#Tech's hair continues to confound me

[theotherartblog]

The gang’s all here!

#Tech's hair continues to confound me #tbb fanart #the bad batch #the bad batch fanart #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb tech #crosshair #hunter #wrecker #echo #tech #sw fanart #star wars fanart #clone force 99 #sw clone wars fanart #clone wars fanart #portraits #tbb portraits #may the fourth #may the fourth be with you

[bigsnaff]

Detriment

Content warning for descriptions of blood and eye & ear injury.

"I'll carry him."

She pulled her hand back, surprised. It was an uncharacteristically curt response from an individual Cyna had known to be nigh endlessly patient. She looked down at the unmoving form of the younger of the two asura before her, cradled bridal-style in the arms of his elder. 

It was a disturbing sight, even in her seasoned view. One she'd seen of Dokks once before, years ago. A young asura, only slightly older than Koorn is now, stark blood standing out in contrast against her white hair. Cyna had seen, similarly, Dokks protectively pull the girl into his arms and put all else in the world out of his gaze. But the outcome of that instance was known from the very moment the injured was pulled into Dokks’ arms. This time — Cyna shook the thought from her head. There wasn't time enough to even consider.

"Are you sure?" She finally asked, narrowing her eyes and catching Dokks' own gaze. She received only a wordless nod in response. "What do you need?" She offered instead.

"I need... I-I need time. Just give me some time. Continue without us, even. This is too urgent for me to ignore."

The group had been rushing south, scarcely taking the time to spare a glance at their surroundings should yet another Void minion burst out from nowhere and stall them, as had already happened again and again and again. But in the midst of it all, Dokks hadn't even realized that Koorn was falling behind — until he heard the blast and the shout that immediately followed.

Confound it, Dokks had thought. It was a malfunction in a Jade turret. All of the jade tech was having reactions as a result of the Void outbreaks — because, of course, the very source of the jade power was drawn directly from the being that the Void was currently overwhelming. Dokks admired the jade tech for its sheer power and had made note to research it more once their current dilemma was at rest, but he cursed its sensitivity. 

But worst of it all was Koorn had been standing directly beside the turret just as it had blown, and that's all it took to leave his boy convulsing on the ground with a jade spike lodged in the right side of his head and a trail of blood starting to seep down. 

Dokks had shouted; a bout of irrationality, fear, panic. Of course Koorn didn’t respond, couldn’t respond; his body trembled and gasped and quaked. Dokks shook the panic from his mind, shoving his own tremors away, and rushed toward Koorn.

All of that to leave them in their current predicament, with Dokks cradling his nearly-unconscious grandson in his arms and the Commander's eyes reluctantly pulling away from them and toward the distant Harvest Temple, where distant roars rattled like thunder.

"You go – we'll be fine," Dokks assured her. "You can’t stall any longer."

Cyna frowned. Dokks was perfectly capable of defending himself. Dokks distracted while tending to a wound was not. “You stay here and you'll be overwhelmed in minutes. Let me help. Let someone."

But already Dokks was examining the bright spike of jade sticking out from Koorn's head. It was lodged too far forward on his temple to have pierced his brain, thank the Alchemy — but his eye was another story. He watched as Koorn’s affected iris jittered rapidly, his eyes open but pained and his chest quickly rising and falling with short, sharp breaths. The spike wasn’t as deep as Dokks initially feared, but it was enough to do lasting damage. He hesitated to remove it just as much as he hesitated to let it remain.

But above all else, his main concern was the tinge of darkness that was emanating from the piece of jade. 

"Hold on, son, hold on, hold on," Dokks whispered, an assurance, maybe for himself as well. He looked back up at Cyna and smiled. It was not an effortless smile. She couldn’t manage to return it. "Go,” he repeated. “You'll be helping us by saving Tyria, no?"

Warily, she turned away. "I'll come back... if I'm not dead."

Dokks, of course, laughed at this, as he is wont to do in many similar, dire circumstances – ever hopeful, though Cyna’s ears were sharp enough to hear his heart nearly beating out of his chest. "My Commander, not even that could stop you."

She departed with a roar, drawing near and far Void minions to her and away from the two asura. But they were like insects, swarming and endless. She had bought them time, but it was up to Dokks to determine if it was enough. He drew a breath as he set the younger onto the ground, innumerable thoughts running through his mind as he scrutinized Koorn’s injury closer. There was a brief moment when his heartbeat fell short; a trail of blood coming from the inside of Koorn's ear. 

He should have considered it, in the mere minute or two it took for him to be standing there now with Koorn in his arms, he should’ve considered anything and everything, as though it mattered despite there being nothing to be done for it now. It had been a loud blast and Koorn had been positioned directly beside the turret. Minutes was too long to not already consider that Koorn was not only going to be faced with potential blindness, but deafness as well. Minutes was too long to not have considered that any of the turrets might blow in the first place. Minutes was too long to allow the Void to grow from the infected jade and kill Koorn.

But now, what else was there to consider? What else was there to be done? He could do nothing for the ear injury yet, but the obstruction had to be removed now; there was no alternative with his limited time and resources. He couldn’t rush this, but he had to. He didn’t have minutes. 

“Koorn, can you hear me?” Dokks said softly as he smoothed Koorn’s hair. “I’m going to do what I can, but you’ll have to bear with me.” 

Koorn didn’t respond. His eyes were now clenched shut and his breaths hasty and sharp. Dokks gently lifted the lid of Koorn’s affected eye, now bloodshot and darkened with the blood pooling around it.

This could be fixed. It would not be the same, but it could be fixed. Both he and Koorn would have to live with that. Dokks nodded to himself. That was his consequence. It was time to act.

As soon as Dokks even laid the slightest amount of pressure on the spike, a strangled gasp broke from Koorn and his hands shot up, claws digging into the leather covering Dokks’ arm in protest. “Stop!” he screamed, “please, no!”

Dokks braced himself against the shrill sound of his boy’s voice. His own breaking heart. “I have to,” he tried to assure. “It'll be done in an instant.”

Koorn’s breaths skipped and his eyes were clenched shut, but he loosened his grip on Dokks’ arm. The ground trembled as another immense roar erupted in the distance; a reminder of their surroundings, their limited time. Dokks shook his head, wrapped his hand around the spike, and pulled.

When all was said and done, whatever modest contents of Dokks' med kit applied and Koorn’s breathing just slightly calmed, he grappled the boy to his chest and softly whispered.

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

When Koorn awoke a day later, he'd discovered that Soo-Won was dead, the Commander had descended into a prolonged slumber, and the two main senses on the right side of his face were completely nullified. History made in the span of a few hours and he had been put out of commission by a single awry machine. 

It was days later when Koorn was faced with the object of his injury, and he was dazzled by just how small it was. He rolled it to-and-fro in one hand — a piece of jade perhaps the length of his finger and wider by double, now purified of Void corruption following Soo-Won's passing. He felt the patched wound in his head pulse. It felt so much larger than it looked.

He squinted his good eye against the pain. The sedatives were helping… some. But he was reminded of his injuries every moment simply by doing anything. He stumbled when he walked; depth perception off and his balance poor. His left ear constantly rang, and from his right — nothing. Just nothing. The same with his eye.

Koorn didn’t remember the blast. He didn’t remember seizing on the ground. He perhaps remembered bits and pieces of the aftermath, of his grandfather being forced to carry him through hordes of Void minions, of the non-stop ringing in his ears. And of course he remembered the unspeakable pain in his eye. All of that to conglomerate into the part he had played in history: a detriment.

…What would mother think?

He thought he heard a footstep, maybe. Or a voice. He wasn’t sure; the piece of jade was captivating enough for him to ignore the maybe-sounds. Then he felt a weight on his shoulder. Not Cyna, of course — she was asleep. Maybe Taimi, or Gorrik, to extend their sympathies, their pity. Or grandfather. Most likely grandfather.

“Hello, Granddad,” said Koorn. 

Dokks’ face was warm. Worried, but not overt. There was a smile, and Dokks’ palm gently met Koorn’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”

Koorn did not smile back. He justified this by telling himself he doesn't usually smile back anyway. He has justified it like this every time. “As well as to be expected. My head hurts.”

“Would you like me to get you some more sedative?”

“No, I've had enough already. I just notice it more because – because…” He left the words hanging; they're easily known. He leaned in a bit to his grandfather's hand. “Have you made any more progress on the frame for the implants?”

There was a brief pause before Dokks slowly responded, “It’s still too early to tell whether your hearing is permanently damaged, you know — you may not need the ear implant at all. Is the ringing still troubling you?” He asked, and Koorn nodded his head. “Well… let’s be patient and maintain our hope.” 

Then, Dokks’ expression quickly brightened, and from his jacket he drew a collection of papers. “Now, to answer your question: I have a rough mockup for the design. Barring any of the bells and whistles yet, you’ll find that this is mostly the rudiments – with room for your own improvements, of course, seeing as this is more your area of expertise than mine. What do you think so far?”

Koorn studied the papers. The design varied across them — multiple choices for himself to choose from, he supposed. They all lacked the designs for the implants themselves, but Koorn had already made designs for an eye enhancement once before, originally intended for his grandfather — the elder himself having his own measure of vision problems. But Koorn was assured at the time that the enhancement wasn’t necessary, as Dokks’ eyewear worked perfectly fine to remedy his problems. However, that same design, Koorn realized, could be reconfigured for his own blindness. 

Despite that, he would still have to put himself to work on the design for the ear implant… once he was more up-to-par.

“You’ll be using reconfigurable tech?” Koorn asked, shuffling the papers in his hands.

“I’ll attempt to apply the same line of thinking to jade, but yes, ideally it should have some measure of modification. I’ve had little chance to dip my toes into jade tech since we landed in Cantha and I’m very much looking forward to the opportunity.”

Koorn blinked. There was a tinge of irony growing there, he felt, that the very thing to take his sight and hearing would also be forced to return it, at least to some extent. Koorn immediately decided he felt bitter about this. “...I don’t want to use jade,” he said coldly.

Dokks paused. “No? It’ll take some time to pool resources from Central Tyria without the gates set up yet, are you—”

“--Jade tech has demonstrated its faultiness already,” Koorn interrupted, shoving the papers back into Dokks’ arms. “By the Alchemy, grandfather — the very dragon that was powering it is dead. It’s completely unreliable.” He turned away. “...And I don’t like green."

“It doesn’t have to be green,” Dokks said, amusement rising in his voice. “Koorn…”

“Can you not take me seriously?” Koorn suddenly hissed through his teeth; a burning in his throat, a stinging in his eyes. Oh, how obvious he was. He hated it. Mother would pull his head down to her chest and rub the back of his head. He was always a child to her.

”You think I don’t?” said Dokks, concerned. Grandfather was predictable. Koorn could sense his desire to comfort, to assure. To have his hand on Koorn’s shoulder. Grandfather probably thought he was being wise in giving Koorn his space, but a part of Koorn wished his hand were there, too — but he wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t shove it off anyway. “I don’t expect you to be pleased about any of this. Please don’t think I’m trying to mock you for mourning. If you don’t want to use jade, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Grandfather said something else and Koorn couldn’t hear it — though he didn’t really want to anyway. He turned his focus to the physical pain to distract himself from the emotional pain. How he felt every beat of his heart in the wound of his eye. The pressure in his ear that the sedatives only managed to muffle. The ringing — not beautiful, like a bell, but like a communicator not tuned to the correct frequency. He wondered whether it all hurt less than everything else. Was it meant to be poetic? Was this some profound demonstration of the Eternal Alchemy? Was he living such a blind, muted life, that it decidedly became outward? 

Would word of his incompetence reach mother? Would she look at him with disappointment when she next saw him?

He heard something then, suddenly – a delicate sound, high-pitched, small, like someone gently hitting silverware against their glass before a toast. He looked down at the source, lying right before his feet. The small piece of jade he had been holding in his hand — the cause of his eye injury. He watched as it spun slightly on the stone floor. He slowly reached down to pick it up, but his balance wavered and he very nearly fell, before a hand quickly grabbed him by the collar and righted him.

He spared a glance back to his grandfather, breath trembling. He held the jade up to the light.

“Some may call it a souvenir,” grandfather had said when he had first presented it to Koorn. How many times he had marveled at it already. How something so small could do what it did. “...I suppose it depends on one’s perspective.”

Koorn knew he was being childish. He realized and acknowledged the irony in this. He realized it was likely what made it earned for others to treat him as though he were a child. 

“Son?” Dokks quietly voiced. Koorn shook his head and wiped some tears from his good eye, finally feeling that hand on his shoulder again. He turned and placed the piece of jade in his grandfather’s palm.

“...I want you to use this piece in the frame.”

“I’m sure I can do that,” Dokks said softly, looking into Koorn’s face. There was a pause at length as Koorn allowed his grandfather to study him. That same expression from before lined his features; warm, worried, but not overt. “...May I?” he finally said, and Koorn nodded. 

Dokks then pulled him into his chest, firm, warm, and he very nearly didn't even need to stand of his own ability. He rested his head on his grandfather’s shoulder and breathed in the scent of leather and machine oil that was oh-so familiar to him now.

Dokks then whispered something that Koorn struggled to hear, but he could feel the vibrations of his grandfather’s voice against his chest. 

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #gw2 fan submission #my writing #my characters #dokks #koorn #cyna crystalclaw

[letarasstuff]

You are not gonna meet them

(A/N): This was requested by an anon. I hope you all enjoy it :)

Summary: How will their beloved intern react, when the BAU is able to profile that she is seeing someone?

Warnings: One swear word (for the sake of a vine reference)

Wordcount: 1.2k

✨Masterlist✨

__________________________________

“What is their name?” Confused (Y/N) takes her eyes off the cup of her favorite hot beverage. To make sure Derek really speaks to her, she turns around in the breakroom. It’s only the two of them. “Whose name? I’m (Y/N), but Derek I work here for two months already. Aren’t you a little too young to suffer from Alzheimer’s yet?”

He laughs into his own cup before taking a sip. “You are seeing someone. Don’t try to hide that from a bunch of profilers, there is no use in that.”

Being the ever stoic and mature teenager, she sticks her tongue out. “I’m not hiding anything. I’m the CEO of being an open book. But spill your tea about your deductions, Sherlock.”

“As you wish, Watson. You are wearing tinted lip balm instead of your usual clear lip balm. I saw you reapplying it after you dropped off some files in Hotch’s office. Also you have a new hairstyle, which looks quite nice on you. In addition to that you wear a bottom up and I saw you wearing one only once and that was when you had to dress up for an undercover thing. Therefore I come to the conclusion that this is your definition of dressing up and I see no reason for it except you want to impress someone and I know for a fact that everybody in this building is too old for you. So, what’s their name?”

“Whatever”, (Y/N) breathes under her breath and makes an effort to escape this interrogation. But Spencer, who also decided it’s time for the trillions refill of his cup of sugar with a drop of coffee, stands in the doorway. “Spencer, can you please step aside? I have work to do”, she asks him sighing. But the genius doesn’t bulge.

(Y/N) looks dumbfounded at her coworker and friend. “I- that was pretty good. But you haven’t considered that I may have a meeting with our dear Section Chief regarding my future in the FBI.” At the end she smiles, thinking she has won this round. “I did”, Morgan answers, wiping the grin from her face, “ and I know again for a fact that this meeting is next week, because Hotch is seeing her today to talk about that subject. So, what are they like?”

“Oh, does our favorite intern have a love interest? (Y/N), why didn’t you tell me anything?” Emily asks as she enters the breakroom. “No, I don-” “Princess, I told you it isn’t possible to lie to us. We are basically human lie detectors.”

“I heard tea and I want you to spill it.” He says, proud to put the phrase she taught him a while ago in the right context. “There is not tea, just a lame glass of water”, (Y/N) responds and squeezes past him. The three profilers look at each other in confusion. Attracted by her confounding statement, they follow her to her desk.

“Why are you stalking the child?” Rossi asks with Hotch hot on his heels. “(Y/N) is seeing someone, but isn’t willing to tell us anything about them. Now we try to pry every bit of information from her”, Spencer explains.

The talked about subject sits at her desk, acting like nothing just occurred while going through some reports. “Are you talking about her crush?” JJ joins the group observation. Everybody looks at her in shock. “What do you know about this?” Derek may be a bit overprotective over his favorite princess.

“Probably not more than you. I just saw her smiling down at her phone and I didn’t spot a cute dog or cat picture so I figured it has to be an important someone”, JJ explains whilst shrugging her shoulders.

“I don’t like this guessing. Why don’t we just ask her?” Rossi is up and goes to (Y/N), the calls of his team members falling on deaf ears.

As the teenager hears the oncoming footsteps, she lifts her head and spies the older Italian. “Not you, too.” A groan leaves her lips while rubbing her forehead in distress. “Bambi, think of it as that: The earlier you confess to your lies, the earlier your conscience is lifted. So tell us about them, will you?”

The rest of the team inches closer to the duo, while (Y/N) contemplates her choices. “Well that is interesting. But what’s also interesting is: I don’t give a shit” Confused by her unusual speech pattern, Rossi throws a pointy glance towards her.

“Fine”, she once again sighs, knowing there is no other way to escape this situation. Not even the teenager’s sarcasm or pop culture can help her anymore.

Eagerly the team crowds around her desk, even Hotch is ready to get some good tea served. “I met them on the bus. Since I started here we rode the same bus every morning and afternoon. Their hair was the first thing I noticed about them. After a month I worked up the courage to talk to them.”

“And?” Morgan asks as (Y/N) doesn’t continue for several minutes. “I chickened out. No cap. But they chatted me up the next day and we are texting each other for several weeks now and we maybe have kind of our first date tomorrow and see each other for the last time today before the date and I want to leave a lasting impression maybe?” At the end she turns red. Like legit red, with tomato ears and stuff.

A loud squeal is heard. “OMG (Y/N) THIS IS SO CUTE I LITERALLY AM DEAD! OUR BABY IS FEELING LOOOOOVE! CLAP THOSE CHEEKS!” Although it seems impossible, she turns even redder at Penelope’s outburst.

“Ok, princess. I’m happy for you, but we need to meet them before you go with them anywhere. How old are they? What do they do for a living? What is their name? Garcia needs to make a background check”, Derek swivels her chair in his direction, looking the girl straight in the eye to make sure he is dead serious.

“Do they read? Emilia Clarke once said to never trust anybody, whose TV is bigger than their bookshelf, and I recommend you to follow that advice”, Spencer adds. “Can we help get you ready? I wanted to do a makeover for you for ages already”, Penelope throws in. JJ and Emily nod at that, showing that they too want to participate in this.

“Are you sure they are not basic, Bambi?” “Oh, Rossi. Never say that again. You are not allowed to talk like ever. Yes, I’m sure they got a cake and an even bigger heart. Before you also say anything complete out of line, Hotch: You all aren’t allowed to see them before I’m completely sure. Period. No complains.”

It’s safe to say that Aaron just needs to flash his doe eyes to convince (Y/N) that they indeed will meet their date before they go out together. I mean, who is better at delivering The Talk to a date than a bunch of (intimidating) profilers and a (even more intimidating) tech goddess?

Taglist:

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

#bau x reader #bau x teen!reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #emily prentiss x teen!reader #jennifer jareau x teen!reader #david rossi x teen!reader #aaron hotch x teen!reader #penelope garcia x teen!reader #derek morgan x teen!reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[quillandink333]

Scarlet Carnations ~ Epilogue

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.7k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

The first couple of weeks following the incident that had taken my long-lost mother from me was misery in its purest form. Link and I didn’t speak, not even by phone, during that whole stretch of time. In fact, I could rarely bring myself to answer the phone at all. The memory was still too vivid, the wounds still too fresh.

He’d gotten off scot-free in the end as he’d been deemed to have acted in the defence of others—namely, of me. It wasn’t long before I learned of his plea, that if I hadn’t come along quietly, I would have suffered the same fate that he’d brought upon her, and they had believed him. How I felt about this was still something I was struggling to wrap my endlessly pounding head around.

As dark and deep as this seemingly bottomless pit of despair that I’d found myself plummeting down was, however, someone did eventually toss a rope down for me. The time I spent apart from Link gave me the opportunity to properly reconcile with those whom I myself had wronged: Auntie Purah and Paya. The former and I found comfort in our mutual grieving, and even as Paya had never really known my mother well enough to mourn her loss (though, arguably, it seemed no one had ever truly known her), she was more gracious and understanding than I or anyone else would have been, which only made me regret even more deeply my past transgressions toward her.

One day, during one of our continual conversations, she shifted to the topic of the Yiga leader’s executioner. How she could even think of him at a time like this was beyond me, but I digressed. I told her everything from start to finish. It was the first time I’d allowed myself to talk to anyone about it at length. As I spoke, she listened calmly and carefully. Despite what I’d have liked to believe, she had always been the more levelheaded one out of the two of us, save for when it came to discussing things about herself.

By the time I finished, I’d begun bouncing my still healing ankle back and forth, which I’d crossed over my other leg to keep it from touching the ground. I didn’t stop even after I noticed what I was doing.

“It’s painfully clear to see how conflicted you are about all this.” Coming to sit beside me on the sofa in the Sheikahs’ sitting room, Paya placed an affectionate palm on my thigh, bringing its restless jittering to a halt. “I understand how hard this must be for you. But the way I see it, there’s only one question you need ask yourself at the end of the day.”

Whatever she was about to say, it wouldn’t be an easy pill to swallow, would it? I straightened my posture. “And what would that be?”

“Between the two of them, who do you think was the better person?”

She was looking me dead in the eyes, her hand still resting upon my leg. I uncrossed them.

I’d never thought to compare the two before. What reason would I have had to do so? But now that she’d mentioned it, I hadn’t realized how few memories I even had left of my mother, and the ones that remained were blurry and vague beyond any hope of being recovered. If only she hadn’t left me with the Sheikahs all those years ago, maybe I could have remembered more clearly what kind of person she had been.

On the other hand, Link had always been there for me. Even during the times when circumstances had driven us apart, the thought of him was what had kept my flame burning strong and hot throughout each arctic day, and what had protected me from myself, keeping me from doing the irreparable. He had stayed by my side to the bitter end.

No matter how I’d reflected back on that day previously, the sight of his steely, focused stare and the sound of his crazed breaths, short and sharp, had been ever dominant. But now, I recalled the way those eyes had then glazed over with unadulterated horror. How his arms had shivered as they’d clung to my broken form and how they’d continue to cling for what would feel like millennia until the rest of his unit would finally stumble upon the scene.

My stepsister-of-sorts gave my leg a soft squeeze as I looked back at her with a tremor in my lip. “He s...saved me,” I whimpered. “Didn’t he?”

After a month apart, I made plans with Link for a night out on the pier, where we would celebrate the end of the Organization. The ice cream I’d promised him was at the top of my list of priorities for the evening. Tonight was a dessert-first night anyway, I’d decided. From there, we went and found ourselves a bite to eat at a seafood restaurant within walking distance. I’d hoped eating with him would feel like old times, but he hardly spoke a word throughout the whole meal. I tried lightening the mood with some banter, but this proved ineffective when he brushed off everything I said with mere one or two-word replies.

It wasn’t until I’d gotten us both a bit of something to drink that he finally broke the silence. “Have you...” he started, but lost the confidence to continue.

I perked up at the sound of his voice, wanting to hear more of it. “Have I...?”

“A-Ah...” His fingers poked at the copious amount of chips piled onto his plate next to the practically untouched fillet of fried fish. “I was just wondering if you’ve thought about what you’re going to do now, since...you know...you’re not a detective anymore.”

“Ah, right. That.” I took another sip of my drink, its contents long having fled my memory. “Actually, my auntie talked about it with me and she said she’d consider letting me inherit the company once I’ve acquired the proper education. So to answer your question, I’m thinking about going to school for engineering.”

His brows rose. “Oh! My, that’s—” He cleared his throat. “That’s brilliant. I’m happy for you.”

I thanked him with a hesitant grin, then asked, “How about you? Do you plan to stay on with the force, or...?”

“Ahh, well...” What little there’d been of an upward turn in his lips vanished. “I’m not sure, to tell you the truth. It’s something I’ve been mulling over for a while now. Whether to stay on and honour my father’s work, or...whatever other options are available, I suppose.”

“Do you want to hear what I think?” He raised his head. “I think you should do whatever you think would make you happiest. That’s what you’re father would have wanted, I’m sure.”

This finally, finally, got a real, unsubdued smile out of him. And I intended to milk that smile for all it was worth.

After dinner, I dragged him back down to the arcade on the pier, where I managed to ring a few laughs out of him while we were still a bit tipsy. We steered clear of the toy gun target-type games, favouring other stands like the ring toss where he won me a plush frog that I could only just get my arms all the way around. His aim was spectacular, especially for someone who wasn’t entirely sober. Not only that, but I could never have imagined how sweet and charming he would be like this. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though we’d gone back in time again. That, or the light from the setting sun was playing tricks on me.

But by the end of the evening, he’d reverted back to that quiet, reclusive version of himself that I’d quickly grown to detest. We were out on the docks now, facing the sea. The breeze carried a mist of saltwater within its bows. I breathed it in, soaking up the feeling of it hitting me softly and coolly in the face. A hint of pink in my partner’s cheeks caught my eye, and I wondered whether it was the cocktails or my arms, which were currently wound about his waist from behind.

“Beautiful sunset,” I tried, hoping I could get him to spare me a glance at least. “Isn’t it?” But to no avail. He only continued to gaze westward at the rippling flames reflected in the water. “Hey...” Before I knew what I was doing, my palm had found the warmth of his cheek, and there was hardly an inch or two of distance between the tips of our noses. Without giving myself time to think, I tilted my head, leaned in, and started to close my eyes.

But when I realized he wasn’t doing the same, I halted. On the contrary, he’d been leaning back and away from my advances, his back so rigid and shoulders so stiff it were as though he would sprout wings and bolt were I to make any sudden moves.

“What’s wrong?”

A harsh, jagged exhale. “Zelda, I just can’t—” He grabbed both my wrists and wrenched my arms off of him. “I’m sorry. We can’t do this.” He was bent over the railing, arms folded in on each other. “Not now,” he said, dwindling, “after I’ve gone and...murdered your only family.” A weary chuckle shook him by the shoulders before he raked his hands through his wind-tousled hair.

I fell into quiet thought for a moment. Then, taking a long, thorough breath, I placed a feather-light set of fingertips atop his own. “That woman was never my family.” I’d made up my mind. Figuratively or otherwise, my real mother had moved on a long time ago. And it was time I did the same.

Link must have seen the resolve in my eyes or heard it in my voice, because now he was looking back at me openly, his body turned to face me. Though there was still an air of uncertainty lingering about him as he ran the crease of his cuff between his fingers again and again. But when I brought my arms around him and held him close, he sank into my lips, returning my embrace at long last. A lone pair of tears fell from my eyes the moment they fluttered closed—a culmination of all past ordeals—and as they fell, I couldn’t help but smile.

#my writing #fanfic #botw #zelink #botw zelink #zelink botw #link x zelda #zelda x link #botw link x zelda #botw zelda x link #zelda pov #detective au

[saedii-gilwraeth-simp]

I Knew I Loved You ~ Chapter 1

The soulmate AU no one asked for. Title is named after Savage Garden’s ‘I Knew I loved You’ which, unlike my last fic titled after a song, actually matches the theme of this fic. I will post a chapter every Wednesday, so look out for it.

Chapter 1: Billy

~Glasgow, Scotland~

His first tattoo formed on the 21st of December the year he was 20. He woke to a stinging pain on his left pec that was words and numbers he couldn’t read in the mirror. He asked Jane to read them and she clarified with a confused frown.

“Mirabella 24 January, Katharine 1 February,” he was as confused as she was but he figured that it had to be a soulmate, there was no other explanation for it.

His soulmate’s next tattoo came on his bicep at 24. It was just as confounding  but also clarified his soulmate a little. It was an army crest, the rising sun with Australian Commonwealth Military Forces written underneath. So he was looking for a soldier from the other side of the world. Not difficult to find at all.

His next tattoo came in July, about a week after his 25th birthday, on his left wrist.

It was an infinity but at the right sides curve was a J. He had to laugh. The tattoos were all different and didn’t make any sense in relation to each other.

After the infinity, he didn’t receive another for over three years until, on the anniversary of  his first tattoo, another three appeared. One on his right hip, the Saggitarius symbol, the Capricorn symbol on his left hip and what looked like a be a paw on the back of his right hand. The last did not help at all, his colleagues at the firm he worked at pointing out that he looked like a thug with a hand tattoo. He learnt to hide it under gloves and thanked God he was left handed.

It was an ordinary day as junior partner when a case got bought to him by his friend and paralegal. Christine was lovely and he liked her, even if he wasn’t pointing out that the weekend his sister got a tattoo, Christine came to work on Monday with the matching one. They could figure it out and he didn’t enjoy meddling.

“Boss wants you to take this pro bono. Said you might be interested,” she said, a strange smile on her face as she handed the file to him. He opened and skimmed.

“Arsinoe Queen, suing for unfair dismissal. Why am I handling this, Chris?” The woman in question smiled again.

“I don’t think anyone else will. I’ll send her in.”

Arsinoe seemed quite odd. Short dark hair pulled half up, dark eyes that were offset by a shining ring in her eyebrow. She also bore piercings in her septum, lip, and countless on her ears, all circling around a set of scars across her face and down onto her neck. All of that was juxtaposing the sharp outfit of a black pantsuit and gloves to keep the cold out he presumed.

“Miss Queen, pleasure,” she smiled slightly and took a seat across from him and he crossed his hands and watched her settle in before he spoke again, “so, why are you suing,” he read the name in the file, “Nicholas Martel for unfair dismissal?” She smiled, razor sharp.

“He fired me the day after I refused his inappropriate advances. I don’t believe that was a coincidence,” she said with surety but he couldn’t help but stare at the sound of her voice. Arsinoe had an Australian accent. He cleared his throat and continued.

“What kind of inappropriate advances?” She stared at him as though he had three heads.

“I refused to sleep with him, what other kind of advances could I be talking about?” she said firmly, with a hint of bite to it. Billy raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay, have you got any evidence to support your claim?” Arsinoe nods and pulls her phone out of her pocket and opened something on it.

“Here. After I got out of the office, I pulled the security feed so that it couldn’t be deleted,” he took her phone from her hand, catching a glimpse of a tattoo under the wrist of her glove. He ignored it for now, instead watching the video on her screen. He didn’t know whether to smile or frown because while the video was undeniable evidence, it was disgusting undeniable evidence. He almost wanted to cheer when the Arsinoe on the screen kicked Martel in the kneecaps and ran.

“This is really good, miss Queen. Can you send this to me so the tech guys can check that it hasn’t been tampered with,” he handed her back the phone. “I’ll send word about negotiations once I have them,” she smiled and stood, shaking his hand.

“I’ll be seeing you soon then. Nice tat by the way,” he pulled his blazer sleeve down to cover the infinity and she nodded before walking out of the office.

~

“I believe that is what we call a thrashing. Well done in there,” Arsinoe said as the walked down the steps of the court house. She pulled her peacoat tighter around herself as she smiled brightly at him. Billy couldn’t help but smile back. It was rare for him to enjoy working with a client so much but spending time with Arsinoe always felt different, more fun and less work. He found himself wanting to ask her out, but she beat him to it.

“Hey, do you maybe want to go get ice cream with me?” Arsinoe asked, bright but unsure. Billy looked around at the day and looked at her like she might have been crazy.

“Arsinoe, it’s freezing. Why would we get ice cream?” Arsinoe laughs but grabs his gloved hands in her own, pulling him away from the courthouse.

“Because ice cream is the food of champions, obviously. And that is the case, no matter the weather. Come on,” she pulled him five blocks until they hit the ice cream parlour. Unsurprisingly it was empty and the counter clerk looked at them like they were crazy.

“Okay, ice cream on me. What do you want?” Billy quickly skimmed the board before deciding on a flavour.

“Raspberry sorbet please,” she snorted but nodded anyway.

“Okay, would you please take my coat,” he did and went to find them a seat. He couldn’t help but watch her as she ordered and waited, his eyes scanning her from the toes of her Mary Jane’s to… her bicep, where the base of a tattoo peeked out from her short sleeves. He couldn’t see the writing but he knew what was there, confirmed when she paid and he caught sight of the paw on the back of her hand.

He was gone before she had even turned around.

#three dark crowns #one dark throne #two dark reigns #five dark fates #kendare blake #queen arsinoe #billy chatworth #billy x arsinoe #soulmate au #ikily

[johnnymundano]

Sleepwalkers (1992)

Directed by Mick Garris

Screenplay by Stephen King

Music by Nicholas Pike

Country: United States

Running time: 91 minutes

CAST

Brian Krause as Charles Brady

Alice Krige as Mary Brady

Mädchen Amick as Tanya Robertson

Sparks the cat as Clovis

Lyman Ward as Donald Robertson

Cindy Pickett as Helen Robertson

Ron Perlman as Captain Soames

Jim Haynie as Sheriff Ira Stevens

Dan Martin as Deputy Andy Simpson

Lucy Boryer as Jeanette

Glenn Shadix as Mr. Fallows

Stephen King as Cemetery Caretaker

John Landis as Lab Technician

Joe Dante as Lab Assistant

Clive Barker as Forensic Tech

Tobe Hooper as Forensic Tech

Mark Hamill as Sheriff Jenkins

I have no beef with Stephen King, let’s get that out upfront. I’m not one of those “Yeah, but it’s not proper books is it?” chancers who churlishly resent his Medal for Distinguished Contribution (lifetime) to American Letters. Nope, not me. But Sleepwalkers is a real honker. It’s stoopid, hyuk-hyuk, pick your nose in church, comic book bullshit. And purposely so. Crap like this doesn’t happen by accident. And King is totally responsible for this. There’s no “Wah! Someone took my script and made a shitshow of it” excuse here. Sleepwalkers is often called (as it is onscreen) Stephen King’s Sleepwalkers; the guy’s all over this one. It’s even an original script (maybe, I hear, based on an unpublished story; I didn’t check but I’m pretty sure the only things remaining unpublished by Stephen King in 2019 are his notes to the milkman. And they are due out next year from Subterranean Press, in a limited edition that costs more than a week’s shopping for a small family.) The script is his and so is the director; King personally pushed for Mick Garris, and King got Mick Garris. Even the songs on the soundtrack are pure Stephen King too; old timey R’n’R like at the sock hop where Cindy Lou showed you her woo-woo, mixed with that special kind of shitty heavy rock liked by confused men who think having hair like a girl in a shampoo advert is a signifier of raw masculinity. Other than composing and playing the instrumental score on a home-made kazoo personally, could Sleepwalkers be any more Stephen King? No.

For some unhappy reason whenever he gets any substantial control over a movie King’s IQ plummets to room temperature and all his worst impulses leap to the fore like randy cats. (I submit to the jury Maximum Overdrive (Dir: Stephen King, 1986), m’lud; the prosecution rests.) I think (maybe) King, bless his cotton socks, is trying to recreate the cinema of his youth; stuff like The Blob (1958), Them! (1954), Invaders From Mars (1953) and I Married A Monster From Outer Space (1958). The pulp fun cinema of a dead age. Unfortunately for King, those people back then were trying to make the best movie they could; the pop culture magic which ensured their success and longevity  was purely unintentional and completely impervious to intelligent creation. King’s forays into movies seem to be trying to reverse engineer serendipity; a fools’ errand that results in foolish movies. Movies like Sleepwalkers.

The impulse to gravitate to camp seems ingrained in Cinematic King. Even when he just does one of his almost ubiquitous cameos, he often fails to resist the temptation to goof about like some brain damaged hayseed on a 1960s sit-com. If someone, Criterion maybe, went back and dubbed a pant-ripping fart over all Alfred Hitchcock’s onscreen cameos we’d be approaching the same ballpark of screen disruption as a Stephen King cameo. Of course he has a cameo in Sleepwalkers. A talking cameo at that as a “cemetery caretaker”, and King confounds expectations by playing it like some brain damaged hayseed on a 1960s sit-com. Even better, his unnecessary cameo bounces off unnecessary cameos by Tobe Hooper and Clive Barker; it’s like the business of the movie pauses for a couple of minutes purely so King can piss about with his mates. This is swiftly followed by cameos from John Landis and Joe Dante who, er, say some “lab” stuff I missed because Joe Dante’s hair is so…fascinating. I don’t mind cameos as long as they are unobtrusive but these might as well be announced by dancing girls and a marching band. At least all the characters aren’t called stuff like “Officer Hooper” or “Mayor Corman”; that shit gets old real quick.

As anyone who has ever cleaned out a litter box can tell you, another kind of shit that gets old quick is cat shit. There are a lot of cats in Sleepwalkers, the hero even turns out to be a cat, Clovis by name. In fact Sparks the cat, as Clovis, gives the third best performance in the movie, behind Mädchen Amick  and Alice Krige. Mädchen Amick is undeniably great here. She’s totally pleasant and nicer than nice without making you want to choke on your own fist. There’s an exuberant scene of her dancing to a song Stephen King obviously likes, in the lobby of a cinema, which is a very lovely scene and she continues to be a refreshing presence throughout the movie. Alice Krige is also good value, striking a nice balance between vile and vulnerable; she acts like her no doubt soon-to-be-fired agent told her she’s in a serious movie. Everyone else seems to have received a script with “Camp It The Fuck Up, Daddio! Love, Steve-o” scrawled across it, probably in crayon. Were that the case, then everyone performs superlatively. The usually fine actor and generally welcome screen presence Ron Perlman, particularly, thunders through every scene he’s in like subtlety is a crime.

Maybe in the world of Sleepwalkers subtlety is a crime. Because the world of Sleepwalkers is a funny world, one where werecat son and werecat mom Charles and Mary Brady (Brian Krause and Alice Krige) wander about feeding off the psychic energy of virgins, enthusiastically incesting and driving fast muscle cars. For some reason they also feel it necessary for Charles to attend school which, you might  think, would create a lot of complications for a nomadic couple who need to keep off the authorities’ radar. If you did think that, you would have put more thought into this set up than Stephen King. These werecat people can make themselves invisible; okay. They can also make their car invisible; um. And they can make their car change into another car; er, no; sometimes it will turn back into the old car if they don’t concentrate; so, wait, the car is real but also an illusion? But how can they drive an illusion? So it must be a real car, but…oh God, make it stop. And mom werecat has to stay at home while son werecat goes out and gets the virgin energy to feed to her. If the mom werecat can only be fed by her offspring, how did she survive long enough to have offspring? Or is it just that mom werecats are all agoraphobic? Also, the werecat people look like humans unless they are reflected in a mirror (but only when the script remembers) and they, uh, still leave mirrors up in their house so visitors can narrowly miss seeing their true nature. Oh, yeah, obviously, normal cats are the werecats’ natural enemy and in the world of Sleepwalkers police officers can have their cat in the car with them, which is lucky because the proximity of a normal cat also causes the werecat to reveal its true nature.  Unfortunately, once revealed, their true nature of a werecat is remarkably similar to someone with jaundice who has lost an enormous amount of weight very rapidly, all topped by a big bald cat head. In summary: ancient Egyptians liked cats, cats are magic but werecats are nasty and really bad and not very good at keeping their existence a secret, but they do their homework and drive cars Stephen King would doubtless describe as “bitchin’”.

I should probably say that Mick Garris’ direction is fine, and sometimes very good indeed and I did enjoy his use of ‘80s horror movie lighting techniques. But I really want to point out that Mick Garris has written some very good horror fiction himself; well worth seeking out. As is Sleepwalkers; but you need to know what you are getting: entertaining nonsense, a kind of retro-crap honestly proffered in the spirit of drive-in goofballery. Essentially though, you can never shake off the feeling that Sleepwalkers exists purely because Stephen King came up with the scene where someone is killed by a corn on the cob and then built a ramshackle movie around that. Unfortunately it’s not a very good movie. But it is entertaining. M-O-O-N, that spells entertaining. Laws, yes!

#Sleepwalkers #Stephen King #Mick Garris #Movies #Horror #Alice Krige #Ron Perlman #Sparks the cat #Mädchen Amick #United States #The 1990s #1992

[masterserris]

FUNERAL FOR A MAGICIAN     Pt.5: The Oil

They have decided to free this world of Ultron’s tyranny! But who else is along for the ride? How did things go so wrong, and which familiar faces will appear? Mysterio and Spider-Man are in dire straights, but help can come from even the unlikeliest of places!

Characters: Neo Mysterio (Quentin Beck), Doc Ock (Otto Octavius), Spider-Man (Peter Parker), Alexandria Beck (Alex), Maria Beck, Sandman (Flint Marko), Chameleon, Electro, Rhino, Terrax the Tamer, Ultron, UU Otto Octavius, UU Electro, UU Spider-Man (Peter Parker), UU Mysterio, UU Curt Connors

UU = Ultron Universe

Warnings: Explicit gore and death, violence, mentions of past abuse, mental illness, physical illness

^These warnings are here for the story as a whole. If you get invested by reading a less graphic chapter, then be prepared for the warnings above in other parts!!

Mysterio is the quick thinker of the pair. Not to say, Parker isn’t, however when it comes to high-stress circumstances, he can melt under the pressure and make rash choices from time to time. Neo, however, often remains cold. To keep up appearances, he had to learn to cast aside his anxieties long ago. Or rather bottle them up in an unhealthy manner. For as weak and pathetic as Beck was, Neo Mysterio is now a super villain whose masterminding and cunning is unto a class of his own.

It was Beck who teleported next to the blue clad Spider-Man of this Ultron infested universe and without a sound, motioned for him to remain silent and that he meant no harm.

‘This universe’s Spider-Man is smarter than my own,’ Beck mused to himself, as the blue Parker nodded silently and followed him to a closed off alley; Neo’s Parker trailing behind. Once they were sure no one could eavesdrop, the native Spider-Man spoke.

UU Spider-Man: “I have been looking for you for hours now. I’m quite impressed with how well you’ve both been keeping out of sight after your... encounter.”

Neo Mysterio: “I’m surprised you didn’t outright attack me when I appeared next to you, in all honesty.”

UU Spider-Man: “Well, I knew for a fact you weren’t my universe’s Mysterio... That and you haven’t set off my spider sense the entire time you’ve been in this world. Although I wouldn’t put it past you to also have way to block it.”

Mysterio: “Hm. You certainly are brighter than most...”

Spider-Man: “Yes, Beck’s illusions and tech are no joke, but that’s besides the point. As you already seem to know... We aren’t from here. We are trying to get back to our own universe, and we could use your help. Could you fill us in on this whole Ultron situation you got here? And any idea on how to deal with it or at the very least work around it? How did this even happen?”

UU Spider-Man: “Hmm.. well, it started several years back. Hank Pym created an AI that could help serve humanity as an impartial police force. The problem was that Ultron was erratic. It took little time for the program to take hold of New York. At first, everything was alright. Ultron helped me and other heroes take down plenty of villains. Then... Then the Sinister Six happened.”

Neo Mysterio: “Explain,” he simply commanded in a brisk tone as he crossed his arms.

UU Spider-Man: “You see, I had fought the group of them plenty of times before, but now Ultron was here. And the AI was.... vicious. Merciless... it...” 

He trailed off as a drone flew by far overhead.

UU Spider-Man: “It still isn’t safe to talk outdoors. Especially about... that. Follow me, I know a place were we can discuss things further. And... meet some friends.”

Curious, Parker followed his azure counter part, while Mysterio remained apprehensive. Something... wasn’t quite right. Regardless, Beck trailed along as well, tensions rising in his mind. He wasn’t going to let his guard down at all.

Soon, the three of them arrived at the back entrance to a rundown condo. Making their way inside, there was a make shift lab of sorts. A staging ground. Sitting at a desk was none other than this universe’s version of Dr. Octopus.

He turned to face them, but what Beck beheld was a shadow of his friend. Otto looked immensely tired and beleaguered. He had small scars crisscrossing his hands and face, grey streaks running through his hair. What struck Beck the most was the profound sense of loss and grief in Octavius’s eyes.

Along with Octavius, was the Lizard. He seemed fairly calm and rational, albeit still animalistic. Curt Connors was in control of himself, but it was clear that his transformation took its toll. Connors merely watched silently, content with observing.

UU Doc Ock: “...You’ve found them. How fortunate..!” 

With some effort, Otto rose from his seat and managed to make his way across the room. He had a slight limp from what was presumed to be a past injury. His mechanical arms were no where to be found, however he still had the original main harness grafted to his flesh, unable to be removed. He extended his hand out to Spider-Man, who accepted, and then to Mysterio.

Beck stared for a second before regaining himself and took Otto’s hand. A heavy sense of sorrow filled his heart as Otto spoke once more.

UU Doc Ock: “It has been ages since I’ve seen you, old friend... I... know it isn’t really you, not the you I knew... But still... I have struggled to move past the day... Your life was cut short. I’m glad to meet you.”

Mysterio: “Explain,” he said in a quiet, yet startlingly harsh voice, withdrawing his hand.

UU Doc Ock: “... Ultron came for us. The entire Sinister Six. All we could do was run. You... Died trying to help me get away after Ultron savagely attacked and..... beat me... The others, like Electro... were captured. In fact, Ultron still has many of the Avengers and various super villains locked away.”

Mysterio: “I..... see.” 

Beck accepted that response rather well, but it did nothing to lighten the mood.

Spider-Man: “Hey other-me, if... You don’t mind me asking? Why are you working with Doc Ock? Because of Ultron, of course, right? And... if you are comfortable with talking about it, what happened... to your arms, Doc? And, the... Lizard?”

UU Doc Ock: “Simply put, Ultron tore them out as he forced Max Dillon to electrocute me. I have.... extensive nerve damage from it. I haven’t be able to make a new set of arms that didn’t result in... intense pain. Spider-Man and I had joined forces some time ago because of this threat. Besides, I’m in no condition to be his enemy anymore. We’ve moved past all of that.”

Spider-Man: “Oh geez... I’m.. Sorry, I didn’t realize...”

Doc waived his hand.

UU Doc Ock: “I wouldn’t have said a word if I hadn’t come to terms with it. You asked and I answered, think nothing of it. As for the lizard...”

Curt: “I ammmmm in controllllll of myssssselffff. I had become thissssss beasssst long ago. After Ultron came, Octaviussssss my old friend, offereddddddd me a place to hide and continue myyyyyyyy ressssssearch in peace. Spider-Man hadddddd alssssssso been helping me get by before handddddddd. Ultron hasssss targeted me assssssss well. We all hate that machineeeeeee”

UU Spider-Man: “We have been trying to counter Ultron from here for awhile now, but it has been.....”

UU Doc Ock: “Rather futile.”

The blue Spider-Man nodded. 

UU Spider-Man: “But I suspect... You have a plan to get home?”

Spider-Man: “We were working on that. We... would like to help in fighting Ultron. It just wouldn’t be feasible to escape with those drones still flying around. It’s the right thing to do, anyways. Also, we’ve scouted the place, and I think we might have a strategy.”

UU Spider-Man: “Well, be my guest. What’s our plan?”

Neo Mysterio: “MY plan is to draw Ultron’s fire. I will sneak into the facility as my illusions and robots confound him. I will shut down his systems by any means necessary as my world’s Spider-Man will take the parts we need to leave this place.”

Curt: “Ssssssoundssssss like sssssssuicide to meeeeee.....”

UU Doc Ock: “That’s... extremely dangerous. I may not really know you, but are you sure you can do such a thing? Your cape is already full of bullet holes. You’d willingly go into a death trap like that? And expect to come out the other side unscathed?”

Neo Mysterio: “I am confident in my abilities. Although an extra pair of hands in the form of this worlds Spider-Man would be welcome...”

UU Spider-Man: “I will help. But if you make any wrong moves, if you abandon me, if you put us at too much risk, I won’t hesitate to deck you. Doc and Connors will stay put. They are in no condition to fight. Plus there is plenty they can do from here.”

Neo Mysterio: “Fair.”

UU Doc Ock: “There is something you should know before you go. Remember how I mentioned how Ultron captured Electro? He’s... He’s using Electro like a battery now. It’s constant torture. That way the hub is disconnected from the city power grid. It’s a self sustaining fortress. You must free him, it may be the only way to permanently defeat Ultron. Electro can fry all of his systems if he were saved. Two birds with one stone.”

Curt: “It issssss no way to liveeeeee. Trapped assssssss a tool for a cruel beinggggg,” he said shook his reptilian head sadly.

Spider-Man: “Right. We’ll save everyone from that murderous machine! We should go immediately.”

Neo Mysterio: “You aren’t coming, remember? You have to grab the parts, you idiot. Besides myself, you’re the only one here who knows what we need, and I have to go fight Ultron. At least one of us needs to get back home, that’s how it is.”

Spider-Man: “Y-yeah... I forgot... whoops.”

Neo Mysterio: “Besides, it’s a bad idea to go running out now. We should carefully plan out our attack and rescue attempt. Plus I have to calibrate my machines for this to work properly. It should only take a few hours at most. You need to rest your leg, anyways.”

Spider-Man: “O-oh... r-right..”

Sheepishly, Parker remembers the wound he received not long ago from Ultron’s drones. It would be a bad idea for him to storm the base in such a condition.

Curt: “Let meeeee get ssssssome painkillerssssss for you....”

Spider-Man: “T-thank you, Dr. Connors...”

Neo set to work as Parker rested. Together, they crafted a plan of attack. However, Mysterio had his own hidden plan in mind. If this was going to work, it was going to be done his way. They just would never understand.

There must always be...

a sacrifice.

#mysterio #doc ock #neo mysterio #ultron #spider-man #sfw #marvel #msocs #au #neo mysterio fic #curt connors #the lizard #electro #long boi set up chapter ahahaha

[tickle-me-kylo]

Wrong Turn (Clyde Logan x Reader)

6,854 words. NSFW under the line. Also available here on Ao3.  Please leave kudos or comments if you’d like me to continue this plot line. 

Hey, @Clydeloganlogan, I wrote a little story about that time we met, baby!

You were so out of your element.

“Turn right onto Old Farm Road” your GPS instructed. You made the turn and were promptly met with a spray of red clay dirt and loose gravel under your tires. You slowed the car, confused. A dirt road? That couldn’t be right, could it? You quickly swung your rental car around and the GPS tried to recalculate, but... signal lost.

Just great. Lost in the backwoods of West Virginia. Somewhere in the back of your mind, a familiar banjo tune began to play. You flipped on your high beams and managed to find your way back to the main road you had turned off of. But... where were you supposed to go now?

You saw the glow of colored neon in the distance as you rounded a curve. As you got closer, you realized it was a restaurant, or a bar, maybe?

Duck Tape?

What kind of name for a bar was that? You parked your car and grabbed your phone, praying someone in this hillbilly oasis would speak coherently enough to give you directions to the motel. You walked through the door and your senses were immediately overcome by the smell of stale beer, tobacco in several forms, and a hint of cheap cologne.

The moment you stepped inside, every head in the bar turned to look at you. It got noticeably quieter as twenty or so pairs of eyes carefully looked you over, determined you were definitely not from around there, then went back to their conversations.

Wow. Must have been because you missed the memo about it being “dirty overalls and cowboy boots Friday”.

You opted to avoid the tables and booths and decided to tuck yourself into a corner at the bar instead, attempting to be as invisible as possible. Maybe the bartender would be able to...

‘Damn. They grow ‘em big in West Virginia!’ you thought to yourself as you and the extra-large bartender locked eyes with each other for what seemed like an awkward eternity.

He was handsome, with dark hair that was a little too long (but it looked good on him), and facial hair (something else you didn’t normally care for, but on him, it was perfection). He had on an old 70s band T-shirt with a flannel shirt over it, and jeans that were just tight enough to make you notice.

It was his eyes that confounded you. Big and brown, those eyes peered at you now like a scared little kitten. Why in the hell was this Sasquatch of a man afraid of 5’2” you?

“Hi!” You said to break the ice, and you thought you saw him jump a little at the sound of your voice. “Uh... I just drove in from Chicago.I think I’m a little lost? I was trying to find Hwy 5? My GPS crapped out on me up the road from here.”

The bartender just stared. You could have sworn this man’s fight or flight response was attempting to engage.

“Yeah, so...” you continued. “If you could point me in the right direction? Also, I’m starving. Do you guys serve food?”

“Yep.” He replied, and then proceeded to turn and walk away.  You sat for a moment, utterly perplexed, when you heard a chuckle to your right. You turned to the man sitting there, dressed in a grease-stained work shirt and baseball cap.

“Don’t worry about him.” The man said. “That just means he likes you. He’ll be back in a second with the menu.” He stuck out his hand. “Jimmy Logan.” He said. You took his hand and shook it. “The not so jolly giant over there is my little brother Clyde.”

“Little brother?” You said with a laugh. “What does your big brother look like?”

Jimmy pointed at you and slapped the bar as he laughed.

“I like you! You’re funny!” He said, taking a sip of his beer. At that moment, Clyde came back over, menu in hand. He looked at you, then at Jimmy, and back at you, frowned as he slid the menu in front of you, and walked away.

You looked over the menu and settled on some BBQ chicken nachos. Clyde took your order and tapped it into the point of sale computer. That’s when you saw it. Clyde had been holding his left hand behind him slightly since he’d walked over to you earlier, almost as if he had been hiding something. Now you saw why. In place of his left forearm and hand was a high-tech mechanical prosthetic. Jimmy must have seen you staring (although you hadn’t meant to).

“He’s sensitive about it.” Jimmy said. “The hand.” He tipped the neck of his beer bottle towards his brother, as if he needed to clarify who he was talking about.

“That’s understandable.” You replied. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must be. He looks like a sweet guy too. Quiet. Does he ever talk?” You asked.

“Lord, yes.” Jimmy retorted with a chuckle, and took another sip of his beer. “There are nights when I wish I could shut ‘im the hell up!”

“Good looking guy, too.” You said under your breath, but Jimmy must have had excellent hearing because he raised his eyebrows at you and grinned. You blushed when you realized you’d been heard.

“Welp, gotta make a trip to the office, then I’m heading home.” Jimmy said suddenly as he got up from his bar stool. He drained the rest of his beer in one sip when he stood, then nodded towards you. “Been nice talkin’ to you, city girl! Be safe out there.”

You smiled at Jimmy and said goodbye. He was halfway to the back of the bar when you realized you still didn’t know where the hell you were!

“Wait, Jimmy!” You called. “Can you give me directions to Hwy 5?” Jimmy turned and smiled and shrugged.

“Clyde’s yer man for directions. Have a good night, doll.”

Clyde was looking at his brother like a deer in the headlights from the other end of the bar. Jimmy just winked at him and tilted his head back in your direction. You smirked. What had that little interaction been about?

In a few minutes, Clyde brought your food.

“So, it’s Clyde, right?” You asked before he could slip away again. He nodded shyly.

“Yep.” He said. “What else did my brother tell ya’?” His drawl was slow and very West Virginian, but every syllable was enunciated as if he had carefully considered each word before speaking it.

“Nothing really,” you replied “other than you’re a nice guy, and you can give me directions to the highway.”

“Well, yeah. I reckon I can.” Clyde said. You popped a nacho in your mouth as he continued. “Where on five are ya’ headed?”

“Comfort Inn motel.” You replied.

“You in town for long?” Clyde asked, and he stumbled on a couple of the words, as if asking that question made him very nervous. You grinned.

“For a week.” You replied. “Visiting my aunt on her farm. I didn’t want to roll in on her so late at night though, so I decided to get a room.” You flushed slightly, feeling like you were oversharing. There was something about Clyde, though. You wanted to get him talking for some reason.

You chatted for a while about the town, and your aunt’s farm. You soon discovered that, just like his brother said, getting Clyde to talk wasn’t that difficult once you had him engaged in a subject he was familiar with. He would chat with you for a while, then go take care of patrons, but as soon as he was done he would quickly make his way back to you.

You noticed the more comfortable Clyde got, the closer he would get to you as you conversed. Soon, he was leaning on his forearms on the bar right in front of you so that the two of you were at eye level. It was then that you realized just how incredibly gorgeous this walking plaid-covered brick wall of a man really was.

As the night became late-night, the bar gradually emptied until it was only you and two or three locals who required little attendance. As you were reminiscing about the tire swing your aunt had put in the big oak tree at her farm (you wondered if it was still there), Clyde came around the bar and took the seat next to you.

“What made you decide to become a bartender?” You asked Clyde. You were playing with the straw from your glass of soda, twisting it in your fingers. You were nervous. No, not nervous. You were... flustered? What was this guy doing to you?

“It was a necessity more’n anything, I reckon’.” Clyde replied. “When I opened this place, it did not occur to me that findin’ a qualified bartender would be s’hard. My sister Mellie makes a dern good cocktail, but her passions lie with hairdressin’, not bartendin’. Not to mention Jimmy near ‘bout killed a guy that popped her on the rear the one night she did work here. So I did the responsible thing as a business owner, and learned to do it my own self.”

“Wait.” You said, an element of surprise in your voice. “You OWN this place? Wow, Clyde, that’s impressive!” You leaned over without even thinking and brushed your elbow against his. The metal of his prosthetic was smooth and cool against your skin. You felt him retract his touch from you slightly, although you could tell it was more of a reflex than a reaction.

“You know what I do?” You asked him. “For a living, I mean.” You glanced at him. He turned his eyes towards you in anticipation.

“I’m a physical therapist.” You continued. “Just finished school last year, but I’ve been working with the VA in Chicago for six months already. I guess you could call it an internship, but I think I’m going to take a permanent position.”

“The VA?” Clyde repeated. “You work with veterans?”

“Every day.” You nodded and smiled. “Where were you stationed?” You were making an assumption, but you wouldn’t have made a bet that you were right.

“Lejeune, in North Carolina.” Clyde confirmed your educated guess. “‘Til I was deployed to Iraq.”

“Semper Fi.” you said in reply, and the look he gave you made something deep inside you quiver. “And at the risk of sounding cliche, thank you for your service.”

“Not at all.” He responded, and his voice was soft. “Knowin’ someone sweet as you appreciates it makes it a little bit easier.” You blushed at his words, although you didn’t know why. What was it with this guy? You decided to steer the topic away from an obviously difficult subject.

"So, um…. I know I'm only in town for a week, but..." you couldn't believe you were about to say what you were about to say to a guy you'd known for only a couple of hours. "Would you go to dinner with me one night? I've enjoyed talking to you, Clyde. I'd really like to get to know you better." "Darlin', I'd go to supper with you every night and twice on Sunday." Clyde replied in earnest, and when you looked up at him, the grin on his face made your cheeks go an even darker shade of crimson. "Got your phone on you?" you asked, and he fished it out of his shirt pocket. It was an ancient model iphone with a crack that ran across the top corner. "I don't have much need for one of them fancy smarty-phones." he said sheepishly when he saw your reaction. "I don't do a whole lotta' callin' or text-messagin'." "Well then," you replied with a gleam in your eye. "Let's see if we can change that."  You opened up his contact app and added your name and number, and then saved it. You leaned over so the two of you could look at the tiny screen together. You noticed that this time, when your arm pressed against his, he didn't draw back. You showed him how to open the contacts, and where you name was, and how to click the icon to call you. "Now watch this." you said.  You showed him how to open the messages app. "Send me a text." He looked at you like you'd just asked him to do the impossible. "Don't you have to have two thumbs to do that?" he asked, and you almost giggled when you suddenly realized he was serious. You smiled at him and shook your head.

"Not at all. Here, let me show you.” You took his phone and put it in his right hand. "You can hold the phone and text with your thumb at the same time." You put your own phone in your right hand and demonstrated, although your tiny hands made it look awkward, and you nearly dropped your phone twice. "Well, you get the idea.  And your hand is..." you stared at his hand and cleared your throat a bit when you realized you were taking a little too long to continue your thought. "bigger...I mean… big.. enough... so that you shouldn't have the same problem as I do.  Give it a try!" "What should I say to ya'?" he asked, and this time you did giggle. "Anything you want! And when you're done, press that little icon right there to send it." He balanced the phone in his hand and used his thumb to type. Damn, he caught on quick. You watched as he worked the tiny phone with skill, and your mind could not help but wonder what else those fingers could do. Your phone suddenly dinged, startling you from your daydream. You read the text he sent. 'tuesday night at 7? it is italian night at the elks club and martha edwards makes a mean lasagna.' You smiled like a smitten school girl and typed your reply. 'Tuesday night with you and Martha's lasagna sounds like the perfect date.' Once you hit send, you heard his phone vibrate. He clicked and read it, and smiled like a smitten school boy. "I suppose I could get used to that." he said. "I get kind of nervous when I have to talk on the phone. Writin’ is easier. I can think about what I wanna say before I have t'say it." He was still sitting close, right up against you, and his scent - the smells of the bar mixed with his own woodsy musk - was frankly intoxicating.  You felt that sensation deep inside you again. "If you think that's cool, check this out!" You turned and made a silly face and took a selfie with your phone, then sent it to him in a text. "Oh, darlin', you need ta’ stop." he said with a chuckle when he saw the texted photo. "I don't know if I can take much more. Bad enough I have to think about you 'til Tuesday night. If you send me pretty pictures..." "Who says we have to wait until Tuesday?" you said, and you could only imagine what look you had in your eyes, because when he turned to you and saw it, he froze. "I, uh..." he stammered, and you quickly realized your mistake.  This wasn't some slick Chicago city fuck-boy. Clyde was a man of honor who obviously respected the women in his life, and probably hadn't had a whole lot of one night stands, if any. "I'm so sorry." you said to rescue him from the awkwardness. "I don't know where that came from. I just... I guess I'm kind of taken by you, Clyde. That was uncalled for, though. I apologize." "No, no. Don't apologize. I… I’m flattered, darlin’. I wish I was as brave as you!" he replied. His face had started to redden. "Did the Marine war veteran just say he wishes he was as brave as me?" you laughed, and he chuckled along with you. "I don't think that was bravery, Clyde.  More along the lines of brazen stupidity on my part. You know what?  I should get going. I'm supposed to be at the farm for breakfast tomorrow. My aunt’s pancakes are something you never want to be late for!”

“Let me walk you to your car.” he said. “Gets real dark out in that parkin’ lot.” You smiled warmly at his chivalry. When you hopped off your bar stool and turned, you were struck with the realization of just how much bigger than you he was. He towered over you by at least a foot, maybe even a little more.  And dear God, he was broad in ALL the right places. The two of you walked side-by-side out to your car, and when you beeped the key fob on the rental, Clyde immediately grabbed the door handle before you could do it yourself, and opened your door. You climbed inside, and he leaned over to give you directions.

“Now when you leave the parkin’ lot, you’re gonna turn left, then take the second left, alright?” he waited until you had nodded in agreement to continue. “Take that road until you get to tha’ red light. That’s Highway 5. Take another left, and the motel is gonna be down about a mile. If you see the dairy farm, ya’ went too far.”

He gently shut the door of the car, and you promptly rolled the window down. He leaned over and rested his forearm against the door so that he was eye-level with you. “Now if you get lost, don’t try t’find yer way back here. Just gimme a call, alright?” You nodded up at him with a smile. Before he could stand, you quickly leaned over and snuck a kiss on his cheek. You thought he might burst, he looked so surprised.

“What was that fer?” he asked, but his voice was soft.

“For being a gentleman, Clyde Logan.” you said, and started the engine of the rental. “I’ll text you when I get to the motel, ok?  Don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Well, I’m prob’ly gonna do that anyway, just so ya’ know.” He stood then, and stepped back from the car. “Be careful, darlin’. Watch fer’ deer! They’ll jump right out in front of ya’”

You waved out of the open window as you pulled out of the parking lot.

The Comfort Inn wasn’t quite as comfortable as you would have liked. It looked more like the Bates Motel that had had a quick slap of paint and some new bed linens applied, but what could you expect this far out in the middle of nowhere? Once the attendant had given you the key, you parked your car in front of the door to your room and grabbed your bag and went inside. Thank goodness your room was on the front side of the building, where there was some light from the big bright sign by the side of the road.

Once inside, you took a quick shower, slipped on your favorite t-shirt and a pair of boy shorts, and slid into bed. At least the mattress was fairly comfortable, and the sheets were soft. No wifi (big shock) but you had just enough of a signal right off the highway that you would be able to text Clyde. That thought sent a little quiver to a place it probably shouldn’t have.

‘Made it to the motel!’ you sent. Before your phone screen could even dim, you saw he was typing a reply.

‘I’m glad your safe. everything there alright?’

‘Yep! Right as rain.’ you wrote back ‘Took a shower and I’m already in bed. No wifi here so no Netflix tonight.’

‘Netflix. that is the movie place on the internet right?’

You smirked. God, he was adorable. ‘Yes, it is indeed that movie place on the internet. I’ll have to show you how to Netflix and chill sometime.’ you typed, knowing full well it would go straight over his head.

‘that sounds real nice sweetheart’’

Mission accomplished. Now to seal the deal. You took a selfie in the low light of the room, the tattered neck of your sleep shirt showing a hint of your cleavage, and just enough of your bare hip in the pic to get the point across without being tacky or distasteful. You attached it to the text with the words ‘Sweet dreams’.

You thought for sure you had overstepped when he didn’t answer for what seemed like forever, or maybe that he’d fainted and hit his head on the bar when he’d seen the pic. You were into your second round of solitaire on your phone when it finally dinged.

‘Darlin your prettier than the first peach of the summer.’ he typed. You assumed that was a compliment and replied as such.

‘Why thank you, kind sir. You’re not so bad yourself, you know.’

‘Oh I don’t know about all that.’ he replied and you could nearly feel his embarrassment through your phone screen.

‘Trust me, Clyde. You are a very good looking man. You know what? Scratch that. Baby, you are HOT!’ you typed back, and even added the little flame emoji at the end.  Fuck it, you were going to put all your chips on the table.

Again, a long pause that made you nervous. Finally, his reply.

‘Well I’m not one to argue with a lady, so I will take your word for it.’

Damn, that hadn’t gone over exactly like you had wanted it to. Why was this guy so nice? You decided to dial it back a notch and maybe appeal to his heroic side.

‘It’s so dark out here.’ you told him in your next text. ‘Chilly tonight too. Glad you’re there to text with me or I might be scared.’

The little dots animated to show he was typing, and they seemed to go on forever. Either he was writing you a novel, or he was having trouble getting out what he wanted to say. You were betting on the latter.

‘You ok?’ you asked, ‘You can tell me anything, Clyde. I certainly haven’t had much of a filter tonight, but I can’t help how much I like you. I know it sounds silly, especially since we just met, but I was attracted to you the minute I saw you. I wish we’d had more time together tonight.’

The little dots stopped as he read your message. There was a pause, and then they started again. This time, it didn’t take long for his message to appear.

‘Me too.’ it said simply. But then, ‘Do me a favor?”

‘Of course’ you replied, silently hoping he was going to ask for another, possibly more risqué selfie (although you sincerely doubted he would).

‘Take a look out the window.’ You furrowed your brow as you read the message.  What the...? You slid out of bed and pulled back the curtain of the single window just enough to glance outside. There, on the other side of the parking lot was Clyde, standing against an old beat up pickup truck, phone in hand. You snapped the curtain closed and pressed your back against the wall, unable to suppress a giggle.  Holy shit!  You quickly typed a response.

‘Well what the hell are you doing standing out there in the cold? Come in here where I’m warm.’

Barely ten seconds passed before there was a tapping on the door. You opened it, making sure to stand back so no one would see you in your underwear. The room was dark, save for the little light over the sink in the bathroom which cast a warm orange glow out into the room. Once he was inside, you opened your mouth to say something cute and sassy to him, but before the words could come out, Clyde had you in his arms (both of them, you happily noticed). He lifted you up so that you were nearly face to face with him, sandwiching you between him and the door and god, he felt so good.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he devoured your mouth with his. He kissed you like he was starving, tugging at your lips, dipping in with his velvet tongue, wet and deep and delicious. For a moment, you forgot to breathe, and when you did, it came as a gasp. He took that as a sign that you were enjoying what he was giving you (yes, you most certainly were) and he continued without abandon.

You moved your hands down to venture underneath his t-shirt as he kissed you, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin. When your fingers found flesh, you felt him shiver, and goosebumps raised beneath your fingertips. You moaned against his mouth as you felt his huge right hand squeeze the flesh of your thigh, and then move up to grip your scantily clad ass. You bucked against him slightly and felt him react beneath you, the bulge in his jeans becoming even more pronounced. You backed away from his mouth long enough to get two words out.

“Bed. Now.” you said, your voice raspy with need, and being the gentleman he was, Clyde immediately complied.  He placed you gingerly on the mattress, took a moment to drink you in, and then began to undress himself. When he began to remove his flannel shirt, he looked down at his prosthetic. You spoke before he had the chance to get nervous about it.

“Whatever you’re more comfortable with is fine with me.” you said, and he nodded. He undid the straps and removed the prosthetic hand and laid it on the chair near the bed, then tossed his flannel shirt on top of it.  His t-shirt was next and my god, he was beautiful. You thought about helping him undo his pants (it was the physical therapist in you), but he had that down to an art form and had unbuttoned, unzipped, and shimmied out of his jeans before you could as much as reach forward to help.

You realized you were behind in the game a bit, and pulled your t-shirt over your head.  Your tits bounced free and you swore you heard him squeak under his breath, but he smoothly covered it by clearing his throat. You grinned and watched him continue to undress like it was the best show you’d ever seen.  And honestly, it did rank very high on the list.

He hitched his thumb into the waist of his boxers and slid them down, and it was your turn to squeak. However beautiful you thought Clyde Logan was, his cock was ten times as magnificent. If you’d had any question about whether the size of his more outwardly viewable body parts were in proportion to the less accessible ones, that answer was a resounding YES.

Just when you thought you couldn’t stand not touching him anymore, he was on the bed, his huge, warm body hovering above you. You ran your fingertips up his chest and around his neck, and when he leaned in to kiss you, your fingers found purchase in his long, dark locks. God, his hair was so soft. His lips were so soft. But there was one thing that was most definitely not soft, and when you reached down and took it in your hand, you felt his entire body react. Your fingers couldn’t even close around his cock he was so thick, and you silently wondered how it would fit inside of you. That was a challenge you were most definitely willing to accept, the thought of which sent a chill up your spine.

He balanced his weight on his left elbow above your head, his right hand exploring your body as you lightly stroked his cock with your hand. His touch was simultaneously rough and soft, and he soon had you writhing with need beneath him. Your tits, the size of which you had always been proud of, completely disappeared underneath his massive hand, and when he pinched a nipple between thumb and forefinger, you cried out in pleasure.

“I’m sorry, darlin’” he said as he raised himself up off of you a bit, thinking he had hurt you.

“No, no.” you cooed, wrapping your free hand around his waist and pulling him back to you. “That was a happy sound.” You peppered his shoulder and neck with kisses and sighed against his skin when his fingers returned to your nipple. This time, he did not stop when he coaxed out your little cries.

His hand moved down and you wondered if it was possible to actually die of anticipation as he slowly slid his fingers beneath the top of your panties. When his fingers found your slit, you moaned into his shoulder, and you heard him draw in a breath between his teeth.

“God, darlin’, you’re so wet.” he whispered in your ear, and you hummed in response.

“Mmmmm… That would be your fault.” You replied with a grin, but then he slid two massive fingers inside you and you bucked beneath him. “God, Clyde!” you exclaimed, your fingers digging into his upper arms as he explored you, his thumb gently grazing your clit in maddeningly slow circles. He worked you into a near frenzy, your breath coming in little heated gasps. And the entire time, he kissed you gently here and there, every third or fourth kiss returning to your lips.

“Do you mind if I…” Clyde said suddenly, but then paused, unsure of himself. “I mean, would it be ok if I…”

“What do you want, baby?” you asked, your lips hot against his neck as you kissed and nipped at the flesh there.

“I’m just dyin’ to taste you, sweetheart.” he replied, and his voice was deep and filled with need. The mere thought of that man’s mouth on your pussy was enough to make you whimper so there was no way in hell you were passing up his offer. You thought about the logistics for a second, given your size and his (and the size of the small double bed) and came up with a solution.

“Lie down.” You instructed as you pushed him back with your hands. He did as you instructed, and when he was flat on his back, you slid your panties off and climbed on top of him, straddling his broad chest. “You want to taste me, baby?” You asked. He nodded. You almost felt guilty for teasing him, but on the other hand, you knew it was going to be worth it. You slid your fingers down into your slick folds and flicked your clit with your middle finger, whimpering softly. When your fingers were thoroughly wet with your juices, you removed them and held them over Clyde’s mouth.

“Open.” You instructed and his mouth popped open as if you had flipped a switch. You stuck your fingers in his mouth and moaned as he sucked your essence from them. You jerked your fingers out of his mouth and he made a disappointed sound which made you smirk. “More?” You asked, and he nodded his head, eager as a kid in a candy shop.

“Scoot down a little.” you instructed and again he complied immediately and without question (damn, his obedience was really starting to turn you on!) You raised up on your knees and positioned yourself over his face. Before you even had a chance to say a word, he had grabbed your hip with that massive right hand and thrust you down onto his mouth. You gasped loudly as he worked you with his lips and tongue and he grasped you so tightly against him, you wondered how in the hell he could breathe.

The noises he was making while he ate you out were utterly filthy. Wet, sloppy sounds accompanied his grunts of pleasure, and holy shit, they were driving you mad. You slammed one hand flat against the wall behind the bed to steady yourself as you reached down to grab a handful of that ample black hair. How was he so good at this? He knew just when to flick, and just when to suck, and just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he slid those thick fingers back inside you. You came undone — immediately and with little warning. Your knees weakened and you barely had a chance to utter the first letter of his name before you were pulled into one of the most intense orgasms you had ever had.

Clyde reveled in every second of your orgasm, and when you were done, he gently moved out from under you and took you in his arms (again, both of them) and laid you back down on the mattress. He reached over and grabbed his t-shirt from the chair beside the bed and wiped his face before laying on his side beside you, his left arm behind your head. You melted against him, his big arms engulfing you as you laid your head on his chest and breathed him in.

“I just need a sec.” you whispered. Your voice sounded dreamy and far away.

“You take all the time you need, sweetheart.” He replied softly. The fingers of his right hand were stroking little patterns on your hip, his breath hot against your hair as he laid patiently beside you, allowing you time to recover. You silently wondered how such a generous lover could still be single. Hell, was he even single?  How would you know?  You just met him that night, and had already climbed into bed with him. You sighed deeply against his chest. You had come to the country to escape, but you evidently had not been able to escape your own bad habits.

“You ok?” Clyde asked softly. He had heard your sigh.

“Mmm hmmm.” you hummed against his skin. What did it matter anyway? You’d be gone from this place in a week, and all of this, including Clyde Logan, would just be a memory.

Even though you were still floating from your orgasm, you couldn’t stand to make him wait any longer, and besides, his massive cock pressing against your stomach was making you horny all over again. You pushed him onto his back, still amused at how he had no trouble letting a girl half his size do whatever you wanted with him. You kissed him, and the fact that he still smelled and tasted like your pussy drove you a little crazy, causing your kisses to become deep and heated. You grasped his cock in your hand and he moaned into your mouth as you stroked him.  You flicked a bead of precum from the head of his dick and then broke your kiss with him so you could lick the sticky substance from the pad of your thumb. From the look on his face, you thought he might cum then and there.

“Mmmmmm.” you cooed, your thumb slowly caressing your bottom lip, then moving down between your breasts, down your stomach, and back to his cock, which twitched with anticipation of your touch. “I think I want more of that.”

You slid your body down his and when you reached your destination, you ran your tongue up the length of his ample shaft.

“Oh god, please, darlin’!” he exclaimed, and in response, you took his cock in your mouth. His breath hitched in his throat as you ran your tongue slowly around the perimeter of the head. When you released him from the warmth of your mouth, you weren’t surprised to hear him beg.

“Please. Please don’t stop.” he whimpered, which sounded utterly delicious to you in that deep, rich voice of his.

“Hold my hair.” you instructed, and scooped your hair back so he could take it in his hand. You returned to his cock, taking it slowly into your mouth as deeply as you could, but fuck, he was so thick. It wasn’t long before your jaws ached from the size of him, but you persevered, sucking him off while you stroked the base of his cock with your hand. It wasn’t long before you were both a mess, his cock and your lips slick with your saliva and his precum. His hand was grasping tighter at your hair, his hips jutting upwards with your downward strokes, his breath fast and shallow.  He was so close. You were anticipating feeling the hot stream of his cum hit the back of your throat when he released your hair and gripped your shoulder.

“Alright, darlin’.” he said, and then to your surprise. “Stop now.” you released him from your mouth and gave him a confused look.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, wondering if you’d done something that he didn’t like.

“Nothin’s wrong.” he explained. “I just didn’t want to… you know... do that in your mouth. Doesn’t seem respectful.”

You blinked at him, remembering the thought you’d had about him in the bar earlier. Respectful of the women in his life.  Boy had you called it. He patted the bed beside him.

“Com’ere, baby doll.” he said, and you felt a little tingle at his choice of new pet name. “I’ve got somethin’ better for ya’ than that anyway.” The desire in his deep voice rolled through you like thunder, and this time, you complied. You crawled up next to him, but he turned to fish for his jeans on the floor. When he found them, he reached in one of the pockets and pulled out a condom. Respectful and responsible, you thought to yourself. This guy really did have it all. You watched as he rolled it on, your breath quickening as you anticipated what was next.

He was so big -- not only his cock, but just huge in general, that it was incredibly intimidating to be beneath him, especially since you were so much smaller than him. He seemed to understand that, however, and knew how to defuse it. He began a campaign of sweet kisses that trailed against your hairline, down your cheek and to your neck, where he nuzzled for a moment, making you giggle as he tickled you with the hair on his chin. He chuckled at your response and leaned in against your ear.

“If I hurt you, just tell me to stop, alright?” he whispered and you nodded in reply. He dipped his fingers into your folds, as if he were testing to see if you were ready for him. You were. You spread your legs wide so that he could move between them, and wrapped your arms around his neck as he reached down to grip his cock and...

Oh! Oh my god. You felt your walls involuntarily convulse when he pushed inside you, unused to being so full and so stretched. He began his thrusts slow and shallow and you were thankful. It was a lot to take, but his patience allowed you time to adjust, and before long, you had both legs wrapped around his hips, and were meeting each of his thrusts with your own.

You had never been fucked so thoroughly in your life.  Every nerve in your body was screaming with pleasure as he drove you mad with his long strokes. The head of his cock consistently found that elusive spot deep inside of you, and each time it did, you would cry out, which would only cause him to fuck you harder. You were soon panting as he growled and grunted like a wild animal atop you, and as you neared your release, you dug your nails into his skin and held on for dear life.

“Clyde! God, baby, yes” you screamed, repeating his name as a mantra over and over as stars filled your vision as you came. The second he felt your pussy tighten around his cock he threw his head back and you felt it deep inside you as he found his release.

He collapsed beside you, a heaving, sweaty, gorgeous mess. Once he had caught his breath, he rose up on his elbow and planted a kiss on your lips, then rose from the bed. Ah. So that was it then. The door to the bathroom clicked shut and you leaned over the side of the bed, searching for your panties and t-shirt. You had just laid hands on them when Clyde exited the bathroom. You were trying to convince yourself that you preferred this — a clean break without any complications, when Clyde was suddenly on the bed again and wrapped around you like a warm blanket, his head resting on your belly. Ok. Well, complications also made things interesting. Right?

You ran your hands back through his dark hair, occasionally twisting a strand around your finger as his breathing deepened. He fell asleep, a big warm puppy wrapped in your arms. But you lay awake, desperately wondering what you’d gotten yourself into.

All of this over one little wrong turn.

#Clyde Logan #Logan Lucky Fic #Clyde Logan x Reader #Clyde x Reader #Clyde Logan Fic #Adam Driver #my fic #my writing

[littlemisscancer]

“Save the last dance for me.”

a little story about a sororitas and an inquisitor. definitely. bent some lore a little bit for the sake of the setting, but it was fun to write.

The room was lively and full of merriment, as the crew aboard the Crocuta Invicta welcomed their guests to the main observatory.

Captains, Inquisitorial representatives, and Imperial officials of all sorts coming from across the fleet for this particular celebration. One of these Inquisitors had brought aboard his contingent of Adeptus Sororitas, with gowns that flattered his own formal attire.

The various attendees mingled together, glasses of alcoholic beverages being passed around via Servitors. Part of the observation deck had been cleared for an improvised ballroom floor, the distant stars shining upon mirrors set around the room to create ‘disco’ lighting. Quite a few of the couples and working partners had already made their way onto the dance floor, swaying and skipping to the joyous tunes being played by a very eager band of Imperial Acolytes.

Not all those attending were that happy, however. There was an Arch Magos, the head honcho Explorator of this fleet in attendance. He was sulking near the punch bowl, quite by himself. No one dared approach the hulking mechanical monstrosity, for fear of starting an intergalactic incident. Not even the Skitarii typically accompanying him were around. They had all been assigned other duties by him personally.

An Inquisitor, freshly Graduated from Inquisition School of the Arts™ leaned in towards a Celestine, remarking in a low tone, “He sure seems to be the life of the party. Any idea who pissed on his timepiece?”

The Sister merely laughed, her eyes sliding over to the miserable mechanicus, responding in kind, “Oh, he’s always like that I’ve heard. Never one to so much as give his peers the time of day normally, much less at a gathering like this.”

The Celestine elbowed a nearby Sister, nearly causing her to spill her undrunk champagne. She scowled, and readjusted a small brooch that adorned her dark black hair. Her superior continued to laugh, and tried to include her.

“Have you ever seen something as pathetic as an Arch Magos that’s on it’s last limb? Truly, Sister Anna, it’s an abhorrent sight.”

The blonde haired Celestine lifted her chin, head being held with a beaming pride.

“It is a disgrace to this Imperium, and a creature that cannot hope to be held as highly in regard as us.”

The Inquisitor laughed, and gently took the Celestine by the elbow to the dancefloor.

Sister Anna furrowed her brows, before shaking her head. Her grip on her champagne glass had tightened considerably, a small metal ring around her left ring finger glinting in the funky lights. It was shaped similar to that of a horseshoe, or the insignia of the Ultramarines. The sign of Omega… But it was more like a horseshoe.

She looked up, to find the Arch Magos staring directly at her. Although his face was now metal and motionless, his augmented eyes looked very sad. A pang hit her heart like a boltround, and she quickly looked away.

The brooch upon her head began to slide off her hair once more, and she narrowly avoided having it fall in her drink. Sister Anna was starting to feel slightly miffed, and stopped short of ripping it out of her hair. Confound Inquisitor Jarris, and his pining for them all to wear these wretched things! She’d rather wear her veil to show she was a Hospitaller, not some fancy hair clip that said the same thing!

Another pang to her heart. She didn’t even deserve to wear that veil, and she knew it. It felt like the ring was burning into her hand, but she dared not remove it.

The agitated Sororitas began to walk quickly towards the dance floor, handing her glass to a genuinely surprised Tech Priest. They let out a brief high-pitched squeak of thanks before she marched past.

The Inquisitor, called Jarris was chatting cheerily with his fellows of their various Ordos. But he wasn’t so enthralled as to not see Sister Anna walking straight towards him, so it didn’t catch him off guard when she placed his left arm in a death-grip.

“I… I wish to dance with you, Inquisitor Jarris.”

He blinked in surprise at that, however. The grizzled Inquisitor knew that this one was a handful, Hospitaller or not. But he thought it best to humor her outburst. Besides, she was definitely not the worst looking Sororitas in his retinue.

Arm in arm, the pair began to walk to the dance floor. Once the music kicked in once more, they faced one another, hand in hand, eyes locked, with barely any room between them.

It was a calming waltz, from some composer hailing Holy Terra itself. It was an old piece, but it was a piece that Sister Anna knew very well. She had listened to it often while aboard…

It was as if her heart was being twisted into a vice.

Anna gasped, and nearly tripped over Jarris’ quick footsteps. He caught her as the music dipped, faces inches apart from one another. His eyes, bright green with flecks of gold stared into her darker hazel ones. But it wasn’t just his gaze that she felt. She felt something, no, someone else’s eyes boring into her.

It was as if the God Emperor himself was glaring at her.

The music ended and there was much applause, Inquisitor Jarris gently lifting her back up onto her feet. Anna noticed that one of his hands was placed on her lower back, but she made no move to distance herself. She looked around, having this sinking feeling she knew precisely who had been looking at her. But no matter where her eyes lay or how far her neck craned, she didn’t see anyone. Not so much as an awkward Servitor had been looking at them.

Perhaps it was her overwrought nerves, she reasoned internally.

Inquisitor Jarris in the meantime had been guiding her back towards his small circle of friends, and she barely heard one of them remark on their well-executed performance. Jarris laughed, wincing a little bit.

“Well, Hospitaller Anna had a future in dancing herself before being tragically moved to my ship.”

He gave her hip a light pinch, and she perked up immediately. A smile flashed and she giggled politely, quietly admitting her thanks.

The smile, however bright it may have looked to the other members of the Inquisition, was quite fake. It felt wrong, all of it did. She shouldn’t be there.

Anna looked up at Jarris with her tired eyes, leaning into his broad shoulder much like a wife would her husband.

“Excuse me, but I am quite dehydrated after all that dancing. Will you be alright with me gone?”

A few chuckles from an Ordo Xenos Inquisitor, a hearty old fellow with a big red mustache.

Jarris rolled his eyes at him, before looking down admiringly at Anna, “I do believe I will find a way. Go one now, can’t have you dying off the battlefield now can we?”

She gave a much meeker smile, before not so gently removing herself from his embrace and making a beeline for an exit. He wouldn’t be able to spot her sneaking out through all these people, she mused.

And so, the Hospitaller slipped out of the main observatory, and found herself in one of the much smaller rooms adjacent.

The entire ceiling was comprised of glass, and for a moment she thought she had stepped out into the vacuum of space. Nebulaes floated off in the distance, adding wonderful colors to the forever night sky.

To think that beyond her vision, countless battles were being won or lost across the entire Imperium made her feel… Very, very small.

It took her a moment to realize she had walked to the very edge, hands pressed up on the glass as she looked up and around.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” A familiar voice said, sounding as if the owner of such a voice was right behind her. Anna did not move, for she was not fazed in the least. He always had a habit of sneaking up on her, anyway. At that moment she also realized that something had placed its hands on her shoulders.

“It’s rare to see it completely still like this outside of a painting.” She replied, now looking directly above her head.

All she could see were red robes, the shine of a medallion, and the beginning of a metal encased face.

“Yes, just as it is rare for me to find you alone.”

Arch Magos Explorator Velut Equo looked down at her, the augmented eyes dimmed to mimic a blink. They were blue, an ever curious and never changing bright blue. They were merely lights, artificial. Hers were the true beauty.

“You normally like these sorts of things, I thought. What’s changed?”

The Sister sighed, and she turned her gaze back to the stars.

“Do not play coy with me, Velut. You know why tonight was different.”

All she received as a response was a mechanical ‘hmm’ noise, and a tightening grip on her shoulders. It quickly relaxed however, but she still flinched.

“You were upset by me merely hanging about those of my… Status. You truly are terrible at being subtle about it, too.”

Again, no response apart from the sound of him breathing. They stared together in silence, the faint sound of music being heard through the thick walls. The Arch Magos began to sway slightly as he listened, gently tugging on her shoulders as he did so.

He finally let out a mechanical sigh, and lowered his head. His face, or what would constitute as one was buried in her hair.

“In all my years, and after all I have seen, you must understand that this kind of emotional attachment is… New to me, as much as it is to you. I do not look it, but I am still… Human.”

Anna didn’t say anything, instead looking up once more at him. Even though his face couldn’t move anymore, he still looked sad. Like a lost puppy that thought it had known the way, but was sorely mistaken.

“Oh, a… And you, er… You dropped something.” Velut let go of her very suddenly, backing up a step or two. She turned around, confused until she saw what he was holding. It was her brooch - Bearing the insignia of the Hospitallers. A pained smile crossed her face, as she graciously accepted it.

“It is not a good idea to lose important trinkets such as this, you know.” He eyed her very carefully, his forever unamused expression illuminated by his eerily lit eyes. She knew he wasn’t talking about the brooch, and she also knew he didn’t mean the veil she had left behind.

The ring felt like it had just been removed from a forge on Nocturne, and she twisted it nervously. Velut’s eyes brightened as she did so, and knelt down in front of her. His hands, cold and metal, gently clasped her own. One of the metal fingers rubbed against the ring, a faded out set of markings coming back into the light.

It had been inscribed in binary, that short summer ago. A quiet evening, stealing away to the barracks of the Cadian infantry. Then, with the help of his Guardsman acquaintances, a short get-away to one of the nearby lakes.

Tears welled up in her eyes, as she suddenly embraced Velut. He was only slightly surprised, gently putting his arms around her. Her body shook as she sobbed, and he murmured words of comfort she could barely understand.

Her eyes moved to the galaxy surrounding them, the twinkling lights creating a strange silhouette of the starstruck couple. Funny that.

“Anna Ciocanu, will you do me the honors of… A dance?” Velut asked shyly, looking down at her.

The Sister looked up at him, the tears having left streaks down her pale cheeks. She nodded shakily, smiling.

“Yes, it would be an honor and a privilege to dance with you… My dear.”

If he could have smiled, she was sure he would have. But she knew that she had somehow messed up, as he didn’t perk up nearly as much as she thought he would.

Odd.

Velut took lead, gently guiding her across the floor. The humming of the engine mingled with the distant music, creating a strange and erratic melody. The pair did not mind, as Velut moved off-beat regardless. He watched in silence as Sister Anna danced alongside him, keeping in step with his less gracious ones. Her tired face seemed to brighten with each beat, as if she was finally becoming… Comfortable.

The Arch Magos had only seen her expression like that once before, and in snippets as he would find her whilst in the midst of his work. If it took him around the fleet, at least.

Soon the music stopped, and the distant sound of applause could be heard as the pair bowed before one another.

Velut rose last, and rather stiffly at that. His breathing had become more ragged, but only now that she was not distracted did poor Anna notice. She stepped towards him until there was no space between them, reaching up to touch his face. He bent down so she could grasp onto the tubes that allowed him to breathe, her hands gently caressing the intricate carvings that made his face.

“When will I get to see you again?” She whispered, her smile beginning to fade. The realization that they would be separated again was dawning on her, as she came back to reality.

The old mechanical man looked away from her, staring out into space. His shoulders sagged, and the mechadendrites milling beneath his robes clacked in anxiety.

“I’m… I’m not sure. But I will tell you this.”

He sank down to her eye-level, robes swathing around her as he did so. His hands were on her shoulders as he pulled her close.

“You will join me and never have to worry about this again. It will be soon, I promise you that.” A mechadendrite snaked out and caressed her cheek, wiping away at the tears that began to reform.

“I just need a little time. Then you can be my wife without fear.”

He brought his left hand and placed it in her right, the light catching a similar ring to her own. The medallion around his neck jangled as he moved - The symbol of the Mechanicus, and his own Forge World glistening. A permanent reminder, as if his appearance wasn’t enough, that the two of them would never truly be one.

Anna smiled tearfully, and gently placed a kiss against his mask. Velut’s eyes dimmed completely, as his head craned downwards.

“I will wait for you, as I always have Velut. For I am yours, and you are mine. I will be your wife, faithful as always.”

Her eyes locked with his, as they flared to life once more. He stared at her in silence for a few seconds, his artificial eyes narrowing.

“And I will be faithful in return.” He stated, monotone voice wavering. Albeit what he said earlier was true, she was more prone to human flaws than he was. This evening proved that in his mind. She was painfully aware, but her expression didn’t change.

The eyes gave away her fear, though. The way they darted off to the side towards the main Observatory told him all he needed to know.

He did not say anything.

Instead he gave her a reassuring wheeze, and squeezed her shoulder as he stood up. Instead, he waved her off, telling her he did not mind it when she danced with others. Instead he hung back, claiming to not like the noise.

Instead he stood there and watched the love of his life walk away with what felt like would be the last time.

Instead he saw the door close with a hiss, as the room sealed off. Instead he stayed completely still, not even moving to look back at the starry void behind him.

Instead, he just stood there and waited.

Completely alone.

#wh40k #warhammer #warhammer40k #40k #warhammer40000 #40000 #adeptusmechanicus #mechanicus #admech #mechanicum #sistersofbattle #sob #sisters #sororitas #adeptussororitas #inquisition #imperiumofmankind #astramilitarum #ordohereticus #warhammer40kfanfic #fanfiction #this is a pairing that's kind of near and dear to my heart #and is based on a dumb gmod thing i did when i was like 17 #hope you like it #adeptus sororitas #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #ordo hereticus #adeptus mechanicus #sisters of battle

[glitchinthesystemspiderbyte]

[41] Glitch in the System - Running Forward

By E.

A discussion of coping happens.

The blaring sound of an alarm pulled Sombra out of a deep, dreamless sleep into a very confusing and loud reality.

“Widow,” she said, rolling over and blearily smacking at the other woman’s face. “Widow.”

The spider looked at her through her sharp golden eyes. “I am awake, Sombra.”

“Alarm’s going off.”

“Yes,” she replied. “That is what woke me up.”

“Oh,” Sombra said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Widow woke up with such clarity, in stark contrast to Sombra who emphatically did not, and it always took her an embarrassing few moments to catch up.

“Gabe?” she yawned, speaking through her internal connection to the Talon network. “Why is everything terrible?”

“Gas leak,” came the response from a voice that was decidedly not Gabriel’s. The soft brogue in Moira’s voice sounded strained, like a wire stretched too tight. “Please exit the building.”

“What did you do, Moira?” Sombra asked, fatigue fleeing her body at the potential of there being an actual threat at hand.

“There was a mishap,” she replied, voice flat. “In the lab.”

“A mishap?”

“Please exit the building, Sombra,” was Moira’s deadpan response, and the connection was broken.

“Explain?” Widowmaker said, already out of bed and getting dressed.

“Get the cat and meet me on the roof,” she said. “Moira broke something.”

It was chilly outside, and Sombra made liberal use of the thermal heating upgrades Widow had installed in her jacket for the holidays. Toulouse seemed fine swaddled in blankets in his carrier, and Widowmaker was the same sentient icicle as always.

“Not cold?” Sombra asked, just to make sure.

“I don’t even feel it,” was Widowmaker’s casual reply. Sombra rolled her eyes, setting Toulouse down in an alcove out of the light breeze before placing herself beside him, cross-legged on the cold stone.

“I wonder what happened?” Widow mused, sniffing at the air. She peered over the edge of the roof to see Akande frantically waving at someone on the inside, and they heard the sounds of windows being opened one by one.

“Probably some horrific experiment. Here’s hoping the building doesn’t blow up,” Sombra groaned.

“Coming to the roof was your idea,” Widowmaker said, crossing her arms.

“Yeah, well, I’ll risk considerable physical injury to avoid having to deal with Moira while she’s flustered.” She patted the space beside her. “C’mere. Check this out,” she said, pulling her hands apart such that long, string-like slivers of light stretched out between her fingertips, flashing purple in the dwindling light. Twisting her fingers, she flipped her hands around, manipulating them like physical objects until she turned the strands of light into what looked like a small, much less detailed replica of the Eiffel Tower.

“Are you playing string games with hard light?” Widowmaker asked, amusement edging her voice.

“Come here,” she said again, gesturing with her head. Widowmaker obliged, sitting down beside her and looking in her direction quizzically.

“Take ‘em,” she said, holding it out.

“Where?” Widow asked, confounded at the request.

Sombra rolled her eyes. The sniper’s occasional befuddlement at the simplest of things was a constant source of amusement for her. “Here. Right in the center,” she said, and four of the strings flashed brightly. “Pinch them.”

Widowmaker, reached out daintily, stopping just short of committing. “These?”

“Didn’t you play string games as a kid?” Sombra asked, laughing.

“I did not play games,” she said, frowning. Leaning forward slowly, she closed her fingers against the light.

“Of course you didn’t,” Sombra sighed. “Now - pull.”

Widowmaker did as she was told, and when she opened her hands, the light created a latticework ladder between her hands. She frowned, holding it above her head, peering beneath the glowing strands as if to locate some trap or mystery she couldn’t see from the top.

“What did you do?” she asked, flexing her hands. The light danced whimsically.

“Nothing, araña. It’s just clever manipulation of patterns.” Leaning forward, she pressed a finger against the center of the lattice. “Boop,” she said, and the light vanished into a shower of painless sparks. “I used to do this for the street kids, before I disappeared. They loved it. Thought I was some sort of magician.”

“It would not be too far from the truth,” Widowmaker replied, watching the remnants of the shattered light waft in the air until it flickered out.

“No magic, only tech,” Sombra replied, shrugging. “Frankly I felt more magical before all the upgrades. Back then was like pulling digital rabbits out of other people's’ hats. Now I’m the hat, and people just kind of give me their rabbits without realizing it.” She didn’t think back on her early years very often, although the memories were still sharp as knives.

“It is strange to think of you entertaining children,” Widow said, leaning back on her elbows and looking at the hacker.

Sombra laughed. “I love kids. Blank slates.”

“You’ve mentioned.”

“Also capable of accepting more than most adults. Kids are malleable, less judgemental, and bounce back faster. Especially kids who’ve seen some shit.” She shrugged. “I guess I empathize with that flexibility. I had to embrace it a lot myself.”

Widowmaker looked away, those golden eyes intense as always as she stared into space at some unknown point on the horizon. “You do not speak much about your childhood.”

“There’s not much to know”

“I find that unlikely.” Widowmaker paused, and Sombra could tell there was a knot of words sticking in her throat that she was doing her best to untangle before speaking them. “It is just that there is this large blank spot that I do not know about you.” She turned her head, her expression neutral, positing a request Sombra hadn’t prepared herself for. “I would like to, perhaps.”

“Oh,” Sombra replied, the lighthearted nature of their rooftop getaway fizzling like dust in a breeze before her. “It’s a common enough story: young girl watches parents be murdered by rogue omnics, survives with a wild band of other orphans until city gang notes her talents and takes her in.” She held her hands up as though displaying a billboard. “You know - the usual stuff.”

Widowmaker chuckled lightly. “There is nothing normal about you, cherie,” she said, kissing the top of her head.

“You’re so sweet,” Sombra said, grinning back.

“Do you, ah,” Widow continued, stretching her legs out restlessly before her, “remember your parents?”

Sombra tilted her head slightly. “Of course. In vivid detail. My mother used to sing me lullabies to help me sleep. I always had trouble, you know - too many thoughts, not enough time to get them out during the day.” Laughing, she pressed herself closer to Widowmaker, nuzzling her cheek into her shoulder. “Sometimes I wonder if she’d be proud of who I’ve become.”

Widowmaker looked at her expectantly, not offering an opinion in the matter.

“Probably not,” Sombra eventually followed up on her own. “She was terrified of technology. Ironic, really, considering how she and dad died.” She felt her voice falter a bit as she spoke, a wave of unexpected emotion pressing against her throat unbidden.

“You sound as though you miss them,��� the sniper said, sounding a trifle awkward as she picked her words.

Sombra shrugged. “Of course I miss them. I - their death stayed with me for so long. Weighed on me like a lead blanket; kept me warm on cold nights spent huddled on the streets with the other orphans. We’d all lost so much, you know?” She looked up at the sky, the sun shining out from behind a cloud, basking them in its warmth even as the air around them was chilled. “Some of us let it destroy us,” she said, running a hand idly through her hair.  “A lot of my friends just sort of dried up slowly.”

“Not you, though,” Widow said, brushing her fingertips lightly against the back of Sombra’s arm.

Sombra shrugged a shoulder. “I guess I just figured, if my life was going to be destroyed, then I wanted to rebuild it how I wanted. I needed something to control, and the only thing I really could reliably was myself. I let the loss drive me; push me forward until I was running.”

Reaching over, she undid the lock from Toulouse’s carrier. Widow made a halfhearted attempt at stopping her, but the big tom pushed his way out of the crate and directly into Sombra’s lap with little resistance. Sombra ran her hand along his fur, feeling the comforting rumble of his chest against her palm. “At first it felt a lot like I was running away from the past, but at some point I realized I’d started running towards the future.” It was a thing she’d not given much thought to over the years, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized how true it was.. “I guess I haven’t really stopped running yet.”

“I am...sorry,” Widow said, reaching a tentative hand out to comfort her. Sombra felt her palm settle between her shoulder blades and smiled.

“It’s not a big deal. I like being in motion.”

Widowmaker stared at her, struggling with something. “You do not seem to be a creature of struggle,” she said, then blanched slightly. “I did not mean that as...I do not mean to dismiss your experiences.” She pursed her lips, eyes narrowed as she sought out the proper words for what she was trying to say. Sombra waited, patient as ever, for her to settle on them. “I just mean that you do not wear your trauma. Not the way Gabriel and...I do.”

Sombra looked curiously up at Widow, seeing her in a new sort of light. She’d always struggled to understand how Widowmaker couldn’t use her experiences as fuel to push herself forward, to forge a way for herself in the world despite her pain. Now she considered that, while she’d started running to cope, Widowmaker had simply stood still.

“I wear it everyday, Widow. My trauma shaped me, sure - they’re experiences that made me who I am today. But I’m not my trauma, you know?” she said. “I was just there for it; I grew from it. It will always be a part of who I am, but,” she considered her words carefully for a long time. “But it informs who I am, not the other way around.”

“How do you reconcile your loss?” Widow asked, pointedly, and through the veil of some muted agony. “To press onward despite all that was done to you?”

Sombra frowned, thoughtfully, letting her mind wander back to some of the memories she had held onto over the years. “I had a cat, once, when I was very young. My father got him for me as a birthday present.” She reached down and scratched behind Toulouse’s ears, smiling as he pressed his head against her palm. “I loved that cat more than anything else in my life. More than my computer, more than my friends, hell,” she looked up, “more than my parents sometimes, it felt like.”

“The start to this story makes me very nervous,” Widowmaker said, using one finger to scritch Toulouse under his chin. He purred louder and lifted his chin up, eyes closed.

Sombra smirked. “A year after I got him, he escaped the house and got hit by a car, right in front of my eyes. I was a wreck - inconsolable for days after. I wouldn’t let anyone in my room and I barely ate.”

Widowmaker squeezed her hand underneath Toulouse’s rumbling belly. “What happened?” she asked gently.

“Well, eventually I’d cried myself into silence, and stopped treating my parents like the bad guys. My dad came in with my favorite meal -”

“- sugary cereal?” Widowmaker interjected.

“Tamales, jerk,” Sombra laughed, bumping against her with her shoulder. “He brought me fresh tamales, set them down next to me, and said ‘Olivia, you will miss Manzanita for the rest of your life,’ and I looked at him like he was crazy until he continued. ‘But love is what gives loss its sting, which means that you will always have that love for him, too.’” Chuckling to herself, she shook her head. “I think that’s what really got me through it all, you know? The knowledge that, while I have lost more than most, it also means that I have loved more than most.”

Widowmaker watched her, mired in a deep silence that lasted well over a minute. Sombra couldn’t imagine what it was she was thinking - when it came to emotions, Widowmaker was either a fountain of confusion or a tight-lipped vault. Right now, though, she mostly seemed thoughtful, contemplative and, perhaps, a little sad.

“I am happy you had that solace,” she said, finally, raising a hand to brush her knuckles against Sombra’s cheek. “And I am pleased at the woman you have become.”

“Thanks spider,” she replied, grinning like an idiot.

“I do have to ask you something, though.”

“Shoot.”

Taking a deep breath, Widowmaker closed her eyes for one long, exasperated moment. “You named your cat Little Apple?”

Sombra laughed, shoving her playfully, interrupting Toulouse’s snooze. “Jerk,” she said. “Now hug me, I made myself sad.”

“I am here, cherie,” the sniper murmured against her ear, wrapping her arms around her and the black and white ball of fur in her lap. Listening to the occasional loud outburst from the yard below, they settled for a quiet afternoon of watching the clouds pass by until the mansion was ready for them to return.

*Read from the beginning or check out our intro post! All stories tagged under #glitchfic. Table of contents located here.

#spiderbyte #sombramaker #widowsombra #sombra x widowmaker #widowmaker x sombra #sombra #olivia colomar #widowmaker #amélie lacroix #amelie lacroix #overwatch #overwatch fanfic #overwatch fandom #overwatch fic #glitch in the system #glitchfic

[resplendentgoldenwings]

All That Remains, Chapter 11

Part 1:In the Beginning, Chapter 11: Gather Them Close

rating: teen

characters/relationships: Iris West, Henry Allen, Joe West, Wally West, Francine West,Linda Park, Caitlin Snow, Cisco Ramone, WestAllen

summary/introduction: Iris turns to Malcolm in a moment of desperation

betad: by asexual-fandom-queen

warnings: talk of abortion

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter  10

Gather Them Close

Iris' sweat dampened dress clung to her skin, sticky with humidity, her dark hair curling where sweat dampened her edges. She had over two months of new growth, maybe now was a good time to grow out her relaxer.

The wind, gusted warm then drying her sweat for a just a moment and whistling through the leaves of the trees. The late August trees were green and full some heavy with flowers, willows bending under the weight of their branches, the chirp of crickets and cicadas filled the air, along with birdsong, but it was quiet other than that a strange, solemn humanless world.  

The sounds of the city, cars, people they were distant here. She supposed that made sense.

Iris hadn't been to the cemetery since the burial. She'd thought of going more than once, but had been far too drained. Now she faced Barry's grave with a mixture of guilt and hope.   

People talked about feeling close to their lost loved ones, feeling their presence, their spirit. So far she hadn't felt Barry's presence or spirit anywhere. He would come to her if he could, she knew that much. Maybe he couldn't come to her at their apartments, but if he still had a spirit that she could feel it would be here. She stood studying his tombstone, roses in hand, sonogram in her purse and waited.  

An ash old and broad stood a few feet away from the Allen plot, its branches fanning out to shade Nora and Barry's graves, and a plot reserved for Henry.

'Barry Allen, beloved son, and fiance, the only time he was ever early.' She leaned down to spread the roses on his grave, and Nora's tombstone caught her attention as she straightened up. A fine coating of dust covered the top of it, and Iris frowned. Even though she was there for Barry Iris took a moment to wipe to dust of Nora's tombstone and lay one of the flowers for her.   

She remembered Nora Allen, vaguely. A kind, compassionate woman, cheerful, but she could be stern too, and Iris had secretly found herself waiting to see if the woman's red-headed temper would come out. If it had, it had never been in her presence.  

"Nora you raised an amazing son. I love him with all my heart," She sighed. "I wish I could've gotten to know you better, had you for a mother-in-law."

Iris ran her hand over the sun-warmed marble, fingers lingering on the date. Nora had died so you. She said a silent prayer for Nora and turned her attention to Barry, the reason for her visit.   

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, Barry. I miss you every day at every meal, when I watch tv, when I hear about a scientific study or breakthrough on the news I still tell myself to ask you about it. They released a trailer for the new Star Trek movie. I was gonna let you talk me into going to the premier and maybe even let you convince me to cosplay as Spock and Uhura this time.  You know I always let you drag me to that stuff, but I secretly liked them, now who am I gonna go with?" Iris waited and felt a lump form in her throat when she got no sense of Barry's presence. "I don't understand Barry; you're the Flash how could you die in a house fire? It doesn't make sense."   

Still nothing. She squeezed her hands into fists for a moment and forced herself to continue.  

"I'm pregnant Barry, and I don’t know what to do. Caitlin thinks it was probably around May 12th, the night you proposed. I know we used protection, but here I am pregnant and by myself."   

She fished the sonogram out of her purse.  

"We're having twins Barry, they're fraternal, so it could be a boy and a girl." For the first time since Caitlin confirmed her pregnancy, Iris smiled just a little bit and held up the sonogram. "They look like little aliens."   

Iris waited her smile faded.   

"Alright, Barry I know you would come to if you could. So that means you can't." She put the wrinkled sonogram in her purse. "Maybe we're just so much meat, and chemicals no soul. Maybe none of this matters anyway."  

Iris turned on her heel.

There was nothing here, no comfort or peace for her no matter how quiet and peaceful it seemed. Nothing, but a corpse cold in the earth and a pile of dirt. She could call her mother, make that appointment at Planned Parenthood. At that moment the wind stirred whipping her hair into a stream flowing back behind her and tearing the sonogram out of her hand. Without thinking she went after the little piece paper as it fluttered to land on Nora's grave. She bent to retrieve, and it and a feeling of warmth, love, and concern strong enough to push forth happy tears flooded her.

"Okay, Barry, okay."  

The West house was redolent with the wonderful the fragrance good food cooking. Onion, garlic, and rosemary were heavy in the air while the warm, sweet scent of baking brownies rose to slowly overpower the savory fragrance of dinner.  

"Iris have a seat. I'll keep an eye on this."  

"Thanks."  

Henry took over stirring the mashed potatoes, and Iris sat down at the kitchen table. Her stomach had stayed calm and let her cook, something she was grateful for. She wouldn't have been able to cook otherwise.  

"I need to ask you something."  

"What's going on?"  

"Did you know-" She took a deep breath. "Did you know that  Barry was The Flash?"  

"Yeah," Henry said after a moment. "He told me about a week after he woke up."  

"Oh." She looked down at the table for a moment. "Do you- do you know why he didn't tell me?"  

"I think these are done." Henry turned the stove off. "You guys had just gotten together; he didn't want to jeopardize the relationship."  

"But I wouldn’t have-"   

"-I know, and I told him that." Henry sat down, closed a hand over hers. "Listen, Iris; it wasn't just that. Barry had enemies."  

"Henry my dad is a cop-"  

"-It's not the same. That man Professor Wells, he wasn't what he seemed. He was a bad guy. He's the man who killed Nora."  

Iris felt her eyes go wide and then she listened while Henry told her the story of Barry, The Flash, and the Reverse Flash.  

"So this man came back from the future and killed Barry's mom before he'd even become The Flash." She stared at Henry, confounded by the very idea. "He came to the past to try and harm a little boy, and when he couldn't hurt that little boy he went after Nora?" Iris could hear an edge of hysteria in her voice.

"Dr. Wells- Eobard Thawne he's dead Iris."

She nodded and ran a hand through her hair, and the other hand drifted to her stomach. The feeling of wrongness that had been with her since she'd gone running to Henry's house the night of the fire flared into life again.  

"Barry has enemies?"  

"Yeah."  

"Henry do you think-"  

"Hey!" The kitchen door swung open then, and Wally strolled in eyes widening as he took in the scene in the kitchen. "This all looks and smells great."  

Wally smiled that bright grin of his and the shadow that had fallen over her retreated.   

"I'm so glad you're here sis'."  

He pulled her up into a hug, and she felt her all of her baby brother's love and devotion in his embrace, but it wasn't enough to reach the fear and worry blooming in her heart.  

The West house soon filled with guests, Wally, Linda, Joe, and Francine, along with Caitlin and Cisco. As much as she had been hiding in her apartment, avoiding the world it was good to see her childhood home filled with friends and family, get heartfelt hugs and wishes from people who truly cared about her and would care for the twins. It was good to see their friendly faces around the dining table while they ate and talked and laughed.   

Had she been doing it wrong, burying herself in grief rather than surrounding herself with love?  

Wally talked about school, Francine discussed the conference she'd been asked to speak at, Linda was full of sports talk, and Cisco was thinking of starting a tech business.  

When they'd finished eating Joe made Wally help him clear the table.   

Iris stood as they finished.  

"Dad, Wally don't bring the dessert yet I have an announcement."   

Joe and Wally returned to their seats, and all eyes went to her.  

"I'm so glad I invited all of you over. This is the best I've felt, since well-" Her grief stirred, and Joe took her hand giving it an affectionate squeeze.  

"Take your time sweetie."  

"Thanks, dad." She squeezed his hand back. "I feel so loved right now, which is good because I'll be needing all of you in the coming months. A few days ago Caitlin confirmed that I'm pregnant with twins, just a little over two-"  

"You're pregnant!" Henry stared at her gray eyes as clear and bright as she'd seen them since the fire.   

She nodded.  

"With twins?"  

"Yes, Henry."  

"Iris, oh my god." Henry was on his feet and coming around the table to catch her in a hug that lifted her off her feet.  

"Thank you, thank you, thank you."  He held her for a long moment radiating happiness.

When Henry sat her on her feet, it was Joe's turn to hug her.  

"So you’re moving back in the right?"  

"Yes, dad," Iris said ruefully.

"Iris this is great." Wally was grinning from ear-to-ear. "I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say you can count on all of us to help."  

"Yes, mhmm." Echoed around the table.   

"You know," Joe eyed everyone in the room. "None of you women seem all that surprised."   

"Well, I'm the doctor." Caitlin volunteered with that slight smile of hers.  

"And I'm her best friend and roommate," Linda said with a shrug.  

"And I'm her mother of course I know," Francine said with a superior tilt to her chin.  

The four women looked at each other and laughed.  

"Well, at least we're not outnumbered, right Cisco."  

Joe, Henry, and Wally looked to engineer for support.  

Cisco shook his head.  

"Don't look at me; I came with her." He pointed to Caitlin whose cheeks flushed a soft pink.   

"Forget you man," Joe said. "What about this dessert?"  

Sundaes were made with her favorite toppings, and they sat around the dining room table eating and talking. Iris savored the mix of warm gooey brownie and cool ice cream while they talked, everyone, giving her encouraging smiles from time-to-time.  

"Hey baby girl," Joe came out onto the deck. "Now why am I not surprised to find you here?"  

"Because Barry and I used to sit out here and talk all night during summer break," she replied.   

"Yeah," he sat down next to her on the padded porch swing and Iris leaned against her father. "So how are you feeling, really?"  

"Sad, worried, scared, but not as sad, worried and scared as I felt this morning."  

"Good." Joe put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead.  

Iris stared into a night lit by the yellow glow of streetlights, leaves on shadowed trees moving in the breeze. Joe sat with her silent, and she was grateful for that. She was tired, and there was still so much to say and do. Her grief and fear were still with her, and there were new worries.   

Barry had enemies out there, somewhere, at least one had traveled in time. She knew enough about the world to know that sometimes when an enemy couldn't get the object of their revenge, they transferred their anger and hate to family, a loved one. Did Barry have any enemies of that kind? There was an undercurrent of meta-human fear growing in Central City. With The Flash gone meta-human crime was on the rise.  

She wasn't naive enough to think that wouldn't crystallize into something dangerous and ugly. It had been happening to black people for four hundred years. And what would the world make of black meta-humans raised by a single mother? Iris sighed feeling a bone-deep weariness that had been with her since the night of the fire.  

"What is it baby girl?"  

"Nothing I want to talk about right now dad. Tonight was a good night."  

"Yeah, it was. You should see Wally and Cisco in there trying to impress Caitlin and Linda with engineer talk."  

"Oh really. What happened to that guy Wally was dating?"  

"Didn't work-out I guess." Joe's arm tightened around her shoulders. "You know we're gonna take care of you right?"  

"I know. I guess I'll have to tell everyone about Barry being The Flash."

Her father took a deep breath.

"You will, but not tonight."

"That and more."

"Yeah."

She'd have to tell them about Barry being the Flash, about his possible enemies, about the twins possibly being metas. There was a lot, but for the first time in weeks, Iris did not find her herself consumed by grief, worry, and fear. It was still there she could feel it sitting in her stomach, riding her shoulders waiting for that moment, the memory that would bring it all out again, but for the moment she could turn her mind from it, and she did.

Iris leaned against her father, let him put a protective arm around her shoulders, let her hand of its own accord drift down to lie against her stomach. For now, for one moment though she- they were content, and that was all that mattered.  

A/N- So I’m posting it all at once. This fic was never supposed to get drawn out like this in the first place. Chapter 12 is the final chapter of part one, we go back to the night of the fire and find out what really happened to Barry.  If you prefer to read on Fanfiction.net it will be up soon.

#The Flash #WestAllen Fanfiction #Iris West #Barry Allen #WestAllen #Joe West #Henry Allen #AGDoren writes #All That Remains

[quillandink333]

Scarlet Carnations ~ Part V

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.9k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

“‘Justice is Dead’: Inspector Hyrule Loses her Badge for Lying in Sheikah Murder Trial”

This headline, alongside a photograph capturing the catastrophe that had been Link’s trial, was what had made the front page of the Times not long after it had all transpired. And it wasn’t the only one of its kind. Far from it. It seemed every publishing firm in town had released an article covering my epic blunder in court.

My name wasn’t unfamiliar to the masses either. As the daughter of the last pre-Yiga mayor to stand in office, anyone who read the paper regularly knew who I was. Until now, I’d been known all across town as the prodigy detective dedicated to keeping the streets free of crime, but now, all those people would look upon my face and see nothing but a filthy, lowlife perjurer.

I could live with my name being ground into the dirt by the media. What made me truly bitter beyond words was that the few individuals whom I’d once trusted and looked up to would now think the same of me.

I’d tried reaching out to Prosecutor Sigatur countless times in the hopes that she could in some way continue the investigation in my stead, but every time I called, she would never pick up. She probably saw this case as closed now anyway. I had managed to get a hold of Auntie Purah, but all she’d been willing to say to me was that she needed time to think before hanging up. As for Paya, I couldn’t even bring myself to try to contact her.

It wasn’t something I took pride in. Clearly the best thing for me to do would be to apologize to them all for my actions, most of all to Paya after all the needless grief I’d caused her. But I simply couldn’t do it. Just the idea of it felt wrong. No words that I could possibly say to them would be of any use in bettering the circumstances. I couldn’t bring Auntie Impa back. I couldn’t undo what I’d done. I couldn’t do anything. There wasn’t a single thing I was good for other than making a mockery of myself and disappointing those who’d once dared to put their faith in me. Nothing at all.

And now, to put a cherry atop the sundae of darkness and misery that my life had come to, the one person who mattered most to me, the one I’d dedicated myself to protecting, was gone, forever. Just when we’d finally found each other again. There was still so much I’d wanted to ask him, and even more that I’d wanted to say, but...

What I wouldn’t have given just to be by his side at that moment. What we did didn’t matter. Even if he and I were simply in the same room together, I’d feel more at ease. But who was I to wish for such things? I was the one who had failed him. I should’ve just testified that I’d been the one behind everything. I should’ve been the one on death row right then. Not him.

I thought recalling a happier time would perhaps help to restore me to my rational self, before it was too late, but in the end, it only proved to pour more salt in the wound.

“Alright, I’ll see you around.” Both Paya’s and my own ears perked up at the familiar, jovial voice down the hallway. “Great time catching up with you!” No sooner than we’d heard those words did Link come striding out of one of the classrooms on the left.

“Uhh...!” I turned toward Paya, who was suddenly as red as a raspberry. “I j-just remembered I had something to ask one of my teachers about!”

Just then, Link’s eyes landed on the two of us. Paya gave him a wave and a sheepish smile, both worth no more than half a second.

“You two have fun!”

Then she started to turn on her heel.

My outstretched arm just barely missed the strap of her school bag. “No, wait!”

“Bye!”

I gave a disgruntled snarl as she made her hasty retreat. She was far enough now that if I tried calling out to her, I’d only be drawing attention to myself.

“Everything alright, Zelda?”

“Link!” The boy in question was right there, just a foot’s distance or so behind me. “Oh, yes. Quite. Paya’s just...”

“She seemed busy.”

“Yes, yes,” I grumbled. Busy putting me on the spot, more like. As always. “Who was that you were talking to just now?”

“Oh, you must mean Sidon!” he exclaimed. “He and I knew each other in elementary school. He just transferred here last week, or so I’m told. What a small world we live in!”

He spoke animatedly, gesturing with his whole body as he told me tales of the mischief he and his childhood friends used to get up to. Though he himself had only been enrolled here since the start of that year, it seemed he already knew everyone on campus. Even the members of faculty were fond of him.

“So I heard you got in touch with my father again the other day,” he said as we rounded the corner of the building’s exterior on the way to our usual lunch spot.

“Oh, yes, I did!” He took a seat next to me on the concrete bench in front of the greenhouse.

“How’d that go?” he asked, then tore a massive bite out of his sandwich.

I winced in a mixture of worry and amazement. “Well, he didn’t really have much to contribute to my case, but I appreciate his hearing me out all the same.”

“Ah’m thure you ‘o.” He swallowed his mouthful of food before continuing, to my relief. “But he doesn’t take time out of his busy schedule to talk to just anyone, you know.”

“Oh, certainly. If it weren’t for Urbosa, I’m sure he wouldn’t even give me the time of day.”

Then a teasing grin lit up his face. “Aren’t you forgetting about someone?”

“Oh! Of course. My apologies,” I bowed, swivelling in his direction. “You’ve been a great help as well, Link. Thank you.”

A faint crease formed between his brows. “Come on now, I was only joking.” He gave my shoulder a light shove, nearly making me drop my lunch tray. “You should try being less prim and proper all the time. No one’s counting on you for anything, are they?”

“No, I suppose not.” No one amongst the living, anyway. Besides, he already had me eating lunch outside the cafeteria. How much more improper did he expect me to be? “I think it’s just the way I’ve been brought up.”

He gave a slow nod. “That’s understandable.” No doubt he could imagine how strict the CEO of Sheikah Tech. could be with her daughters sometimes. “Still, if you want my advice, try lightening up now and then. Trust me, you’ll be loads happier that way.”

My heart swelled at his kind words. If it were anyone else, I probably would have dismissed them as just another naïve optimist. “You think so?”

He shook his head, correcting me with, “I know so.”

I’d bumped his knee with my own when I’d turned to face him a short while earlier. It was then that I finally took notice of our sustained bodily contact, which in turn made me notice how little distance there really was between where he and I were now sitting.

He must’ve realized this as well. While I was still in a flustered rut about what to do, he caught me off guard and scooted even closer, until our thighs were just a hair’s breadth away from touching. I, of course, was a gawking, red-faced mess at this point, but he didn’t seem to mind. He simply kept looking at me with that disarmingly sweet smile of his.

Never in my life had I met someone more determined to keep smiling in spite of all the world’s cruelties than he was. It wasn’t ignorance; his father was none other than the district’s chief detective. He was simply, genuinely, fearless.

“Hey, so...” His mannerism had shifted out of nowhere from confident to slightly less confident. “Will you be coming back here for the horticulture club meet this afternoon? I just remembered you mentioning that the other day, and if you are going, it’d give me a reason to go.”

A rush of giddiness took hold of me, causing my heart to thrum wildly within my ribcage. “Really?”

“Oh, wait. Did I just—” He laughed into his palm, then groaned. “Did I say, ‘a reason,’ just now?” I nodded, perplexed. “I meant, ‘more reason.’ That’s what I meant to say, obviously, because I was already thinking about going before you mentioned it.”

He seemed to be telling that more to himself than to me. I did my best to reciprocate his forced chuckle. “Alright.”

“Yep...”

The bell rang in the distance, signalling five minutes until the start of class.

“Oh, dear. I’d better be off.” In a rush, I stood up and gathered my things. “My next class is on the other side of campus. Bye for now, Link!”

“Wait, Zelda!” I halted. “So...are you going?”

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my lips. “That’s what I had planned for today, yes.”

“Oh, spiffing!” His crow’s feet appeared adorably at the corners of his eyes, making my own smile grow. “I’ll see you then!”

By the time the memory had reached the end of its reel, there was a knife situated in the trembling grasp of my hand. Though the cuts were already a great deal in number, I’d barely even felt them until now. Now they stung like venom. In truth, it was most likely a result of the tears that had begun to fall upon the marred surface of my inner forearm. With this realization, my silent tears were only magnified into sobs of insurmountable extremity. The blade in my grip clattered mercilessly onto the desk. I was never going to see him again, was I?

As the salt of my tears mixed together with the little puddles of red that had formed, I caught myself staring blankly at the ball key sitting on the far end of my desk: the one Link had found at the scene of my godmother’s killing and had kept secret until the day before his conviction, when he’d entrusted it to me. Its dim, tangerine glow was just another painful reminder of how hopeless this situation really was.

Of course, being the spectacular mess of a person that I had become, I’d made the oh-so-wise decision to cut myself at the place where I carried out my chemistry experiments. With grandiosity, I oafishly spilled an entire beaker’s worth of fluid just as I’d finished wiping away the blood.

But just as I was about to go and fetch the mop, something happened that I never could’ve expected.

In the darkness of my apartment, the area on my desk where there had once been blood was glowing a strikingly brilliant blue.

I picked up the beaker that I’d knocked over. It bore the handwritten label, “5-Amino-2,3-dihydrophthalazine-1,4-dione.” Scanning the desk’s surface, something else caught my eye—something that could potentially be the “key” that I’d been searching for since the moment I’d discovered my dear godmother’s dead body.

The orange glow of the ball key, which had just so happened to find itself square in the middle of the splash zone, was being obscured by spots of blue light.

#my writing #fanfic #botw #zelink #botw zelink #zelink botw #link x zelda #zelda x link #botw link x zelda #botw zelda x link #zelink fanfic #zelink fic #zelink ff #zelda pov #detective au