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joontier · 3 years

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Parallel Palpitations | V1; report i

pairings: dr. park jimin x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: romance, slice of life, humor

warnings: none to note

word count: 2k

g/n: this is just an intro basically ksjdfksjdf but i’d also like to inform yalls this coincides with the Subliminal in Scrubs universe (jk’s installment of TWA)

Parallel Palpitations (the records) | navi. | m.list

Closing his locker with his foot, Jimin tries to carefully balance his books placed precariously on top of each other in his arms as he walks back to the dean’s office where he’s also arranging most of his stuff to take home. It’s already been a week since he’d officially graduated medicine from Busan National University, and he had only kept going back to school to gather all his belongings so he could start reviewing.

“Jimin, is that you?” The question almost knocks clumsy Jimin off his feet, surprised at how there was still any other person in the office besides Kyungjo who was also collecting his stuff to take home. Jimin sets all of his books down first on a desk and turns, only to come face to face with none other than Jeon Jungmin himself, associate professor and chairman of the Jeon Medical Center.

“Professor Jeon! Good evening Sir...It’s already late, professor?”

Jeon Jungmin laughs, patting Jimin on the back, “I was going to say the same to you kid. You should go home.” Jimin flashes the older man a small smile, “Ah...yes, Professor. I’m just grabbing the last of my stuff then I’ll be on my way. This won’t take long.”

“It’s fine, Jimin. The staff know you well anyways,” Jungmin sighs, then rests his weight on a pillar as he puts his hands in his pockets. “You know, Jimin...you’re a very bright student...I think even one of the best in Korea if I do say so myself.”

The young man momentarily pauses with what he’s doing, taking in the professor’s words, “Oh, I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration, Sir.”

Jungmin chuckles as he shakes his head. “It’s true - you’re driven and you’re smart. It’s a fixed formula for someone who achieves great success in life later on. Your parents must be very proud. I would be too, if you were my son too.”

“Thank you, Professor. Everything I do, I do for my parents.”

The older man lets out a deep exhale and gives Jimin another pat on the back. “Just wanted to let you know that you’re going to be a fine doctor Jimin - and the Jeon Medical Center would definitely need fine doctors like you. I realized I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I really hope you will choose JMC for your post-graduate internship. We have a good program here,” Jungmin’s voice goes down to a whisper, “If you wish to, just let me know…”

Someone enters the office and bows to the both of them and recognizes the same man as the professor’s driver. The man collects the professor’s briefcase and coat with one nod of Jungmin. “Well, I’ll head off first, Jimin. I can give you a ride home if you’re done with those.”

Jimin shakes his head quickly, declining the one and only Jeon Jungmin’s generous offer. He’s unsure about the other offer though, but if he lets himself get a car ride home with the chairman himself, the latter might take it as a favorable answer to his proposal to which Jimin is still undecided. “No thank you Sir. I’ll be alright. This might still take a while after all,” Jimin says with an awkward laugh, tapping the top of the stack which was rivaling Jimin’s height.

“Alright Jimin. Get back home safely. And I...hope to see you again very soon.”

Jimin gives him a curt nod. “Good night, Professor.”

He continues on with his remaining tasks, wanting to finish quickly so he could finally go home and rest. “Is he gone?” Kyungjo’s voice startles Jimin, the book in his hands nearly causing the tower of books to collapse. “My god! Stop doing that!” Jimin scolds his friend as it wasn’t the first time Kyungjo’s sleuthing had given Jimin a fright.

“Yeah, he left already. You done with your stuff?”

“Uh-huh. All set and ready to step into the real world,” Kyungjo replies, waving his hands in the air. Jimin narrows his eyes at the other boy, judging him silently. Kyungjo has a particular inclination towards alcohol and Jimin wonders if today was one of the days where his friend indulges himself yet once again.

“Have you heard about his actual son? What was the kid’s name again...uh…” Kyungjo snaps his fingers in mid-air as Jimin asks what was the issue with the chairman’s son, likewise reminding Kyungjo it wasn’t best to talk about it in the dean’s office. “Ah! Yes, Jeon Jungkook. Heard that their relationship got so bad that Jungkook completely cut himself off from the family once he graduated high school and went to Yonsei instead of BNU because of his daddy issues.”

Jimin, unsure how to handle and process that kind of information, simply shakes his head at Kyungjo. “It’s wrong to gossip about other people's lives like that.” When Jimin looks over at his friend, Kyungjo is no longer listening, fumbling with the remote as he turns up the volume of the office television.

“In other news today, two thousand five hundred sixty one students of Seoul National University graduated this afternoon 25th of February, 2023. The ceremony was held at COEX Convention Center in Samsung-dong, Seoul to accommodate the number of graduates this year. With a yearly average of at least two thousand three hundred graduates, this year’s commencement ceremony records the highest number of graduates in the history of the national university.

“Not only did they record the highest number of alumni, but this year also marks the first year to have a foreign national graduate as the school’s valedictorian.” Jimin is listening just as intently as Kyungjo now with both boys focused on the TV screen. “Jeong Yeorum, also known as Summer Jeong by her colleagues, graduates with flying colors today from Seoul National University’s College of Medicine. Here is part of her valedictory speech this afternoon.”

A girl appears on screen and she stands behind the podium with a bright and reassuring smile on her face. “As we embark on the journey of the rest of our lives, I implore you all, to do what you love, because I believe it’s what you’ll do best. There will be countless times of trial, but keep in mind that perseverance will always prevail. Always aim for the moon, because even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars. Class of 2023, good luck. And remember, graduation is only the beginning.”

“Wow!” Kyungjo claps his hands enthusiastically as he marvels at the girl. “The twenty-six year old, who along with her family migrated to South Korea back in 2015 when her father was reassigned to an office here in Seoul. The valedictorian says she’s not entirely foreign to Korea as her paternal grandmother is actually a native of Jeju. Jeong Yeorum then attended a co-ed high school in Mapo District, where she likewise finished her secondary education with academic distinction.”

The reporters, equally impressed with the girl’s achievements, couldn’t help but add their own comments to the news report, “Wow...I guess some people are simply born for greatness.”

“I agree with you there, Dongho-ssi. We might be looking at the next Bae Jeonjoo, the only woman in the group of doctors who pioneered neurosurgery in South Korea. Ms. Jeong Yeorum, if you are seeing this, we’re rooting for your promising career. Fighting!”

As soon as the news anchors proceed to report other news, Kyungko turns off the television and mentions the time. “Well, she was pretty cute, wasn’t she? Totally my type! Maybe when we get to Seoul to review, we’ll get the chance to meet her...and make her my girlfriend!”

Jimin rolls his eyes at Kyungjo, placing a firm grip on the shoulder, “My friend...you are either drunk, hungry, or high. Either way, you should go home. Don’t worry about me, I’ll just close up here.”

Kyungjo shrugs his shoulders. “You’ll still go, right? To Seoul?”

“I will. Don’t worry.” Jimin gives the other boy a reassuring nod.

“Still half half with the rent, a’ight? I’ll be counting on you, Jiminie...and don’t let me down. Also, tell me when you’re leaving for Seoul so I know when I’m not supposed to bring hot city girls home...they have the tendency to be...loud sometimes.”

This boy was definitely high, and whatever substance he’s taking, Jimin wants none of it.

“That’s your cue, Kyungjo. Go home and take a cab instead.”

“I can drive! I’m not high or drunk!” Kyungjo puts his hands up in the air in defense. “Hey, look, I can even moonwalk!” He proceeds to dance wildly as he exits the office, leaving Jimin questioning how he even became acquainted with Kyunjo in the first place.

You barely hear the sound of your name being called on stage when the audio of Hoseok’s loud whooping completely dulls that of your professor’s. “Oppa! Nobody would be able to make out my name with your audio input!” Playfully shoving your cousin’s phone back into his hands, you continue to mumble your complaints about the poor video quality.

Indignant with your words, Hoseok retorts, “Hey! I’m not a professional videographer, alright? What’s important is the actual moment happening and not how the moment was captured!” Hoseok hooks an arm over your neck, bringing your head to his chest as he gives you a noogie. “Oppa, my hair!!”

Pulling yourself away from his grasp, you quickly pat your hair down but not delivering a solid smack on Hoseok’s back. As you’re fixing your hair, you weren’t able to put much thought into where you were walking, ultimately, and accidentally bumping into someone in a blue and black graduation robe similar to yours.

Quickly, you look up, apologizing profusely at the person. “Oh! I’m so sorry- I…” “It’s okay,” the guy smiles a little, “_________, right?” You’re sure the surprise is evident in your face when he mentions your name when he barely even talked to you during the entirety of med school. “Yes! I mean...hello, Jungkook..” Clearing your throat, you quickly think of something to divert the impending awkward silence, “Well...um, congratulations to you for graduating as the batch valedictorian!” It now dawns on you that he really did graduate on top of the class, “Wow! You’re real smart!” comes your thoughts, unconsciously voicing them out.

‘You’re real smart?’ Really? That’s the best you could’ve done?

Jungkook chuckles, slightly taken-aback by your audible observation. “Oh yeah...um, thanks.” From behind you, you hear Hoseok clear his throat before speaking up. “Hello!” You hang your head low momentarily, already imagining Hoseok making fun of you later for this.

“Right, Jungkook, this is my cousin, Jung Hoseok. Oppa, this is my classmate - Jeon Jungkook.” The two men shake their hands briefly before Jungkook speaks up, “Well, I’ve got to go now. Congratulations to you too Soomin. And Jung Hoseok-ssi.”

As soon as Jungkook gets out of your sight, Hoseok nudges you with his elbow. “Please tell me that man was Jeon Jungmin’s son,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. Nodding your head, you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Got a crush on the dude?” Oh god. Here we go again.

“No! Jeez.”

“Why were you so awkward around him then?”

“We barely talked in class. Hell, I don’t even think we were within at least fifty meters from each other.”

“But he’s a handsome man?”

“Maybe you’re the one that’s got a crush on him?”

Hoseok glares at you.

“Do you think maybe you’d know which hospital he might be interested in taking his PGI? Woocheon perhaps?”

It’s your turn to glare at him. “I told you. This incident was only one of our very few interactions ever. I think the last time he talked to me was when he borrowed a pencil during a class and that’s it.”

“Well...if you’d discover where, let me know. Because if he does apply for Woocheon, and we’d happen to get the girl from SNU too....” Hoseok nods his head slowly, stroking his chin “Woocheon will have the A-Team interns this year, you included.”

You roll your eyes, resting your arm against the car door that Hoseok opens for you, “You really think that’s going to pay for you ruining my hair?”

“No, but you’re going to thank me if Woocheon manages to snag the dream team!”

#jimin x reader #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #park jimin #bts aus #bts fic #park jimin x reader #jimin fluff #doctors au

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years

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Of All the Places

Chapter 3

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: Loki battles with new thoughts and feelings as time goes on. While trying to convince himself to leave, he does his best to stop his growing connection to you and Matt. Chapter Warnings: some angst, but also fluff A/N: Third chapter done! For anyone wondering about James, there’s some more information on him in this chapter. And for anyone who saw that other post, this isn’t the super long chapter yet, sorry! Updates every Friday. As always, hope you enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

One week later, Loki was ready to leave. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. He’d done his best to keep his distance, and yet he kept getting roped into conversations with you. Surely, though, that was wholly due to your persistence and in no part because he was drawn to you. And this family breakfast he was at yet again? Simply because he was addicted to pancakes. It had nothing to do with you, or your family, or your kind eyes. Okay, maybe it had the tiniest bit to do with your kind eyes. The way you looked at him was like nothing he’d ever known before. Frigga had always done it with a gentle love, but it was always reserved and hidden behind a queenly mask. With you, he could see every thought that passed through your mind reflected in your eyes. He shouldn’t have enjoyed being seen as a bird with a broken wing, but the care you gave him was something he quite liked.

“Hey,” you whispered, nudging him in the side as the rest of the table laughed at something. “You ok?”

“Yes. Just lost in thought I suppose.”

“I hate to interrupt,” Mama curtly interjected, “but whispering at the table ain’t polite.”

Ah, now if Loki was looking for a reason to leave, he could certainly find one in Mama. Though you’d been the one to start the hushed conversation, she was looking pointedly at Loki as if he was the instigator. Then again, she acted like every bad thing that happened since his arrival was his fault, even things he had no control over. Maybe spiting her by staying was reason enough for his delayed departure.

“Sorry,” you said before he could deliver a withering insult. “It’s my fault.”

Mama just made a little humming noise in reply that obviously showed she neither blamed you nor appreciated you taking the fall. In the time that Loki had been at your farm, she either avoided him like the plague or dealt thinly veiled insults his way. It was grating on his nerves, but there wasn’t much he could do bar revealing himself as an all-powerful god. Or leaving. That was always an option, he reminded himself.

“Son, I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Papa started, ignoring the tension like always, “I’ve misplaced that dang camera again. I’ll find it again soon though, don’t you worry.”

Little did he know, that camera’s disappearing act was entirely due to Loki’s magic. He’d hidden it around the house a number of times, never anywhere too outrageous as to avoid suspicion. Perhaps this time he’d just keep it in a dimensional pocket. Or let Taffy knock it over. Maybe if it was broken, you’d give up on the missing person ad idea. He’d worried that you would just use your phone cameras instead, but Papa was convinced that the quality would not be good enough.

“It is quite alright, sir. Your hospitality is more than enough. In fact, I really ought to be on my way soon,” he finished, throwing a glance at you to gauge your reaction, feeling an odd spark of happiness when you sank down in your seat.

“No!” Matt cried. “I don’t want you to.”

He crossed his arms as if that solved everything. It did, however, soften Loki a little. As it turns out, he was very fond of the little guy. On Asgard he’d never had much time to spend with children, but it seemed like he had inherited his mother’s natural ability to be good with them. Inherited is the wrong word, actually, he bitterly thought to himself. She’s not your real mother, after all.

“Matt, if he wants to leave, we really should let him,” Mama scolded, with an almost hopeful expression.

“Actually, I do not see why I shouldn’t stay a bit longer,” Loki said, flashing a false grin at the woman. “There really is no rush, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “No rush.”

“Well, Loki, since Matt has taken to you so well, maybe you’d like to watch him this afternoon?” Ana asked, pretending she didn’t hear Mama’s latest remark.

“It would be my pleasure,” he responded, surprised by the sincerity of that statement.

The family had still been avoiding giving Loki strenuous tasks, believing that he was just incredibly good at hiding his ailments. To keep up appearances, he pretended to have a particularly bad ache or pain every once in a while. Whenever he did, you’d instantly appear at his side and usher him to a seat. He’d try to get up, but you would tell him to stay put in your best stern tone, which he found rather adorable, though he’d never admit it. Then you’d fetch him a glass of water and watch over him for the next hour, or until you decided he was well enough to get up again.

Fifteen minutes later, it was time to start the day and everyone helped clear the table. Your family had made the process as efficient as possible. Mama and John would bring the dishes to Papa in the kitchen, who would hand them to you to put in the dishwasher after rinsing them off. Ana and Matt would put away all the leftovers and toppings from whatever had just been on the menu. Loki helped out where he could, but most days everyone besides Mama insisted he should take it easy, that he could help when he was fully healed. It was odd, he realized, that you were all planning on him being around that long. He felt that familiar, nagging, guilty feeling he’d been getting ever since he arrived. He was not a fan.

By the time Ana and John were ready to leave, Loki had already collected the eggs, the only daily chore he was given, and was ready to watch Matt. It was only as the boy was hugging his parents goodbye that Loki realized he wasn’t really sure what to do with the child for the next few hours. He was thankful that you seemed like you were planning on sticking around, too. It did make sense, he supposed, that they hadn’t completely trusted the boy with a near stranger.

“Aren’t you healthy, mommy?” Matt asked, clinging to Ana’s leg as she tried to get away. “Why do you have to go to the doctor?”

“Because you’re going to have a little brother or sister soon,” Ana explained in a sweet tone as she gently pried her son away. “Mommy and Daddy have to go to the doctor to make sure the baby is healthy.”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had not yet realized that Ana was pregnant. She must not have been very far along because she wasn’t showing much yet. Though, now that he knew to look, the god could see a small baby bump. Based on Matt’s reaction, he was already aware that he’d have a sibling soon, but he still couldn’t quite grasp the concept of everything that went along with that.

“Will you be back soon?” Matt questioned, finally giving up his efforts to keep his parents where they were.

“In the blink of an eye, small fry,” John said, placing a kiss on his head.

That seemed to satisfy Matt, who wandered over to Loki and put his arms up, clearly looking to be picked up. He hesitated for a second before scooping up the boy. It wasn’t that he was afraid of dropping him, in fact he was sure he wouldn’t, but he’d never held a child before. Up until a few days ago, he wasn’t sure he even had the slightest inkling how to be nurturing. And then there was the whole problem of Matt becoming too attached. Not to mention the way you looked at him when he did held him. That soft gaze was a problem for sure.

“Alright,” you said once Ana and John were gone. “What do you want to do, buddy?”

“Hide and seek!” he shouted. Then he put his small, chubby hands on Loki’s cheeks and used his most serious tone. “You’ll never find me. I have the best hidey spots.”

Loki let out a nervous chuckle. Truth be told, he didn’t know how to play this game. When he and Thor were kids, they played run and attack, but he felt like this was probably not very comparable. Midgard was a very different place, after all.

“Just count to sixty and then come look for us. We’ll stay in the house,” you informed Loki as he passed Matt off to you. “Oh, and just shout out when you’re starting to look.”

“Thank you,” he replied, turning around to face the wall.

It was odd, he thought, that he seemed to have said thank you more in the past week than he had in the last century of his existence. He’d never meant to let himself get so bitter, but here he was stewing in that awful feeling. When the flash of anger receded, the God of Mischief realized he was face to face with a framed family tree. Highest up were pictures of couples he could only assume were your grandparents. Next line down was Mama, Papa, and their siblings. You and Ana were in the next row, and it struck him just how much you and your sister looked alike. Matt and John were there too, but the person that most captured his attention was your brother. The middle child, he guessed, since the picture was in between those of you and Ana. He gently ran his fingers over the looping gold cursive of James’s name. Loki loved a good mystery, but he needed clues and evidence to solve one. He knew next to nothing about the guy, other than that he’d been wearing his clothes for the past seven days.

“I am starting to look now,” Loki awkwardly shouted, feeling self-conscious about seeming like he was talking to no one.

He thought he heard a small snort coming from one of the upper levels at his gawky declaration, so he headed up first. It felt odd to go rifling through things, so he mainly tried just to peer under furniture, though he did open a closet once or twice. He huffed and considered if he should venture into any of your rooms. If you weren’t there, though, he’d feel like he was intruding on something private and sacred. Hesitating with a hand hovering over the doorknob to your room, he noticed the attic hatch out of the corner of his eye. Standing still, he could hear a very subtle shuffling noise coming from above him, so either you were there, or you’d better call pest control.

As soon as he climbed the ladder, Matt started giggling, but Loki pretended he couldn’t hear. He loudly walked in between the boxes littering the floor, every once in a while dramatically peering around an old piece of furniture. It only made the laughs louder.

“Now where could they be?” he sighed in mock exasperation. “Maybe, they’re here!”

Then he jumped around the couch you were hiding behind and started tickling Matt. The boy squealed in delight and squirmed away. When Loki looked at you, he saw something shocking on your face. Admiration. It was something he’d longed for from so many people in his life, and here you were giving it so freely to him. He moved his gaze elsewhere before his mind could wander any further.

“What’s all the ruckus up here?” Mama asked, her head appearing from the door. After spotting Loki, her eyes narrowed. “Oh. It’s you.”

“We were just playing hide and seek, Mama. Don’t worry,” you said.

“Indeed. I must say, it is much fun,” Loki added, though more to annoy her than ease her mind.

“I’m sure,” she replied before taking Matt by the hand. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

You shot Loki an apologetic glance as you headed out after her. Once Matt’s snack was finished, Loki partook in some coloring. He was oddly pleased to know the little boy’s favorite color was green, and you seemed fairly partial to it, too. Ana and John returned roughly an hour later, and Loki finished the day by doing chores around the farm. Another thing he’d learned about himself was that he really didn’t mind doing manual labor. Growing up in the Royal Palace Valaskjalf, he never had to lift a finger to help cook or clean or do anything much besides training and lessons, really. Now he found himself almost eager to get into the kitchen for a cooking lesson with Papa or help out in the fields, the latter of which definitely had nothing to do with showing off for you.

He’d been on his way to the kitchen that evening sometime after dinner, his infamous sweet tooth bugging him again, when he heard Mama’s hushed voice.

“I’m telling you Earl, something about that boy just don’t sit right with me.”

“Come on, honey. He can’t even remember nothing. It’s our duty to help him out,” Loki heard Papa reply as he hid just outside the door.

“He may say he can’t remember, but I ain’t buying it. We should get him out soon as possible.”

It shouldn’t bother him as much as it did, but there was nothing to stop him from feeling the sting of those words. He really should just leave; it had been his plan after all. As if they had a will of their own, Loki’s feet carried him away from the conversation, out the door, and off the porch. He never should have taken advantage of your family’s generosity. He regretted thinking about you, though, because it made his steps falter a bit. And then there was sweet little Matt. It hadn’t really hit him until now, but Loki actually enjoyed himself today. He couldn’t recall the last day he could say that about.

“I hope you weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye.”

The trickster god whirled around at the sound of your voice. He’d been too caught up in his tumultuous thoughts to notice you leaning on one of the porch’s posts.

“Certainly not,” he lied. “I just needed some fresh air is all.”

“In that case, I know the perfect place. Come on.”

You took his hand and led him away from your land. He tried not to pay attention to the feeling of your hand in his. In fact, he tried to block it out altogether, but to no avail. Eventually, you reached a peaceful creek and picked up a rock to skip.

“If I was going to leave,” he began after a few minutes of contemplative silence, “I really would be fine. I appreciate all that you and your family have done, truly, but perhaps it’s best if I go.”

“Look, I know you’re pretty much all healed up, but you still don’t remember anything. I cannot in good conscience let you out into the world like that.”

“I suppose that is fair. Your mother certainly does not agree with your assessment, though.”

You sighed. “If Mama’s the reason you feel you should go, please just ignore her. She means well and all, but... Well, let’s just say she has her reasons for acting this way,”

Loki said nothing but raised his eyebrows at you. One part of him felt bad to press you for more information, even if it was done without words. The much larger part of himself, however, was entirely too curious to not know.

“Okay, so remember when I told you about my brother?”

Loki nodded eagerly, ready to get some answers about what exactly had happened there.

“Well, he was... He was killed in an accident with a drunk driver a couple years ago,” you recounted, tearing up a little bit. “Mama had trust issues even before, but they’re much worse now.”

“I am so sorry, darling,” Loki said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, but not daring to go any further than that.

He felt bad for your loss, but right now there were major alarm bells going off in his head. He’d just called you darling. It wan’t even something he’d thought about doing, it just happened. That, coupled with the fact he cared how you were feeling, had him panicking. His plan to leave after a week was already out the window, but leaving at all was becoming harder to fathom by the day.

“It’s ok,” you replied, wiping a few errant tears off your cheeks. “It was a little while ago. I’m alright now. Really.”

Neither of you said anything for a moment as he awkwardly pat your shoulder, not really certain of the correct way to comfort someone. He wanted to say something else, but he wasn’t sure what.

“I think I had a brother!” he shouted, giving in to his desire to confide in you, but his web of lies making it impossible to tell the whole truth.

“We have to put that ad in the paper then. So he can find you.”

Little did you know how awful that situation would be for everyone involved. Still, it meant a lot that you cared, especially when you’d just been saddened at the memory of your own brother.

“Maybe, but I do not seem to think we had a very good relationship.”

“All the more reason then. You never know how long you have, so you should try to make amends.”

“Perhaps.”

You lapsed into silence again, not really sure where to go from there. By now, the sun had been down for a while and a chill was settling in the air. Loki noticed you shiver and shrugged off his hoodie.

“Here,” he embarrassedly mumbled, holding it out to you.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t,” you refused. “You’ll be cold then.”

“Nonsense,” he insisted, “I will be perfectly fine.”

You reluctantly agreed and pulled it on. Though it had only been in his possession for a short time, his scent had already claimed the soft fabric. He acted like his attention was averted elsewhere, but was actually watching you out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t notice his gaze on you as you took a gentle sniff, trying to take as much of it in as possible. Sandalwood, leather and something otherworldly that you just couldn’t name, other than to call it heaven. He turned his head ever so slightly and you started sheepishly picking at your nails, hoping he hadn’t caught you. He expected to be appalled by the notion, but just found himself confused. Why would you enjoy something that was so distinctly him? Then he remembered you didn’t know the truth. That’s why he had to get out as soon as possible before he, or anyone else, got hurt.

“We should probably head back before it gets too late,” you said after a bit.

“I agree,” was all he replied.

As you walked away from the creek, he tried to leave the new feelings bubbling in him by the water, but they followed him all the way back to the house, and into his dreams that night.

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vulpes-incendium · 4 years

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I made this long time ago, but I thought it's a good time to share it here for @aphasiaweek!

I chose 《Hoi Sam☆Nice Guy》over 《Maji Kandou☆Hong Kong Night》because there are more stuff about HK in it. So let's see if the lyrics are accurate in a native's point of view!

Spoiler alert: it's very accurate

youtube

Hoi Sam = Happy (in Cantonese)

Guy = sounds like street in Cantonese (gaai1)

“Yooooo, so since there’s a song… while I’m at it I kinda put some effort into my costume… I think I’ve got like, serious swag Pardon? You can’t see me…for real? Woah!!!!”

FASHION: yes, HKers love to be trendy, always want to be on top trends! Trends come and go very very quickly, it's seriously really hard to follow trends in HK.

MIXING ENGLISH WITH CANTONESE: yup, we do that a lot, we almost couldn't finish a sentence without English, some words just sound "uncool" in Chinese lol (it’s always about being cool in HK lol), but we don't really say “pardon” unless we are speaking English

Sup-sup-sup-sup-sup-super mobile (snap snap) It’s my hobby to take pics and collect them (I guess) Not gonna lie, everyone’s got a mobile phone, penetration rate (highest in the world) Yeah! If you’re going sightseeing then Nathan Road! (Fuu~!)

TAKING PICS WITH SMARTPHONE: Aph HK loves taking (embarrassing) photos (of China lol), but in real life HKers do love taking pictures, or videos too (it's dangerous if you misbehave, people would film you and post on Youtube or Facebook)

MOBILE PHONE PENETRATION RATE: I couldn't find data for HK, but I think I heard on average, each HKer carries at least 2 cellphones! So this could be true!

NATHAN ROAD: It's the longest street in HK and there's so many things, good food, good shopping places and yup sightseeing! (A lot of our streets are named after the Governors during the colonial time, this street is named after Sir Matthew Nathan for example)

Welcome this makes me kinda happy (Check it out!) Learned this from England - tea in the afternoon (high tea) Welcome, this is kinda fun (Shake it up!) Yum cha, Hong Kong milk tea, cha-cha Nice culture (frivolous)!

AFTERNOON TEA: Yes, it's still a tradition for us to have tea time, we call it 3:15, workplaces would have tea breaks, restaurants do tea time menu during 2-5pm, it's really cool and cheap! We usually drink HK milk tea (evolved from British milk tea) during tea time and there are so many delicious snacks like French toast, pineapple bun and of course egg tart!

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YUM CHA: It literally means “drink tea”, but Chinese tea this time. It's a tradition for us to go Yum Cha every Sunday with our family! Dim sum is part of Yum Cha! We just eat and catch up with each others for HOURS!

Oh. My. God. “LOHAS LOHAS” Oh. My. Mind. “Gonna take a pic~” Take away “Is this delivery service for real?” Like, seriously, even if it’s way out of the way, no problem man

LOHAS: I didn't know what this refers to for a long time, I finally found the answer. This refers to LOHAS park, an eco-friendly residential area newly built few years ago. But what's so special about it? Is it famous in Japan?!

DELIVERY SERVICE: Well delivery service in Asia are generally good anyway, but I guess we are good and fast?! (but I think Korea too!)

Super Feeling unlucky? If it’s getting to you, go villain hitting at Ngo Keng Kiu A medium will perform an exorcism, and hit a paper doll with a shoe For fortune telling, go draw fortune sticks, or get a divine answer by throwing moon blocks at the temples… at Wong Tai Sin, light the fire of your incense! If you’re feeling tired, maybe you can give Feng Shui a try or something? A spiritual site in Lantau Island The Wisdom Path…is super Awesome for meditation, but there aren’t any toilets, so watch out Gold fish, bring me luck! (In money!)

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NGO KENG KIU: Generally HKers are not THAT superstitious, but the culture still lives within us. I have never known anyone who did the villain hitting, but it's still quite a thing (and a great tourist spot). It's mainly for people who backstab you (we call them "small people" siu yan), but I guess evil spirit too.

WONG TAI SIN: Again, it's more for older generation who are still a bit superstitious. People like to go to Wong Tai Sin Temple during Lunar New Year to wish for luck in the new year. It's still quite popular!

See I told you we have natural landscape (source)

WISDOM PATH: I've never been there lol. Apparently it's a "path lined with 38 wooden monuments inscribed with the Heart Sutra prayer". In general, HK has a lot of nice hiking trail, our landscape is actually amazing, it's just we focus too much on making money...

P-Pe-Pe-Pearl of the Orient is me! (I guess?) Got completely wasted? Ended up in a dress (totes sick) Not gonna lie, population density is highest in the world in Ap Lei Chau Yeah! If you’re going sightseeing then Hong Kong Island! (Yeah~!!)

PEARL OF THE ORIENT: It's the nickname of HK, the Philippines is Pearl of the Orient SEAS

(Ending up in a dress refers to this comic, thanks parallel France!)

POPULATION DENSITY: Yea, that's what we are famous for really, small place lots of people (HK is a very hilly city, surprise, surprise), we have the most expensive estate price in the world 🤦‍♀️, not sure if Ap Lei Chau is particularly population-densed, but the whole HK is like that!

Good luck in everything this makes me kinda happy (Check it out!) Learned this from England - how to be a gentleman (ladies first) I wish you good health, this is kinda fun (Shake it up!) Typhoon, Kung Fu, WA-TAHH Supplements, Chinese herbal medicine (healthy~!)

LUCK: The newer generations are less superstitious now, but luck is still kind of important for us? It's more like a tradition than a belief, we do them just in case (like Feng Shui).

TYPHOON: As a coastal city, we get typhoons a lot in summer, but they are not as strong in comparison to the Philippines or Indonesia.

KUNG FU: We are known for our Kung Fu films, as the actors are all trained martial artists! Bruce Lee (WA-TAH was his catchphrase), Jackie Chan and Donnie Yen are great examples! Because of the wars and Cultural Revolution, many people fled China to HK, resulting the influx of high quality martial artists (eg. Ip Man).

HERBAL MEDICINE: As western as we are, we still believe in Chinese Medicine, but more in a preventative way.

Oh. My. God. “Air conditioning in full blast!” Oh. My. Mind. “That’s not eco-friendly…” Oh well “The air will become cleaner, I think?” Seriously a Mistake, but, no problem man

STRONG AIR-CONDITIONING: This line had me laugh die (Imao in Cantonese)! It's so accurate! You can catch a cold from the airconditioning in HK! And that's why we always carry a jacket even in summer! It's not very eco-friendly and our government is trying resolve that.

AIR POLLUTION: Yes we have smog (smoke + fog), it is becoming quite the problem really. The root of the problem is that Shenzhen, the city next to HK, is developing rapidly and a lot of factories moved there, so the smoke is blown towards HK (we don't really have many factories left, it's too expensive here).

Awesome Riding on a roofless bus, cruising through the neon streets If you want to, like, go shopping… at Ladies Market There are stalls with cute stuff, souvenirs (lots and lots of them) Talk the price down! Haggling is what really counts For some more miscellaneous and deep junk, more for the adult and thrilling The street where mystery thickens… Temple Street Would you like to try some cheap eats at the street stalls? Absolutely delicious! Asian food is the best!

NEON LIGHTS: You've all seen the stereotypical HK streets full of neon lights, but it's actually decreasing, because there's no newcomers to the industry (the lights are handmade).

LADIES MARKET: You can find so many stuff there indeed, for a cheap price! Branded stuff, fake stuff (we don't make them but yea you can find a lot of them), food and goldfish. Yes, there's a goldfish street. Why? I dunno, for luck I guess?!

TEMPLE STREET: Similar to ladies market, it's also great for shopping. This street is also known for (illegal) prostitution and triad, but it's still safe to visit, never in my life have I encountered any of them.

“Yoooooo, Mister, so I kinda sang this song, but seriously, rapping is surprisingly, like, tough?” “It’s also a shame that no one can see what I’m wearing, I’ve got serious swag, y'know.” “Phew… I kinda want to go home already… I mean, the peach buns are gonna be sold out.” “…can we go now?” “…can’t we go yet?” “Haah…” “Okay fine, like, whatever.”

One, two, three!*

PEACH BUN: They are actually eaten on birthdays, for longevity (that's what peach represents in Chinese culture).

*this line was spoken in Mandarin in the song, which would be the only critism I'd give. Yes a lot of people may understand Mandarin, but Cantonese and English are preferred and they are our official languages. One, two, three in Cantonese would be "yaat, yi, sam".

Oh. My. God. “The rent is really expensive…” Oh. My. Mind. “It’s not easy…” Why oh why? “It’s like, the highest in the world” We have serious inflation, but, whatever

EXPENSIVE RENT: We are the most expensive in the world, thanks to the high population density (and foreign buyers 😶), it's really not easy to afford a flat in HK, that’s why most HKers live with their parents until they get married (it’s also a cultural thing).

INFLATION: Stuff are still relatively cheap, but they are getting more expensive really quickly, mainly because of the rent of the shops.

Super they’re so adorable it hurts, the perfect balance of black and white pandas that bring you happiness… we sell them, sort of So fluffy and cute, such big round eyes The kinda? Make you Happy! Uh-huh

PANDAS: We actually only have 2 pandas here like everyone else, in Ocean Park (it's like an amusement park and zoo). They finally successfully mated recently, probably because of Corona shutdown lol!

There are over 100 of them, Tin Hau Temple, so super Before I head there, I seriously wanna eat… mango pudding! So many gods, like, one in every street Pay homage at the temple, light the fire of your incense!

TEMPLES: We still have the temples built before the colonial time! Hopefully, we are able to keep them too...

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MANGO PUDDING: It's so good yes! Our dessert culture is just the best seriously! We have so many restaurants just for desserts! They are great places to hang out with friends after work or school!

The air conditioning at its max, the fire burning strong A steaming hot pot made with a carefully chosen soup base If you want to detox, have a Chinese herbal hot pot Absolutely delicious! Asian food is the best! Riding on a roofless bus, cruising through the neon streets If you want to, like, go shopping… at Ladies Market There are stalls with cute stuff, souvenirs, lots and lots of them Talk the price down! Haggling is what really counts Absolutely delicious! Asian food is the best! Every minute Happy☆Nice Town (Guy)

HOT POT: We love it! We basically love when a lot of people sit together, talking, sharing food (like Yum Cha), it's the harmony and atmosphere that we like so much! And yes, there are a lot of different soup base you can choose from!

BARGAINING: Yes do it, especially if you're in places like Ladies' Market and you're a foreigner, they do price things up if you don't look like a local.

***

Shout out to Takagi Motoki, the voice actor of HK, his voice fits the character perfectly! (and please get a new va for the new season please funimation) And how can he speak so fast?!

#aphasiaweek #APH Hong Kong #hws hong kong #hetalia #not biased at all but hk has one of the best character songs pls give him new songs in the new season himapapa #sorry im not following the prompts that well i dont have much time to make stuff #science poetry coming up i promise #Hong Kong culture

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iguessishouldbethankful · 4 years

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How would Peppy and the rest of the Star Fox Team react to finding out Falco and Lucy have a thing going on? Does Peppy go all protective Papa Bun? Does Fox get concerned considering a teammate is dating someone who might as well be his sister?

Now this is an interesting question since the reaction would really depend when and why they got together--yes I have other ideas on how they would get together and I would love to explore them eventually. But I’ll be going off this whole post since it’s the one I work with the most.

Consider two very important things: Peppy is now General Hare. One of the highest figures in Corneria’s military. And Fox is now a retired, experienced mercenary and war veteran, wildly recognized by elitist military circles (popularly, not as famous as the common celebrity but he does hold some kind of fame).

Consider another thing: Falco goes back to his old ways, just barely staying out of trouble because it’s Falco. He won’t stay still for one second. So that criminal record might be looking kinda stained. Again.

Consider one more thing: Falco does not have a steady job or even a house to his name. Don’t ask him about his bank account, there’s cash in there but he will not tell you how much it’s not your damn business. Is it legal cash? Well it was legally deposited in his account if that’s what you want to know. Don’t give me that look, I’m clean. Leave me the fuck alone Fox, I know what I’m doing!!

So imagine a responsible Lucy Hare indeed hooking up with Falco after everything that was said and done, keeping it only between the two because, honestly, they have no idea what’s happening just that... something is happening. The escapes from formal military gatherings, or secret little get aways they do together because Falco likes the look of pure excitement in Lucy’s eyes when she finally gets to be--DO--what she always wanted to.

Lucy had diamonds in her eyes every time.

How Peppy would find out, I’m not entirely sure but after so many sneak aways and cancellations with Falco being present in Corneria and also making frequent visits and stays in Fichina, surely he’d suspect.

One night, Falco and Lucy do sneak away from a formal gathering. Lucy actually meets Falco’s old gang. Has incredible fun speaking with Katt and Kool. Gets a little too drunk and our avian boy needs to take her home, make sure she’d be fine and not throw up.

You’re not used to drinking this much huh?

I held on for longer than you assumed I would!

But you’re still pretty drunk, ma’am.

Don’t ma’am me you--

Lays sits her down on her bed in her home. No, not Peppy’s home. This was her childhood home she inherited from her mother. Peppy had the keys but did not live there anymore. Her room was still the same. Twin bed, rockets and space ships and pinks and stars on the ceiling. Lucy apologizes for being such a horrid pain for the team. Falco mentions that it’s fine. She’s fine.

I took your place. I get why you were mad at me.

She kisses him. He kisses back before pulling away. No, not good. Go to bed. You need to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning. And Falco just crashes on her coach in the living room. He snores a little. Not loud. But enough for a pair of grey ears to hear when the door is unlocked. Then slammed shut.

Falco wakes up with a start and aims his blaster at the intruder who was, in fact, Peppy. Silent realization and... Yeah. Falco knew what would come next. Get dressed, get up, don’t wake her up. Leave the home with the old man. There was a level of respect still between the two. Peppy had been the fatherly figure of the team. But something felt different when Peppy closed the door behind them once in the General’s office. Take a seat. No questions of intentions, not even a good morning or a greeting. Peppy was not happy. A warning instead popped out of the rabbit’s mouth.

Do not come close to my daughter again.

Falco was very aware at that point that... Peppy was not seeing him as a teammate anymore. Much less a son-like figure. Merely... Eyes glanced down to files and files, all on him and his past activities and... Oh. I get it. ...I get it.

Do you understand?

Yes, sir.

But understanding did not mean he’d comply. You see, I headcanon Falco was brought into the team under very special circumstances. He was blackmailed when he was caught by Fox. Either join the team and be our pilot for the war, or go to jail and live out your sentence. Of course Falco took the first option. Now... Falco was face to face with a silent threat again. General Pepper was willing to expunge crimes for quality pilots as long as they fought for the Cornerian forces. Peppy would easily make Falco’s life a living hell if he did not comply.

Would Peppy go through with it. Falco didn’t believe so, but there was a level of threat he didn’t want to fully ignore. So for a while, he did stay away. Didn’t answer Lucy’s texts or calls. Until he had time to carefully think about what he really wanted to do.

And honestly, Peppy only fueled the fire to Falco’s motivation to, finally, pursue.

Lucy wakes up to a message, asking if she’d like to hang out again.

And one night it goes somewhere. They don’t stop it. Why stop something they both wanted. Follow their instincts, right? And yes, Falco knew he was in deep trouble the next day. He knew deep down to the marrow of his bones. It’s not like Lucy wouldn’t realize that she was also stepping into something unstable. So her worries increased as well. And it was no real secret that Peppy was looming over them somehow.

An over protective father that only had her left...

But he was also an absent father in Lucy’s opinion.

Fuck it.

Don’t stop.

#Falco Lombardi #lucy hare #falucy #star fox #headcanons #my drabbles #peep peep

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little-ki · 4 years

Text

Good Bye

This is pretty much why I haven’t been updating my other story. I was kidnapped by plot bunnies. A huge (kinda angsty) plot bunny and hopefully this time I can consistently write now that this opening scene is finally out of my head. I’m going to edit it a bit more before posting it on AO3, since this is potentially another multi-chapter story. This alone was 2K so much longer than expected.

Also, this is my first time actually writing for the Naruto fandom after enjoying works from other writers for YEARS. Please be gentle. QAQ

“Shisui, you don’t have to do this.”

He turned back and his fingers paused mid-button. Bundled on the bed was his gorgeous fairy. Her honey brown eyes were misty with tears and their slightly droopy shape looked at him as if he had wronged her. He could see various marks on her skin from the previous night, barely covered by the bed sheet and before he knew it, he was standing in front of her and kissing her cherry lips. She tried to speak but he swallowed her words, and as she softly returned each kiss, he wanted to climb back into bed and continue loving her forever.

Eventually he pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers, not wanting to move too far. “Shisui, please.” He was a goner.

Diving into another lingering kiss, he caressed her lips over and over again, trying not to dwell too deeply in the memories and sounds of the night before. He only withdrew when she was rendered breathless but couldn’t help but press another kiss on her flushed cheeks.

Slowly stepping back, he quickly re-buttoned his shirt and grabbed his discarded jacket from the floor. He moved towards the door and looked back to see her crying, and forced himself to stay by the door, gripping the frame tensely.

“I’ll be back. Then, I’ll be all yours,” he smiled before walking out the door. After leaving the apartment, he locked the door with a retinal scan and turned towards his men waiting outside.

“No one else can come here. No one,” his eyes narrowed and swirled into the three-pronged shargingan he was known for. The air became heavy until someone stepped forward.

“Yes, sir. We will be waiting here until you return.” Shisui hummed and moved towards the car waiting outside. After getting in, he pulled out his phone and softly touched the screen.

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

“Keke, he’s leaving.” A small black kitten jumped on the bed and crawled into her arms. Her hands instinctively moving to brush his fur, as he purred in contentment.

“I know, Sasuke.”

She spent months with Shisui and knew without a doubt that he loved her. Just not enough to change his mind.

Flashes of last night rolled across her mind. He had been so loving, so devoted. Whispering sweet filthy things in her ear as his hands burned across her skin. Everything became a blur as she couldn’t tell when something started or ended. His every touch felt like a prayer, like he was worshiping her. She couldn’t help but tremble thinking about it.

They had loved until the morning, Shisui had only slept a few hours before he left. It had been deliberate on his part to ensure she would so sore and exhausted that she wouldn’t be able to move and physically stop him. If her tears couldn’t stop him from leaving, nothing would.

“Keke, what are you going to do?” Sasuke asked as he curled up in her lap.

“What can I do?” She continued stroking his back, “There’s nothing I can do.”

Personally, Sasuke was surprised that Shisui didn’t give in. After watching him maneuver to snare Keke, he had thought this mission would be a breeze.

Shisui Uchiha. His father had been a detective that was killed in action while pursuing a corruption case. The incident involved a high-ranking family that bribed the director of the police force to pass on the wrong information his father, which led to his death. The family was cleared of the case, and the blame was placed on his father for accusing the innocent. His mother passed away shortly after from grief and backlash of the case. Shisui had only been ten.

Shisui swore to get revenge on the family and corrupted police-force, and entered the darker side of the family business under Madara Uchiha. He became a double agent, working for the police and the mafia, eventually becoming the youngest captain on both sides.

Keke’s mission was to help him obtain his revenge without taking the lives of the family or the police, as to not add onto his own consequences.

Sasuke had watched Shisui first take an interest in Keke, only to fall deeper each time they spoke with each other. Soon, he started bumping into her when she got groceries or went out on errands, then started inviting her to spend more and more time with him, until Keke found herself living with him in this apartment.

Sasuke and Keke had originally planned to just be friends and eventually a close confident of Shisui. That way they could offer advice and hopefully divert his plan for revenge, but they had been too naïve.

There was no doubt that Shisui was completely obsessed with Keke. As a system, Sasuke could monitor Shisui, and knew just how much time he focused on her. Her ‘protection detail’ was comprised of his most elite and loyal men, everything she used and that surrounded her in the apartment was of the highest quality, even the tissues. Not to mention that he had spent considerably less time at work since meeting her, without sacrificing his original mission. Sometimes Sasuke struggled to watch the two together, since the way Shisui indulged Keke made him sick from the sweetness. Not this time.

He felt something damp fall on his ears and looked up to see Keke sobbing silently. He reached up and put a paw on her face. “Sasuke, what do I do? I know how much this means to him. I-“ She covered her mouth as she cried before continuing shakily, “I-I’ve felt terrible since that night he opened up to me. I know that we’re doing this for his own good… But… It-it doesn’t feel that way.”

Sasuke shifted his body towards her, letting her hug him. “I’m sorry, Keke. But failing this mission means we have to move on to the next world.”

She whimpered and cuddled closer into Sasuke’s back. After several moments she pulled away and asked softly, “What happens after I leave?”

“You can only leave this world by ‘dying’. But since this was your first mission, you can choose how to leave.” Keke took a few moments to think before asking quietly.

“He’s watching me right now isn’t he… Can you make me disappear?”

Sasuke’s eyes widened. “Uh. Of course. But… Isn’t that a bit…”

“My ‘background’, is that I’m his guardian fairy sent to help him find a different path for his revenge. I even told him that if I failed, I would have to go back.” Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of having to leave.

Sasuke kept quiet. Although the method seemed cruel, they both knew Shisui believed her story to some extent. Otherwise he wouldn’t have put her under video surveillance in an apartment that can only be opened with his unique eye signature. Though Sasuke didn’t doubt that Shisui also wanted to hide her away and keep her to himself.

They would have to leave as soon as Shisui got his revenge, and the short time frame meant that the only other option Keke had to leave, was to commit suicide. Vanishing on-screen was the lesser of the two evils. Still, Sasuke felt he wouldn’t accept her departure so easily.

The two sat in silence as Keke mentally prepared herself. Sasuke tilted his head towards her, “It’s time.”

Keke reluctantly opened her eyes and the building tears spilt over. She took a shaky breath before looking up towards the camera in the corner. Even without asking Sasuke, somehow, she knew he was watching. Sasuke’s eyes shifted into the Mangekyo as he counted down, “Moving onto the next world in three, two, one…”

With a wobbly smile she stared straight at the camera and mouthed, “I love you, Shisui,” before fading away.

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

It was over. After years of planning, sacrifice, and moments where he wasn’t sure he would see tomorrow, it had finally ended. He took a deep breath and felt all the tension leave him, before pulling out his phone. He wanted to see her.

Opening the monitoring screen, he saw her sitting in the same spot, cuddling the kitten she loved so much. A smile crept onto his face. This was his fairy. His treasure.

She looked up and his heart broke seeing that she was still crying. He knew she had hoped he would get his revenge in a different way, but this wasn’t just about his own grudges anymore. At first, he merely thought she was daring but interesting, when she asked him to reconsider whether his vengeance would truly be what he needed. His entire life had revolved around the goal of avenging his parents for the injustice they faced. Yet, slowly he realized that he wanted something else more.

He wanted to hear her jabber and talk as they watched old romantic comedies. He wanted to wake up with her in his arms and hear her murmur good morning as they kissed. He wanted to be there by her side as they grow old and still see that sparkle in her eyes. What he wanted was forever with her.

That’s when he realized how dangerous his current situation was. If he didn’t deal with them thoroughly now, they could come back and hurt her and their future kids. He would never risk that. Never.

Now everything was settled, and they could be together. Nothing would get in the way.

Shisui grabbed his keys and got ready to go home while watching the screen, he needed to hold her. Suddenly, she looked up at the camera. Shisui felt a chill run down his back as he got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He watched her mouth the words, ‘I love you, Shisui’ before disappearing on-screen. No. No. NO. NO.

He called his team and yelled, “Where is she!” while running out of the office, and barely heard the report. His men had been stationed at every door, window and opening, there was no way she could leave. He recklessly drove through the streets, breaking every speed limit as he raced home. She couldn’t be gone.

Shisui burst into the apartment and saw no other records at the door beside his own from this morning. He opened the bedroom door and paused. It was the same as his screen. The bed, the sheets, her things, everything was still there. Except her.

He moved towards the bed and touched the sheets; they were still warm. She was just here. She had just been with him this morning. Where. Why.

“Would you believe me if I told you I was a fairy? You know. A guardian fairy. Here to help you see the error of your ways.”

That had been the night he held her in his arms for the first time. “Oh, really?”

“Yep! But if I fail then I have to go back, then I won’t be able to see you anymore” she pouted, “and you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

He tightened his arms around her and looked into those warm chocolate eyes that made him melt, “I would never let you go.”

That had also been the night of their first kiss and the start of their relationship. He hasn’t taken it very seriously at the time, but he couldn’t forget it either and eventually he became wary. She was amazing in every way, and sometimes he couldn’t believe that she picked him. Now that she did, he wouldn’t let her leave. He had only wanted to keep her safe until he dealt with everything, but now…

Shisui gripped the sheets in his hands and stomped out of the room, trying to move past the rest of his family, “I have to find her!”

Madara moved in front of him, “We will find her.”

#naruto au #mafia au #shisui uchiha #madara uchiha #sasuke uchiha #naruto fics #naruto #kiki writes #I need to organize my tags #this will be mostly fluffy with some angst #world hopping!#I have all the lore planned #just working on individual arcs #this should be a lot of fun!#super nervous about posting in such a mature fandom like Naruto #but uh hopefully this isn't terrible!#2k!

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definitely-not-an-alb · 5 years

Text

I f*cking love Frostpunk

Frostpunk is a really good game. Like I want to say that, because yes, it's beautiful to look at and play and engaging and the score is awesome and it has a really good, touching, engaging story and story structure (rare in the genre and rare in games, period), what really struck me is that it's such a good game.

Ludonarrative as a concept is still kind of ??, but here's a video by Dan Olson explaining the concept - tl;dr ludonarrative is how the narrative and the game influence each other, and ludonarrative dissonance is when they don't work together - either because they contradict each other (Say, because the narrative says Slavery Bad! but the only way to mechanically win the game is slavery, like in Shadow of Mordor) or because the story presents two moral options and then straight up doesn't let you pick one (can't think of an example, but I think the Bioshock Games fall into this sometimes) or makes a point about you being able to pick a predefined 'good' or 'bad' option, but makes it very clear through game play that one is intended over the other, whether to teach the player a lesson or just through bad design. You know the ones. Sometimes the ludonarrative is just really, really bad because the game has some dumb, un-thought-out, half-assed black and white 'morality system' throughout or something similar.

This is the first thing I really like about Frostpunk: It sidesteps all that morality-bs, and does so really well, I think, by straight up not judging you. The games assumption is at every turn that you are in the hardest of circumstances, and that you are doing what you are doing for a good reason. But it also doesn't pull any 'no good solution, I had no choice' bs on you - you always have a choice, and sometimes, it's very obvious what the morally upright thing to do is, except if you want to tell me that leaving a hoard of orphans to die in a cave instead of taking them in is a morally good thing to do. But the game will not judge you if you do! Even if you pass laws to allow cannibalism, or start a fascist dictatorship, or, you know, leave a bunch of Orphans to die in a cave.

It also doesn't force you to commit to an 'evil'/'good' path. You can build a very child-friendly, compassionate, cannibalistic society. You can be the most lenient ruler and also leave everyone who isn't under your direct rulership to die horribly. 'Free Will' and 'Your Own Choices' is the big thing in games rn, but Frostpunk actually delivers.

Now, the game won't judge you, but people will, thought never unreasonably so - say, if you safe leave the orphans, people will be depressed and angry and loose Hope, but if you keep them, you'll have more kids to feed and house (and if I recal right, people will bitch about that, too), but that's also a different equation depending on what your child labour laws say - is taking the kids exclusively because you have abysmal and inhuman laws and want to deploy them in your coal mines for 10 hours a day on half rations and thin soup instead of letting them fall asleep and not witness any more of the apocalypse actually a morally good choice?

So, Frostpunk is a good game that actually delivers on it's Free Choice promise, doesn't judge or harasses you in dumb ways and simulates your decisions not in a dumb moral system but as a complex, interdependent story.

But that's not all I have to say about Frostpunks ludonarrative! And the next thing is actually huge, because I have never seen it in a city planer - or any game like this - before, at least not this consciously.

So. What's the thing Frostpunk does that no other game I know has?

Most games of the Frostpunk type a resource-management games. If you have enough resources and aren't fucked by bad luck, you can do it. There's some minor citizen happiness stuff, but that's in almost all cases just more resource management in a social hat; Use Resource: [High Quality Food] on Object: [Population] = Gain Resource: [Happiness]; if [Storage = Food] [>50] gain [Population.Resource Unrest + 0.5/s].

In Frostpunk, you have 'Hope' and 'Unrest', and they are managed like resources.

Ludonarrative point one: These are resources, and treating them as such is a narrative choice. You are a commander of an arctic post-apocalyptic hellscape, and it doesn't matter how hopeful or angry you feel today or what your expeditions actual situation is, it is your job to provide your people with Hope and take away their reasons for unrest, or suppress their dissent, because both depression and rebellion will mean death for everyone.

Ludonarrative point two: It's Hope, not Happiness. Your people can feel like absolute shit right now, the important part is that they still believe they can do it, believe you are a good commander (even if you're not!) and believe that a future in your city is possible (even if it's objectively not!).

Then there's the actual people. And while yes, their workpower is still also managed like a resource, Frostpunks narrative and ludonarrative keeps in mind that People are people, not coal piles or stacks of wood; that they are not objective at all and that they will do insane shit.

Frostpunk's people derive their hope not from objective facts about your play-style or numbers, but from the lived reality of their collective experience, and that is insane. You can have a town that is constantly teethering at 1/0 food rations and coal and people who are Hopeful as hell because they don't know or don't worry about how empty the stores are as long as they are well-fed and warm. Conversely - they will get disgruntled if you cut rations to build up emergency funds, even if that, objectively, is the better and safer choice. But the people you're managing there don't care about optimized playstyle or long-term-planing they care about being hungry right now.

If you get them all to be really, really hyped on your religion, they will be happy about more draconian pro-religion laws (and others will become rebellious). If you get them to like you, they will regain hope from you clambering on a pult and telling them that Everything Will Be Alright, Trust Me, I'm A Doctor, even if it objectively won't.

Now you could say that's unrealistic, too, people wouldn't be chill if they knew their stores are empty, and you would be right. And it's not just that I prefer my virtual subjects to behave like irrational idiots instead of dully calculated numbers, it's that the game knows that too. But I'll have to vaguely spoil major stuff about the first campaign to explain, so if you don't want that, stop reading here. Because playing that mission for the first time as it unfolds is a fucking experience.

Still here? At the end of the first campaign you get the forecast that Everything Will Not Be Alright. There's A Major Catastrophe coming. You can prepare and try to manage it as good as you can, but The Catastrophe Will Come and It Will Be Bad.

And your people loose their shit.

It doesn't matter how hopeful they were before or how well-build your city is or how full your stores - Hope will plummet and people will panic. There's just no other way to react to news like that!

Any lesser game would, at this point, give you missions to make sure you are at least somewhat prepared for this Catastrophe. Frostpunk gives you missions based on your populations' fears and meant to reassure them, and you will get these missions whether your city is, at this point, ten starving people huddled in a tent in front of a burned-out generator or a booming town. And on both extreme ends of this the missions will be absolutely illogical, and that's kind of the point, I think.

I was watching a playthrough by a guy who was really, really good at the game - he'd played extreme building tetris from the beginning on and used almost every available square, his entire outer ring was made up mostly of additional storage, and that storage was full. He was stocked up to the point where he'd turned off all resource production safe for food and one of his five or so coal mines/thumpers and had enough coal in store to run the generator at highest setting for a long time, in game. Cue the Bad News, and he almost had a riot in his well-fed, overstocked city and had to tear down buildings to build another, unused coal mine, because the population was panicky and if he didn't reassure them right now that there would be enough coal by specifically building a new coal mine, people would leave the city out of desperation and die.

And that might sound really, really dumb to play, told like this and in a world full of games where you get pre-calculated checklists that autocomplete if you already have enough stuff in stock, but the actual atmosphere created by getting a pop-up in the middle of your own, reasonable preparations and the desperate attempt to manage the evacuation efforts that basically says 'Sir, we know this is absolutely unreasonable, but people demand [thing that is either absolutely over the top if you're well prepared or almost unmanageable if your desperately scraping by]' is indescribably. Especially the first time around when you don't know yet just how bad it will actually get.

And like I said: people in this game will do insane shit, and they will do it against your Command. They'll leave the city and die out on the ice and they'll steal and hoard food even if the store are full and they'll beg you to let them go on suicide missions. Frostpunk is the only city management game I've ever played that makes me actually feel like there's irrational, passionate people behind that population counter, and that made me care about them so desperately I cried at a pop-up. And I love it.

#games #gaming #frostpunk #I love the concept of ludonarrative and (ludonarrative dissonance) and you can take it from my cold dead hands #anyways

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iliketowrite1996 · 6 years

Text

Someday 1/3

With encouragement from @pocmarvelworks and @chaneajoyyy @starsshines-blog and I present are 3 chapter story of Steve Rogers and Black!Reader set in the 1940′s. I like historic fiction, and I want to get into writing it with my own characters. This is a stepping stone. She’d had an idea as well, so we decided to collaborate on this as well. This will contain heavy matters such as racism, segregation, colorism (probably) and probably sexism. I am trying to stay as true to history as I can, and that will mean that sometimes I will edit things after I post them to ensure the highest quality of accuracy.

TRIGGER WARNINGS AND THEMES- Segregation, racism, mild violence, harassment.

The world, and the people and things in it,or separated in many ways. Invisible lines create state and country boundaries. Animals from the wild are separated from domesticated animals. You even separate your laundry when you put the colored clothes in one side and the white clothes in the wash.

This is done from preventing the colored clothes from bleeding onto the white clothing and ruining everything. It’s a very necessary and understandable things to do.

You just wish people didn't have that same mindset when it comes to people.

The Year is 1940 and segregation is everywhere. From the schools, to the theatre. To the grocery store to your neighborhoods, you name it. There is a thin and invisible line, but it’s mighty powerful. It separates the black people form the white people.

It's been that way since you were a little girl, and probably before that. It’s a way of life. One that you’re not happy about, bit one that you have (begrudgingly) accepted for now.

You know your role and you're expected place. You go to work. Come home. Make dinner. Spend time with your family and Jeremy Coleman, the man down the street who your momma is just itchin’ to get you to settle down with.

You and your sister, Jane, both decided that you find him attractive. However with ehr being just three years younger than you, your parents first priority is to find you a husband first.

‘’Look, I know you’re smart and kind and sweet I know that, too.’’

This is what your momma tells you every Sunday, as you sit in the kitchen and let her press your hair until it’s silky smooth and straight, the hot comb leaving nothing but straightened, ebony hair once she is done.

‘’It’s just that well, he’s got a nice and steady job. Jeremy Coleman will be able to take care of you.’’

‘I have a steady paying job myself, mother.’’

‘’Yes. As a maid. I don’t want you to be working the same job that I am for the rest of your life.’’

It’s not that your mother looks down on being a maid. No, she raised you and your four siblings to understand that there’s more life than fancy cars, expensive perfumes, flashy clothing and the like. You and your brothers and sister have bene hard workers since the day that you were born. All because your mother and daddy, Althea and Richard Jameson, are both hard workers.

Your daddy is a handyman and carpenter, your mother cleans homes. Your older brother, Jacob, works as a delivery truck driver. Jane is currently a secretary, you clean houses to help pay for those night classes you’ve been meaning to take, and your younger brother, Jeffery, is in fifth grade at the elementary school down the street.

‘’Now don’t start feeling your head with fantasies. Come right down here, back to earth, where you belong.’’

That’s something that our mother is frequently telling you. To Come back to earth, where you belong. Because she is practical and you are her daydreamer child and she doesn't know what she's going to do with you.

You wonder how she's tell if she knew that, on the days that Mrs. Carlson lets you of early, you’re not going back to clean her house. No,,you're going to the jazz club.

That’s here you come alive. That’s where the music and the poetry in words moves through you and you move freely, hips keeping in time as you keep up with the best of them in your dancing.

She'd chase you clear across town so what she’d do.

Because the only way to get back home is to take the bus, and that bus can be dangerous. Especially at night.

However, she doesn’t mind you taking the bus to get the groceries. You ignore dirty looks, pay for the bag’s worth of good, and leave.

You’re casually waiting or the bus when an older, angrier man come to you.

‘’You got no business being around here.’’

‘’Sir, please,’’ you take in his pale skin, his bright brown eyes, ‘’I am just waiting for the bus.’’

He doesn't care. No, he chooses to harass you instead. You looks straight ahead and tighten your hold on your groceries, wondering if you should just walk the five miles home.

‘’Hey, man. Leave her alone.’’

You and the man who has unleashed his verbal attack on you look to see a scrawny-looking boy with pale skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair.

You’re not ashamed to admit that you’ d find him attractive if it weren’t for the circumstances.

Also, he might be dumb, because he deliberately picks a fight with the guy. He tries to defend you and he’s not much taller than you are and it's really just a poor choice all around.

Maybe that's why he ends up knocked to the ground. His nose is bloody and he has a black eye and you definitely can’t get on the bus with him looking like that.

So you take that fresh steak out of the bag.

Have him press it to the eye.

Trek back home, taking an hour to get from the store when it would have taken you only fifteen minutes to get to the bus stop across town and walk the fifteen minutes from there to your home.

Trek back home, angry, sad, hurt, humiliated, and with a fresh steak because you have one to your hero on the sidewalk.

Said hero tracks alongside you, and you try to ignore the glares, whispers,a dn wide=eyed looks from your neighbors as he follows you.

He hasn't spoken a word to you since you insisted (demanded) that he walks home with you so you can fix up that lip of his.

From the way he speeds up so that he’s walking right alongside you, you can tell that he whispers of your neighbors gossiping hurt more than his black eye and busted lip.

You sit him down in a wooden chair in the small kitchen of your home. You press the cold towel to his lip and give him an ice pack for thateye.

You clean it.

Avoid making eye contact with him.

Wonder how you been got yourself into this.

‘’What made you go and fight him?’’

That’s the first word you’ve spoken to him since you left the bus stop, and it startles him.

‘’Beg your pardon?’’

‘’What made you fight him? I can take care of myself,’’ you say calmly, rinsing the bloody towel in the basin of water.

‘’I couldn’t stand by and let him talk to you like that, miss.’’

‘’Nothing I haven't heard before. You’d do wise to stay in your own lane next time.’’

‘’He would’ve done wise to stay in his own lane and not insulted you. He had no right. You were standing there, minding your own business.’’

You stare into his eyes for the first time, and there’s something in here. It’s comparison mixed with determination mixed with something you can’t quite read.

‘’You’re good at this.’’

‘’Thank you,’’ you respond to his compliment, ‘’I’d like to be a nurse someday, but…’’

You let that hang in the air. You know that he knows- the rest of that sentence is definitely implied and well-known. You’re not sure if you want to continue this conversation, after the day you’ve had.

‘’Thank you for helping me,’’ you sigh, dropping the towel in the basin.

‘’No need to thank me,’’ he tells you, and the moment is quiet again, ‘’Just tell me your name.’’

You introduce yourself, finally able to relax your shoulders a beer before trying to continue the conversation, asking im what your name is.

That doesn’t last for too long.

The front door is open and in walks your younger sister, Jane.

‘’Is anyone home?’’

Steve and you are staring at each other with wide eyes. You’re both frozen to the spot, as if winter had suddenly come and you were too flowers with frost bite.

Your sister, Jane enters, coat thrown over her arm and shoes in her hands.

‘’You would not believe th day I’ve had! I had to stop three children from trying to sneak out of the library as if the books aren’t free with a library card, and….’’

She stops.

Gapes.

Looks between you and the young man.

‘’Well, I did not know that we had company,’’ she sticks her hand out for the young man to shake it, ‘’I’m Jane Jameson, her sister.’’

‘’Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you, miss.’

Ah so thats hi name.

Jane is looking a toy as she tucks her short hair behind her ears, ready for an explanation.

‘’Stebe saved me and walked me home. Someone at the bus stop decided that it was a perfect day for yelling at me.’’

She shakes her head, no stranger to this scenario. She gets it all of the time, especially on ehr commute to work.

Jane is your best friend. You two have been sharing a room ever since she was born and will continue to do so until one of you moves out. She’s the quiet one to your outgoing personality. But she’s also really smart, really sweet, and really aware. You can see the wheels in her mind turning when you look at her face, and you know she’s on to something good.

Right now she’s trying to figure out why this handsome young man is sitting in your kitchen.

She can’t ponder that much longer because you hear a truck door slam shut, and you both lo at each other in a panic.

‘’He’s got to get out of here. Jacob is here.’’

She rushes to the front door to try to stall Jacob as you usher Steve out the back door. You explain to him as well as you can why he has to leave- ‘’My brother won’t take too kindly to seeing you here.’’

‘’Got a thing against stranger's’’ Steve asks as you rush across your small backyard.

‘’Something like that,’’ you admit, opening the back gate and pointing down the alley, ‘’Just back the way we came and you’ll get to the bus stop. Can't miss it.’’

‘’Thank you. It was nice talking to you.’’

He takes your directions and you silently wish that the small part that is disappointed that he didn’t ask to see you again would just hush up.

That’s not the kind of world you live in. He knows that. You definitely know it.

So you return to your house, still kicking yourself and trying to forget the event of this day.

That night, as you and Jane lay in your bedroom, you try to release the days’ events form your mind to no avail. You toss and you turb, thinking about heros with scrawny arms and blue eyes so deep that they could see right into your mind if they wanted to. You’re sure of it.

Steve lays awake that night, too. Thinking of ebony curls and smooth skin so different from his own and a variety of other things that he knows he can’t tell Bucky about.

He lays awake, wondering if he’ll ever see you again.

It’s not practical. He knows that. You know that. He knows you know that. So why doe he want to believe the opposite and go against what he knows is possible for you two?

That's the last thing that he ponders before he finally drifts off to sleep, images of the day playing in his head.

Maybe it’s the rush he got form helping you or the little bit of dreamer inside of him, but he believes that he’ll see you again.

In fact, he know that he will.

Until then, though, he’s content with waiting for that day.

He'll have to be.

Until that day finally comes along.

DISCLAIMER- I OWN NO MARVEL CHARACTERS, I JUST REALLY LIKE MAKING FANFICTION.

#steve rogers imagines #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine series #marvel imagine #marvel imagine series #black!reader #black!reader x steve rogers #steve rogers x you

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kokomatcha · 6 years

Text

Running With It Ch. 4 snippet

We’re out of danger, it downgraded to a tropical storm! Just have to be careful of debris, flooding and hopefully no power outages. Anyway, hope you’re all having a great weekend and will be refreshed for an even better week!

Here’s a bit of Chapter 4. We focus on Toshinori for this entire chapter! (And just a little on Midoriya for this part). I’m really nervous about doing him justice since I’m not caught up with the series, but I had some fun with their interactions and I hope I characterized them well. I’m only about maybe halfway done (I always end up writing more than I intend to, lol). I debated maybe cutting off here and posting, but I really wanted to get to a certain part I had planned for the chapter so I’ll probably keep writing. To be honest, this is probably my favorite chapter so far!

These chapters are getting much longer than I intended lol. Anyway I hope you enjoy!

“Ah...” Toshinori almost lost his nerve, but thinking of the possibility of him floundering around for hours on his own, he sighed. “This may sound odd, but may I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” Midoriya nearly shouted, once more startling the older man. He quickly reeled back his enthusiasm, but he was practically humming from excitement. Of course he’d answer anything, if it meant helping All Might!

“Do you use an electric toothbrush?”

Midoriya’s eyes widened, freezing up on the spot. This was not the reaction Toshinori expected and he wondered if this is the reception he’d get while trying to purchase one later today. This would prove trickier than he thought.

He couldn’t have known that the reason Midoriya had reacted this way was because he was afraid All Might had found out about his large collection of fan paraphernalia, which included an All Might branded electric toothbrush, and feared his admired idol had come with intentions to have an intervention, disappointed in his enthusiastic fanaticism.

Noticing the perturbed look on his mentor’s face at his prolonged silence, Midoriya quickly shook himself out of his stupor and shakily replied with a question of his own.

“W-why do you ask?”

“Oh, er.” Toshinori didn’t quite expect the conversation to be turned on him so quickly and fumbled for a response.

Well, you see, my boy, on one of my runs before coming to meet you for training I startled a young woman on her balcony into nearly choking to death. She was brushing her teeth at the time and had dropped her electric toothbrush so I feel at fault and wanted to replace it.

Yes, Toshinori thought to himself dryly, that doesn’t sound strange at all.

“I was thinking of purchasing one.” There, simple.

Midoriya continued to stare at him for a long moment, and just as Toshinori was beginning to sweat, thinking maybe that wasn’t an adequate answer, Midoriya broke out into a smile, laughing nervously, yet looking relieved?

Odd.

“R-right! Of course! The number one hero with his trademark smile—of course dental hygiene is important for you!” Midoriya seemed to relax as his laughter faded, his hesitant smile still in place, “Do you not use your own brand? Do you not like it?”

Toshinori stared at him. His... what?

He opened his mouth to question the young boy, but Midoriya already seemed lost to his own thoughts, a familiar look of focus appearing as his brows furrowed together and already Toshinori knew it’d be difficult to get a word in edgewise.

“I know you do have a lot to deal with, but I would have thought you would have access and reports to products you sponsored, ah, but I know you’re busy and hero duties come first! But if I were to be honest the electric toothbrush you adopted for your brand isn’t the highest quality compared to a few other brands—not that yours isn’t good! It’s just not ranked number one in accordance to the research I’ve done and I found a lot of dentists seem to praise mechanisms like the oscillating rotation and in research studies they’ve done, judging on how effective it is for plaque removal—but there are also arguments that adding pulsation technology may be more effective in cleaning plaque from your teeth but there could be drawbacks on the effects on being too harsh on eroding the enamel—“

“Yes, all right, thank you,” Toshinori quickly interrupted before he could be overwhelmed by the can of worms he had just opened. He cleared his throat, sighing in relief that he was effectively able to interrupt his student before clarifying the most important points of his explanation. “I have a brand on an electric toothbrush?”

“Yes!” Midoriya smile faltered a bit. “Did you not know?”

“I... Well, as you said, I put my hero duties as my priority so I don’t have a chance to review on details such as sponsorships or merchandise,” Toshinori mumbled sheepishly, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his head to avoid looking at his young successor, but out of the corner of his eyes he saw a drop on his expression, and quickly turned to him, hands up in a placating manner. “Ah, but I have a team I usually trust to make these decisions for me. But thank you for telling me.”

This seemed to appease the young boy, his expression brightening a bit.

“So I suppose I should drop by and make a note on possibly doing more research and consider another brand since it sounds like the electric toothbrush isn’t up to high quality standards?” Toshinori hazarded, his thoughts a little distracted as he debated on getting his hero branded electric toothbrush to replace the one that had been broken. But it wasn’t the best brand, possibly, and it didn’t sit well with him to replace something by purchasing an inferior product.

Maybe he really should go by his company and have a review meeting on the current quality of his merchandise.

“W-well, uh, I mean for the price and hype of being associated with your name, it’s fine for what it is,” Midoriya defended quickly, backtracking from his previous statements as he waved his hands almost frantically before pausing as a thoughtful look came over his face. “But can’t you just get them for free? It is your merchandise.”

“Ah.”

It would have been comical to witness the expression on Toshinori’s face, as if a literal light bulb had gone off in his head as he made that connection.

He should definitely go by his office later and talk to whoever was in charge of that department.

“That’s true! Great idea, Young Midoriya!”

Beaming, Midoriya couldn’t help but let out a rueful sigh.

“That’s really cool, All Might! Being able to get all the latest and experimental products before they hit the market, and replacing ones you have easily.”

Toshinori laughed, patting Midoriya fondly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. Soon enough you’ll have your own merchandise to test, but first, we need to train you to be a proper vessel!”

“Right,” Midoriya laughed uneasily, sighing, “my own, huh? But All Might’s is the best right now...”

Sensing something in Midoriya’s tone as he trailed off and noting the hint of wistful longing, something seemed to click for Toshinori as he took in his young protege’s outfit consisting of a shirt branding his name, jogging pants with his colors and symbols lining the sides, and laces on his shoes that looped at the ends mimicking his heroic bangs.

Oh. Oh...

“Young Midoriya,” Toshinori began slowly, waiting for the young boy to turn his gaze on him before continuing, “I’ve been thinking that, well, since I don’t have a lot of time and we’re on the topic of my merchandise, maybe...”

Midoriya’s eyes were widening with every word.

“Maybe I could have my company send you the early products for you to review to help make sure I only sponsor with the best quality in mind.”

For a split second Toshinori could have sworn he saw stars in his successor’s eyes, and quickly intervened before Midoriya could devolve into hysterics, quickly holding out his palm as he could see the young boy practically vibrating from unadulterated joy in his large sneakers, sand kicking up in a mini storm amongst their feet.

“After you pass your exams. You don’t have time for that now.” He fixed a stern look on the boy, but couldn’t help but smile. “Deal?”

“D-deal!”

“My boy, remember what we said about crying so much.”

Midoriya sniffed, wiping his nose against the collar of his shirt as he hiccuped, voice thick with gratitude as he stared up at his mentor with watery eyes.

“Y-yes, sir.”

#Yagi Toshinori x Reader #All Might x Reader #Running With It #kokofic #Midoriya Izuku #Toshinori Yagi #tagging main characters cause this snippet is borderline headcanon for me lol #BnHA

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ben-j-man · 6 years

Text

Secret War- Chapter 2

1st chapter link- http://ben-j-man.tumblr.com/post/180097372453/secret-war-chapter-1

I sighed while watching Taryst disappear between the curtains. I needed a drag of Lho almost as much as I did not want to follow that literal embodiment of psychotic paranoia.

I slipped out my ceramic box of Lho sticks from my flak jacket pocket and eyed the two guards while slowly beginning to open it.

They just stood there silent, deathly still.

I carried on, attention fixed on the guards, more interested as what they would do than the smoking itself. I opened the case, tugged out one lho: put it in my mouth then pulled out my igniter.

I hesitated halfway through the movement, expecting the guards to do something.

No, still motionless.

I shrugged and lit the Lho.

I inhaled the smoke and sighed it out, gladdened my stupidity did not cause my torso to be bisected by Laser fire and that, perhaps paranoia had not entirely taken Taryst's mind...Yet.

I did not understand why Taryst had those two standing there. I had only seen such ostentatious bodyguards accompany planetary Governors or Lord Generals, perhaps he wanted to state that he too was deserving of such charges as those great and mighty servants of the Imperium? Being a great and almighty Rogue Trader and all.

Well actually, perhaps so. At least unlike many Lord Generals and Lord Governors out there (and especially the latter), Taryst had earned this power, this prestige. This was according to the research I had garnered, but I would not put it past Taryst to have that doctored.

I took another inhale and blew out the sweet smoke. Why do you want to talk to me, Taryst? So many reasons flew through my thoughts then, each more obvious that the last and even more dodgy than the one before.

I pulled out the lho in between index finger and thumb, eyeing those still guards once more and found I envied them. Life for those two idiots seemed so simple, you stand and guard. Did they have to worry about political intrigue? No. Did they have to worry about their master's constant berating at even the slightest of mistakes? Somehow I doubted it.

Alright, enough loitering, I thought putting the Lho back between clenched teeth. let's get this over and damn well done with.

I walked toward the curtains, slowly, casually. Hands in the pockets of my flak jacket and the lit lho hanging out the corner of my mouth.

I was almost there when a massive, golden gloved paw was suddenly held right in my face, making me stop.

"Excuse me, sir," said the left side guard with forced politeness, the voice vox enhanced. "Would you be so kind as to dispose of the contraband?"

My brow furrowed heavily and I sighed, annoyed but unsurprised. I took the Lho stick by thumb and index finger and handed it to the guard.

"And the container as well, sir?"

Barely containing a groan, I snapped it out of my pocket, the movement so swift, so smooth that the guard took a few seconds to notice it was right in his face.

And why don't you chop off my balls while you're at it, huh? I thought sorely.

"I-I thank you, sir, now you may pass through, you will have your Lhos returned when you leave."

I glared up at the much taller guard. I frigging well better, I thought as I passed through the curtains. or you may be waking up a eunuch.

That is, if you are not already, a eunuch.

I emerged into the living quarters and quickly took in my surroundings. It was a much smaller area than I at first thought, ten metres in width, fifteen in length. The crimson red walls lined with gold. Placed nicely in the room's epicentre was a tasteful beautiful, white (with gold lining) marble water fountain with three wide, red couches around it. A small side table was set at each armrest, all covered in expensive liquor bottles. The couches were arranged three metres away from the fountain but otherwise, the room was completely and strangely, empty.

Most prominent was the door at the opposite end of the room. The adamantium door was a contrast to the rest of the decor it was hard not to note. It was quite interesting that Taryst did not seem to even bother hiding it, a fake door perhaps? Or perhaps I was looking into it a bit too much.

"My friend!" yelled out Taryst as he leaned back on one of the couches, "come! Take a seat I have amasec of the highest quality and cigars! Relax, we have much to discuss!"

I didn't move an inch, "no. But I would castrate someone for a smoke of Lho."

"Sorry?" Taryst's eyes widened.

The corner of my mouth twitched, idiot!

"Hmm, sorry do you have any Lho to smoke?" I rephrased as smoothly as possible.

Taryst's look of shock disappeared, "Yes young Attelus come, sit I have plenty."

I sighed and hunched in defeat, beginning to approach. I really didn't want to move an inch but saw little choice in the matter, Taryst's over-friendliness was getting on my nerves.

Taryst leaned over his couch, opened one of the draws on his table and took out a rather fanciful box.

"Here, take as many as you want young Attelus," he said, sliding the box open and holding it out to me.

My jaw set. Why did he have to continually call me 'young Attelus'? Attelus would just do, I knew that I was young, I did not need to be constantly reminded by someone else besides Glaitis. She still called me "child," a rather dated title seen as though I was twenty-three frigging years old.

Keeping my annoyance again silent. I nodded thanks and drew out two, meanwhile pulling out the igniter.

I smiled, finding it funny that the guards outside would make me give up my lhos but forget my igniter which I could potentially do more damage. I was skilled in that aspect, my father had taught me how to turn anything into a potentially lethal weapon, even lighters, especially lighters, he was an equally avid smoker of Lho as well.

"You still stand young Attelus, come and sit."

"Thank you, sir, but I would rather stand," I said, trying for the soft yet forceful tone that Glaitis had taught me.

Taryst shrugged, "if you wish it rather."

I slid one of the Lhos into my mouth and lit it, drawing the smoke deep, "yes, thanks, but now might I ask why you called me here?"

"Ahh yes my young friend," said Taryst as he suddenly got off of his seat and moved to another table, opening a draw. "I have been studying into your records, your curriculum vitae."

My eyes turned into suspicious slits, 'and how exactly did you get your hands on my "curriculum vitae"?'

"I had a young friend of yours look into it for me; you know the one, the young friend under my employ, the young friend who you had secretly hired to look into my past for you."

I winced, "Vex-"

'Vex Carpompter' confirmed Taryst as he pulled out a data slate from the table's draw, "the young ingenious hacker. How very audacious of you young Attelus to try such a trick under my very nose. You would have gotten away with it as well, but for-."

My jaw set yet again, "reasons you will not divulge?" I finished.

"Exactly!" he grinned. "You are smart young Attelus, too smart for your own good it seems, using the very person who inspects the system to check the information."

I was not sure what to do, was Taryst going to kill me?

Vex, he even had almost unlimited access to the cogitator systems of Taryst's whole corporation. Actually, I had completely forgotten about my under the table agreement with the infamous hacker. It had seemed like such a small request and seemed even smaller after the pathetic results.

"No young Attelus I am not going to kill you if that is what you are thinking," then his eyes turned into evil slits. "I was tempted to before, though. Very tempted."

My brow furrowed, I was beginning to dislike where the hell this was going, "you were tempted to until you saw into my files, right?"

"Answer me this young Attelus," said Taryst, "did you act on the volition of your teacher, or your own?"

I hissed through my gritted teeth. I hesitated in my reply, seeing that my very life may be depending on my next sentence and so I chose my words very carefully and told the truth.

"No, Glaitis did not ask me to do it, not directly anyway, I was acting under her teachings."

"And does she know of your attempt at espionage?"

"Again, no, not that I know of anyway."

Taryst smiled and fiddled his data slate with a large thumb, "I see young Attelus, your answers confirm what your records state. I can see that you are nothing like your ally, young Elandria, she is a blunt instrument, she knows very little besides how to kill people in a very gory, all be it, very pretty fashion. You, on the other hand, are a far more subtle instrument, infiltration, espionage, assassination in your very, very short career you have done it all have you not?"

All I have done very well. I shrugged, trying very hard to sound nonchalant and keep the welling pride from my tone. "Yes and no, I have been on many missions but mostly the more menial stuff. I have done some infiltration but most of what I know Glaitis has taught in the theoretical, not the practical."

"She doesn't believe you ready yet?"

"Yes," I answered, knowing I should not be divulging such information, but my instinct for self-preservation was overwhelming my instinct for keeping secrets. Also, Taryst probably knew this already. "I did not start my training of the "finer arts" of the Assassin's trade until my employ into mamzel Glaitis' mercenaries."

"I see, how about a test young Attelus, the ultimate test to see if you are finally ready. I want to employ you."

I raised an eyebrow, this I actually saw coming, "Tch! You want me to spy on Glaitis you?"

Taryst raised his own eyebrow, "you seem surprised despite your forward guessing."

I'm surprised that you're so damn predictable, I wisely refrained from saying.

"Young Attelus, do you truly want the life of an assassin? One living always in the shadows? One of death and thanklessness? Or would you rather a life of meaning, a life of profit, a life of happiness? I can get you that, a way to escape, a way to get away."

I glared up at Taryst. Was this coincidence? Just as I am beginning to have doubts, Taryst here comes to me with this request and giving me such incentive.

I did not believe in coincidence.

Also, I could not help remember my conversation with Glaitis' before, "trust nothing, suspect everything."

Did she guess that Taryst would pull such a stunt? Or did she already know that he would?

If either were the truth, there would be no way in hell I could hope to keep it a secret.

Was it again, potentially a coincidence?

I genuinely hoped that it was.

Taryst looked at me with an expression that was almost sympathetic, "I know what it was like to be your age, to not know who or what you are. It's hard young Attelus, take your time in your decision, but I have to ask that you make up your mind before you leave. Though my indecisiveness was of a completely different subject, the struggle is the same."

I sighed, could I betray her? The woman, who had saved my life, took me in, cared for me and taught me everything she knew. Potentially destroying six years of hard work and struggle?

It was for freedom. Which I was not sure would be worth it, this was a harsh universe. I was beginning to believe that the term "freedom" was a word that could only be used with irony, that it ever being literal of use, was forever lost.

"No."

"Excuse me?" asked Taryst, seeming almost bemused.

"No I can't do it, I-I just can't."

"Why?" carried on Taryst, beginning to sound forceful.

"I have my reasons," I said, sounding timider that intended, not expecting such a change in Taryst he sounded almost childish, almost sulky.

"No! I know why!" he snarled. "I have heard of how you act around her, like some little, pathetic, love-struck puppy! Can't you see that she is using you like some mindless pawn! Like a slave!"

"What?"

"You have two ears and are smart. Apparently, you know exactly what I said."

"You- you think I am in love with her?"

He just glared at me.

I scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous! She's three times my age! And Like a mother to me, that -that's disgusting."

He grinned. "To be honest I don't blame you young Attelus, I would be head over heels for her as well. If she was my type, of course, beautiful, intelligent, confident, deadly"

"Sh-shut up!" I meant to snarl, but rather whined and I felt my face flush.

He shook his head, "so can't you see this is unhealthy? That it is all the more reason to do what I ask?"

I swallowed, "I-I can't I just can't Taryst, do you know what you exactly ask? What the consequences will be if I'm found?"

Taryst nodded, "I do, I researched your employer before I hired her services and your death would be...Very painful indeed, but if you succeeded, the reward would be worth it!"

"How?"

"I would make you rich! And you could go back to your home planet, live an easy life of luxury and wealth. A life of freedom and meaning."

I gritted my teeth. 'Trust nothing, suspect everything' the meaning of that motto was double jointed to say the frigging least, Glaitis I knew meant herself as well, she could in all truth never be trusted, ever.

I knew why Taryst would ask me to spy on her. He was a paranoid, psychotic but from time to time I could not help suspect that Glaitis had some hidden agenda that was far, far bigger than me, bigger than even Taryst's corporation.

I could only hazard a guess how large that goal indeed was. I was some pawn in that plan, yet every time a strange, powerful feeling in me had made me deny it, some feeling that was foreign and strange to me.

Was that feeling love?

"Take your time young Attelus," said Taryst, "it is a hard favour to ask, I understand completely."

"No!" I stepped forward, "I have made up my mind!"

'And?'

And I answered without hesitation and with the truth. It felt good to be real, to be genuine for the first time, in a damn long time.

I left Taryst's quarters, trying hard to mask my haste. On the way out I had almost forgotten to retrieve my Lhos. Lucky for the guard I didn't.

I caught the elevator and twitched in impatience the whole ride down, tapping the tip of my boot on the floor.

I had told Taryst, no.

The rogue trader had taken the answer in due course and did not try to convince me otherwise again. Perhaps he had known that he could not change my mind, or he didn't care. The look in his eyes almost exclaimed the former, seemingly accusing me of foolishness and cowardice all at once.

Perhaps I was a coward and a fool. But I was not about to risk my life for what could easily be a lie. There was no guarantee that Taryst would keep his end of the bargain, the odds would not at all be in my favour.

Afterwards, I had tried to levy some information of Vex's fate from the rogue trader, but to no avail. Taryst was too smart to be coerced into slipping on his words.

As much as I hated to admit it I liked the little nerd; I did not wish to see him dead over such a trivial matter.

Actually, why I was still alive was a wonder in itself. Taryst had more than enough reason for shooting me, just on the grounds of trying to infiltrate his systems and even more for flat out refusing his request. Letting me live would make sense if I found Vex dead, it would send the message: "do not cross me again young Attelus, or this will be your fate."

It would indeed, I would not be crossing him ever again.

Despite myself I could not help smile my evil smile, the sentence went through my thoughts as a perfect recording of Taryst's voice, everything from tone to demeanour.

When the elevator reached my intended level, I slipped out the sliding double doors and ran down the corridor, heading to the northern side of the building that was where Vex's office was. Nimbly I dodged and weaved my way through the many of Taryst's employees in the road.

It took me only five minutes to reach the cogitator workers section. I had earlier learnt the layout of the lower floors (the ones I had access to anyway) The quickest way to get here or there, just in case.

I fast walked through the lines upon lines of cogitator banks, each having a thin, decrepit serf sitting, typing madly. The clicking sound turned into a crashing as thousands upon thousands of fingers pressed keys. The noise enveloped the entire two hundred by three hundred metre cavern in its near deafening cacophony.

I fought the need to cover my ears and started to approach the entrance to Vex's office.

I paused near the door. I was cool, calm my face set in determination, if Vex were dead in there, it would make little difference, just another death and one more did not matter in a galaxy this vast. It was not my fault, Vex had accepted the bribe, it was his own fault for going through with it. If he was truly as smart as he claimed he was he would have told me to shove it.

But maybe it was my fault, how old was Vex? Fourteen? And if so, perhaps it was his youthful ignorance that had made him take the job, and then it would indeed be my fault.

I sighed and reached for the door, but again hesitated as I realised something that made my guts churn. I wasn't armed! Who was not to say that someone wasn't standing over poor Vex's corpse, a silenced gun trained at the doorway, waiting for me to enter? I glanced about. They would not need to silence the weapon; I doubted that even the roar of a bolter could be heard over that racket.

"Oh, this is depressing, really!" I exclaimed in frustration, so loud that even a few of the nearer serfs looked up from their work and glared at me in disapproval.

I grinned as an idea hit me.

"Hey everybody! You know who is a damnable frig wipe!" I yelled even louder and with even more looks of anger. "Oh come on! Can nobody can guess!"

"Shut up!" said one as he got off his stool.

"Shut up, huh?" I grinned at the man. "Huh! Shut up really? He must be a really big frig wipe if he beats Taryst!"

Now that got more attention, and that was exactly what I was looking for, so I stepped through the door and found.

Vex was standing alone, utterly unharmed, inspecting one of his many Cogitator units with an intense expression. His attention snapped to me as I intruded space and his eyes widened with surprise.

"Hey, Attelus I didn't- Gak!"

Bang!

The "Gak!" was him getting cut off mid-sentence by me, grabbing him by the collar of his tunic and the "bang!", me slamming his back against the wall.

"Wh-what did I do?" he whined in his pitiful way, well as whiny and as pitiful as one could be when being suffocated. But Vex achieved it better than most would.

"You little bastard! You frigging little bastard!" I snarled, accompanied by another violent slam. "You told them!"

"I don't know what you are talking about," he gurgled back. "Told them, what?"

My anger turned in on itself as I pulled him from the wall, spun him about and smashed him hard against the nearest Cogitator.

"Were you born an idiot or did you lose the brain cells along the damn way!" I snarled. "Our agreement, remember? The one where I paid you one thousand throne gelts, and you would check the systems to look into Taryst's past, remember? Remember!"

Each 'remembers' was accompanied by a violent shake, which threw around Vex's head like whiplash.

Vex could only gurgle back, his face almost turning blue.

I let off a little pressure, a little.

"I don't know!" he hoarsely managed, and then tears started to well in his eyes. "An agreement that I look into the system? I don't remember it by the Emperor I swear! I swear!"

Then the tears started to flow freely down his face, "I swear!"

It was then when the realisation hit me. Then guilt followed, and I let go of Vex's collar. Still crying the young hacker slumped onto the floor and curled up in a fetal ball, whimpering pitifully.

I stumbled back; Vex's mind was messed with his memories of the whole incident erased by some warp touched freak! I should have realised it, damn it! Taryst had psykers place the blocks on our minds! Of course, he would have them for other uses!

And I had just strangled an innocent person who did not know why. Even if Vex had remembered our agreement, it would have been plucked from his memories without any knowledge.

I cursed, this was all my idiocy, my fault. I should have remembered that Taryst had psykers, how stupid was I to forget-

I cut myself short as my eyes widened in epiphany. But one reason why I had done it was because of the blocks! Vex had told me that they had done it to him as well! I was no expert on those warp touched. Perhaps, with their knowledge of how they had placed, the block knew they could have bypassed it. That is, assuming Vex had even been blocked at all.

I looked down at the whimpering and shuddering form. My brow furrowed heavily. I started to feel a potent and almost intoxicating mix of contempt and rage begin to well at the pit of my gut. How pathetic! I felt the overpowering urge to kick the kid while he was down.

Teach him to toughen the hell up.

Don't make this any worse than it is if Glaitis finds out, I thought, forcing down the rage, the contempt.

Then I turned and stormed out the door, leaving the pathetic foetal form of Vex to writhe in its self-pity.

It would also explain how Taryst knew I was having second thoughts.

I was right, the damnable Rogue Trader had left me a warning and through Vex also! An even worse one than if I found him dead. I winced as the words echoed through my thoughts, "do not cross me again young Attelus, or that will be your fate."

But this time the ominously similar sounding voice of Taryst laughed.

I sighed. I stood in my shower, the high pressured water crashing against my thin, pale but solid body.

My usually rigorous, daily training lasted five hours with a fifteen-minute break between each hour. It was disciplined and harsh like my father had taught me. It seemed my daily regime was the only thing I kept consistently disciplined.

The schedule was this; the first two hours were dedicated to swordsmanship, the next two on unarmed combat and if I had the time I went over to Taryst's shooting range, spending the last hour practising firing drills, both Garrakson and Torris would almost always be there and so I would go to for the company as well.

That was before poor Torris got maimed of course.

I winced as I remembered. Again I had forgotten to visit my comrade in arms at the medicae! That would be, what, the fifth day in a row? I couldn't even recall that either.

Throne did my limbs ache! Today was certainly not the first, but hopefully the last were I would neglect my regime, not saying I didn't train, I did, but way too hard, and had ignored to stretch before also. After I had retreated from my crime scene, I had retrieved my weapons from security and went straight home to my hab block. Immediately, my sword was out and I was slashing the air in a blind and rusty rage. My years of training and discipline were thrown out the window. I barely lasted half an hour before I was gasping for breath and weak from exertion.

But my anger was all but spent.

I was an idiot, a complete and utter idiot! I had no excuse to beat up on Vex, even if he had willingly told, I should have seen his treachery coming and planned for it in advance. 'Trust nothing, suspect everything" those words could not ring any more accurate right now!

No, I had to lose myself in my anger. I've had that problem ever since I was a child something would happen that would anger me, and I would hurt people, badly.

'A blind rage' I heard it called once, I could not recall who had said it exactly

It was as if something had taken over me. I would lose control, and all I would do is hurt the one who had done me wrong, no matter what.

My father had taught me how to control that side of myself, how to curb it if it occurred and I had learnt it well. But with Vex I slipped and fallen into that abyss, that was the first time in a long time, going on six years now.

That I did remember and that I remembered well.

Poor Vex Carpompter, he did not deserve my wrath. All of my repressed anger from the last six months was almost taken out on the kid; he was lucky I didn't kill him.

No, I thought. I was lucky that I didn't kill him.

I shuddered at the thought, and the soothing feeling of the constant stream of hot water disappeared entirely as a horrible sensation of sickening guilt welled in my guts.

Taryst was right! Sudden rage overtook me, and I punched the tiled wall. Blood intermingled with water and pain erupted through my hand.

I am a coward! A bully who takes out his anger on those weaker than him because he is too scared to take it out on those over him!

That is the very definition of cowardice.

Sighing, I turned off the faucet. I tried to ignore the agony of my left hand and my dullened, aching limbs. But I could not ignore that both were of my own volition, of my idiocy.

It was quite depressing really.

I walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my waist, my face foul.

I caught a glimpse of the form standing in my room, and that was all I needed to see. In the blink of an eye, I snatched up a nearby knife, about to let it fly.

But stopped mid-movement, and felt my face flush as I saw that the form was Elandria, who was also aiming an Auto pistol at me.

"Drop it," she said.

I immediately did as told.

"Now kick it over to me."

I looked at her with hooded eyes; I had bare feet damn it! But gingerly I kicked the knife to her, which bounced and rolled over the carpet.

"Mistress Glaitis wishes to speak to you," she informed in her emotionless voice. Her mask was off so that I could see her just as emotionless, pale, attractive heart-shaped face. The gun still pointed at me.

My embarrassment disappeared as my eyes widened in fear. My palms were suddenly wet with sweat. I had guessed that my teacher would want to talk to me, but I was not at all prepared for it.

"J-just let me get changed," I stammered as I scrambled to gather some clothes from that of the many that lay about, and could not help be embarrassed at the messy state of my living quarters.

"You have three minutes," she stated.

"Okay, but, uhm, can I, uhm, have some privacy, please?"

"No."

I sighed, then the sudden and impatient twitch of the Auto pistol made me jump and search all the faster. She had me, hook line and sinker, or for want of better cliché, I was caught out in the cold. Never in my life had I felt so helpless and exposed, that was why Elandria was a real assassin, and I was not, though she lacked my training of deception and espionage, she still knew bloody well how to catch those at their most vulnerable, and she certainly had succeeded with me.

Though, I could not help but wonder what would happen if I had actually thrown the knife? I may have got her; she had not reacted to me until a full second after I had stopped the throw.

If it were anyone else besides her and Glaitis, I would have let it fly, without hesitation. Perhaps that was why Glaitis had sent Elandria; she knew I had a weakness for the fairer sex, a weakness that she could exploit, a weakness I needed to eliminate.

It took me two minutes to hurriedly slip on my clothes from the floor, smelling, day-old tunic. I had tried hard to hide as I put it on and had succeeded with admirable grace.

I nodded to Elandria and walked out the door, but she followed me down the apartment building's corridor.

"Where are you going?" I asked over my shoulder.

"With you."

My jaw set. "To escort me right?"

'Yeah.'

Barely, I kept the fear from my face, if Glaitis was having Elandria guard me, the master assassin was meaning business.

I swallowed, really meaning business.

It took us twenty long minutes to arrive back at Glaitis' base of operations and all the way I had Elandria holding her auto pistol in my back. Every single step made me dread more and more whatever Glaitis had in store for me. I struggled to hide the fear even with my back to her. The stress of suspense was almost overwhelming as my heart thudded in my chest. I had never bothered to try garner any information from Elandria knowing full well it was futile I doubted that Glaitis would have told her anything and everything I tried to say to Elandria she answered with mindless monosyllables. For her, it was not entirely out of character, but it was doing nothing to help my nerves.

We rode the elevator up to Glaitis' office. Taryst had given the master assassin the top floor of one of the rogue traders many separate buildings that surrounded his main tower. Naturally, she is the leader of a very professional and well-off company of mercenaries, she only got the best for her living quarters.

The elevator arrived, and the doors slid open. Immediately I was prompted out with a shove of Elandria's pistol. My teeth on edge I hesitantly complied, and we entered into the foyer beyond. It was no more than six metres wide, a corridor. At each side and lining the stark white walls were long, black leather couches and our boots echoed over the polished back marble tiles. The contrast between hers and Taryst's quarters could not have been much more apparent.

Glaitis never kept any guards, which showed her arrogance in her abilities, an arrogance that was entirely justified. She has survived for this long, and I also have seen her skills first hand, and they are quite breathtaking. I gritted my teeth as Taryst's words echoed through my thoughts. I was not in love with Glaitis! And he was a fool for ever thinking so.

A woman sat at the end of one of the couches, her smooth, long legs crossed together as she reclined back. Her high boned, youthful and attractive heart-shaped face was on the profile as her large eyes studied a data slate intently. Her long, violet coloured hair was pulled back into a ponytail and relief washed over me as I saw who she was.

Castella Lethe didn't look up as Elandria, and I approached her, "tsk, tsk Attelus what have you done now?" she sighed with a smile as she bounced her crossed leg.

Despite my anxiety, I could not help but grin. I liked Castella, she was always charismatic, always friendly and she had a fun, dry sense of humour I could appreciate. If any woman I would be accused of being in love with, I rather her than Glaitis. She was also confirmed to be Glaitis' successor if ever the master fell and I agreed. Castella was an excellent choice she was extremely extroverted, confident and held almost everyone's respect in the company. Except for Elandria who seemed to despise Castella for the reason that I could not, or cared not enough to comprehend.

"Completed yet another assignment, I see," I said, trying to slow my advance but Elandria was intent on not letting me.

Castella snorted, "of course Attelus, would I be here if I hadn't?"

I shrugged, "goes without doubt Castella. I was actually making sure that you were not some fear induced mirage."

"Wow, Attelus. If you are that scared shall I say a little prayer for you?"

I frowned and furrowed my brow, "I was actually hoping for a more, proactive form of help."

She shrugged, pouting her full lips. "What could be any more proactive than the divine intervention of the Emperor mankind himself? Ohh, wait you don't believe in that thing, do you? Oh well, never mind you're screwed then. Bye!"

Before I could make a coherent reply, I got shoved through the glass double doors, and I could not help wonder. Why the hell she was just sitting out there?

1 note · View note

minoukatze · 6 years

Text

Homecoming

I’m doing it again. I’m an idiot.

There were stone walls now. He’d remembered it mentioned in one of Johann’s letters, but he’d never actually considered the reality of their existence. But there they were, stone, rough and unevenly mortared, replacing lashed old and rotting timber beams. It was an upgrade that had been necessary since well before Victor’s time, but, despite many attempts to convince the people to do so, the town had clung to their old wooden defenses. They had been carved, you see. Sigils first; then, after a few decades, entreaties to the gods for mercy; then, finally, graffiti: declarations of love, obscene doodles, and simply names, crudely carved and probably misspelled names of people who wanted to stamp themselves upon something that would outlive them. Victor himself had added a mark to the wall in his youth, a rough approximation of a hammer of Sigmar, a prayer for his god to protect this humble satellite town. When he’d proudly told his mother, she’d given him a nasty set of stripes for the offense, then a treat, a slice of rye bread. She understood his motives, but vandalism was a crime.

It was a rare moment of rebellion that Victor refused to feel shame. He was representing his god, and his stinging back had been proof of his devotion. Sigmar appreciates pain, after all.

There were few such attempts at vandalism on this new wall, however. Someone had attempted to scrawl a skull upon one of the flatter stones, but the surfaces were too small and uneven for any further creativity. Victor was surprised that he’d missed them, though the stone would prove to be a much better against any offenders. It was better this way.

“All right, Sir?” Markus brought Victor back to the present, the others riding up beside him to regard the witch hunter curiously.

“Yes, just regarding the defenses,” Victor replied loftily. “I suppose they are sufficient. Come along.”

The gates were open, and the five rode into the bustling town. Activity halted immediately. Victor expected this, they were a motley crew, after all. Even if it were just he arriving, though, he was confident that the reaction would be the same. He raised his chin and ignored the townsfolk, basking in their open stares as he led the group to the inn within easy sight. A dark-haired, skinny man in his mid-forties met them at the door.

“Innkeeper,” Victor barked. “My comrades will need accommodation. Four rooms, and care for the horses.”

“Wait,” Sienna interrupted. “Only four? Cheaping out on us? Or do you have other plans…”

“Mind out of the gutter, Witch,” Victor grumbled. “I will, of course, be staying in the chapterhouse. Unless any of you would prefer a room there. I can assure you that you would not find it nearly as comfortable.”

Sienna shuddered. “Fair enough. As long as there are spirits here, I’m happy.”

The innkeeper eyed Sienna suspiciously. “I will be requiring a deposit.”

Sienna reached over stroked the innkeeper’s beard. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

As the innkeeper blushed, Markus stepped forward. “My horse threw a shoe just outside of town. Can your hostler take care of it?”

“Out of shoes at the moment, but the blacksmith should have some available. I will send the stableboy to retrieve-“

“No need,” Victor interrupted. “I do not wish extra fees tacked on to our stay. I will purchase the shoe directly and bring it back for application. At the moment, please get my crew outfitted and comfortable."

Markus jogged to keep up, side-eyeing Victor as they departed up the cobblestone path. “Was that necessary, Sir?”

It really wasn’t, and it was frankly strange for a Witch Hunter Captain to be running errands more suited to a stableboy. In any other town, he would have just paid the few pennies extra for the shoe and be done with it. It didn’t matter. He wanted the excuse to see the smithy. He’d have preferred to be alone in this visit, but he could not think of any decent excuses to shake the soldier.

When Victor did not answer, Markus continued. “Shouldn’t we ask for directions?”

“I know the way,” Victor responded, not slackening his pace.

“Ah, so you’ve been here before?”

“Obviously.”

Everything seemed so much smaller now. The buildings, which had seemed to be massive and indestructible when he had gone, now appeared cramped and shabby. There were few faces that he recognized. The ones he did were ancient and did not seem to know him. They all responded to the uniform, though. There was ample satisfaction in that.

They turned the corner, and Victor froze. There it was. If the town hall had seemed cramped, Victor’s childhood home was positively tiny. He nearly gasped at the sight of it. A small carved skull of Morr adorned one corner of the threshold, a hammer of Sigmar, the other. A variety of weapons, not quite his father’s quality, but still excellent; were hung on a display rack outside. The forge was lit, but unattended for the moment. I have seen the view from Altdorf’s highest spires and delved into Nuln’s most profound depths. I have explored our great Empire to every border, dined with Counts, knelt before the Emperor and the Grand Theogonist both. I have slain legions of ratmen and rotbloods, drove my rapier through the curdled hearts of fiends, Grey Seers, and Daemon Lords alike. I am a scourge upon the enemies of Sigmar…and it all started here.

A chunky, sandy-haired boy of about 11 exited the house and headed straight to the forge. He noticed Victor and Markus, and shrunk back, eyes wide.

“….Daaaad?” The boy called nervously, and a burly man in his forties with the same fluffy, sandy hair came out.

“Welcome!” The blacksmith smiled broadly and extended his hand. “Always glad to serve members of the Order. Do not fear, Hermann, these men serve the Empire.”

“Hermann?” Victor raised his eyebrow.

The blacksmith peered at Victor more closely.

“By Sigmar…it’s uncanny,” the blacksmith murmured. “You’re Victor, aren’t you? Gods, it’s wonderful to meet you! Your father was so proud. Talked about you every day.”

“Father?” Markus asked. “Sir, this is your hometown, isn’t it?”

“Obviously,” Victor grumbled, then addressed the blacksmith. “Well, that is good to hear. My man here needs a horseshoe. Do you have any available?”

“Of course!” The blacksmith replied sunnily, ignoring Victor’s brusque tone. “No!” He waved at Victor, who was reaching into his money purse. “You pay for nothing here. Why don’t you come in, have a drink?”

“I’m afraid I must-“ Victor began.

“Oh, come, Sir! Your old home, surely you want to see it after all these years?” Markus cajoled. “I would give my eyeteeth to see my old homestead again.”

“No time, Kruber,” Victor clenched his teeth in irritation. “Captain Weber is expecting me, and I cannot keep him waiting.” Victor turned to the obnoxiously cheery blacksmith. “I thank you for your invitation, but it is imperative that I move on. Good day.”

“Sir, really?” Markus jogged to keep up with Victor as the witch hunter charged up the path. “We couldn’t stay for just a moment?”

“Perhaps you have time to tarry,” Victor snarled, not slackening his pace. “But I have no such luxury. See to your horse, Kruber. I meet with the Captain on my own. That is an order.”

Markus finally fell back, muttering all the while. Victor heaved a relieved sigh as he continued his path uphill, his feet reflexively taking him on long-remembered paths on streets now barely recognizable. It was an uncomfortable feeling, as if the ground were shifting beneath him. He turned a corner and was suddenly enveloped by the aroma of bread baking. It halted him immediately, and Victor grimaced. Curiosity (and spite) warred with duty, and for once the former won. Weber can wait a few moments, he thought, and strode toward the bakery.

Posted on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14735631

#Vermintide #victor saltzpyre #fanfiction #fanfic #sienna fuegonasus #markus kruber #warhammer fantasy

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pocketseizure · 7 years

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The Museum of Hyrule, Chapter Three

All the Stories Not Told

In this chapter, Zelda attends a fundraiser held in the museum. Fed up with the party, she leaves and is approached by Ganondorf. He suggests they continue their conversation in the archives, where they can finally be alone.

Chapter 3 / 4 ☆ 3,100 words ☆ SFW ☆ (Also on AO3)

* * * * *

The council member raised a supercilious eyebrow at Zelda. "You will be sure to tell Prime Minister Nohansen about our conversation, yes?"

"Of course, sir. I'll be sure to give my father your regards."

Zelda flashed a bright smile, but the old man had already turned away from her and started to talk to someone else. As she stepped away from the conversation, she caught a glimpse of herself in the glass covering a display of old rupee coins. Her sleek black dress fit perfectly, and not a strand of her hair had come loose from the updo that had taken her stylist almost two hours to construct. Her sapphire earrings glittered brilliantly, and her makeup was immaculate, but her face was clearly tired. She looked simultaneously much younger and much older than she actually was.

Perhaps this was an effect of the pretentious and stuffy atmosphere of the event, a charity fundraiser held in the museum. Zelda assumed that all the proceeds from the tickets went to a good cause, but it had not been made clear what that cause might be. The actual purpose of the evening was to form and solidify connections, as a new rotation of parliament members had just been inducted into office. The parliament floor was nothing more than a stage; this was where the real business of government took place, in lavish venues that were accessible by invitation only.

I can't deal with this nonsense anymore, Zelda thought.

She left the smaller gallery and proceeded through the main hall of the museum's east wing, avoiding the clustered groups and pretending not to see the glances and waves in her direction. The buzz of conversation faded behind her as she moved farther away from the party. She eventually reached the central rotunda where she had come to get out of the heat a week ago.

Although she was more than comfortable working with people in a professional context, Zelda disliked large and informal functions like this, where the only goal seemed to be for older men to drink and make grand pronouncements regarding the future of people other than themselves. Her father had dragged her along with him to numerous events like this when she was younger, and they never became any easier to bear. She had no desire to attend this particular fundraiser, but her boss had asked her to, and she had agreed without thinking when she heard it would be held in the museum. There was no sense in concealing the truth – she wanted to see Ganondorf.

She hated herself for the way she'd treated him. Why did she leave his office? Was she really so stuck up that she thought she was too good for him? Was she really so high and mighty that she didn't want to risk being seen at a hotel bar with a museum curator?

When she'd gotten back to her apartment, she left the file Ganondorf gave her on the living room table. It was certain to be messy business, and she needed a cold shower to clear her head. She washed her face over and over again, her mind running through the same set of thoughts in the chilly water: Who is this man? What am I doing? When will I see him again? She finally emerged from the bathroom to find Midna sitting cross-legged on the floor, the contents of the file fanned out on the carpet in front of her.

"This is some heavy shit, Zel," she'd said, not even bothering to look up.

Midna was a policy wonk of the highest order. She came from a good family, which was all that mattered to Zelda's father when he'd signed as a guarantor on their lease several years ago. More importantly, Midna was a freshly minted PhD who had already joined the ranks of the best and brightest. She was a member of several think tanks that worked behind closed doors and soundproofed walls in the brightly painted townhouses of the university district. Despite pulling in an unimaginable salary, she seemed to feel no urge to move out of their apartment. Zelda valued her company, and she valued her opinions as well.

"Why don't you break it down for me while I get dressed?"

"You mean you haven't seen this?" Midna asked, slapping the back of her hand against the photocopies she was holding. "Where did it come from?"

"Pants first, questions later."

"I don't think you need to bother, because this is going to knock your pants off."

"I'll wear an extra pair then," Zelda yelled from her bedroom. "Tell me what we've got here."

"Where do I even begin? You know how there were two earthquakes a hundred years ago? Most people are aware that the Gerudo were blamed for the fires that spread after the first one, but get a load of this – what I'm looking at are corroborating documents saying that there were royal orders for the soldiers to spread those rumors and then organize civilian groups to hunt the Gerudo down. Fuck me, there are pictographs and everything."

Midna paused and then called out, "You still listening?"

"Yes, I'm listening!" Zelda answered as she quickly pulled on her Sheikah-style athletic pants.

"And it doesn't end there. So the Gerudo got kicked out of the west district, and a bunch of people were brought in for the post-earthquake reconstruction. This is where shit gets real. I've got another bunch of documents here that suggest that these people were purposefully unregistered so that they could be severely underpaid and then conveniently made to disappear when they were no longer useful. I'm holding a bunch of etchings and diary entries that seem to suggest that they were no better than slaves. And meanwhile, full citizenship was being revoked for other groups who were labeled as undesirables so that they basically became nonentities. Did you know there were actually still Deku in the city during the second earthquake? This is wild.... Hey, Zelda?"

"Yeah, I'm still listening," Zelda responded as she walked back into the living room. Her head was spinning, and she felt unsteady on her feet. Instead of trying to navigate through the sheets of paper spread out across the floor, she sat down on the couch behind Midna.

"So this is the craziest thing," Midna said, passing a copy of a photograph of a woodblock print back to Zelda. She took it but didn't immediately understand what she was seeing. There seemed to be a large monster rising above the roofs of the city, which was wreathed in stylized flames.

"I'm not so good with turn-of-the-century Hylian, but it seems as though the second earthquake was blamed on some sort of monster, can you believe that? People genuinely believed it was real, and that it was unleashed on Hyrule by the Gerudo. Putting this together with everything else, I would say that this is more propaganda to drive the remaining residents of the west district away. Judging from its poor quality and what looks like heavy wear around the edges of the printing block, it seems like this was produced quickly and distributed on a wide scale. It's strange that I've never seen anything like it before."

Midna turned to Zelda with a concerned look. "Farore give me courage," she said. "Who put this together?"

Zelda was about to answer her, but right at that moment her cellphone rang from her bedroom. She knew exactly who it was, but she couldn't bear to talk to him, not with this paper sea of destruction right in front of her.

"It's them calling now, right?" Midna asked after studying Zelda's face for a moment. Zelda nodded.

Midna frowned. "I don't think you should answer it."

Zelda nodded again. The ringing stopped, but it immediately began again. Zelda waited with Midna in silence until it was over.

The two of them had ended up spending the night passing the photocopies back and forth, trying to make sense of them. Midna eventually retrieved one of her laptops from her room and ran extensive searches on databases Zelda had never seen in an attempt to find records and duplicates of the documents. Despite her considerate skill, she was unsuccessful.

At a certain point Midna went to the kitchen to brew some coffee, and Zelda got up to check her phone. It had indeed been Ganondorf calling, and he'd sent her two text messages as well.

"I assume you've looked through the file," the first read. "I must apologize. I meant to discuss this with you, not upset you. Please forgive my actions."

Zelda's heart stopped as she read the second message. "I couldn't help myself. You do something to me, Zelda. You set something inside me on fire."

She couldn't bring herself to respond to him that night, and she slept so late the next morning that she had to rush to get to work. Her office was busy, as usual, and she didn't have time to text him during the day. With every hour that separated her from their encounter in his office, it seemed increasingly strange, like something that hadn't actually happened. If she had never met Ganondorf, and if he had never kissed her, then the contents of the folder he'd given her could not be real.

And yet Zelda had searched for him at the party. It wasn't unreasonable to think that a curator would attend a fundraiser held at the museum, but she hadn't seen him. She hadn't realized how disappointed this would make her, as if the entire evening was a waste. Soon the small groups of people that filled the galleries would begin heading off to their own private events, and she didn't want to be caught sitting alone in the rotunda as they left.

I should really get back, Zelda thought as she drained her drink.

"You look like you've had a long evening," a familiar voice said from behind her. Zelda turned, and Ganondorf stood beside her, holding a champagne flute filled with sparkling water.

"Ganondorf." She smiled at him, concealing her surprise at how quietly he had moved as she accepted the glass. "How lovely to see you."

"You look beautiful," he said.

"And what brings you here to flatter me on this fine evening?" she asked him, taking a sip of water. She had been talking for hours, and she hadn't realized how thirsty she was.

"Did you not expect to see someone like me at an event like this?"

Zelda looked up at him. He had on a red shirt with a seafoam green tie under a dark suit. The colors were garish, but he wore them well. It was odd that she hadn't seen him during the past few hours, especially given how tall he was.

"I wouldn't think that anyone comes to these things unless they have to," she remarked dryly.

He smirked. "I thought you'd be used to this, Zelda Nohansen."

"How did you know?" Zelda felt a chill pass through her. She used her mother's maiden name on her business card precisely because she didn't want to be associated with her father's family.

"It's not like it's a secret that you're the prime minister's daughter. An alias won't put off a dedicated researcher."

Zelda was annoyed by his casual admission that he'd done a background check on her. Had this been before or after they met the second time? Was this where his 'you set something inside me on fire' line had come from? Did he really think that would help him get closer to her father?

"Well, I did some research on you, too," she snapped at him. "Apparently you didn't leave grad school after all. What I heard is that you got kicked out."

To her surprise, Ganondorf laughed. "That's a kind way of putting it," he said. "My department chair stole my research and destroyed my chances of renewing a grant, and so I destroyed his face. I told you I wasn't suited for academia. Besides, I prefer to let the objects from the past speak for themselves without mediation. History is such an inappropriately straightforward way of telling stories, wouldn't you agree? No one would ever mention the conversation you just had with the council member in a textbook, for instance."

Zelda refused to look away from his arrogant smirk. "I make no apologies for the way politicians go about their business. If you have objections, it's your responsibility to do something about it. You tell me that you find history distasteful, yet you lurk silently in your museum and judge other people for not putting the missing pieces together themselves. If you were less of a coward, you would find some means of saying something."

"Courage was never one of my virtues," he responded, narrowing his eyes, "but I will act when the time is right. The blows I strike will be decisive, and no political maneuvering will save your father."

Despite herself, Zelda was impressed by the strength underlying Ganondorf's words, which were so different than the soft and rounded prevarications of the men who had sought her attention all evening.

"What do you have against my father?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Do you even need to ask? The crimes of the past are still perpetuated into the present."

"That's a bold claim. You say you're a researcher. Where's your proof?"

"Let me ask you a question instead, Zelda. When you spoke to the parliamentary committee last week, how did it go? Did they seem in any way interested in the data you presented, or was the hearing merely perfunctory?"

Zelda was taken aback. "How did you know about that?"

Ganondorf shrugged. "It's a matter of public record, and one that I happen to follow very closely. Have I given you the impression that I say things without having considered all of the available information?"

"Well." Zelda took another sip of water, giving herself time to think. She had found herself in a tricky situation, but she had no patience for power games. It would best suit her purposes to have everything out in the open. If this conversation were going to go anywhere, she needed to know Ganondorf's intentions. "I suppose you've done your research on me as well," she prompted.

Ganondorf's shoulders relaxed slightly, and he shook his head. "I must admit that I was careless in that regard. Had I known who you were, I would never have invited you back here. If I had known, I would have..."

"You would have done what, exactly?" Zelda asked. She crossed her arms over her chest, emphasizing her challenge.

Ganondorf gritted his teeth. "I played my hand too soon. I didn't recognize your name, and I didn't think to dig into your background until it was already too late. This puts me in a difficult situation, but I... "

"You need to know that I am not my father."

"No, you're not." Ganondorf glared down at her. "But you can't deny the privilege you wield through your connection to him."

"I am. Not. My father," Zelda repeated, articulating every word. "Which is why I read through the file you gave me. I couldn't help getting the impression that you assembled it in haste, but I corroborated what I could. I wouldn't have gone through the trouble if I hadn't taken it seriously – and if I hadn't trusted that your intentions were honorable."

Ganondorf stood as still as one of the statues in the gallery at his back as he considered her silently.

"You don't talk like a politician," he finally said.

Zelda met his gaze. "I have no intention of becoming one. My business lies in facts, not convenient fabrications. Clearly you underestimate me."

"I do nothing of the sort," Ganondorf responded, "and I wouldn't have given that file to just anyone. It seems I made the right choice in thinking that I could trust you with it. It's a relief to hear that you took the material seriously."

"I don't see any other way that I could have taken it." She paused for a moment, then continued, "Perhaps this isn't the most appropriate response to that sort of information, but I must admit that I'm intrigued. If this evidence is leading where I think it is, you could be on to something earth-shattering."

"Earth-shattering, I like that." Ganondorf grinned. "Would you like to see something interesting, then?"

"See something? Where?"

"Down in the archives. There shouldn't be anyone else there at this time of night."

Zelda returned his grin, relieved to be back on even footing. "How do I know you aren't just scheming to get me alone?"

"Do you want to go back to that party?" he asked, holding his hand out for her glass.

"Not particularly," she answered, passing it to him. He drained it and then set it down on the circular stone bench surrounding the fountain.

"I was there too, you know," he told her as he began to walk toward a grand set of stairs on the other side of the rotunda. "The director of my department asked me to attend, but I would have gone anyway. I'd hoped for a chance to speak with you. It didn't present itself, obviously. You weren't alone for a single minute, not until you chose to leave. You say that you'll never be a politician, but I might dare to suggest otherwise."

Zelda nodded in acknowledgment of his comment as Ganondorf guided her around the cordons blocking access to the stairs leading down. Midna had told her the same thing on more than one occasion.

"You know, if I had been born a hundred years ago, I might have been a princess."

Ganondorf glanced at her over his shoulder. "How noble of you, to associate with someone common like myself."

"I don't think you're common at all."

He stopped and turned to face her. She was on a higher step, so her face was level with his. He seemed as if he were about to say something, and the thought that she should kiss him flickered through her mind. But no, that would be inappropriate. She looked away, embarrassed. He cleared his throat. "Thank you," he said simply, and then resumed climbing down the staircase.

At the bottom they came to a series of reinforced metal doors equipped with keypads. Ganondorf proceeded to the door directly in front of them on the landing and punched in the code. Zelda's cheeks turned red as she watched the deft movements of his fingers, remembering how they had felt on her face.

The door opened with a click, and Zelda returned to herself. "After you," Ganondorf said as he held the door open, and she was careful not to touch his body as she moved past him into the archives.

#Zelda fic #Zelgan #Ganondorf #Princess Zelda #The Museum of Hyrule #my fic #this story was supposed to be three chapters but #it got a bit out of hand #I just really enjoy writing these characters #it's a problem smh

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stopsubstanceabuse1-blog · 6 years

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