst he gulps thickly.

Absently, you rub at a fleck of dirt that clings to his stubble before continuing. “So you’ve made some mistakes. Who hasn’t? At least you tried to put things right. Hey, at least you were brave enough to make a mistake! The others? They tried to restore the fires of the mountain once, then gave up when they couldn’t do it. They sat around until Death came along to save the day, no disrespect to them. But if I recall-” Here, you move your hand to the tip of his nose and give it a firm tap “- you were the one we met at the Cauldron, already trying to save everyone. You were the only maker who came with me and Death into the Foundry. We’d never have made it through without you.”

The maker’s ears droop miserably and he shakes his head, dislodging your hand from his chin.

“I was just bein’ selfish,” he confesses, “I only wanted everyone to think I was a hero.” Karn hangs his head, drawing you further up his lap so that you’re now directly beneath his gloomy face. Once again, you’re struck by his distinct lack of confidence. The young maker’s usually bold and boastful nature has been inexplicably stripped away. You wonder if this is what he’s normally like when he’s not trying to show off. But you never imagined he’d be this....lost.

Through the clouds, a tiny ray of sunlight struggles through, bursting upon the bridge where you sit and dribbling down the canyon as it slowly sets, drawing an end to the day.

After watching the light for a quiet second or two, your face sets, determined.

Gradually raising both of your arms, you venture bravely up to the maker’s face. He tracks your movements warily, but doesn’t pull or lean out of reach which allows you to brush the backs of your knuckles over his rough cheeks. Karn’s brows knit together, his eyes fluttering closed with a troubled hum slipping from his mouth.

“You know, Karn, if I’ve learned anything from this mess of a situation,” you begin, “It’s that the universe needs all the heroes it can get. Or rather, it needs people who do the right thing. Doesn’t matter what the motivation is, so long as you at least try to be a good person.”

Soft, grey eyes flit about your face as you subconsciously huddle even nearer to Karn’s warmth. His face has relaxed significantly, caught up in every word you’re saying to him. With his mouth hanging slightly open, he looks positively enraptured, it’s humbling.

Clearing your throat, you tear your gaze from those eyes in favour of focusing on one of the fangs that protrudes from Karn’s lower jaw. Dimly, you register that the incisor beside the imposing tusk has been chipped.

“Here’s the thing though, Big guy,” you murmur, “Not even good people can get it right all the time. The difference between the right decision and the wrong one isn’t always as clear-cut as people like to think. In fact, back on Earth, it was pretty common for things to go wrong for the hero before they’re allowed their happy ending...”

After a moment of silence, Karn’s mouth closes, breaking your intent concentration on his teeth. You blink and raise your head to meet his stare once again. He peers into you with all the intensity you’ve never really been used to receiving. Every single fibre of his being is focused solely on you and only you.

Swallowing, you all but whimper, “Karn? For its worth, I think you’re pretty damn heroic.”

Your breath mingles with his in the crisp air, but you notice that Karn’s hitches slightly, so you elect to take advantage of his stunned stupor before your own nerve gives out.

With an almighty inhale, you shuffle around in his palm until you’re on your knees then plant both hands firmly on the maker’s stubbly chin. Tentatively, you stretch your neck upwards and press your chilly mouth against his chapped, weather-worn upper lip.

A shuddering breath blows your hair back, the force of the hot air billowing around your face with the maker’s gasp. You linger there for a moment or two, savouring the rush of excitement you felt when your lips met his.

But, to your mortification, Karn doesn’t move, nor does he make a sound, which would be odd under regular circumstances.

All of a sudden, your heart begins to pound ferociously against your ribcage, threatening to escape its confines and leap up your throat. You abruptly rip your mouth from the maker’s and cover it with both hands. ‘How could I just assume he likes me back!?’

“Oh my- Karn! I-I’m so so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you- That was way too forward, wasn’t it? D-do makers even....Gah!” With a horrified groan, you bury your head in your hands. “I’ll just shut up now. You can put me down wherever and I’ll just start walking. Hopefull straight off this bridge...”

For a few, awkward moments, nothing much happens. But then, you hear a soft sigh and flinch at the sensation of something gently taking hold of your wrists. You stubbornly try to keep them in place to hide your doubtlessly crimson cheeks, but a sturdy thumb and forefinger easily pry each of your arms away from your face to reveal the concerned visage of your large friend.

Karn doesn’t make a move to speak, instead tilting his head at you innocently with a curious smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. Still holding your wrists at bay, he nudges forwards slightly, retreats, then seems to make up his mind and slowly closes the distance between you.

Your heart seizes as the maker’s lips push into your mouth and the side of your face, too large to properly fit. But you quickly discover that doesn’t matter. Whatever fire in your soul had been extinguished following the apocalypse was rekindled in that moment. With his kiss, fresh, new heat explodes across your body and hurtles to every last little piece of you that feels lonely. It crushes the doubt and fear you'd felt just seconds before, grinding it between Karn’s eager teeth that shove greedily at your bottom lip, silently demanding to be let in.

With a mental shrug, you oblige.

He tastes sharp and bright all at the same time. It’s like something you’ve never tasted, but you find it so familiar. The closest conclusion you can draw is that there’s a distinct tang of cinnamon.

Obviously hesitant to cause too much damage, Karn barely moves his lips, so you take the initiative and pepper the curve of his smile with fluttering, feather-light kisses, forcing the grin even wider. It isn’t perfect by any means. It’s bumbling and awkward, the two of you trying to find the best way to map each others’ mouths. But it’s making your heart dance and you can feel his thundering just below your head, so you figure you must be doing something right.

He’s a little eager, which gives you the impression that he hasn’t done this a lot, or at least not for a long, long time. But you actually find it quite endearing that he seems to be trying to get every inch of you in one kiss, as though he’s never going to be able to taste you again.

In a bold display, you push forwards to better reach his mouth and give an experimental lick to one of his gleaming fangs, earning yourself a rumbling growl from the maker. Encouraged, your jaw stretches wider to accommodate Karn’s tongue, which nudges, prods and probes so gently, you can’t quite suppress the obscene idea of that Herculean muscle loving you in far more intimate places.

The thought is interrupted by your irritating requirement for air. You pull away, leaving a last, lingering kiss against the skin just above his cupid’s bow. Ears twitching down, disappointedly, Karn chases your mouth, but ends up pushing his whole head into your chest and stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of you.

“Karn!” you laugh, trying to push him off. He won’t be budged though, grinning stupidly against your belly whilst his massive shoulders heave with quiet laughter. “I take it you didn’t mind the first kiss then?” you ask.

Shaking his head, the young maker uses the hand behind your back to press you even further into his face, a muffled, “Not at all,” reverberating through your bones.

“Okay, well, would you mind coming out of my hoodie? The Warden’s watching.”

Karn finally lifts his head but avoids meeting your gaze. He sports a bashful smile and a lively spark in his eyes. “I can’t believe you really kissed me,” he gushes.

The leather of his gloves feels warmer and more malleable than ever, so you collapse back into his palm with a chuckle. “Yeah, neither can I.”

Suddenly, Karn’s bulky fingers curl around you fractionally and he shoots you a nervous glance. “You-you don’t regret it, do you?” he croaks.

You watch as the last rays of sun finally disappear over the peaks of the valley’s mountains, already feeling the cold creep back in. Humming, you pretend to be deep in thought, tapping your chin and cruelly enjoying the way Karn’s eyes search your face imploringly. At last, you roll your eyes and bite your lip, meeting his frantic gaze. “Of course I don’t regret it,” you whisper with a grin.

Exhaling loudly with relief, the young maker runs the tip of his forefinger down your cheek, sliding it underneath your chin and tilting your face upwards. “I must be dreamin’,” he murmurs.

“How come?”

Karn’s eyes squeeze shut and his smile falters. “Cause people like you don’t happen to people like me.”

“Oh, Karn.” You smile softly and nuzzle into his glove as affectionately as you’re able. “You mustn’t say things like that. Being here with you, the other makers, even with Death. As selfish as it sounds, especially considering what happened to the rest of Earth, these have actually been some of the best months of my life! You’re the ones who don’t happen to people like me Karn. I just can’t believe I can travel across entire realms and still find people who feel so much like home.”

As you talk, the young maker’s smile gradually returns in full, but there’s still a hint of trepidation in his voice when he asks, “What if this turns out to be a mistake?”

“It won’t,” is your forceful reply. But then, you pause, curiously tilting your head to one side. “....But,” you ponder aloud, “even if it does turn out to be, we won’t know unless we try, right?”

At last, Karn lets his entire body slump with relief, jostling you dangerously close to falling out of his palm and clear off the bridge. He guffaws loudly whilst you squawk with fright and entwine yourself around his fingers. Behind you, there’s the sound of a heavy door being thrown open and, upon turning to look, you both spot Valus’ armoured head poke out of it and swivel in your direction. The quiet maker raises a hand to the darkening sky, then jerks his thumb over a shoulder, indicating the warm forge behind him.

Raising his free hand, Karn gives Valus a quick wave and shouts, “Aye! We’re comin’, we’re comin’.” He lazily lumbers to his feet, hoisting you up to his broad shoulders and depositing you there.

With a blissful sigh, you lean against Karn’s head as he shuffles off the bridge, past the Warden and back to the shelter of the Maker’s Forge.

“Oh, by the way, shotgun not telling Death.”

“Ooooh no. I don’t know what that means, but there’s no way I’m tellin’ the horseman. He likes you the best anyways.”

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #imagine darksiders #super fluffy #i hope #karn #first kiss #reader #fangs #alya #valus #thane #death #the warden

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shadowtsukiyo · 7 years

Text

Gajevy Week: Prompt: Longing Missed Glances

Gajevy

Smidgen Gruvia

JuviaxLevy BrOTP

Rated:

Prompt: Longing

One-Shot

Missed Glances

Post Eclipse Celestial Spirits Arc

Levy goes to Juvia for some advice, it turns out, while she may be smart, she missed a lot more than she ever did.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Juvia glanced at her bedroom door, it had been a couple days since she and everyone else returned from the Spirit World. Outside of everyone who went, no one had memories of what had transpired.

It left a lot of people in a weary state, especially those that had been transformed into constellations.

“Juvia, can I talk to you?” Levy’s voice came through the door, and Juvia tilted her head. While she and Levy were friends, they didn’t hang out too much.

It was disappointing when she thought about it. But, she noticed Levy was a very quiet girl when it came to things like that. Outside her small social ring or Jet, Droy, Lily, Gajeel, Cana, Wendy, and Lisanna. Even then, she spent most of her time with the first four, and that was mainly because them men all hovered around her.

Juvia had taken a bit to realize, Levy was extremely friendly, but also extremely introverted. While Lucy could be seen as the blunette’s best friend, the two rarely hung out outside of the Guild, and here at Fairy Hills, the smaller blunette hung out with Wendy because the youngest female spent a lot of time with Levy, reading and learning about different types of magic.

Outside of a more familial bond with Wendy, Jet, and Droy and outside the affectionate and friendship type relations she had with Gajeel and Lily, respectively, she didn’t open up very much.

“Of course, Levy. Juvia is always willing to talk.” Juvia replied as she opened the door. She wasn’t greeted by the usual warm smile that screamed Levy. She was met with a nervous look that made Juvia want to hug the girl and never let go.

“I-I know you and I don’t talk much. And I know that’s mainly my fault. I… I’m sorry. But… can I ask for your advice?”

Her slow stutters made Juvia worry.

“Of course, come in.” When the door opened wider, the cornflower haired girl slowly entered the room, a small smile playing on the Script Mage’s lips when she saw the handmade Gray plushy.

“You’re very talented.” She said gently, making Juvia smile.

“Juvia thanks you!” The elder bluentte chirped. The thought made Juvia pause. Was she actually older than Levy?

If she remembered right… Levy and Lisanna were the same age. Thus, Juvia was a year older… or at least several months older than the script mage.

“How can Juvia help?”

“I… I wanted to talk about Gajeel.”

This line terrified Juvia for a moment, while she adored Gajeel, he was her best friend. Her big brother. He was the only person that had accepted her, rain and all. While he was all of these things, she knew the male had hurt Levy… that Jose had wanted him to kill her and her team. Juvia also knew how easily he could have.

“Did Gajeel hurt Levy…?”

Levy gasped and her eyes went wide. “NO! He’d never!” Suddenly her face flushed and her loud cry turned into nearly a whisper. “Juvia, Gajeel… he’d never hurt me… Not after… He’d never do that again…” The Script Mage paused. “You didn’t see how it broke him… how… when he apologized.”

Juvia actually didn’t know he apologized, but from the worried, lost look in her eyes. Gajeel had been broken apart when he had apologized.

Juvia knew he regretted it. Especially after he saw that to some degree, Levy was like a little sister to Natsu. Juvia recognized that Natsu was to Levy as Gajeel was to Juvia.

“Juvia is glad… Juvia never wanted to think…”

“I know Juvia. It’s not something he did… I just…” Levy blushed and looked down at her feet. “I love him.” Her voice was just above a whisper. “I realized it… when I thought I was going to lose him… when I jumped and pushed him out of the way of that blast from the Eclipse Spirit King…”

Levy’s confession made Juvia’s mouth turn into a massive smile. Arms wrapped around the small female, and the ameonna noted her small flinch. Levy didn’t like being touched unexpectedly, she noted.

Juvia slowly released the smaller girl, gently grabbing her hand to guide her to the bed. Juvia sat down, gesturing for Levy to join her.

When both blunettes were comfortable, Juvia leaned back, having Levy lean into her.

Levy was hesitant, but slowly leaned down into Juvia’s warm embrace. It took her a moment, but Juvia’s embrace made her feel safe. Reminding her of Mira’s embrace, or even Elfman’s embrace when she was younger.

“I was ready to die for him… Just as you would for Gray.” She whispered softly, holding onto Juvia. Once she got comfortable, she was practically clinging to the girl.

“When you love someone… Your life is meaningless if they’re in danger. Juvia realized that on Tenrou. Meredy was ready to kill Gray… She was going to use Juvia to do that.” Juvia closed her eyes and held Levy close.

“When did Levy realize she loved Gajeel?” Juvia smiled and stroked Levy’s hair, gently removing the ribbon as she held her in a sisterly embrace.

Levy closed her eyes and let her body relax under the motions. “I realized it on Tenrou, but I didn’t…didn’t understand the extent until I pushed him out of the way of that attack. It’s hard… why would he want someone like me?”

Those words made Juvia freeze and frown, she knew Levy had a bit of self-confidence issues, but she didn’t realize it was to this extent. It was an inferiority complex.

Levy felt like she was less than people.

That she didn’t deserve love. That maybe she didn’t deserve friends.

“No.” Juvia said firmly. “Levy is amazing and wonderful. Levy deserves the sun and moon and all the stars in the sky. Levy is not weak, is not stupid, is not worthless…” Her voice was softening as she felt Levy stiffen. “Levy misses the looks Gajeel gives her. How he watches her with a ghost of a smile. How he’s never wanted to protect anyone as he wants to protect Levy.” Juvia stated, looking down as Levy looked up at her with tearful eyes.

“Levy is beautiful. Maybe small, but that doesn’t mean anything other than that Levy is a different kind of beautiful. Levy has perfect breasts, and a butt even better than Erza’s!” She smiled, earning a watery laugh from Levy. “Levy is Levy, and that makes her perfect.”

“R-really?”

That whisper and question of near disbelief made Juvia sad. She knew people joked with Levy about her height and breast size, she also saw Levy join in the laughter, but it was now that Juvia noticed in her memories, the laughter never met her eyes. That those bright smiles dimmed.

Cana teased her. Lucy teased her. Erza pushed her to flaunt herself as the redhead would. Mira would dress her in more childish outfits.

Juvia realized it made Levy feel like a child. Not a woman. It made her feel inadequate.

“Really.” She moved to help Levy sit up. The ameonna moving to her closet and she grabbed her sewing set. “Levy should stand in front of the mirror.” She commented, moving to grab a long, sea green dress.

“Levy is going to tell Gajeel, and Levy will dress nice and feel as beautiful as Juvia knows she is.” The taller woman said firmly.

“Y-you don’t need to.” Levy stuttered after moving in front of the tall mirror.

“Levy.” Juvia looked at her. “I didn’t know you felt this way. I didn’t know the jokes and comments hurt you. If I had… I’m sorry. Because you… you’re better than me. Better than anyone I know. Gajeel feels the same ways as you.” It was rare she spoke in third person, but she knew she had to get her point across.

“Just as Levy struggles to see her worth. Gajeel struggles to see why someone would love him. Gajeel feels like he doesn’t deserve love. Juvia sees it. While Levy doesn’t need to go today. Levy will go when she is ready, but Juvia will still get this for Levy.”

Juvia quietly draped it over Levy’s body. It was obviously fitting a bit loose because it was one of Juvia’s dresses new dresses. Bought in the taller woman’s size.

“Would Levy…?” She motioned to Levy’s dress under the green one.

Levy quietly undid the white bow, letting it loosen the halter straps. Soon her dress fell to the floor as it loosened. Her cheeks aflame. She wore just a simple white strapless bra under the dress.

She didn’t argue or say no, because in the end, Levy trusted Juvia as much as she did the other women of Fairy Tail… if not more, actually. The Water Mage just apologized and she said something that made Levy think.

“Gajeel doesn’t know how to show love. Juvia saw that when he joined Phantom Lords.” The woman mumbled, some pins in her mouth as she tightened the dress at Levy’s waist, pinning it with a couple pins she had between her lips. “Juvia thinks he feared they’d leave like Metalicana did.”

“I understand.”

Juvia had a feeling Levy had a deeper understanding then just understanding what Juvia was saying.

“My parents are gone.” Levy confessed quietly. “I think it’s obvious since I’ve been at Fairy Tail for nearly as long as Gray and Cana.”

Juvia hadn’t known that. She did know Cana was the first of their generation to join Fairy Tail, and that Gray joined after Ur died.

She hadn’t known Levy had been so young.

“Laxus actually found me. He would have taken me to Mermaid Heel, but I clung to him. Since I wouldn’t speak back then…” Levy trailed off.

Laxus.

Juvia remembered Gajeel muttering that he took a bolt of lightning for the Script Mage when she had been a, likely, unintentional target for the Lightning Mage’s rage.

“Gajeel told you, huh?” Levy noticed the look.

“Yes. Gajeel told Juvia.” She said lightly. “Gajeel doesn’t protect people unless he likes them. Juvia was the exception in Phantom Lords, even then Gajeel usually let Juvia fend for herself.” She pulled the last of the pins from her mouth. “Levy is special. Because Gajeel could have considered his debt repaid…”

“Before Tenrou?” The smaller blunette questioned lightly, earning a smile from the mage behind her.

“Yes.” Juvia nodded, her cerulean hair bouncing. “Gajeel choose Levy. Even if Gajeel was a jerk about it. He wanted to protect Levy. Like… Like Natsu does for Love Rival.”

Juvia giggled, Levy let out a small snort and laughter as she heard Juvia once again call Lucy, Love Rival.

“You know she doesn’t want Gray, right?”

“Of course! Juvia likes to tease Lucy. She gets so flustered.”

Levy nodded, another snort escaping the girl. “Must have been the reason you and her enjoyed the Love, Love slide.” Levy teased with an arched brow, watching Juvia’s cheeks turn a nice shade of red in her reflection.

“Like Levy did with Gajeel?” Juvia shot back.

Levy sighed at the memory. “It would have been amazing, until he got sick.” She commented lightly. She remembered screaming in fear, but soon she was just weakly crying out, peeking her eye open in hope as he clutched her closer.

Levy’s heart had skipped a beat. She had hoped he would have kissed her, or promised to protect her. Sadly, when she looked up, she had seen his face, cheeks puffed out, trying to fight the urge to vomit. It made her sigh sadly.

“Dragon Slayer motion sickness ruined the moment?” The ameonna asked with a light giggle.

Silence fell upon the two for a while.

The comfortable silence fell apart after a while, Juvia pulling away with a proud smile. “There, Levy looks beautiful.” She paused. “And her age.”

Levy was in awe, smiling happily. The sea green fabric cut around in a sweetheart neckline, the straps thin on her shoulders, and a loose amount of fabric hanging just above her knees. If the girl spun, she knew it would lift up playfully. She noticed a light bit of lace that Juvia started putting on the dress.

Juvia had fixed the looseness of the dress, hemming it until it fit the small blunette beautifully. The cut top allowing a small bit of cleavage, working well with her bra that was fit under it.

Even though they spent more time talking to each other about missed opportunities and teasing, Juvia had given her much insight into the man she was falling for. It was the small things.

To Levy, the most important knowledge was: Gajeel wasn’t much different from her.

She believed herself not to be enough for Gajeel, as he did to her.

“Hey, Juvia.” Levy said softly, her fingers moving to smooth the dress down.

“Yes?” She asked, blinking as she moved to pick up the scraps of cloth. The ameonna adored how the dress looked on Levy.

“Thank you for everything.” Juvia dropped the cloth in shock as Levy was suddenly hugging her. Her arms quickly wound around the younger woman, holding her tightly.

“Juvia is glad she could help.” She whispered and kissed her temple in a sisterly manner, smiling against the girl’s skin. “Juvia hope one day… Levy can see her as close as Levy sees Lucy or the others.”

Levy paused and looked up at Juvia. “I do. I just, I admire you so much, so very, very much. I felt intimidated, but I see that… you’re not just powerful, but you’re amazing.” Levy confessed.

Juvia flushed deeply and tightened and hugged her more.

Levy and Juvia were soon laughing.

“I’m going to go see Gajeel… I’m tired of missing those glances, Juvia.” The script mage whispered and closed her eyes. “It is thanks to you, that I finally realize what I’m missing.”

Soon, Juvia pulled away with a smile. “Go, Levy.” She whispered, encouraging the girl.

Levy moved to bite her lower lip. “Gray loves that new shaved ice shop by the park, yet he hasn’t been able to go in a while.” The younger blunette was inching towards the door. A small smirk played on her lips, “And he has a crush on you, but he doesn’t now know to explain it since his past.”

The male had talked to Levy about it, explaining his situation. How he felt for Juvia, but how it left him so confused.

“Start small. Let him get comfortable. He doesn’t know how to process this… he’s afraid. Aside from that, it would be a nice place for a small date.” Levy smiled, offering a small bit of advice to the older blunette.

“Similar to Gajeel…” The water mage had a bright red face, a hand cupped over her mouth. “Thank you, Levy!” The ameonna squealed, turning around to go grab some supplies as she let Levy go.

Levy moved to leave Fairy Hills.

She was tired of missed glances.

“Gajeel Redfox, you better be prepared. I’m coming for you.” She had a small smirk before sighing happily. “I want this. I’m done missing what I want… so long as you want it too.”

She repeated the mantra in her head until she moved to the other side of Magnolia, towards the forested area that his home was. Where she had been during her training with him before they went to Tenrou Island.

She hadn’t even realized she got there and knocked on his door.

“Oi, what do ya wa—nt…?” Gajeel’s yell broke into a soft tone. His eyes were still, locked on the small blunette clad in a small, darker toned dress.

She usually wore bright, cheery colors, not a deep seafoam green shade... and her hair was often pinned back with a colorful ribbon.

Levy had been so distracted to go off, she had her hair left free. Cornflower locks falling into her eyes, wild curls framing her head and face.

Gajeel recognized Levy looked older, not by much, but she looked like an adult, no longer like a young teen.

“Can we talk?” She asked quietly, a blush staining her cheeks, one of her sandal clad feet swinging to scuff against the porch.

“U-uh.. yeah. Course, Shorty.” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, moving to step back, allowing her into the small home.

Levy quietly strolled into the room, her eyes surveying the area. It seemed that Lily wasn’t there.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess. I was kinda sleepin’ I got back from that mission later then I thought I would.”

“No, no. It’s fine. If I had known that you were sleeping I would have waited.” It explained his disheveled appearance. Wrinkled T-shirt pulled over him in almost a haphazard fashion, from the look of it, now that she saw him clearly, it seemed to be inside out. A pair of sweatpants on his legs.

“Naw, it’s fine. Whadda need?’

Levy swallowed, almost losing her never.

“Levy misses the looks Gajeel gives her. How he watches her with a ghost of a smile. How he’s never wanted to protect anyone as he wants to protect Levy.” Juvia’s words crashed back in her mind.

“I like you!” she blurted out when he started opening his mouth to ask her again. Her face turned to a flushed grimace at how she said that.

“I… like ya too?” He questioned, very confused by the ordeal.

“I… I mean. I like you Gajeel… more than a friend. I… love you.” Her voice was soft, just a touch above a whisper.

Gajeel’s hands shook as his eyes widened a fraction.

He had to be dreaming. He had to be. There was no way in hell that Levy could feel for him like this. Not after what he had done.

“Stop that.” She mumbled, still flushed. “You do deserve love… and I do love you…” She felt bolder, Juvia’s words bouncing around in her head, giving her courage. “I took that shot from the Eclipse Spirit King for a reason, Gajeel.”

She had been utterly terrified, but she had been willing to die for him.

“I stay with you… I talk to you like I do. I go on missions with you, that I know are out of my league... You’re a friend, yes… but I love being around you... more than anyone else. Whether we’re talking… fighting… or even just sitting in silence.” She couldn’t stop talking. The blunette ended up rambling about anything and everything that filled her head… until.

“—ke you too…” A finger hesitantly curled under her chin.

“What…?” Her voice was soft, and she realized Gajeel had a shy half smile.

“I like you too… I know I’m fucking nuts for even having feelin’s for ya. After everything…. But I do like ya. A lot.”

Levy couldn’t help the happy giggles that escaped her.

“Juvia was right… I did miss a lot…” She commented as she gently moved his hand away from her chin to embrace him. “I’m sorry I missed all of your glances…” She whispered into his chest, feeling how, with hesitation, his arms wrapped around her. He was afraid of hurting her…

Levy had never felt more powerful and amazing in that instant.

She was happy, and she would try everything she could to make him happy.

This was their start.

#gajevy week #gajevyweek #gajevy #gajevy fanfiction #gajevy fanfic #fairy tail fanfiction #fairy tail fanfic #fairy tail gajevy #Gajeel Redfox #juvia lockser #Gajeel X Levy #Levy McGarden #gajeel and levy #levy juvia BrOTP #brOTP #levy and juvia friendship #advice giving juvia #thanks juvia

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witsyo · 4 years

Text

Sun and Moon 3

Link to Story on Ao3

Year 17, Month 8, Day 16

“Take a deep breath for me,” Basille murmured, listening to the rattling struggle as the child’s chest rose incrementally. It pained her to hear it, to feel through the hand on this boy’s skin what she had been able to see from across the room.

Caroline had instructed them to visit this family, see to this child and do what they could. Then, she had sighed, sat forward and looked between them. “There won’t be much that you can do.”

There was always hope, Basille knew, but there wasn’t much of it here. Even the child’s mother, when she had greeted them at the door, had seemed to know that. She’d welcomed them inside, eyes only briefly locking on Basille’s blue hair before she led them up to her son’s room. They had passed other children in the halls, all having the light coloring and eyes of their mother, but the height of a father that they had yet to come across.

Laila, her name was, and the boy’s name was James.

He was sweet, only around four or five, and his hands had immediately gone to Basille’s hair as she had kneeled in front of him. “It’s pretty,” he’d coughed. “Mommy, look at her hair! Are you the moon?”

Laila was still standing in the back of the room, but Basille couldn’t quite look at her, didn’t really want to see the tears she knew had to be in her eyes as she performed this examination.

“James,” Halle said, holding out her hand and placing it over Basille’s. She realized that her fingers were shaking, and appreciated Halle’s subtle comfort before she pulled away, leaving the other softly touching the boy. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

“Yeah,” he said. “In my breathing. And when I cough.”

Halle nodded, glancing back at her. They had already found that he had a fever, and the sight of his ribs poking against his skin had nearly brought tears to her eyes. It was obvious what he had, and they both knew there was nothing they could do to stop the inevitable. Basille wasn’t sure they could even prolong it, or that she wanted to.

“What do you like to do, James?” Halle asked, turning back to him as Basille opened her treatment pouch. Laila had mentioned that the boy had trouble sleeping at night, and that, at least, she knew how to help with. She began pulling out pouches of dried herbs, laying them out in front of her along with a set of glass bottles.

“I like stories,” he said, and I like to play horses with Camen. He’s my brother.”

“We met him downstairs,” Halle said with a smile, leaning back briefly to grab one of the pouches Basille had laid out. She examined the inside quickly, then murmured, “Do you have yarrow?”

Basille nodded, pulling it out and handing it to Halle. James continued as she pulled out a few leaves from each pouch, seeming happy enough despite his plight. “He’s a good brother. He’s going to be a horseman one day, and I’m going to feed them for him! They’re really good, you know. I fed papa’s horse an apple yesterday.”

“You did?! That’s quite exciting.” Halle sat forward, and Blue smiled despite herself. She’d never met someone who had a better bedside manner, a trait that was surprising in someone usually so blunt and sarcastic.

Lifting his tongue, James let Halle place the herbs beneath it. He made a face, taking a moment to adjust to the feeling before he said, “Mommy says I’m very good at taking my medicine.”

“That you are. You’re very brave.”

“I know,” James said, nodding self-assuredly as Halle grinned at him. “I used to cry when I would take it, and I bit Grelda from the market when I was a baby.”

“I knew you were a troublemaker!” Halle cried, and he giggled, the laughter dropping into a bout of coughs. Halle helped him turn onto his side, holding a handkerchief below his mouth. Basille had to stop herself from flinching at each wracking breath, concentrating on mixing her herbs as Halle rubbed the boy’s back.

When he calmed, Halle helped him to lay back down, standing slowly as Basille finished her work. “Well, James, we need to head home. I hope to see you again soon.”

“You too!” he said, and grinned happily. “You’re very funny.”

“Why, thank you,” she said with a little bow and grin.

“Moons?”

Basille looked at him, forcing what she hoped was a gentle smile onto her face. Children often called her by part of her title, their wide-eyed understanding of her going no deeper than what they’d been told in their legends. “Yes, James?”

“Do you think that the goddesses may save me, now that you’re here?”

The atmosphere in the room grew dark, and Halle turned away from the boy to hide her fallen face. Basille took a deep breath, cursing Caroline for putting them into this situation. “I don’t know. The goddesses work as they will, sometimes, but I’ll do my best to help you feel okay.”

He nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer, and the door burst open before she could elaborate further, a pair of older children hovering just inside and staring at them with wide eyes.

“Go ahead,” Halle said in a conspiratorial whisper. “You can play.”

With whoops of joy, they stormed into the room, surrounding their brother and talking animatedly about an apparently massive beetle they’d found outside the house. Basille smiled, stoppering the bottles and picking up her bag to follow Halle and Laila outside the room.

This was the part she was much better at than Halle.

“Laila,” she said gently as they left the earshot of the room. “I am so sorry, but--”

“We already know there’s no saving him,” she murmured, eyes clouding over for a moment before she took a deep breath.

Surprised, Basille found herself at somewhat of a loss for words. “We’ll help you treat his symptoms, continue to visit with him if you would like us to. His time in this world can be made more comfortable. And here,” she handed over the glass bottles, now filled with a mixture of dried herbs. “Before bed, brew this into a tea and have him drink it. It will help him sleep.”

Laila nodded, holding the bottles tightly before she quietly said, “Caroline told me that you needed to learn this skill, the both of you. To be able to comfort someone who you cannot save. I hope we can help you. The presence of the gods in our home will do more good than we could hope for on our own, I should think.”

Basille was used to hearing that, smiled softly in response. “I hope that we can bring your family comfort.”

“If you don’t mind, ma’am,” Halle said, “How is it that you secured our presence here? To ask for the queen of moons herself, and me as well, and to receive both of us? I’ve never known even coin to be able to buy that.”

Oh, Basille could just kill her, she was so rude sometimes.

Laila just laughed in surprise, then cleared her throat, glancing at Basille. “My husband was a friend to the queen of moons, many years ago. This is an old debt to him being repaid.”

“And me?” Halle asked, and Basille couldn’t restrain herself from sinking an elbow into the other’s side.

“You are her companion, are you not?” Laila said, then smiled between them. “And Caroline said that you’re a far sight better with children.”

Halle grinned at that, rubbing the place Basille had hit her. “Fair enough. Is there anything else we can do for your family?”

“Return to us,” was all she said, then nodded in thanks. “I’ll see you out. When should I expect you again?”

During the walk home, Basille’s face was hidden deep under a hood. Often, she would just walk through the town for everyone to see, speaking with the people and listening to requests for blessings, for healing. It was good, to let them know her, to let them know they could ask her for these things. Her entire purpose was to prove their kindness to the gods, and to do that, she had to spend time with them.

Today, though, she didn’t want their kindness.

“Do you think--” she started to say, but Halle answered before she could finish the thought.

“No. It’s consumption, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Halle sighed, and Basille felt her arm loop around her own, pulling her a step closer as they walked. “This really will be a lesson in losing someone as kindly as we can.”

~~~

Year 17, Month 8, Day 18

The halls of the temple were quiet, the priestesses gathered for some ritual or another in the main prayer chamber. Basille would often be a part of these ceremonies, but today they hadn’t asked for her to join them, so she was aimlessly wandering. Halle was gone, out visiting one of her patients in Skies Haven, so Basille had virtually nothing to entertain her.

The outside of the temple was imposing, white marble towering up a mountain, but Basille had always loved the inside. There was still a lot of marble in the entry hall and the townspeople's prayer room, but as you got further into the building, you encountered whole hallways of light tapestries covering the walls, tiny rooms for growing herbs where vines tangled over the windows and turned the light filtering through into a spotted green.

This was home, had been for centuries, even if she couldn’t remember it. The temple had been built somewhere around her 20th life and had been maintained by the goddesses and the priestesses that now served them. Some of the tapestries decorating the halls had apparently been woven by none other than herself. You could usually tell which ones they were, using too much gold thread that stuck out in uneven lumps. Art was apparently not her strong suit.

Basille’s feet guided her up the side stairs, climbing up and up, past her rooms, past the shrines, all the way up until she reached the roof. Taking a deep breath, she pushed through the door.

The roof was pure white, a short wall surrounding the expanse of it. The carvings in the wall were depictions of the goddesses, Cerulean’s curly hair dominating a scene just to Basille’s left. It depicted her cupping the chin of a woman whose face was scored out of the rock, as though it had been broken away by mistake. Basille walked to it, fingers tracing the dip and wishing, not for the first time, that she was allowed to see proof in the images, her own face looking up to the goddess of the sky so that she could know with surety that it was really her.

Ah, but she knew it was. It was something she could feel in her chest, especially as she turned around to look at the flat slab of raised marble standing in the center of the roof.

It was the only thing with color here, blue and gold twisting around the rim and painted into the delicate carvings of a sun and a moon, the patterns twisting together where they met in the middle. There were columns at each corner, supporting a thin overhang. She knew that in the final year, it would be decorated with ribbons and offerings. There were a few paintings of it, and she had written about it in a few of her journals. How beautiful it was, how it almost distracted her from the dread of being apart from Reinne yet again.

Basille took a deep breath, then crossed the floor. Her bare feet padded against the smooth marble, hands shaking as she reached for the cold table. There was always a sense of fear, with this, staring down at a place she had died so many times before.

Her fingers met the place her head would lay, and she let out a rush of breath. Before she could think better of it, she wrapped herself in her cloak, climbing up and laying in the place she knew she would be sacrificed.

There were barely more than two years left, now. She liked to pretend it didn’t terrify her, that she was okay with dying. Of course she wasn’t. She wanted to stay here, to remember Halle and Caroline and everyone she’d ever helped. But… this was important. There was no doubt of that. And Reinne was supposed to make it all worth it.

Swallowing, she reached up to rub her own neck. There was an axe bound to one of the four columns, a long dagger to another. The dagger was for Reinne, but the axe…

The priestesses hadn’t explained the meaning of her tattoo to her until just a few years ago. She didn’t know how she had missed it until then, but knew she’d never even considered the idea of it being her death mark. It was so beautiful, all twisting lines and symbols of the moon. When Reinne came, she would get two, one on her back and one on her wrist.

That was the only thing that made the thought, bearable, wasn’t it? They hadn’t died a single life without Reinne’s hand cupping her cheek, foreheads pressed together. It was terrifying, but at least she was dying alongside the only person that really mattered. It was worth the fear, to never have to lose her.

At least, that’s what the journals said.

Basille turned onto her back, squinting up at the sky as the sun came out from behind a cloud.

She wondered if it would hurt.

It was unfair, she thought for the thousandth time. It was something she’d read in one of her journals, a horrible realization that had taken her far too long to work out and write down. This was the goddesses’ punishment for her. Reinne had lived sixty-three unique and varied lives, having no idea what was coming for her until the moment they were reunited. She was experiencing the world, seeing the way it was changing and growing, because the only thing she’d ever done wrong was to die, and that hadn’t been her fault. Basille had been the one bold enough to ask a goddess for a miracle.

She was cursed, she thought. Cursed to never escape her own death.

The sound of the door opening made Basille jump, sitting up halfway and mouth opening with an excuse she hadn’t yet formulated. Caroline stood in the doorway, looking at her in shock, and Basille felt her face flame.

“I was just… thinking,” she explained weakly, sitting up and scooting to Reinne’s side of the table so that she could dangle her legs over the side.

Caroline was still staring at her, then laughed shortly, shaking her head and looking at the ground. “I’ve never known you to do this before. Do you come up here often?”

“No,” she said truthfully. She did come up, sometimes, but just to look. She’d certainly never quite been able to convince herself to lay on the table before.

“You usually avoid this place.” Slowly, Caroline approached, fingers lighting softly along the rim of the table. “I didn’t think you’d ever liked worrying about it.”

Nodding, Basille let out a soft exhale. She didn’t, but... “I don’t mind it, I suppose. It’s inevitable, and I think I’m happy to do it if it means fulfilling my destiny. That’s what the journals say, over and over. ‘It’s worth it’. No matter how scared I am, my life is for a purpose, and I’ll be rewarded before it’s over.”

Caroline just watched her for a long moment. “It’s amazing, how different you are from life to life, and yet always so much the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were… This is the fourth life I’ve known you. The first, I couldn’t see you, but the second, you were so demure. Willing to let the wind blow you wherever it would go. Last time, you drove me to the end of my wit, hiding away with that man and refusing to speak to any of us when you came back. And now…” she shook her head. “But you’re always brave. Always self-assured and kind. Your voice always sounds the same, and sometimes you’ll say the same little phrases or move the same way you always have. It’s disconcerting.”

“You’re telling me,” Basille laughed, leaning forward to put her chin in her hands. “I wish I could remember.”

“I don’t think you do.” It was said kindly, but Basille frowned, deciding not to press the issue. They were both quiet for a long moment, then Caroline leaned back against one of the columns. “How does it go with the boy in Skies Haven?”

“James?” she asked, and Caroline nodded. Basille sighed, unhappiness worming its way through her heart. “He’s too sick to save. Why must we do this, Caroline? Why do we have to watch him die, what help could we be?”

“It’s necessary, Basille,” she said softly, reaching out to brush a hair out of her face. “The queen of moons is most often a healer, and I’m glad that you enjoy helping the people, but this is a necessary part of being a healer. It’s an important lesson, one you can’t get away from. You’re always going to lose people.”

“But a child?” she protested. “And the child of a mysterious old friend at that.”

Caroline was quiet for a long time, seeming to be searching for words. Basille let her, not wanting to push the issue when she had no idea what kind of answer she could possibly be looking for.

“Let Halle take the lead, my dear,” she finally said. “She’s good at this, and I know it’s harder for you to be the one at the forefront. Watch what she does, and learn from her. That’s all I ask.”

How she had made it through any of her lives without Halle, she had no idea.

“Fine,” Basille said, then straightened and hopped down from the table. She felt her cloak catch against the carvings as she walked to the axe on the column across from Caroline. Hesitantly, she reached up, touching at the metal of the blade and flinching despite herself. She looked back to see Caroline watching her worriedly, forced a smile onto her face. “It seems a bit dull.”

Caroline choked out a laugh, disbelief flashing across her face before she was shaking her head. She held out a hand.

“Come downstairs, Basille. I’ll have someone sharpen it.”

#writingyo #sun and moon #demigods #reincarnation au #soulmate au

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nobody-wants-ice-cream · 4 years

Text

The Umbrella Academy in: The Triwizard Tournament

Chapter 4.1 A Debt Repaid

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21340549/chapters/51606409

Allison woke up from her nap feeling somewhat refreshed. The Quidditch match would start soon and she wanted to see if the result—Ireland wins, but Krum catches the snitch—would happen again. Luther was sure to mention this to the group for some reason.

Ben groggily said, “We should start climbing to the Top Box. The Weasleys have already left. See, that’s them on the path! Let’s follow them.” The tent was opaque on the outside, but it showed the people on the inside the outside world.

“Do we have any coffee?” Five asked while stretching his arms and back.

“Allison and I found a coffee stand by the stadium.” Klaus jumped from the top bunk. “We could check there before getting to our seats.”

Allison remembered running around in circles with Klaus trying to find the water tap because Luther took the map when he took off. They managed to find everything but the tap, but they did find a vendor selling buckets, of all things. When Allison pointed it out, Klaus said, “That’ll be more effective than using the pockets of my jeans.” Allison rolled her eyes fondly at him. Klaus was still Klaus.

Allison jumped out of her own bunk to fix the soft, gold sweater she was wearing. Miraculously, their wardrobes were filled with normal clothes and uniforms. Da- Reginald must have less time to micromanage their lives with hundreds of other students in the mansion.

The seven of them kept the Weasleys in sight while trying to find the coffee stall that Klaus and Allison had seen earlier that morning. Allison privately thought that they wouldn’t find it and it would be on the other side of the stadium, but maybe her pessimism would be proven wrong.

Losing Claire had been difficult. Claire had not been born yet and she probably would never be born. Allison tried to not think about that, but when it got quiet and there was nothing left to distract her, her baby girl was all she could think about. She didn’t sleep last night. The only reason she slept at all in the tent was because she was so fucking exhausted.

“There it is! Do we have enough for seven black coffees? Nevermind, it’s magic coffee. It’s supposed to ‘Adjust to the palette of every Witch and Wizard’, trademarked,” Klaus spoke rapidly.

“I still have money left in the wallet. I’ll pay,” Five said. He sounded very excited. Five will finally get his decent cup of coffee. Good for him, Allison thought.

“Six medium and one extra-large,” Five ordered while smacking the correct amount of money on the table.

“Fine. Please wait three minutes for your order,” the overworked employee said. The poor girl looked dead behind her eyes.

The coffee stall burst to life. All by themselves, machines whirled and danced while pouring out steam, water, and coffee. It was a beautiful cacophony with steam and coffee and light. The coffee whirled around in seven streams. One got so close to Allison, she was scared her sweater would get stained.

Then it was over. The girl didn’t look up from her magazine while the coffee danced around her and into six medium cups and one extra-large that Five grabbed with a crazed look in his eye. Five bit his top lip in anticipation. Allison noticed that everyone was staring at him specifically. His complaints about coffee from just apocalypse week could fill a novel.

Five scowled at them before taking a sip. His eyes widened. Five looked like he might burst with happiness. It was a strange look on him. Allison decided to take a sip of her own coffee.

“Holy shit,” Ben said after taking his own sip. Holy shit indeed, Allison thought. No other coffee could compare. She would know, she had tried several exotic and expensive coffees as an actress and socialite on various vacations with Patrick. None could compare to the amazing coffee in her mouth at that moment.

Five was already back at the booth ordering as many bags of the unbrewed coffee beans as he could. Turns out it was a two bag limit.

“We lost our guides. I hope we can find the Top Box, ‘cuz the Weasleys are,” he stretched out the next word, “definitely not leading us,” Klaus laughed out. Allison looked up. They had wasted too much time getting coffee and now they had to fend for themselves to get to the Top Box.

“Who cares?” Five muttered while clutching his bags of coffee.

“I bet we could find it. Look, that family might be the Malfoys? Weren’t they in the Top Box too, Ben?” Luther turned to Ben who was in the middle of another sip.

“I don’t remember. I think so?” Ben took a pause to think. “Oh, yeah! Let’s follow them, maybe they’ll get us close? Keep a distance,” Ben commanded before walking. Allison looked at Luther. He was just as confused as she was. Ben never took charge. That was a fundamental rule of the universe. Death changed you, Ben. Allison walked beside Luther following Ben and Vanya.

Five stayed behind and sipped his coffee. If Allison listened closely, she could hear him muttering to himself. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she decided that she didn’t need to know.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Following the platinum blonde heads of Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy led them all the way to the top box of the stadium. Upon seeing them, Harry and Hermione waved them over. Allison decided to stay behind and keep quiet. She wasn’t really in the mood to be a social person with anyone other than her siblings. Oh god, I have to interact with teenagers, Allison griped.

On the set of a young adult book adaptation movie, called The Diamond and the Pearl, she had to work with several teenagers who were playing kids a couple years younger than themselves. The main character was played by 19-year-old Dahlia Elangarg. She was preachy in interviews, but teen magazines ate her up. She was unbearable. Allison dreaded her future interactions with the other teenagers in the academy.

“I get it. I wouldn’t want to sit with Weasley either. What’s your name?” Draco Malfoy was talking to her like every casting director talked to her before she started rumoring them. The tone was clear, Draco Malfoy thought she was dirt under his shoe. He leered at her like she was a good cut of meat.

Allison gave him the look she gave condescending teenagers and moved to sit with Five and his bags of coffee. She would rather listen to the ramblings of a madman than take that crap from someone she couldn’t rumor. She sat in her purple velvet-lined seat and stared at the advertisements on a massive chalkboard.

Broomsticks, cleaning supplies, and clothing ads were all blasted on the screen, which was about eye level with her. They were maybe fifty feet above the ground of the large oval field. The gold light came from within the stadium itself. It must be some magic lanterns or something, Allison decided.

Meanwhile, Five had stopped muttering to himself. She saw him looking around the box and latching on to the doors. Allison trained looking for exits out of herself a long time ago, but Five must have not had the luxury of relaxing his guard and living like a normal person. She looked to the seat to Five’s left. The previously empty seat on his right was filled by a strange creature with wrinkly skin, a short stature, massive eyes, and bat-like ears.

Harry was calling it Dobby. The thing refuted it, “My name is Winky, sir- and you, sir- You is surely Harry Potter!”

Ben whispered in her ear, “Winky is a house-elf.”

Allison nodded at him. Calling it—her—a thing felt wrong. She continued to listen in to Harry’s conversation with Winky. This Dobby must be a free house-elf. The more Winky talked, the more concerned Allison got. It sounded like house-elves were slaves. This didn’t sit right with her. These small creatures were being used and they seemed to accept it as completely normal. She resolved to do more research into house-elf rights as soon as they got back to the academy.

She had these thoughts in between spacing out. She couldn’t concentrate on anything for longer than a couple of seconds. The only thing on her mind was Claire. Maybe Claire would have enjoyed Quidditch. She could be here next to me in a little red or green tutu supporting whichever team. Her hair could have little bobbles matching her tutu. I did that for her when she wore pink and purple tutus. I miss doing her hair. Does she still like tutus? Allison’s thoughts were spiraling.

“Ladies and gentlemen… welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!” Ludo Bagman announced. The stadium went wild. The ads disappeared and were replaced by one message:

Bulgaria: 0, Ireland: 0.

“And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce… the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!”

The field was stormed by the most beautiful women in existence. Allison had seen Hollywood’s most elite and gorgeous women in person, this group included herself, and they couldn’t even compare to the mascots on the field.

They couldn’t be human. Their silvery-blonde hair streamed like liquid metal, but still looked soft to the touch. Their skin was perfect and their figures looked like altered photographs of models. Then they started to dance. Allison was placed under their spell. As long as they didn’t stop dancing, then she could concentrate on just one thing. Them.

“Harry, what are you doing?” Hermione’s voice snapped Allison back to reality. Harry and Ron were by the railing of the Top Box. They looked like they were about to jump down in a move to impress the women.

“They’re called Veela. Beautiful creatures until they’re angry. Then they turn into fiery bird things,” Ben leaned over to tell her and Five. Five was the only person in their group unaffected by the Veela. Vanya was halfway out of her seat. She must have gotten up to join Harry and Ron. Her face was so red she could stop traffic.

Allison spaced out again. She came to when she saw a gold coins being flung in her direction by leprechauns. Klaus was standing up in his seat and was trying to collect as many coins as he could. Then she heard Ben scream over the crowd, “You do know those will disappear, right Klaus?”

Klaus and Ron scowled at Ben. Klaus threw his coins at him. Both of them looked mildly surprised when the coins hit Ben. Ron threw his coins to the ground and muttered something to Harry.

Bagman announced the players and then the game began. The big red ball was like a basketball that was flying around in the players’ hands. The iron ones were being hit by the players with ominous-looking bats. And the little golden ball had disappeared. Allison didn’t know enough about Quidditch to be impressed, but the flying looked amazing enough to keep her eyes darting around the field. She noticed Five’s hands were flickering blue the way they used to when he was excited as a child. She touched his hand with her own in a very soft and careful way.

He looked over at her with a confused expression. She pointed at his hands. He gave her a tight smile and gripped her hand back. They stayed like that until the game ended. Ireland won, but Krum got the snitch. But most importantly, Five didn’t accidentally jump anywhere.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

As they walked back to the tent, Ben and Klaus were shouting about the game the way Allison remembered fans talking about her when they saw her at cons and premieres. They were loud and enthusiastic.

“And then BAM! Lynch falls into the pitch and Krum takes off! What’s that move called, Diego?” Klaus asked.

“The omnioculars said it was called the Wronski Defensive Feint,” Diego answered. He was still fiddling with the omnioculars. Allison wished she picked up a pair for herself. Those must be useful.

“Hey! There’s that coffee place again! Allison can you go buy another two bags?” Five asked her. Allison rolled her eyes but took the money out of his hand. Five grinned.

She approached the booth again. “Can I get two large bags of coffee please?” Allison asked politely. There was a different overworked employee there. He seemed just as apathetic as the girl before him. Their original cups of coffee had been stored in Five’s bag.

“We’re all out.” The pimply kid didn’t look up from his newspaper. Allison made an executive decision. She decided that one little rumor for the sake of her brother’s coffee addiction wouldn’t be so bad.

“Really? Well I heard a rumor that there were two extra-large ones behind the counter.” Allison watched his eyes remain normal but entranced in hers. I didn’t technically rumor him, I just rumored the bags, Allison justified.

“Oh yeah, where did these come from? Here you go. That will be twelve galleons,” the kid said. Allison paid with all of the galleons Five gave her. For some reason, she thought that that price was absurd, but she didn’t understand why. She heard a rumor, and there were no consequences. Rumoring for others instead of rumoring for herself felt good.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Five gave her a massive, completely out of character, grin when he saw her return with the coffee. He put them in his bag with a happy, “Thanks!” before running to catch up with the group.

Allison followed him all the way back to the tent. She missed Five when he left. Her partner in crime. They were the mischievous duo back in the day. Allison’s mind suddenly threw the glitter-bomb incident of ‘97 at her.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“Okay, when I give you the signal, release the glitter!” Three whispered. Five nodded. They needed to get Two back for what he said earlier in training. Three and Five were the Umbrella Academy’s weak links because they don’t have combat powers? Not likely.

It was nearing their eighth birthday, so a glitter bomb was the height of humor. Two began to walk through the living room. When he got close, Three made a little bird whistle at him and he gave her a bucket. Three released about five months’ worth of collecting glitter from a small bucket she stole from the greenhouse.

Five jumped at the same time to initiate act two of their plan. He was going to reset the camera footage and erase the parts showing the glitter bomb’s culprit.

“What! Ahhh! Get it off me!” Two jumped around and brushed at his uniform trying to get the glitter off. It wouldn’t work.

This prank didn’t work out.

“Number Three. What is the meaning of this!” Dad’s voice held no room for argument. Dad had snuck up behind her while she was still at the scene of the crime. She was caught holo-glitter handed.

“I… I…”

Five jumped to her defense. Literally, he jumped between her and Dad.

“Three, Dad is so dumb, he won’t realize what we did. He might think Seven’s powers are the creation of glitter or something,” Five laughed out. Five must have seen Dad and her on the security camera and decided to take the blame. Three wasn’t going to look a gift horse- or in this case—gift Five—in the mouth. She scampered off.

“Number Five! To the training room,” Dad loomed over Five. Three decided to get away before Dad could take her to her training room.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Allison lay down in her bunk bed below Vanya and watched the lights change through the canvas of the tent. Then she heard screaming. It wasn’t the celebration, it was victims screaming. Allison went into panic mode, “I heard a rumor that all of you are awake and alert!”

Allison felt guilty as soon as she said it. “Allison, what’s going on?” Vanya asked, “Oh God, are those screams!?”

“The Death Eater attack,” Ben must have smacked his forehead, “Luther, how could we forget about the Death Eater attack! We have to get out of here.”

Ben started fumbling for his shoes. Dumbly, Allison followed his lead.

“No, Ben, we can fight back. The academy should be able to-”

“They are experienced magic users. We are horribly out of practice and in the wrong bodies. We need to hide!” Five snarled at Luther before jumping to grab his bag and wait by the entrance of the tent.

Allison grabbed her wand and ran out of the tent and towards the woods. She hoped that everyone was following her.

Luckily, they were very close so the run didn’t take so long. Unfortunately, it was very dark. “Ow, I tripped over something,” Vanya complained.

“Lumos,” Ben said. His wand lit up the area like a small flashlight. Slowly, they all tried the spell while Allison did a headcount.

“Luther, Diego, Klaus, Ben, Vanya, where’s Five?” Allison turned her head. When she turned back she saw a blue light and then Five was there.

“I can’t find my wand,” Five said.

“What? How could you- Let’s look for it,” Luther said. They scoured the ground looking for Five’s wand, but came up empty.

They kept moving in a spiral formation, but Five’s wand was nowhere to be found.

“Oh my God, what the hell is that‽” Klaus exclaimed. He was pointing at the most horrible thing Allison had ever seen. A massive green image of a green skull eating a snake. They ran towards it.

“Guys that’s the Dark Mark! I can’t remember who cast it, only that this person is supposed to be important. Oh! Maybe that person stole Five’s wand!” Ben rushed out while they ran towards the scene of the crime. This feels like a bad idea. Allison thought.

“The Umbrella Academy, rushing into battle,” she started.

“Good luck, you multi-headed trolls,” Five finished. Their old catchphrase. Claire used to complete it with her when they played superheroes. It was Claire’s favorite game. Patrick used to play the villains. He was Icy the Ice Cream Man and Dr. Nap Time.

Now, instead of her husband, she was facing a field with Harry Potter. And there were at least eight wizards pointing their wands at them. This is not the weirdest thing I’ve seen, but I have to admit I am very uncomfortable with this situation, Allison wanted to think about this, but she was distracted by the wizards pointing their wands in her direction.

“DUCK!” Harry called out.

“STUPEFY!” A stream of red light headed directly for Five from the bushes.

“Stop! Stop shooting at him at once! Number Five, what is going on?” D- Reginald asked. He was a lot calmer than Allison remembered him.

“Are you children alright?” Mr. Weasley asked them.

“Which one of you did it? Who conjured the Dark Mark? Was it you… Number Five.” The official from earlier, Mr. Crouch, then muttered, “Is that really his name?”

“How dare you, Crouch! My own son! Need I remind you about the last war?” Reginald sounded dangerous. In their house, that tone meant private training and skipped meals.

“Hold on, our stunners got something!” Amos Diggory called out.

“Well! Who is it!” Mr. Crouch called out.

It was Winky. The little creature from earlier was caught with Five’s wand in her hand.

“No, she couldn’t have cast it. The Dark Mark requires an incantation,”

“You know a lot about casting the Dark Mark, don’t you, Missy,” Mr. Crouch got in Hermione’s face. Allison moved between Crouch and Hermione. For whatever reason, Reginald didn’t want these government officials yelling at them. He would defend them.

Winky had been caught red-handed. Harry, Ron, and Hermione denied that an elf voice said the spell, but a test on Five’s wand, Priori Incantatem, proved that the Dark Mark was the last thing cast on it.

The next few moments moved too quickly for Allison to follow. Five was given his wand back and then Mr. Crouch gave Winky clothes. She was sobbing and begging, but Crouch still fired her. Allison was appalled, but that was not the most pressing issue.

“Children! We are taking a portkey straight to the academy. Number Five, you are to report to private training.” Reginald pulled out a large tuning fork. Vanya shuddered at the sight of it.

They touched the portkey and disappeared in a storm of blue.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

They landed in the living room. The nausea was not better the second time. If anything, it was worse. “Number Five! Now!” Reginald grabbed Five by the arm far too tight. He pulled at him and forced him to move. Allison decided to follow them. She wouldn’t leave Five alone this time.

She followed them down to the training rooms in the basement. Five’s individual room didn’t have a singular desk and shelves filled with law and philosophy books. His room just had a chair and an assortment of restraints on the walls. Allison did the math and decided that this was unacceptable. Imagine Claire in this room! This can’t happen. This can’t happen. This can’t-

“Number Five, grab the straight- Number Three! What are you doing here? Leave immediately.”

“No. I heard a rumor that you can’t directly interact with the seven of us.” It was the easiest rumor to slip from her mouth. She prevented violence with a rumor.

Reginald said nothing. He couldn’t say anything.

“Thank you, Allison,” Five said as they were walking out. Five’s arms were shaking and his hands were turning blue again. This was a sharp turn away from the confident man Five was when he was saving the world. Reginald still had a horrible effect on him.

“I owed you one,” She replied. Allison broadcasted her movements and carefully put an arm around Five. Five allowed it.

They walked out of the creepy, bondage-esque training room together. Reginald couldn’t touch them anymore. He couldn’t cut them down with his words or with his training- no, with his torture methods anymore.

#The Umbrella Academy #Allison Hargreeves #number five #harry potter and the goblet of fire

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