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bitebitesnap · 2 years

Text

For the Hive

Hey y'all want some bees?

For @r0-boat 's Bee Submas AU CW: descriptions of violence, bug gore, some suggestive commentary.

I spent so long on this y'all! I started this last month! I am going insane! :D

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It started out so well.

An average, beautiful morning. Sun light beamed through the halls of the subway, arching across broken tiles in glittered shades of sunset. Wax glowed and pulsed with beads of sticky glory that oozed along each woven wall.

A steady thrum of the beating heart of the hive kept strong with day’s end. The keepers were always busy in such, buzzing about here to there. With the recent haul from the outside, they were run amok with cargo to make and to share alike.

How you’d come here was so long ago now. Then, they’d watched over you uncomfortably. A bee never left your side at all times, either because of pure curiosity or their own Queen’s dislike of you.

They lost their way for a time without her.

It had been so eerily silent. Once humming wings laid dormant across their backs, antenna perked up at attention. Orders never came. So they remained, waiting until someone, anyone said something.

Her corpse had been casually tossed aside with the same disregard as when he’d struck. Swiftly, with not a trace of remorse in his bared grin.

Now stingers lay hidden in wrists, covered carefully with honey matted gloves. Wings never buzzed with aggression nor irritation, lightly flitting about whenever you approached. Sometimes even when you just existed, apparently, as the thrumming beat never really stopped.

So many bees so close would scare away anyone. Just a threat of a sting had most you’d known cowering; one was plenty, a hive was a death wish. They’d kill their own for less.

But not for you. For you, they danced. For you, they sang hymns on rumbling wings. For you they gathered and crafted, building higher and more resilient.

For you they held on in droves. For you they clutched with bated breath and fluttering antenna. For you, they pleased in tongue and hand alike.

For their queen, they’d die.

Calm conversation flowed, words parried between you. The drone was one of the more friendly of them, Jackie. Burgundy hair always parted and ruffled a mess beneath his cap, he remained one of your closer friends.

Though friend was a bit too casual of a label for just how many times he’d pinned you against some barren honeycomb deep within the hive, stray hands grasping at hips or digging knuckles deep into your warm, pliant cunt.

He was sweet, but he wasn’t one of your Kings. However that didn;t stop him from joining in fucking you raw time and time again.

His hands were sticky with the fresh honey he carted in hand. The bucket was heavy with the stuff, so thick it barely moved at all no matter how much he waddled about. You did, however, have to convince him not to swing the bucket by the handle lest he get it absolutely everywhere trying to prove it wouldn’t, in fact, get everywhere. You’d started laughing at his adorably pouty face.

Bright yellow fuzz had been so common in your new life that the instant a puff of it floated in, you’d hardly given it a glance. A simple brief pause in chatter gave you time to flick attention away from the bee for just a moment before returning.

Long enough for the drone’s once sulky expression to drop completely.

Jackie had paused with bucket still in hand, halfway up his chest to present the sweet delight to you. His focus was entirely away, towards the open subway gate you had just looked at.

“Jackie?” You followed his gaze, yet nothing had changed. To you, it was the same hive as always if not a bit less active for some reason, “Is something wrong?” You glanced back at him, brow raised.

The bee was still staring off into the distance. Honey oozed down the insides of the bucket, turned slightly to you. Reddish strands fluttered over his temples from the dusk breeze. The smile he’d always had lay absent as he stared, those strange near honey comb-like eyes unblinking.

The rasp of his voice would have been lost under the thrum of the hive had you not been listening for him, “.....Wasp.”

Your eyebrows shot up, “What-?”

One of his arms, free from not having a bucket to carry, raised between you and the entry, “Its…It’s probably nothing,” He swallowed, “I-I-It looks like he’s alone….Rogue probably..” The bucket was lowered away from his face as he turned to you, “S-Sometimes we get rogues who take honey from the entry. It-It’s not a big deal, we always make too much anyways a-a-and it’s not like he;s getting any of the royal honey. They never seem brave enough for that…” He was trying so very hard. Not a glimmer of nervous sweat on his brow nor break in his voice could say anything was wrong.

The shake of his hands, paired with the irritated quiver of antenna through burgundy locks, said otherwise.

Yet, he didn;t seem to be wrong. The wasp was, for all the surprise he was, keeping to himself. Clawed hands dug easily into the comb closest to the entrance as he scooped out healthy amounts of it into a woven parcel.

Bees were common in your older life. Before the hive they’d buzz about casually, cleaning out store wares for their sugar and dusting the overgrown flower forest for pollen. You’d learned to catch their striped shells from a distance to keep yourself out of their reach at the time. Stories of their violence worked wonders for their privacy as well as food supply.

The same couldn;t be said for the wasps.

Where the bees were fluffy, almost criminally so, the wasp was hard. Stripes of black and yellow arched across his chest in familiar patterns yet the strokes of such were blurred, a false mimicry of the same puffy nature the bees themselves had. Extra hands lay near his waist like the bees, dark black claws curving wickedly into the wax mantle. Antenna flicked about while dark eyes kept keen attention, the shell of his exoskeleton marring most human features.

Your own hive was already well aware of the intruder. Workers continued to buzz mindlessly from hive to wall, the work never ceased for even a moment despite the rude guest. Antennas remained perked regardless, his peaceful intent likely known yet cautious all the same, the wide berth shared between the two hive born races in mutual ignorance to each other.

“It-It’ll be fine. He should get what he wants then leave when he’s done.” The hand between you shuffled to your shoulder, clutching a bit tight, “M-My queen please, let’s go inside and leave h-him be..”

He had been meaning to pull you away, to turn your eyes off the wasp to leave him to his plundering. And you meant to follow, already halfway into his arm even as your eyes remained on the hybrid for a moment longer.

A moment had been enough. A moment of time where the hive was busy and work was adamant. A moment a single bee buzzed across the room, his honey soaked coat blocking the hybrid between you.

The second you flitted your gaze, curious of the bee’s sodden nature, he moved.

It had been a nice calm day. The hive was buzzing, the wind was blowing a gentle breeze of sweet sugar and flowers—a fitting end to a busy day of gathering and crafting. A friend at your side, a hive to your command, a pair of bees to lovingly be smothered between in an ocean of fluff and hums.

A peace in the midst of the devastation outside.

So why now, of all times, did the devastation have to find you again.

The hoarse, ragged scream ripped the hum from the air. Antenna snapped up in a shining wave as each drone turned away from the walls, away from the overflowing waxen pools of material and honey to stare, awestruck.

Your drone had clutched your arm tight yet neither did he turn away as you stared, horrified.

The drone hung in the air, wings abuzz wildly. He writhed, hands digging and clawing into his own chest. Honeycomb eyes, wide and desperate, stared at the uniform so drenched in sickly sweet honey it stained a permanent golden hue.

Long, narrow black pierced through both. Arched up from behind, uncaring of the dollops of honey drizzling down from the soaked bee. A cold watcher of the hybrid’s frantic fluttering and buzzing.

Nothing moved. Nary a twitch of wing nor antenna, all frozen to the horror at their doorstep.

Screams faded, scratching slowed, a pearlescent bead of foul trickled down into the wound.

The stinger ripped back out the way it came, leaving the bee to drop to the broken floor. Once glowing eyes stared blankly, hazed over grey. An uncaring leg kicked it away like the corpse it was.

The darkness of the hybrid’s eyes pitched deeper into an uncanny void, lifted away from the body of his making. He stared, unblinking, over his stunned audience. Honey dripped from his claws in a golden ichor fouled by his torment of another and forgotten just as quickly.

No one moved. No one could. In such a sudden display, how could they?

Until his gaze fell to you, and the pressure of the void dropping onto your shoulders ripped a shiver into your bones.

All at once, they ignited.

It started with a pinch at your shoulder. The hand twisted sharply to hold tighter, claws digging into your skin through the dress sleeve. You turned to him then, startled.

Jackie was a friendly bee. Never once did he even raise a claw to another worker regardless of what had been done–the hive-wide moments of clumsiness aside.

Now his face wrenched into sheer rage. Eyes of gold blazed molten metal above your head with focused intent, mandibles clicking against bared teeth. The antenna that would flit about your face wriggled in furious strokes.

The bee of your friend was gone, the bee of their stories emerged.

The same frantic jittering flowed throughout the crowded hall. The same bees that floated amongst the comb had turned to face the infraction on their peace. The same workers who churned and curated honey had dropped their tools to watch with burning eyes and fluttering wings.

You had seen your hive angry only once. When the queen had rebelled against your continued stay, threatening violence to maintain her hoard. On that day, their rage was the catalyst to your permanent residence.

Now, it was a mark of death.

A roar started from the back of the hive; exactly where you weren’t certain. Only that it spread quickly from one end to the next, gaining momentum and volume with each bee. A shockwave of violence and clacking claws against tile

Something sickly sweet stung your nose. Piercing fruitiness that bore down in your lungs as if you’d just passed a cart of overripe fruit left to rot.

Starchy and sweet, like bananas.

The hand at your shoulder wrenched off with thread tearing in clean slices. Jackie, sweet patient Jackie, screeched louder than a banshee and twice as wicked, wings flared wide. The thrum erupted into a thunderous buzzing that quivered the walls they resided. And though you recoiled, arms wrapped around your chest, he was completely ignorant to you at all.

What started as a mere crowd turned into a hoard. Bees, coated in green stained dark with honey, rushed out from deeper within the hive. Wings buzzed and antenna flared in a tsunami of yellow and black, their humanity abandoned in the rush for retaliation. They buzzed all around you, swerving at a radius out of reach of you.

The wasp, despite the sheer odds against him, merely stood as he was. Only leaping back a pace to gather distance his jaw cracked open into a hideous screech that bounced back up the entry.

There were stories you’d heard over your travels. Bees were a group, always together and never apart for long. A unanimous front for survival. Wasps, however, had a habit of splitting off onto their own for personal reasons. It was more common to see wasp hybrids out minding their own business doing whatever it was they do alone than it was to see less than a handful of bees at any time. At any given moment, should conflict between them arise, bees always outnumbered the wasp.

But wasps were intelligent. Far too intelligent that humans strayed far away from their territory to keep amicable relations.

One wasp on a suicide mission was wise enough to keep at least a few allies.

The sun was blotted quickly. In the rush of the hive the deeper thrum was missed, or outright ignored. Claws clacked in too many steps, scraping along the rails as they swept inside.

It couldn’t be a raid at this point. There were too many faces, too many hands to claim it as just a run for the honey anymore. No, this was much much worse. Sheer maliciousness personified in a swarming hoard.

This was an outright invasion. And you were a one woman audience.

The one moment you had for realization shattered as they collided.

An Agent slammed into the main wasp. Knocked off his feet his wings buzzed wildly to right himself, but with the bee on top it was a futile effort, too much weight for the fragile bits. What rags he wore along his arms was scratched at and ripped into by the Agents' rabid fury.

Another wasp launched into his ribs before he could tear into the hybrid’s face, stinger at the ready. He turned his wrath to the new invader and stung him in the shoulder, wings buzzing oppressively.

The wasp knocked down didn;t get the chance to stand as another, even angrier bee dropped on top. He screeched as the Agent drilled his shoe into his chest.

Carapice cracked open under the force, spraying that wretched green goo all bug hybrids had inside.

The assault stopped abruptly as another wasp kicked the bee away, only for another worker to ram into it shoulder first. One wasp stepped in, sliding down the banister to be swatted down by a honey drenched shovel and stabbed through with it. A trio of bees, shorter than most, clutched onto a wasp who clung to the torn wings of a drone buzzing so furiously the honey oozing down the walls pressed back against it.

Bone snapped under force. Teeth and mandible bit and tore into flesh, rending it to mangled strips. Carapice cracked open to spew it’s insides all along the walls.

Chaos spun its web in black and yellow as the two hoards clashed, the force of which blasting air through the hive

Something dark swished by the crashing hoards. Yellow stained deep by their shared green blood and black stripes that wrapped around it;s waist and chest. If you hadn’t been so focused on the fight, you’d probably miss it amongst the swirling mass of similar colors.

The eyes, blacker than sin, stood out like a tumor upon a bright yellow flower.

Buzzing wings zipped the wasp into your space faster than you could step away. It slammed it’s claws against your chest, knocking you off your feet and to the ground with a cry. You scrambled onto your back.

Their eyes were so much worse up close. Malice permeated the entirety of them at a viscosity that clogged your insides the moment they laid upon you. Wings fluttered at their back, antenna writhing in quick jitters, ecstatic at you laying at their feet.

It hit you then. The ruse, the attack, their incredible numbers despite the minute odds of success.

This wasn;t just an invasion, not for food nor blood.

You were what they wanted all along.

It’s-her?-voice slithered along the thrumming air, “You’ll be a quick one, won’t you~?” Those blackened eyes tilted gleefully and you could feel the dredge of the gaze swiping down your legs, “They’ve never taken humansszzzz before…..not as queenszz that isszz.” She stepped closer, wings spreading wider as she loomed, “You are too…sszzzoft…”

Your chest heaved, hands scrabbling for purchase on the tile. Getting any distance at all was worthless with every step she made, closing the distance between you, “S-Stay away from us..Get out of this hive! I demand it!”

“Oh~? Sssszzo the queen thinksszz she can make demandszz of us? That sszzhe has any rule over the wasspzz?” Her laugh was cruel, a cold drip down your spine, “Sszzuch feeble things you are, believing that just a word holdssz any meaning to me..”

You grit your teeth, lashing words on the back of your tongue.

She rushed into your space suddenly. Rigid black claws cracked the tiles as she slammed palms first into the ground, “I will enjoy thisszz..little queen..” Wings thrummed, vibrating your teeth. Black eyes leered with intent.

Mandibles cracked open in a viscous grin,“Today, zzere will be no more hive..” One of too many arms reared back with claws ready, “Only a dead huszk of wax.”

You gasped, terror snapping into the back of your throat as black eyes flashed wickedly.

The ground shook beneath you in thunderous steps before she was launched off of you in a streak of white.

Without her at your throat you dropped onto your back. Gasps tore into your lungs and the dirt kicked into the air scratched your throat but you were alive. Claws had not torn out your jugular yet.

Another rumble cracked the tiles, someone choking on blood or some other fluid. Again and again the crashes rocked the floor beneath you, as if someone was hitting something extremely hard. That bee was giving quite the fight if you could guess; Hell, for a moment you would have assumed it was-

Your eyes snapped open; you didn’t remember closing them.

White. The streak of cloth tackling the wasp off your stomach was white.

The worker’s uniforms were always a shade of green.

You shot up. Whatever ache in your bones lay ignored at the back of your mind as you screamed, “EMMET!!”

They had been angry once. Only once, even. Frustration was common to find after they’d leave the hive for the more dangerous foraging areas and come back to you neck deep in yet another depot wide declaration of loyalty; which was the most eloquent way of putting a multiple bee crowd orgy that lasted the entire time they were away. You had found them to be very delightful after a time but they had a different view, one that usually resulted in some mild bee-on-bee violence. None of it really did any harm from either side, even if the twins commonly revoked their worker’s privilege of seeing you at all. You had never seen them truly, righteously angry aside from the one time when their old queen threatened to kill you.

You would never forget the pure rage that crossed their faces in unison; in that moment, had their uniforms not been opposite colors, they would have been the same man.

And now the same furious, teeth grit scowl was back on his face, mandibles split open and splayed wildly to remind that he was just as savage as the murderous wasps themselves.

You could only watch in wide eyed horror as he raised the wasp over his head and slammed her back down into the tile. Over and over, one section of hands gripping tight around a shoulder and leg to keep the momentum. She’d started to go quiet, each brutal hit crushing more of her carapice into her body.

A scream clogged the back of your throat, held firm by your tongue locking in there with it.

He did not stop the assault until her body had caved in with a grotesque crunch, bug matter spraying up into his face as a last bitter retaliation. The hands that didn;t just brutally murder another scrubbed it out of his eyes, not bothering one moment to scratch at the sludge staining his precious jacket.

You gasped, the blockage holding your breath breaking at the lack of air, and his eyes snapped to you, burning with intense rage.

For just a moment, in the midst of devastation at the hive’s door, he let the fire die in his eyes to stare at you with pure unbridled terror. His eyes flit rapidly, back and forth over your face and body, searching for something only he could see and shoulders tensing the longer he couldn’t find it.

And just as quickly the moment was broken as a heavy crash shattered a nearby wall, the tossed Agent scrambling to tear free of the wax before he was slammed back into by the wasp that chased after. Angry screeches muted the crumbling honeycomb as both tore into one another again.

His teeth bared in a growl, mandibles cracking and wings thrumming wildly. With one last desperate look he tore off into the fray, crashing straight into a group of wasps in the midst of harassing another Agent.

He was going to help?! He was going to get himself killed!

The noose at your neck abruptly loosened, “EMMET!!” You scrambled to your feet, frantically running after, “EMMET PLEASE-”

The twin glared over a shoulder, irate at being interrupted, only to nearly jump out of his carapice at the sight of you quickly approaching the still encroaching swarm. He swerved his back to you, wings beating rapidly, “Stay back! Stay there!”

“Wha-Emmet!” You stumbled to a stop,”This is suicide!! You can’t-”

“I know! I do not have a choice! Just-” He snapped his gaze away from you back to the combat just feet away as the buzzing roared into a crescendo, all arms spreading wide.

You screamed, “EMMET!”

Carapace clashed as the wasps smashed into his open arms, the force sliding your bee backwards. Both hybrids clawed into the delicate fabric struggling to reach further to you mandibles biting into his hide.

Emmet snarled, wild with rage as he grabbed both inferior bugs by the wing and yanking them off. Smashing their shells together he tossed the broken remains at the rest of the hoard, “I am Emmet, I am one of two Kings in this hive! You have threatened my hive and my queen, for that you will die!” And he blasted forwards in a rush of buzzing, crashing headlong into a group of wasps that crumpled like paper beneath his strength.

The hoard had encroached deeper. More wasps clawed through the upper walls above the surface, streaming in droves. Brittle wax shattered in the assault from drone and wasp alike slamming into it.

Corpses littered the ground at their feet. Shattered carapace and shredded skin splattered new colors across the hive walls, staining the once honey gold palace a disgusting sludge. Not a single hybrid stopped for the dead in favor of tearing into one another all the harder. Those in their King’s range lurched out of it just as quick to avoid his brutal strength, whatever wasps foolish enough to stand still quickly snatched and broken like the brittle shells they were to him.

Tears you’d just barely managed to keep down started to burn down your cheeks. It was a massacre; nothing but death would come from this fight and he’d just thrown himself in like a dog to a slaughter! If he wasn’t torn to bits just by invading the clashing hoards then he’d be cracked apart by their numbers!

A thrum burst out from within the swarm. Wasps from the first assault began to pull back away, arms curled in with spiked shell outwards, “Outsszzide! Take to the sszkies!” A louder shriek called from within the hoard, bitter rage spitting towards the hive they’d tried and failed to invade. The swarm funneled back into the staircase, dark colors colliding in a tide that swept out into the open air.

But the hive was already in gear. Furious screeches called back as groups of bees tore out after, enraged at their retreat. The rush spread inwards calling out even more drones from within the hive from their antsy wait.

White streaked out with the hoard, teeth and mandibles bared.

“EMMET!” You tried desperately to stand, “EMMET COME BACK-” A stray drone knocked you onto your ass with his shoulder, unable to glance back in the rush. In the thrumming of wings the upkicking wind kept you on the ground, coughing in the dust.

Hands snatched you up out of the chaos, “My Queen!”

Had you not already been crying you would have sobbed at his voice, “Ingo!” Dirt scratched at your throat and hoarsed your voice, but still you thrashed at the hands under your arms vainly trying to escape his very gentle yet firm grasp, “Ingo he’s going to get hurt! You can’t let him do this!”

You could feel his wince at your wailing but he persisted, “He’s already made up his mind! I tried to derail this track of his but he ran off before I could!” His arms gathered you tight into his chest, fluff tickling the back of your neck, “Please my queen I beg you! Do not follow after him!”

“I can’t leave him out there! They’ll kill him! They’re bee killers! Murderers!” You wailed, “They’ll kill him!”

“Please desist from this track! He may have chosen this destination but I cannot allow you the same!” Familiar antenna pat against your cheek as the curve of his nose buried into your neck. The hard tips frantically prodded everywhere they could to search for harm done yet finding nothing; he remained stiff at your back regardless, “My Queen, my sun and sky, please don’t leave us like this! Emmet would feel just as ashamed as I if we ever allowed you to be harmed! Surely they would kill you just the same!”

“I-Ingo please..!” Still you writhed, the fight leaving the more pleads he uttered, “I-I can’t let him die..! I-I..I can’t..!”

“He did not leave to let you suffer at their hands!”

“I have to try, Ingo! I can-I-I can call him back and-!”

“And have the wasps flay you where you stand!?” The claws snipped at your skin as he tensed sharply, “They have come for war! They do not care for anything else! If they were to take you…!” His own voice cracked, desperation bleeding into his biting words as he clung all the tighter.

For a moment, all you could do was cry. The hive had slowed in it’s assault, a majority of the bees already out in combat. A horrendous buzzing burned the sky outside, reaping havoc among the remains of the city in crashing stone and splintering glass. Wasp and bee alike were likely being tossed in both retaliation and death.

Somewhere, amidst the frenzy, one of your Kings was with them where death was imminent.

You sagged in his hold the longer he sniffled, defeated, “..I can’t lose either of you…”

“Then come back into the hive. Stay in the chamber where its safe!” The arms around your waist clutched tighter, “There are drones on guard for you, I will have the rest of the hive at your beck and call just-!” He staggered back, away from the roaring outside to the safety of the inner sanctum, “Please! Stay away from them! I beg of you!”

More buzzing, calmer, rumbled into the station. Workers were flooding back into the area to recover from the assault; already a few were gripping shovels and mops to scrub away the remains.

Some winced at the crackle of corpses in their hands, some did not. The mere sight of their own being so lifeless curled in your throat with the bile.

“O-Okay….” You hiccuped, “Okay-Okay…Let me go..I’ll go i-inside…”

Ingo clutched you tighter, hands roaming to more comfortable places around your chest and waist. Like a King holding his queen.

“Thank you…thank you..” He muttered reverently, lacing kisses into your hair.

He relented as a drone floated over, “Go, now. Take her back into the chambers and watch over her.” Your king, the gentle of the twins, snatched the bee by the throat before he could land, “And if anything, anything, happens to her,” Claws dug into the soft skin, ignoring the frantic scramble of the drone trying to pull his hand away, “I will have your heads. All of you.”

At one point, you would have blustered. Tears would have welled and cries would fill the air as you would plead for their lives; a thing they never properly understood. They were just drones, replaceable in droves if you so wished.

You knew very well how easily numbers could come back. But they weren’t just drones, they were your drones, your workers and subjects. They lived and breathed for you.

But now in the stench of death with the golden walls succumbing to the rot, you were just tired. Even your voice was just a croak as you raised a hand to his wrist, “Ingo…..”

He resisted, wings buzzing behind you aggravatedly. The drone squirmed as his grip tightened.

Wings thrummed frantically when his King released him in a huff, “Very well…my Queen..” He nuzzled his mouth back into your hair to nibble his mandibles along your scalp affectionately before he finally set you back onto your feet.

You barely responded when shaking hands took hold of your shoulders and hurried you away. Just one chance to look back was given as you rounded a waxen wall, where tiles gave way to the metal tracks of the tunnels.

Ingo remained in the main station, his own back towards you. The black coat was sodden at it’s hem; it had been too short, you remembered vaguely, and could barely scrape past his shins. Thin rips frayed the edges, clean slits carved for his wings and second set of arms. Even his hat glistened lightly with a thin layer of honey, crystalled over time from the lack of recent washing.

You had that one moment to watch him lift off the floor, hands curling into fists, before zipping out of the station into the open air.

Whether the increase of violent thrumming was because of his arrival or because of even more wasps was impossible to know as you were swept back inside to the sanctum.

Walls of wax and stone laced every side. Deep, deep tunnels twisted and turned in dizzying paths that would have driven you insane once upon a time; by this point all the constant winding did was give you a headache. The old tracks ran deep under the city into other stations with their own stairways into the sky, but none of them were where the drone hurried you off to.

The sanctum. The innermost part of the hive and your personal bedroom.

And sometimes a gauntlet of drones, but that wasn’t on your mind right now.

The subway had collapsed at some point. A cave in from a sinkhole below where running water had corroded a thick deposit of limestone; at least that was all you could assume. It wasn’t like you had time to study geology.

With the fragile state of the pit at some point a heavy impact cracked open the ceiling. The bees had sealed it in with layers of wax and crystalline honey which, while protecting the hive, created a brilliant faux stained glass where light streamed in golden. Mass amounts of honey were stored within barrels and waxen stores within the walls, yet the floor remained remarkably honey and debris free; likely from the continuous work of the bees. Tunnels, both man made and burrowed out, branched throughout the upper limits of the cavernous pit, lightly blocked off with simple waxen doors to lessen noise and the possibility of intruders.

Well, if they even made it through one of the stations that is.

The bed was just as soft as you remembered it was. Made of repurposed mattresses and other various soft things it was so large it encompassed an entire section of the sanctum. Pillars of wax and honey crystals formed a mock canopy; a gift from your Kings at one point when the drones had recovered the destroyed remained of a proper canopy bed.

Ingo had been so excited at the proposal of sleeping underneath it. Romantic, he called it. Emmet called him old fashioned.

You tried so hard to hold back the tears burning your eyes. You scrubbed at your cheeks to rid the leftover tracks.

The drone was still at your side. His hands fiddled, one pair with your dress sleeve the other with each other. Low buzzes and clicks hummed in his throat, odd honey eyes flitting about your body.

He wasn’t any drone you knew personally. Either because you hadn’t met properly or he’d been a recent hatch. There was little chance he knew any more about you than the surface level of your title.

But whatever the details, it didn’t matter. He was just as much your drone as everyone else.

The same as all the others who’d fallen in the invasion; that were still falling in the combat outside.

Exhausted, terrified, and rightfully stressed, you finally fell apart at the first moment of peace.

The poor drone jumped out of his shell when you snatched him by the waist in a vicious bear hug, wailing into his chest. Your strength was nothing in comparison to the hybrids but it was enough to wrench him closer to the bed until he fell to his knees.

Your bees were dead. Dying outside in the unforgiving world at the wicked hand of the wasps. So many had already died and their corpses were being hauled away like they meant nothing; and maybe in the grand scheme of the hive they didn’t. Like Emmet said, there will always be more.

But that didn’t mean they would be the same.

So you wailed, cried and screamed into this one helpless drone caught in your arms. Bawling your griefs into his chest until his uniform was sodden with your tears.

He could so easily pull you off and go about his day. His claws could pry your hands away and his wings could float him out of your reach to leave you to your tears.

But he didn’t.

Those clawed hands shakily set upon your shoulders. A hand cupped the back of your head, the other wrapping slowly around your back. The once rigid posture in his back relaxed until his chest was more within your reach, easing into you to hold you properly as he ran his hand through your hair.

You sobbed at the careful care of his touch. It wasn’t likely he’d ever seen violence if he was so deep within the hive, yet he still offered what comfort he could give.

All around, the hive thrummed. Bees milled about, carrying pails of honey and other waxen things. Some fluttered through the tunnels into the sanctum, dumping their cargo into the walls or depositing a treasure at the foot of the too large bed. Just as always, as if it was a normal day.

Yet you could never ignore how the thrumming was less of the heartbeat and living breath of your hive. More a distant whisper of what it had been.

Without a view of the sky or even a clock it was near impossible to tell how much time you spent just hiding in the sanctum. The bee refused to be pulled away, not leaving you for a moment even as your tears slowed to a stop and work needed to be resumed. He maneuvered you to lay properly, clicking his mandibles at you when you attempted to even look at whatever the hive brought to your step. He’d bring the trinkets to you himself, buzzing all the while.

Hours passed by. Lost to a haze of grief and pain, you only lay where you were in the massive bed. You drone remained at your side, muttering lowly about randoms goings on in the hive. Somewhere another tunnel had collapsed from a sinkhole; more bees were dispatched earlier in the morning to ready the new cavern for another honeycomb deposit. One of the many pipes had burst in the chaos, making a massive mess of soggy wax and water that had to be mopped and scraped clean.

You weren’t shy to the normal day to day work around the hive. It was comforting, the monotonous repetition of building and crafting. Something to hold onto in the endless days swept up in the company of your hive whilst the Kings tended to the other duties. Said duties now including war.

The bubble of terror threatened to burst in your chest again yet you held firm, no matter how much it ballooned against your ribs.

Everywhere the hive thrummed on. The sun continued to pass overhead, uncaring to the worldly devastation below; at some point the light stretched away from the floor towards the opposite wall.

You blinked at the golden slats; surely it hadn;t been so long. You couldn’t have been laying in your chamber mourning long enough that the day had passed by without you. That was just ridiculous.

Then again, you hadn’t seen something as horrifying as this.

His head shot up in the middle of combing through your hair. Antenna fluttered as he dropped the brush, the plastic clattering off the bed as he jumped to his feet.

You followed, still scrubbing tear tracks off your face, “W-What is it..?” You grimaced softly at the rasp in your voice; a few coughs did little to clear it.

But he wasn’t facing you. He’d dropped to his knees, crouching low while staring at one of the many entries high above. The lines etched into his face wriggled with his clicking mandibles, antenna flicking about.

It wasn’t uncommon to see their insectoid responses, but there were a few times where specific motions held meaning. Mostly it happened during the few mass gatherings you’d been involved in; once for your arrival and another for your coronation. Both times the drones had snapped to attention regardless of whatever they were doing to stare up at their new leaders antenna flitting all the while. Afterwards you’d seen them turn to face each other with the same little clicks firing between. A form of conversation; the language had always escaped you given you never had the parts.

But given how much time you’d spent, with long late hours wasted just listening to the brothers chatter, you’d gathered enough to understand the most basic.

A rhythmic set of clicks, sharp but almost tinkling like bone wind chimes. Rapid buzzing filtered within the empty air between bouts of clicks.

Your heart lodged in your throat.

The thrum slowed into a low hum. Almost quiet as if the entire hive had retired for the night yet hadn;t quite fallen asleep yet (though the noise never really stopped even then).

Yet the sudden silence was more purposeful, almost reverent. The constant sounds of motion and churning honey crawled to a halt, leaving a once thriving hive almost dead silent.

Air rushed through the chamber. The touch of humidity told of a storm brewing on the horizon, a soft heat coursing into the hive.

In the quiet, underneath the remaining clatter of workers hurrying to finish whatever they’d started, footsteps echoed. Too many to be only one yet too few to be a group.

The doorway pushes in just as the drone rushes away from your side to disappear down a different tunnel.

Two bees stand in the opened door, claws sinking into the soft wax to shove it away. Dark and light mix in a twist of limbs and wings, entangled into one another as easily as a ball of yarn was to a mixer. Black cloth had torn in places, stretched thin over his iron grip on the other regardless of similar rips being etched into the similar bleached white coat from his claws. Said bee was hunched forwards in his hold, a pair of arms clutching to his stomach.

One hand still holding onto his twin;s shoulder, Emmet glanced at you beneath his cap, “I-I am Emmet,” His free hand clutched the scratched brim of his hat in a mock salute, “We are victorious.”

You launched out of bed as you sobbed, “EMMET!”

Both Kings had mere moments to shut the door behind them and limp to the edge of the mattress pile before you were on them. Ingo lurched back wings buzzing wildly to hold steady as you clutched Emmet tight; the grin on his face had been strained, too much teeth and mandible, yet it softened as you shoved his face into your.shoulder where he sighed dreamily. Little buzzes tickled your skin as his mandibles parted to nuzzle kisses along your neck.

“W-What happened!? You i-idiot why d-did you just run out there like th-that!? You could have d-died!” Tears were already dribbling into his shock of hair as you wailed, “H-How did-H-How did-” You couldn’t force the words to come. The rock in your throat had tangled in your tongue and refused to loosen even just to make sure they were alright.

So you held on instead. Clutching his torn jacket and burying your face into his neck you sobbed into him. Emmet turned his face closer into you, more bee kisses nibbling at your skin as a free hand wandered from your back to the other shoulder. Another set of hands joined from the opposite side as Ingo stepped closer, arms wrapping around your waist to cradle you both into him as well.

They held you until you had nothing to give. When you buckled under the weight Ingo snatched you closer, shoving you further into Emmet who held tighter. Even when he too lost his balance his twin shuffled his weight into his own until he shouldered a greater amount of the both of you. Ingo nestled his kisses into your hair again, edging you slowly into a calmer state.

Throat sore, you sniffed, “...H-How many…”

Emmet nuzzled closer, “Hm?”

“How many? W-What happened outside? A-Are the wasps..gone?”

He nodded against your neck, “It was a hard fight. But we won. They will not be back.” The hand on your shoulder tightened, “I will ensure they do not try again.”

“Emmet.” Ingo sighed, “..Unfortunately he is correct. The combat was..difficult.” You could feel his scowl deepen, “There were many more outside than in. The initial attack was likely a scouting run, to test our strength I assume. Once they learned we were much stronger they took off into the waiting swarm outside. It’s possible they were hoping to get rid of us to take the subway and expand their territory-”

“Ingo.” He paused as you shuffled, nuzzling out of Emmet's shoulder to his chest, “How many.”

He was quiet. His heart thrummed against your cheek, carapice rising in a slow sigh, “....Enough. I…do not recommend going outside until the…mess..is cleaned up.” Claws tangled into your hair as you sagged into him, “I am..so sorry, my Queen..they fought admirably despite the odds, but in the end there were too many lost.”

You wanted to cry again despite not having it in you to. So many had been lost, so many more than in the station. And now they were just going to be swept away and disposed of like they were nothing just like them. You hiccuped softly into his shirt, a few stray tears soaking the torn fabric.

“I do not see what the problem is.”

You flinched into Ingo’s chest, hiding from his twin’s sharp comment. The claws in your hair tightened.

“They are just drones. They can be replaced.” Emmet nudged closer with his mandibles nipping at your ear, “If you so desire, my Queen, we can give you so many more. Hundreds, even, if you would like-”

“Emmet,” Ingo nudged his brother in the ribs, knocking his chin off your shoulder, “Our Queen is grieving. Many were lost today, the ones in the station are merely the start.” He leaned in, most likely shoving his face into his brother’s judging from Emmet suddenly jolting back, “Let her recover before being indecent. This is not the time for repopulation.”

You pulled on his jacket before he could get violent, “I-Ingo..it’s alright..” You leaned off his chest to wipe your eyes, “I kn-Know they’re just drones,” You could hear Emmet start to comment but held up your hand, “b-but they are my drones. T-They went out there and d-died for us. F-For me.” You sniffed, “I-I was the one they wanted…”

Ingo stiffened sharply, “What.”

“T-There was a wasp that ran after me,” You started, “She must have taken the chance while the rest of them were busy. She tackled me and rambled a-about taking the hive..a-and killing me..” You trailed off, voice getting lower as you finished.

“I am Emmet.” The other King pressed close again, his chest against your back and effectively smushing you back up against his twin, “And I destroyed that pest before it even had a chance. Nothing is left. Unless you count the broken carapice under your feet a bug.” He giggled at his last comment, seemingly overjoyed at his violence.

If you hadn’t been here for so long you might have been worried about it. Thankfully, you were used to their lack of concern for ‘lesser’ hybrids.

The tension in Ingo’s shoulders slowly dropped, “So, it was true. They wanted the hive. And to do so, they wanted to…remove you..” A sigh of relief pressed his chest to your cheek as you hummed in agreement, “I am grateful they were unable to do so. Thank you, Emmet,” One of his hands left your waist to lightly pop against his brother, “For not being distracted long enough to keep her safe.”

You could feel the leer said King directed at his twin, the light snort you made likely making him even more upset.

“I am Emmet and I am insulted.”

“You should be.”

“I do not get distracted.”

“You get distracted.”

“I do not!”

“Okay!” Your snickering pulled their attention away from each other, “Okay that’s enough, don’t bully each other.” You shoved lightly against Ingo’s chest, pushing Emmet back as well, “You both act like kids sometimes.”

“I am Emmet and I am not a larva. I am a King.” He nuzzled into the back of your neck, “Your king. Only yours.”

“My King,” You agreed, reaching back to ruffle the fluff at the back of his head, “My Kings.” You added as Ingo nestled himself into your space, pressing a kiss to his fluffy cheek.

As you stepped back from Ingo, intending to give Emmet more affection, he grunted. The fluff pulled away from your hand as he suddenly pulled away and out of your reach. Surprised, you turned around, “Emmet?”

The smile on his face was tight, mandibles baring just slightly. He’d hunched forwards into himself, still keeping his focus onto you but less intentionally, as if he was distracted. His wings buzzed, jittering, “I-I am Emmet. I am fine. I am fine.” He pressed as his primary hands reached out again, “I-I am-”

Immediately he cringed. The secondary hands around his waist snapped tighter and crumpled his once more or less clean dress shirt to his stomach as his primary hands grabbed his second’s wrists, a sharp groan gritting between his mandibles as he looked down at himself.

For the first time, you were able to truly see the steadily darkening green spreading across his abdomen.

“Emmet!?” You jumped away from Ingo and grabbed for him, “Emmet what happened!? You’re hurt!?” You fretted, hands floating and unsure where or if you even should touch him.

“I am Emmet, yes.” He had the gall to laugh at your sharp glare, voice light, “It is nothing. A graze, at best. One of them tried to stab me. He missed.” Again his snickering turned dark, “He also missed his arm when I let him go.”

You frowned, “This doesn’t look like a graze Emmet. It’s soaking through your shirt, for fuck’s sake!” You touched his secondary arm, scowling as his wince, “See! You’re lying to me! It is worse isn’t it?”

“...Maybe it was more than a graze.” His snarky grin withered into guilt, glancing away from your accusing glare.

Ingo sighed, walking up to his brother, “It was another wasp. He’d been attacked by two of them at once, one of them missed. The other did not.” Emmet hissed as Ingo pulled his jacket out to show you the hole punctured through the back, “It is mostly harmless, my Queen. He will live. The royal jelly gave us immunity from most poisons, or at least a resistance. Had he not, he would have likely ended up worse off.”

“Regardless. It is fixable. I can be healed, my Queen.” Emmet stepped to the side, edging closer to his brother, “Ingo wanted to see if you were safe, and you are.” The exasperated look he received said otherwise, “Everything is fine now. The hive is safe and the wasps will not return.” He turned to leave, “Ingo-”

He stumbled as you grabbed his arm, “No.” When he turned to face you, grin twisting adorably into confusion, you shoved at his chest. Immediately he tripped over the end of one of the many mattresses and flopped onto it, “Sit down.” You smiled at his surprised wide eyed stare as he lay on his back, “I’m going to help you.”

“M-My Queen, please, we can manage ourselves.” Ingo was turning a beautiful shade of orange despite his protests, hands up to placate you, “You don’t have to concern yourself with this, we can find salves and bandages on our own. You have been through enough stress for today.”

But you gently nudge away the hands he tried to set on your shoulders, “No, I want to.” You smile, turning to face him, “It’s the least I can do for my big strong Kings who pretty much fought a war for me.” You coo as you rubbed at his hard chest, “Surely you’ll let me have that~.”

“O-Of course, M-My Queen!” The blush deepened and even spread all the way up to his antenna as he scrabbled to grab his cap and pull it over his eyes, “W-Whatever you wish for! I-I can go get something to patch him up-”

“Nope! You too.” You snatched him by the lapels of his coat and yanked him over onto the bed alongside his brother, “Both of you are going to sit there and let me fix you up

Emmet had shot into sitting on the bed, his constant grin even bigger with a blush of his own. He giggled as Ingo lay stunned next to him, “Our Queen is quite persistent, I see.” He laughed outright when his brother covered his face with his hands.

“Alright off with the shirts and jackets you two. Let me see.”

As both brothers slowly undressed–Emmet was much quicker, tossing his jacket aside whereas Ingo hesitantly unbuttoned his shirt–you studied them both. Scratches were prevalent around any rip in the cloth, most collecting around their chests for their vitals, though each had some specific injuries.

For Ingo a particularly deep scratch raked up his side and disappeared under his secondary arm; though it drew your concern and a light glare from his omission of it–which was met with his own sheepish glance away–it seemed to be mostly superficial. No blood seeped from it, which was likely how you’d missed it and why he never commented. The worst was a crack along his collar bone, where the deeper tissue was exposed as he turned his head. Nothing terrible, but nothing great.

Emmet was your biggest concern. You knew he’d been stabbed but you hadn’t seen it for yourself. His greenish blood seeped between his fingers in a steady thick stream, carapice shattered around a literal hole in his side. The cracks split his shell like a fractured window around the wound, splinters sticking out like barbs. It was the single worst injury he had on him, anything else was just light scratches or cracks.

How had he not collapsed immediately was what surprised you more, “Emmet, I’m not sure if I should be concerned or impressed that you haven’t been in complete agony this whole time if it looks like that.” You gestured towards the current hole in his side.

“Do not worry.” He smiled innocently, “It hurts very much. I might die.”

“If you had been a drone you would be correct. But given I know from experience, I would say otherwise.” Ingo gestured to himself before addressing you, “It may seem threatening but I assure you it is not as bad as it looks. I fretted over him myself yet the injury seems to have missed anything important. So no, he will not die.” He gave a sharp look towards his brother, who swiftly ignored it in favor of smiling up at you, “From anything other than lack of attention.”

You sighed, relieved, while also shaking your head, “Good. The last thing I want is for you two to get worse. Stay there while I go get something for the both of you.” You turned away from the bed, intent on scrounging some kind of bandages from one of the Depot Agents.

Immediately you were yanked into bed with them, “Nope~!” Emmet held you close to his chest as he chirped into your ear, “I haven’t had enough of our Queen yet! I was outside for so long, darrling! I fought so hard for you and you have not rewarded me for it yet!” You could feel him pouting even as he kissed behind your ear, “I am Emmet and I want to be with my Queen!”

Ingo balked beside you, “E-Emmet! Don’t just pull our queen like that! You could hurt her!”

“Hm, but I did not.” His brother was far less concerned, happily wiggling your compliant and giggling self about in his hold, “See? She is happy with me. She likes being held like this!” He swayed with you, careful of his side, “I am certain she will say the same.”

You would have, the words already on your tongue before Ingo frantically cut in, “Still be careful, she is fragile compared to you!”

“Hm, not very fragile.” The smugness in his smile pressed into your cheek before he faced his brother, “Don’t you remember, dear brother? She wasn’t very fragile at all when you bent her in half to stuff her full of your clutch-”

“Emmet I said not to be vulgar-!”

You finally snorted loud enough to interrupt them both, “Alright, alright!” You laughed, “I’ll stay here with you. But just for a while, okay? I’m serious, I want to help you two first so don’t get too comfortable. I don’t want you to get infected or something.”

Emmet just hummed smugly, “I am Emmet and I cannot get sick. I am not human.”

You nudged his side gently, “You’re part human and can most definitely get sick. Or at least get something nasty that won’t let you heal properly because I’m sure that this,” He audibly grunted as you prodded the injury, “Hurts like Hell. You don’t want it to get worse or stay bleeding forever.”

Though he pouted, he relented, “Okay. Whatever you wish for, my Queen.”

Ingo was strangely silent while his brother snuggled nice and close to you. Smushed up against him as you were, it took a moment to wriggle enough to turn your head towards the elder king, who sat less than a foot away from you both. The concern was still in his expression, a nice orange blush fading across his cheeks, but his honeycomb eyes were softer, sadder as he watched you be smothered by his twin with his hands curled into fists at his sides.

You wriggled out your arm, reaching for him, “You too Ingo. I want both of you.” You smiled at the hopeful light in his eyes, “You both deserve this.”

Ingo was more hesitant than his brother, slowly edging across the bed to merge with the two of you. An arm slipped around your waist, another carefully wrapping around your back with his brother’s as he included himself in your cuddling. He pressed in close, effectively smushing you between them.

“....Thank you, (Y/N).” Soft fluff nuzzled against your temple, “I would not know what to do with myself if you had been hurt.”

“I am Emmet.” Emmet hummed, pressing fluttering bee kisses to your cheek and jaw, “And I would destroy a thousand hives for you. Nothing would stand in my path.”

Antenna trailed down your cheek, “My Queen. My sun and moon.” Ingo kissed along the tickling path, “My dearest delight.”

Mandibles nipped at the column of your throat, “Sweet thing. Softest rose.” Emmet traced back up your jaw, tongue just barely lapping at the edge of your mouth, “Delicious honeypot~.”

You could only giggle, hands tangling in their fluffy hair, “My Kings.” You hummed, content to be wrapped up in their arms with wings abuzz gently behind them. Fixing them up could wait a moment.

They were bee hybrids. Horrifying monstrosities of man and insect, of which few knew how such a union occurred. They were feared and revered alike, both for their combined engineering and for their terrifying might. Most would be afraid. Many would stay far away and run.

But you did not. Because they were your bees. And you were their Queen.

#subway bosses #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #beegearstation

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possessedchain-archive · 1 year

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@imposingclaymore parried,

[ RETALIATE ] for sender to make receiver’s attacker bleed.

The expanse of the Realm beyond the trials was vast and difficult to chart. It seemed as the days between expeditions passed, features of the landscape would change or distort, making it impossible to render any concrete documentation. Maps were written in magic instead of ink, and as they journeyed deeper, the cenobite grew more intimately familiar with the workings of the their prison.

Crouched over a fleshy, wilted botanical specimen, the Priest recorded its observations in tongues of cyan light in the air using the tip of its index finger. Elsewhere, tomes filled with correspondent scrawlings, etched in the cenobite's careful, minute script. So distracted with its task, however, it did not take notice of the encroaching enemy until it was almost too late.

Caught disarmed and in a vulnerable position, it could do little to oppose the impending presence -- two hooves, massive enough to crush a man, two sets of dragging knuckles, wide enough to tear limb from torso. Vapor seethed from the beast's nostrils, echoing, inhuman, as it charged, antlers first, towering several heads taller than the cenobite.

Composure faltering, the Priest fell backward, off the balls of its feet, and struggled to manifest a chain -- but as the impact of wind splitting around the creature's enormous frame began to tickle the Priest's face, something stopped it.

Tarhos, gripping the blade of his claymore to steel himself against the immense power of the onslaught before him, lost ground as his sabatons dragged backward, leaving deep imprints in the soil. Stunned, the Priest struggled to identify from which being the deep, monstrous growling seemed to emanate -- Tarhos, or the beast.

Taking the opportunity for a swift retreat, the Priest dissipated in a glimmer of pale blue light. Without someone to defend, the Knight was able to side-step the juggernaut and use its forward momentum against it, arcing his blade in a horizontal strike as it passed him to render a considerable amount of damage.

As the cenobite manifested a short distance away, where it could safely make the conjurations to bind the beast, it watched with rapt admiration as blood hit the moonlight, having barely missed the strike which had done it.

Too soon, though, had it allowed itself to feel pride for its knight. Even as the beast bled, its broad frame flexed and effortlessly broke the chains which had only just begun to tether it.

" Tarhos -- ! I cannot bind it -- ! "

In the past, he had told it not to worry -- to trust in him and his armor. Easier said than done. Especially when the cenobite found itself relatively useless.

With bated breath, it looked on as Tarhos was forced to face the beast alone.

#THIS IS SO LONG IM SO SORRY #but also haha you wanted an excuse to write tarhos kicking ass? i give it to you <3 write your boy absolutely going apeshit #kisses this as i hit the post button #imposingclaymore #◈⛓ ― .\\ prayers {messages}#◈⛓ ― .\\ v: exodus: the fog

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infraredmag · 2 years

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Amityville Poltergeist Coming Soon To Streaming Platforms!

Amityville Poltergeist is about a young man who encounters a weekend of horrors after accepting a housesitting job. As day turns to night, doors start slamming, steps begin to creak, and the ghosts come out to play or kill. Coming soon to Amazon, InDemand, iTunes, Google Play, and more streaming platforms! VOD and DVD Release Date:Â 5/18/21 Lead Cast:Â Parris Bates (Jim), Sydney Winbush…

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#Breaking Glass Pictures

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domwho11 · 3 years

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Please check out my good friend Ben’s Amityville Poltergeist review. Thanks a lot :)

#amityville poltergeist #parris bates #rebecca kimble #calvin morie mccarthy #sydney winbush #horror #films #review #streaming

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moviesandmania · 3 years

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AMITYVILLE POLTERGEIST (2020) Preview and release news

‘Hell has come to feed’ Amityville Poltergeist is a 2020 American horror film about a young man who suffers a weekend of horrors after taking a house sitting job. Written and directed by Calvin Morie McCarthy (Mutant Vampires from the Planet Neptune; Jesus I Was Evil; Spunk’s Not Dead) with additional dialogue by Jon Ashley Hall. The Seventh Street Productions movie stars Parris Bates, Sydney…

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#2020 #Amityville Poltergeist #Calvin Morie McCarthy #Conor Austin #film #ghosts #horror #J Rebecca Morse #movie #Parris Bates #Sydney Winbush

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dreamsclock · 3 years

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I had a funni joke Headcanon but I don't remember it now and now I'm angry and my stupid memory so instead you get lil actor AU prompt

"The lil techno writing mess-up, but it actor AU"

i HAD to write this oh my god, you and the other anons that suggested this are geniuses this was so funny,,, without further ado, the actor au my beloved !!

warnings: fake violence + fighting, fake blood

The camera pushes closer eagerly, the crew signing instructions and reactions to each other as the fight in front of them continues strong. It’s a good thing, Techno reflects, that he’s friends with Tommy and they work so well together - this would be a hell of a lot more awkward with someone he didn’t know as well.

Still, it’s a little unsettling to see such hatred and betrayal etched into his friend’s face. He’ll never admit it, obviously, because Tommy has a big enough head, but Tommy is a pretty fucking good actor: in such a high stakes scene, it almost feels real. Techno forces himself to shake off those thoughts, ducking under a wild swing from Tommy and retaliating with one of his own. This one strikes Tommy’s shoulder, and Tommy, though not hurt (and Techno is being careful) reacts with a yell, staggering back with blood pouring from his shoulder.

Fuck. That’s a lotta blood. Poor character Tommy, Techno reflects, even as he prepares his next attack. He’s gonna have a hard time with his shoulder after this. At least Tommy - real Tommy, his friend and fellow actor Tommy - will be happy about the badass scar, even if he’ll complain the whole time he has to sit through makeup.

Techno knows how the script goes, but it doesn’t make it any easier to beat Tommy up so callously. And it’s not like his character doesn’t have reason - provoked by Wilbur’s comments and Tommy’s ire and the terror of being alone at the festival to kill Tubbo - but still, man, he’s not in the swing of acting after a break away from it, things still feel tense. It’s hard to focus on remembering the choreography of this fight (swing, duck, parry, swing) never mind his lines, never mind what comes after.

But all too soon, Tommy is broken down on the ground, kneeling at his feet and spitting out blood from his teeth - yeah, okay, Techno takes it back, Tommy is a fucking amazing actor, and he’ll tell the kid that after recording today - and it’s his time to shine. My fifteen seconds of fame on the Dream SMP, Techno reflects sarcastically, even as he crouches down to Tommy’s level, gripping his chin between two firm fingers. The camera angle switches, going for a close up, even as Tommy’s eyes gleam mutinously at him.

“This was inevitable,” he begins, and oh, God, oh God he actually has lines here, what the fuck are his lines? “You shoulda seen this coming, man.”

Tommy spits at his feet, panting heavily. “Fuck you. We could’ve- We could’ve fixed things! We coulda saved Tubbo! And you fucking murdered him, you murdered him up on that stage like you never fucking cared about him!”

“You see, Tommy, you’re using words,” Techno says, trying instead to focus on his acting - that’s the important part, he just has to trust the lines will come naturally, “but the thing about this world, Tommy, is that the only universal language is language.”

Silence. Dead silence, bated breath silence. Tommy stares at him, blank faced. Techno wonders what he’d done wrong, mentally reviewing his position and the lines. Using words.... universal language....

...Language...

He mentally stops. Oh.

Dream’s wheezing giggle echoes from the back of the hall, and that’s enough to tip everyone over the edge.

Tommy shrieks with laughter beside him, doubled over and clutching his stomach as he laughs, and even Wilbur “Don’t-Talk-To-Me-While-I’m-Acting-Or-I’ll-Blow-Something-Up” Soot is giggling, burying his face in the makeshift stone wall to hide his laughs. Techno, disgruntled as he is, feels the corners of his lip press upwards into a grin.

“Oh, so that’s how it is,” he calls over the laughter and hilarity ensuing, “Tommy can mess up as many lines as he wants without being laughed at, and I mess up one and I’m suddenly the clown at the circus?”

“That’s the funniest fucking shit you’ve ever done,” Tommy says weakly, wiping tears out of his eyes, “oh my fucking god, I’m going to die, I think I’m gonna die.”

Wilbur claps his hands, face flushed from laughter. “Let’s—” He begins, but erupts with another giggle. “Let’s take five minutes, alright? Fuck, I think we need a break to get ourselves under control.”

And with that he’s gone, disappearing into the crowds with laughter floating after him, and Techno has to try hard not to follow him in hilarity. Instead, as the actors split, he turns to Phil, pinning him with the most long-suffering look possible. “Phil,” he deadpans, “I hate this place. I wanna go back to our old SMP Earth cast.”

His friend, chuckling, does his best to hide his laughter loyally for Techno. “Think of this as a welcome to the family,” he grins, “if it makes you feel any better, Wilbur forgot a line and accidentally made it canon that he had sex with a fish. People still laugh at him for it.”

Techno blinks, before swivelling to see Wilbur in the distance talking animatedly about something to Schlatt. His eyes narrow.

“That wasn’t an accident and you know it,” he tells him dryly, “that was Wilbur needing an excuse to add an awful horrible idea from his brain into the script and deliberately messing up his line.”

He sighs, shaking his head and turning away.

“I hate it here.”

It’s deadpan, more to himself than to Phil, but Techno is grinning, and he doesn’t really mean it.

Think of this as a welcome to the family, Phil had told him, and Techno, looking round at his friends, decides to do just that.

#> my asks !!#> my writing !!#dream smp actor au #> dsmp actor au #tw blood #tw fake blood #tw violence #tw fighting

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awkwardspontaneity · 3 years

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Parry This!

Part 8 of Memories of You

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Summary: After a minor incident testing Guardian equipment, Link and Y/n get a day off to spend some time together.

AN: Writing fluff is so freaking hard T_T. Someone pls help me I went through so many drafts before I could figure out how to write this. Anywaysss, enjoy this happy moment cuz shit’s gong down

Link stood beside Zelda watching over Guardian testing. There had been an issue with the malice creeping through the earth and infecting things, like the monster that had taken over Vah Medoh. A recent incident had involved a creature gaining infected Guardian materials and using them against a nearby village. Link had been there with the Y/n, Robbie, and Impa. They had just barely taken down the creature. Link had lost his shield when it’s strength enhanced the strength of the Guardian weapons. If Y/n hadn’t pulled him away he would have had quite the injury. Robbie stood over the smoldering metal of the shield- cut clean in half- as thoughts began to form. That was over a month ago and Y/n had been helping every day with tests to create armour and weapons that could hold out against the strength of the Guardian technology.

Out in the field, the Sheikah Champion was attaching a shield strap to their arm. Robbie felt that the testing was enough to be used by a real person and apparently, much to Link’s dismay, that person was his partner. It was one thing to have them testing out the weaponry against the Guardians but, to take a full Guardian blast head on? He wasn’t sure he could hide the anxiety it brought on. He had volunteered but Impa had said he needed to be in his best condition at all times to protect the princess. Yeah… that didn’t soothe his worries at all.

Link and Zelda stood beside each other with bated breaths as the Guardian lit up. Y/n readied the blue shield on their arm, shifting their stance in hopes of absorbing the blow. It was something Link taught them when he had heard they would be testing this shield. Despite being far enough away that they wouldn’t be at risk from rogue blasts, Link felt tense. He knew it was from seeing someone he loved deliberately put themselves in danger. He couldn’t lose Y/n.

Shwoom!

The sound of the Guardian firing sounded worlds away. Link watched in slow motion as the blast sliced through the air and, with a blast of light, hit the shield. It was in a matter of seconds the way the blast shot upwards, piercing the clouds.

It worked.

Link heard the cheers of the scientists around as the air settled from the blast. He glanced at Zelda and she gave him a soft smile, permission to go check on Y/n. He shot down the hill to look for the Sheikah Champion, his nerves buzzing when they weren’t where they had started the experiment. There were deep tracks in the ground from where they had stood and, a few feet away from that, a groaning Sheikah. Link hit the ground beside them, carefully running his hands over them to check for injuries. Aside from a scrape on their cheek, they were uninjured.

Y/n shook their head to clear the ringing noise, one hand reaching out to hold Link’s arm. “Did I pass the test?”

“That was A-MAZE-ING!” Robbie and Purah had come over to where the duo sat, grins on their faces as they cheered. “Shooting the beam into the sky wasn’t quite the plan but, it does save us from having to move a destroyed Guardian soo… great job!”

Link barely concealed his eye roll. Y/n getting thrown back by a Guardian blast was a good time then? Said Sheikah grinned. “Sounds like your shield is perfect for use then! I’d love to see it being used properly!”

“Aw Yeah! If you were used to using a shield that would have been a perfect parry!”

Y/n laughed at Robbie. Even Link snorted at the eccentric scientist. Y/n nudged the blond, squeezing his hand. “Guess I better start training to take hits then, right?”

“No.”

------

“Another regular day of crazy experiments, huh?” The duo had arrived at their home soon after cleaning up from the Guardian testing. Link had tugged them to the table to treat the scrape on their cheek. No matter how much Y/n protested or claimed to be a tough Sheikah warrior, they still pouted when he sprayed the disinfectant against the wound.

“Be nice.” Y/n scolded. “Robbie thinks he may be able to tweak it to absorb the force of the hit.”

“I’d love to be there to see that.”

“Yeah right.” Y/n snorted, poking his side. He looked away with a blush as the other champion continued their teasing. “You only wanna be there to be all protective.”

Having enough with their poking, Link grabbed Y/n by the wrist, placing his other hand on their injured cheek. “I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Now it was Y/n’s turn to be embarrassed. They let out a squeak, their head snapping to the side to hide in his hand. Link chuckled, swearing he could feel the heat off their face against the palm of his hand. They pressed a shy kiss to his palm, mumbling that they felt the same. The duo met eyes, sharing warm smiles that spoke their love for each other.

Sliding his palm against theirs, Link guided his partner further into the house. Y/m followed along, their hand squeezing his lightly. Link guided them to the stairs, giving them a kiss on the forehead as he shooed them up to their room for a bath. He stayed downstairs to tidy up the first aid supplies before heading up to change for the night. Soon enough, Y/n came out dressed for bed. They quickly made their way to the bed and crawled up against Link. He smiled, wrapping his arms around their form. They whispered about their plans for the next day, Link pouting when Y/n still planned to help with testing Guardian equipment. They had giggled and pinched his cheeks. Eventually they quieted down, curling further into Link’s chest. He glanced down to find them sleeping and he pressed a soft kiss to their head.

------

It was early morning when Link woke up at home. He wouldn’t wake up this early had it not been for Y/n shuffling next to him. With a groan, Link tightened his hold in his partner, pulling them in closer to his body. They were warm. Y/n leaned further into him, their soft laughter tickling his neck. “I need to get up soon.”

He ignored their statement, pressing his face further into their hair. He mumbled a soft no, his hand coming up to pinch their side when they pulled away again. Y/n laughed again, their own hands coming up to grab onto his. “I really do have to go.”

“Or… we could stay in bed all day?” He reinforced the idea by burying his face into their neck as he curled around them.

Y/n giggled as his breath hit their neck. “Hmmm, I could be convinced?”

Y/n held onto his arms as they listened to his breath soften. Just when they thought he would fall asleep again, he pressed a kiss to their cheek. “Listen.”

The duo went quiet. And then Y/n heard it. The soft pitter patter of rain. They sat up to glance out the window. It wasn’t just a soft sprinkle. It was a full downpour of rain. Guess they really weren’t going to the castle today. Link seemed to agree because he pulled them back down under the covers. “Soo, about testing Guardian equipment?”

Y/n spun in his arms sending him a look for the smug words. They pinched his side and he snorted, jerking away. He fought off their hands, pinching back occasionally as they dissolved into giggles. Finally finding an opening, Link shot forward and pulled them against his chest. He held tightly until they gave up on trying to fight back. Once he let go, he couldn’t help the chuckles that slipped through. Y/n was pouting at being restrained. “You’re adorable.”

“Shut up.”

“I love you.”

“Mm, love you too.” He held them closer.

#botw link x reader #botw x reader #breath of the wild x reader #breath of the wild link x reader #loz link x reader #loz x reader #link x reader #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda link x reader #awkwardspontaneity

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razorblade180 · 2 years

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Twin Snowflakes 35:Major Upset

Part 34<-

“She’s here.” The only words Nick can muster. “She’s…here.”

The entire family watched with bated breath as Shiva stood in the arena. Her pristine white hair was noticeable without the monitor, but something felt…different. While everyone was ready to jump from their seats to detain her, Shiva didn’t appear to be her hostile self. Penny, with Nick still in her arms, went up to the rest of the family.

Weiss saw the fear in her son’s eyes and looked at Penny. “How did this happen?”

“I…I don’t know, fear? Immense anxiety mixed with adrenaline. Summer must’ve really felt the pressure of this match. That has to be the reason but even so, to fully come out like this has always taken more than the average cold weather. I don’t understand how this would be different.”

Nick held his tongue. He had an idea on what might’ve happen. Penny didn’t, but a few rows below, Veronica understood perfectly from listening in. There could only be one logical answer then and she had smelled it earlier without realizing. Summer had brought the remaining vial of Diamond Dust with her.

“What the hell is she thinking!?” Veronica dug her nails into the skirt.

The world was loud. Lights flashed throughout the stadium as Shiva rubbed her ears. This was her first time so many people had been around. It was a little overwhelming, and not just that. She looked down at her hands curiously.

“Why…do I feel so-” Darren thrusted his spear at Shiva without warning. She ducked right as the blade came near her neck. Frost gathered in her left hand ready to shoot, but a sudden haze came over her mind.

“No!” Summer yelled internally. The frost disappeared. Max began to close in so the girl decided to leap back until she landed on the ship. A dull pain briefly went through their head. “Shi…Summer? Wait, who is…”

“Calm down! You’re throwing us…me off!” Shiva screamed within. The body rubbed its head. Nothing felt as it should, yet not out of place.

Summer’s fear and anger bubbled. “I said I’d use your power. Why are you free!? Give me back my-”

“QUIET!” Shiva snarled, the body trembling. “I…we need to be calm. Ugh, I think we’ll go mad otherwise. This feels different than usual.” Shiva opened and closed the left hand. She was definitely doing that. “Feel that?”

“Yeah, I see it too. Actually…I see it? Like I’m not trapped at all. What is…”

“I don’t know. I suppose this is what it’s like when we aren’t fighting for dominance, or rather… when nobody is being trapped mentally. Is this what you call lucid dreaming? Sure feels like it.”

“Then why are you the one moving my body?”

Shiva smirked, “What could you possibly do? Power means nothing in weak hands and this is my debut right? So stop with the worrying. I’ll play nice. Our odd predicament is proof enough.”

The body finally stopped trembling and the haze cleared. Shiva looked down at the two men running onto her half of the biome. Darren caught her eye. The way his face was contorted into misguided confidence was amusing. “I take it that’s the one I could hear earlier?”

“What’s got you all smug!? You might as well ring out Summer!” He yelled.

Shiva wanted to throw up after hearing that. To think these people were mistaking her for someone so useless. Oh well, it actually makes this laughable. They’re doomed and don’t even know it. “If you want this win then I’m gonna make you work for it! Do try not to bore me.”

“Tsk.” Darren jumped on Max’s hammer and was sent flying with a mighty swing towards her. He swung his spear as he passed by her but she ducked again. Darren rolled onto the deck of the ship and began his assault, charging at her with a barrage of thrusts and slushes. Several hits, that’s all it would take to drop her aura low enough but all he hit was air. That didn’t make sense. Summer was nimble but her brother was always the one regarded for speed; especially reaction time, yet Summer was weaving around better than he was. She tried parrying an attack but it was so half hazard that he managed to get his spear under the sword and fling it out of her hand, off the side of the ship. Another irregular thing considering her style. Maybe she was simply desperate? That had to be it.

“What sad excuse of a parry was that!?”

“What sad excuse of a sword was that? Do you ever see me mimic that toothpick?” Shiva lured Darren into throwing his spear by jumping, making herself incapable of dodging. He took the bait easily enough and she caught it midair, stabbing it into the ground and pulling herself forward. Darren got a double kick to the face that sent him stumbling. Shiva twirled the new weapon for flair before chucking it right at his chest, knocking him over the edge. The crowd seemed to love it. Port certainly did.

“Well would you look at this! Just when things seemed to be closing, Summer Schnee dances on the edge of defeat by displaying some impressive new tactics!”

“I’ve never held a spear. How’d you do that?”

“You make it sound hard. Also why are these weapons so light? It just isn’t my style.” Shiva clapped her freezing hands together tightly. As flashy as she wanted to be, it would be smart not to use her dust so openly. Without the ability to use glyphs, people might suspect something.

Shiva ran off the edge of the ship and plunged her hands in the water below by Summer’s sword. She took notice of Darren and Max closing in.

Max took one step in it and felt it’s chill, a far cry from what it was earlier. “Darren! Jump!”

He listened to his friend. Good thing too. The water’s surface froze then shattered violently into crystals that filled the air. All Darren could see was a flickering light in the hands of his opponent as she looked at him before vanishing in the blink of an eye. He took no chances and made a wall construct around him.

“Well, aren't you smart?” Shiva snickered.

The wall shattered with one blow too quick to see. Before Darren’s eyes was a smirking girl and a long, finely curved, bone white ice saber with a handguard that resembled a snowflake. “A cutlass?!” Darren gasped as he blocked a slash that sent him back a few feet.

Max attacked from behind with a powerful swing. Shiva twirled around and smacked the top of the hammer into the water which froze it on impact.

Max surprisingly didn’t hesitate to grab the collar of the dress and Shiva got flung, sliding roughly against the sand while Max yanked out Fissure from the ice. Light green wind dust made the hammer glow and the man swung at the air itself; projecting a dense socket of air that carved everything in its path until it made contact with its target and sand flew too violently to see the girl.

“Did you get her!?”

“I don’t hear a buzzer.”

The crowd watched in anticipation as the sand cleared. Penny watched closely as Shiva came back into view, motionless and unscathed. People cheered loudly while Yang looked alarmed.

“Max is a far cry from me or Nora, but a powerful hit that dead on should’ve sent her crashing into the barrier over here. She can’t even put up aura properly. Don’t tell me that’s changed?”

“No.” Penny said, watching Shiva’s hair constantly blow ever so slightly. “It’s the tundra. The cold has always done her bidding. She’s using the constant gusts from the biome. It’s swirling around her, intensifying when she wants it. I don’t think Max’s last attack hit her at all. Then there’s the water.”

Winter look at. It was creating constant ripples and waves. “Those delinquents had the common sense to get who they think is Summer out of the water so they wouldn’t have to deal with sudden ice attacks, but that’s not the case with Shiva. Tundra and island, they’re too drastic of a change in temperature. The wind is in constant flux, and so is all that moisture. The entirety of the field, it’s within her range of attack. But if that’s the case…”

“Why aren’t they trapped in ice with a single attack?” Ruby finished. Shiva was never one to pull her punches. Maybe it wasn’t cold enough, or worse? She was toying around.

Shiva rested her blade atop her right shoulder, extending her left hand out. “Alright, I’m feeling generous. If you two don’t want to be embarrassed, then I suggest you get over here and attack me at once.” She curled her pointer finger mockingly. It did the trick. Both were full steam ahead away from the ship and getting closer to the middle of the ring where the environments shift. Good.

“What are you planning?”

“I can’t guarantee my deal with you if they get soaking wet now can I? They’re better off fighting me in the snow, let alone the sand. They made sure of that.” She took notice of the terrain filled with sharp rocks and brewing lava. Her left hand swung by her absentmindedly a few times before she looked down pensively.

“Shiva?”

Max jumped and swung straight down while Darren went low to swipe her feet. Shiva leaned backwards into a handspring at the perfect moment to avoid the spear and launch herself away from the hammer, clipping Max’s chin with her foot in the process. She blocked eight rapid spear thrusts then caught it between her right arm and ribs. Max came in on her left and Shiva briefly went to reach by her hip again before tossing her sword into their left hand.

“What are you reaching for?”

“I don’t know. I thought that was you!” She stabbed down into the mix of sand and snow which brought forth a thick sheet of ice that Max hit but could not break. Darren couldn’t believe his eyes.

“H…How-”

“Brute strength is nothing before power.” Shiva gripped the spear with her free hand.

An indescribable pressure that was both painfully cold and ominous ran through the weapon and to Darren. His breath became visible and body shook until his hands let go from pain. His fingertips felt as if they had touched fire. Shiva let the spear fall into her hand then raised it high, giving just enough time for Darren to block. His very own weapon came crashing down on his forearms so hard that his aura flickered while the spear itself shattered. Cold eyes borrowed into his very soul enough to make him put up another wall which Shiva used to run along to get on the other side of her ice where Max was still stuck. He turned to stone for protection from any further attacks as she lunged at him.

Shiva smiled. These boys were quite resourceful if nothing else. It was a shame everything they did would be their undoing. It was time to return Max’s earl words. “Hey, let’s see if you melt.” Wind swirled around her blade as she thrusted it at his chest powerful enough to send him tumbling into the tundra into one of the lava pools he had made. Shiva could feel Summer’s presence flair violently with fear. “Relax~”

Max jumped out with his stone armor breaking and crumbling away. Sweat dripped down his face and his breathing was strained. The man let out a war cry that no one expected. Not even Darren had seen his friend so overflowing with emotion. He took the opportunity to make a wall that pushed Shiva further towards Max's wrath. He began charging with his fist cocked back. One hit! They needed one clean hit!

Shiva was all smiles. Her feet dug into the snow in a useless effort to stop the wall, but it was fine. With all the handicaps and hurdles placed throughout the fight, this couldn’t have gone better. “Summer, you know what you have in common with these fools? The simple thing that separates you from me and even your own brother?”

Hesitating to answer, Summer remained silent as she braced for cold truth.

Max took another step forward and his body went forward as ankle had become trapped in ice under the snow. Shiva forced her body to roll off the speeding wall and into the snow. The entire construct slammed into Max like a train. Even when it stopped, his body kept flying further back into the air. A loud buzzer rang with his body not only falling off the edge, but from the hit itself. Shiva rolled onto her feet and headed straight for Darren’s.

His face went white. His constructs were gone and so were his weapons. Max’s was in the ice but no way he could pull that out. That’s when he remembered. Darren put up one final divider then turned around and ran towards the water to find Summer’s actual sword.

“When you’re pushed against a wall, you lose your head. And when that happens…” Summer aimed her blade and sent it spinning like a buzzsaw at Darren, effortlessly cutting through the divider.

Nick felt a lump in his throat form. “DUCK YOU IDIOT!” He yelled in genuine concern.

It’s unclear if Darren actually heard him or not but he turned around anyways, caught off guard with a blade coming right at his face. His brain and body didn’t know what to do, unable to move.

“You freeze up in fear.” It only took a flinch of her hand and the blade took a sharp turn down into the water by Darren’s feet. The makeshift sea froze with Darren still in it. A thin but strong coat of ice prevented him from moving. Everyone watched as Shiva casually walked across the battlefield towards the boy who was shivering. Thankfully he had the cold as an excuse. Shiva walked past him to grab Summer’s sword. It was light but it will do the trick. She walked back in front of him to see his face. Shiva let him see her perfectly smug smile one more time.

“I told ya earlier, you were gonna have to work for it.” She grazed the side of cheek with such speed he didn’t notice. The ice shattered and the light attack was more than enough to drop the remaining aura needed to hear the sound of victory. The crowd roared and the boy fell to his knees before her and the crown she still wore neatly on her head.

Shiva left the boy as he was. Noise around her muffled and she stared into the blade at her reflection, then back up to see Summer standing before her in their shared space, a tiny frown on her face.

Shiva tilted her head and held in a chuckle. “Aww did my words take a little joy out of all this? Lighten up. I wasn’t even trying to hurt your feelings this time.” She held out Summer’s sword with the handle out for her to grab.

Summer was slow to take it but did, tightly. The mix of emotions they still shared was killing a little bit of Shiva’s joy. Her lips pouted and she rubbed her head. “Wanna know another fact? I had fun despite the circumstances, and it wasn’t just me out there. It’s also not my name they’re saying.” Shiva began to walk off. “Revel in it while you can.”

Summer looked down into the sword. Muffled noises became clear again as the world around her came back to give her a warm welcome.

“Summer! Summer! Summer! Summer~”

“My word!!!” Port yelled, “I haven’t seen an upset like that in years! Clever and strong like her parents, uncle and aunt! Summer Schnee has one gold herself and her brother. Give her a round of applause!

She looked around the stadium, the cheers reaching her in earnest. Truthfully, every moment of that match was vivid. It was as if Shiva and her had moved in tandem, so was the pride she felt not earned? She believed it was. Summer didn’t lose control. A smile spread across her face and her body shook. The girl pumped both fists in the air and exploded with joy.

“YEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!” She waved and laughed gleefully. It was short lived however when her eyes found the concerned looks of her family, and the fearful one on Nick’s.

xxxx

“Guys, I’m fine!” Summer said to her family. They were all alone in one of the passageways that led to the actual arena.

“Fine!?” Winter emphasized, “Shiva was out, Summer. How is that fine!? People could have gotten killed!”

“No, they wouldn’t. Shiva…she wasn’t really out. Not entirely.” She could see the confusion spreading. “It’s hard to explain, but I never left. I could see and feel everything. Every move…I knew I could stop.”

Penny was more than intrigued now. She practically appeared next to Summer and started touching the girl’s pulse and examining her current condition. “This is a far cry from what you’ve always said. It’s been one or another with gaps in knowledge and mental strain. You’ve described it as being buried or trapped in ice with not much anchoring you to the outside.”

“Yeah well…Shiva wasn’t strangling me or doing anything this time around. She was just…there.”

“Odd, but I can’t say she’s predictable or knows for certain how it all works herself. Either way, none of this explains how she manifested so strongly in the first place. Do you know?”

Summer’s eyes almost shifted to Nick and Veronica. Had they really not told anyone about the vial? No, they knew she stole one, but didn’t know it was on her today. Still, she was sure they would have mentioned it given the situation. Were they expecting her to come clean? That wouldn’t be pretty. It was gone now anyways. Feigning ignorance didn’t sound much better. Her family was not stupid, so that only really left one option Summer didn’t mind. Hide a lie with a truth they weren’t really aware of.

“Well, if I had to take a guess, it has something to do with all my training in the mines. I’ve…been fighting Shiva alone.” All eyes stared in shock except for Nick, who knew this. Weiss on the other hand…

“You’ve been what!? Summer, how could-”

“I know, I should’ve said something but how could I? I wasn’t being reckless though. Every step was thought of down to the location and time. I even recorded myself to help document it all.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t tell us!” Weiss said firmly, spooking the girl a little.

“Actually…” Penny spoke up, “I had a hunch when I picked her up. I’m sorry. I personally made a note to know when she went out there. It wasn’t hard considering…you know.” Her eyes flashed green and suddenly everyone’s scroll vibrated. “Invasion of privacy I know, but I promise I’m not always checking people’s location!”

Penny didn’t hiccup so that was good. Ruby also stopped up, feeling a little bit responsible in her own way. “There might have also been times during training I allowed Summer to get a bit…cold. Don’t get me wrong! I am not on board at all with her doing it alone in a dust mine of all places, but I think it’s important to mention that it wasn’t like Summer hasn’t had any experience doing this kind of training. Once again, I’m very sorry. I just knew I could keep things from getting out of control.” Ruby bowed her head. It’s been a long time since she was scared of Weiss’s scolding; and she had no idea what Jaune was gonna say.

Both of them were stunned to say the least. Weiss couldn’t believe her ears. Sure, she can see the logic with Ruby. Yes the dunce should’ve told her but Weiss wasn’t about to act like Ruby didn’t kill Cinder all by herself and carved her way through tens of thousands of Salem’s strongest grim. She could keep a lid on Shiva in a controlled situation. What got Weiss was Nick. She turned to him to see that he was already bowing his head.

“Nick…?” She said with her arms crossed, Winter catching on and also folding her arms. “We’ve been training with you everyday and you never once acted like you felt Shiva. Care to tell us why?”

“I…may have vaguely known Summer’s intentions. However!” He raised his head up before they could rant, “Outside of the first day, I didn’t get any strange feeling. Whatever Summer was doing didn’t bring Shiva out.”

Summer’s face lit up. He hadn’t run that by her! Regardless, “I told him to keep quiet. I never beat Shiva, but I also never stuck around too long to risk more than I already was. During the match just now, I got really stressed and surrounding myself in the ice got cold quickly. I felt her presence, but it was so much less than what I’ve been doing that I kept control. Moderate climate, my resistance, all of you, Shiva probably didn’t bother trying me because she knew how unfavorable this situation was. At least that’s what I think happened. Losing isn’t something she’s a big fan of and I…didn’t push her down entirely.”

Veronica squinted, “So you cheated?” She said bluntly.

“Veronica.” Yang said firmly.

“Is it not?” Summer shot her a look.

“Hey, I never asked to be shot full of dust! If I have to live like this my whole life then isn’t it the point to learn how to control it?” There was venom in her words. “I won’t act like I played things as safely as I could’ve or that I didn’t know it would be upsetting to some of you, but this is no more of a shot in the dark than anything else we’ve done. I actually think this might be progress. For once…I wasn’t scared of what’s inside me. That’s more progress than I’ve ever felt from the start.”

Weiss was about to say something until Jaune put his hand on her. He looked at Summer. Her eyes briefly looked away from him as if she expected him to yell too. Even when she looked back it was clear to see she felt ashamed of hiding all of this. The sound of another buzzer rang through the stadium.

Jaune let out a sigh, “I think…we should shelve this for now. Tournament is nowhere near over and while I can’t say I’m happy with all choices that several of us have made by ourselves, I also can’t say I haven't made brash decisions for the sake of being strong enough to stand on my own and for others.

“Jaune, this isn’t the same.”

“Yeah. It’s a bit more complicated than fighting a Arma Gigas to escape your house, Trying to fight a Nevermore alone for validation, or sneaking into a huntsman school out of pride.” Nobody countered that surprisingly. “We’ve all walked into mortal danger believing we were ready, just to prove ourselves one way or another. I think we should all think about that a bit while Summer and Nick get ready to accept their medals. Not like this conversation is going anywhere, right?”

Weiss watched as he tried to smile at her softly. He wasn’t wrong. Actually that was part of the problem. No one here was completely wrong! Weiss understood her daughter, as well as the others. It was just as Summer put it, upsetting.

Weiss walked up to her and stared into her beautiful eyes. She gave Summer a hug, “You’re not off the hook, but I’m glad you’re safe.” Weiss let go and looked at both Ruby and Penny. “We’re talking immediately.” She pointed back at Nick, “I’m counting you as an accomplice, but less so.”

All three gulped, “Yeah that’s fair.”

Everyone except Summer, Nick, went back to their seats. Valerie tried staying, but Veronica nudged her.

“Read the room. Besides, we got our things to prepare for.” That wasn’t a lie, but Veronica figured with Valerie around it would be a bit bothersome considering she had no clue about the stolen vial. Not like Veronica wanted to stay anyways. Not like she had anything nice to say. Best not add fuel to a fire.

Summer leaned against the wall as a long sigh left her body. “Talk about tension. Sorry you got roped in t-”

“Please tell me if I went home right now, I’d find the Diamond Dust vial in your room?”

“….” Guess he wanted truth after all, or… a deeper explanation. Summer pulled out the remains of a broken vial. “It broke during the fight.”

“It broke or you broke it!?”

“It broke.” She said again, sticking to her story. “That tends to happen to things in the middle of a fight.”

“Don’t give me that. Why the hell did you even bring it here huh!?”

“I don’t know! It didn’t feel right leaving it at home. I actually planned on giving it back to Penny but that clearly didn’t happen.”

“Summer!”

“Get off my case! I thought you of all people would be proud of me!” She stood up straight. “Yeah I get it. I fucked up and just lied to everyone, but you looked fine letting me speak. You could’ve asked about this from the start.”

“I was giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

“But now you’re questioning me!?”

“Yes, because you clearly just misled our family!” He shouted in a hushed tone.

“Everything I said was true and you know that. The vial is gone anyways. No harm no foul.”

“Until you steal another one.” He said under his breath.

Summer’s jaw clenched. “Oh you can not be- do you really think I’d do it again!? Is that where we’re at?”

“I don’t know, are we!? Why didn’t you at the very least run by me that you had the vial on you?”

“Since when are you my keeper? I didn’t think I had to tell you every choice I made.”

“Or the truth for that matter…”

“I didn’t break it, Nick!” Her body was getting hot.

“The story is just too convenient. Who wouldn’t question it. There was no need to risk something like this for a win.”

“You’re right! Nothing wouldn’t have gotten this bad if it wasn’t for you.”

He paused, “If it- How am I to blame!?”

“We weren’t even supposed to fight yet! We could’ve made an entire plan and stuck to it; don’t even make it seem like you didn’t want me to say yes to the match.”

“Of course I wanted you to say yes, but that has nothing to do with this! We had a plan.”

“Not really! Then instead of focusing on yourself, you get knocked out of the ring because you wanna play hero!”

“I cannot believe you are pinning this on me watching your back!”

“I’ve never asked you to take my hits Nicholas!”

“You don’t have to! News flash, I am your partner and brother! I always watch your back!”

“News flash, I’m sick of it! Ugh, I WISH YOU’D JUST…GET OUT OF MY LIFE!” Her eyes flickered ice blue.

The frustrated yell bellowed through the empty hall, becoming the only sound between the two as Summer caught her breath. The anger she felt died as fast as it flared. Her eyes immediately softened and Summer covered her mouth with both her hands; all while Nick stood there silently, his world rattled. At first he looked in shock, then…numbingly blank, yet so filled with pain.

Summer’s voice trembled, “I…Nick I…I didn’t…”

“Whatever.” He walked past her.

“Wait! I didn’t mean that. I just…”

“It’s almost time to get our medals. You’ll get all the space you want from me after that. And for what it’s worth, I’m always proud of you Summer. I can’t possibly know how you felt out there, but I know one thing. I didn’t see you, and it was terrifying.”

With nothing left to say, he left her as Port began announcing contestants to be ready for awards. Summer watched as Nick smiled and waved the moment he came into view. Meanwhile she could only remain hidden, struggling to fight back her tears as she watched him lie to the world. A lie she made him tell.

#rwby #rwby au #jaune arc #ruby rose #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #penny polendina #veronica belladonna #summer schnee #nicholas schnee #rwby twin snowflakes

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aquasnewmoonblog · 4 months

Text

#parris bates

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synchronousemma · 2 years

Text

Wednesday, 26th January: Emma hears of Mr. Elton's engagement

Read: vol. 2, ch. 3 [21]; pp. 109–116 (“Emma could not forgive her” through to “any power of speech”).

Read and comment on WordPress

Context

Mr. Knightley and Emma discuss Jane at Hartfield. Miss Bates and Jane Fairfax arrive with news of Mr. Elton’s engagement. Harriet arrives and tells Emma of her encounter with Mr. Martin.

Miss Bates tells us that Mr. Elton “has been gone just four weeks […] four weeks yesterday,” which places this meeting on the 26th.

Readings and Interpretations

Dull Repetitions?

D.A. Miller argues that the repetition beginning this chapter (“Emma could not forgive her”) indicates the desire that Austen as an author has to identify with the “full social being” (p. 66) represented by Emma:

What generates the first “Emma could not forgive her” is Emma’s own affective consciousness, intimately accessed and ironically inflected by its free indirect narrative performance. What generates the second “Emma could not forgive her” is pure narration, a detached consciousness to which Emma’s own has ceased to contribute, having been reduced to a little bit of information useful to the plot. By virtue of repeating the same formula (truly magical), we move from free indirect style […] to mere omniscient narration, more remote in its detachment […].

[…] It is as though the narration were trying, and failing, to pull away from the attraction of free indirect style—from that identification with an image of the Person which is the only thing that distinguishes it […] from its usual “omniscient” mode. But in the course of shaking off its secret, severed identification with Emma, it has produced a cloud of dust that only resettles on it, as the telltale residue of that same identification. It seems […] hard for Jane Austen to relinquish her identificatory cathexis on Emma, or to cool it down into an even more detached form […]. (pp. 63–6)

Two Persons’ Understanding

The conversations in this section develop the tension between understanding and misunderstanding that imbues the relationships in Emma. William Deresiewicz writes that “the complexity of their relationship has tuned Emma and Knightley’s sensibilities to be able to perceive the subtlest communicative inflections—small tonal shifts, facial expressions, body language—sometimes […] operating on more than one level at once”; using this sensibility, Austen is here able to “keep[] three conversations going at the same time: the one Mr. Woodhouse thinks he is having, the one Emma and Knightley are having out loud, and the one they are having silently” (p. 94). The dialogue Emma and Knightley address to Mr. Woodhouse is quite different from the conversation they are carrying on with each other:

[B]oth Emma and Knightley recognize that there is something potentially disturbing to Mr. Woodhouse about the full nature of their relationship […]. Knightley accordingly employs a particularly obvious, stagy kind of condescension in speaking to him about Emma—“I do not know a more luxurious state, sir, than sitting at one’s ease to be entertained a whole evening by two such young women” […].

But having thrown him this bone, Knightley can turn to Emma and address her directly in far different accents: “I am sure Miss Fairfax must have found the evening pleasant, Emma . . . ” The tone is familiar, all traces of condescension having dropped out of it […]. Still, Emma invariably finds Knightley’s supervision, whether expressed in approval or rebuke, damaging to her self-love, so here, as usual, she responds to it as no child ever could, with a playful and even mocking parry-and-thrust: “[…] I hope I am not often deficient in what is due to guests at Hartfield.” […] Brought up short by Emma’s response, Knightley’s tone hardens here, becoming clipped and almost stern […]. But Emma again defends herself, this time even more playfully, while following Knightley in veiling the full purport of their exchange from her father: “An arch look expressed—‘I understand you well enough;’ but she said only, ‘Miss Fairfax is reserved.’” (pp. 93–4)

Rachel Brownstein argues that Emma and Knightley’s sous-entendu communications, though imperfect, are effective:

Mr. Knightley, rebuking Emma in her adoring father’s presence, makes the point that she sometimes is by saying she is “not often deficient either in manner or comprehension.” It is not yet midway through the novel and Emma only imperfectly does, although she thinks she really does. […] Depending on being understood by the people they talk to, speakers like Mr. Knightley and Emma may encode their meanings by inflecting the words and looks they exchange, telegraphing “You know what I mean” in order to prevent others (like Mr. Woodhouse, here) from beginning to comprehend their meaning. Doing that, they make a connection that depends on silence and sympathy, and on separating themselves from those around them […]. (pp. 206–7)

It is instructive to recall Emma’s and Mr. Elton’s failed attempts to communicate in the same way (“‘as there are no husbands and wives in the case at present’”; vol. 1, ch. 6; p. 28; “‘(in an accent meant to be insinuating)—I am sure you have seen and understood me’”; vol. 1, ch. 15; p. 86). And Emma is soon to guess something that Harriet means to communicate (“What do you think has happened!” p. 114), and to guess wrong.

As to Her Deficiency

Our learning that Emma has “sent the whole hind-quarter” of a pig when her father hesitated to send less further inflects our reading of her real or imagined “deficiency” (vol. 2, ch. 1 [19]; p. 99) as regards the Bateses, or charitableness in general. Sheryl Craig writes that

Emma feels a bit guilty about her own neglect of Mrs. and Miss Bates, […] but, when Emma does act, she is very generous. Mr. Woodhouse means to send the Bateses a leg or a loin of fresh killed pork, but Emma sends the whole hind quarter instead. Mr. Woodhouse’s pork and Mr. Knightley’s apples are delivered to Mrs. and Miss Bates, just as the Martins’ goose, “a beautiful goose: the finest goose Mrs. Goddard had ever seen” (E 28), is sent to Mrs. Goddard’s school. In her turn, Mrs. Goddard promptly invites “all the three teachers, Miss Nash, and Miss Prince, and Miss Richardson, to sup with her” (E 28–9). As Maggie Lane observes, “the giving and sharing of food becomes a symbol or extended metaphor for human interdependence, resonating through the entire text” (Jane Austen and Food 154).1 (pp. 129–30)

Laura Mooneyham, however, argues that though this incident shows “Emma is not deficient in her material charity, […] all the same one cannot say that she is in charity with her neighbours. Unlike Mr. Knightley, she is a snob who thus feels uncomfortable in the company of those below her on the social ladder. Emma is therefore uncharitable with her time, especially with the Bateses (p. 126).

Suspiciously Reserved, Redux

Emma’s dialogue throughout this section, both before and after the Bateses and Jane arrive, is much in her typical animated, playful tone—“‘Who shall answer that question?’” (p. 112); “‘we shall not excuse your being indifferent about Mr. Elton and Miss Hawkins’” (p. 113). Jane’s dialogue is reserved and almost wooden in comparison, but certainly more precise, not giving into Emma’s style of generalization or exaggeration (compare, for example, Emma’s sardonic “‘Mr. Elton is the standard of perfection in Highbury‘” to Jane’s “‘When I have seen Mr. Elton, […] I dare say I shall be interested’”). We, of course, know that Emma means to needle Jane on the subject of her supposed attachment to Mr. Dixon in her assertion that Jane must have been “hearing and seeing so much of late” regarding matrimony, and “must have been so deep in the business on Miss Campbell’s account” (p. 113). Jane can only respond to the literal signification of Emma’s speech as regards Mr. Elton, as of yet unaware why Emma is generalizing from the specific topic of Mr. Elton’s engagement to the broader topic of marriage.

What Is Before Me, I See

Miss Bates’s dialogue in this section reveals her habit of observing and saying more than those around her (and some critics) give her credit for, or else saying more than she herself knows. In sharing her past suspicions that Mr. Elton, if he aspired to marriage with Emma, would be rejected, Miss Bates’s juxtaposition of the subject with a question about Harriet, and the exclusion from her speech of a disambiguating reference to what Harriet is recovered from (last month’s cold?), seem to hint at knowledge of Harriet’s heartbreak:

Well, I had always rather fancied it would be some young lady hereabouts; not that I ever—Mrs. Cole once whispered to me—but I immediately said, ‘No, Mr. Elton is a most worthy young man—but’—In short, I do not think I am particularly quick at those sort of discoveries. I do not pretend to it. What is before me, I see. At the same time, nobody could wonder if Mr. Elton should have aspired Miss Woodhouse lets me chatter on, so good-humouredly. She knows I would not offend for the world. How does Miss Smith do? She seems quite recovered now. (p. 113)

Mary Hong writes that this monologue conceals the “revelation that the unfastidious and undistinguishing Miss Bates is more discerning of motives and intentions than is the clever Emma,” “present[s] a Miss Bates who had discerned the vicar’s social-climbing ambition, Emma’s prior in- terest in the vicar as a potential suitor for her protégé Harriet, and Harriet’s unrequited love,” and “shows an awareness of the fine distinctions in rank lost to all three participants in their matchmaking” (p. 241). She continues:

In the middle of expressing her opinion, Miss Bates explains that her insights are merely the recording of an external reality transparent to all—”I do not think I am particularly quick at those sort of discoveries. I do not pretend to it. What is before me, I see”—thus making them no more extraordinary or different than the descriptions of her domestic surrounding. Her self-effacing comment not only counters, and mocks, Emma’s confidence in her own ability to interpret the motives of others, but presents a different account of experiencing, and more importantly, narrating, the world.

[…] In other words, unlike the free indirect discourse that reveals Emma’s self-consciousness, Miss Bates’s words show how knowledge is constructed apart from self-knowledge. She knows without having to know that she knows. One could go further and say that Miss Bates knows even when she thinks she doesn’t know, in contrast to Emma who always thinks she is right when in fact she is wrong. (p. 242)

What Do You Think Has Happened!

Before Harriet’s speech, Emma assumes that Harriet’s perturbation is because she has heard the news of Mr. Elton’s engagement (indeed, Harriet’s introduction to the tale has invited her to guess). However, and tellingly, the story in fact regards Robert Martin. The fact that Emma gives the news of Mr. Elton’s engagement in order to distract Harriet from her dismay at this meeting would seem to elevate the Martins in importance; however, over time, Emma insistently subordinates the former to the latter (it “had been serviceable in deadening the first shock,” p. 116).

The presentation of Harriet’s speech in this section undergoes a switch from indirect to direct discourse after Harriet reveals the cause of her upset: “And so, there she had set, without an idea of any thing in the world, full ten minutes, perhaps—where, all of a sudden, who should come in—to be sure it was so very odd!—but they always dealt at Ford’s—who should come in, but Elizabeth Martin and her brother!—Dear Miss Woodhouse! only think. I thought I should have fainted” (p. 115). Joe Bray argues that the switch indicates Emma’s greater attention to what she is hearing, such that FIS “suggests Emma’s listening presence”:

The FIS in the passage […] suggests […] Emma’s impatience as she longs for Harriet to get to what she (Emma) is wrongly assuming to be the point. The third person and past tense suggest not the narrator’s ironic distance from the character, but rather Emma’s filtering perspective, as she listens to the ‘unchecked’ Harriet ‘[run] eagerly through what she had to tell’. Neither the narrator nor Emma appears to be mocking Harriet here; Emma is indeed concerned for and sympathetic towards her as she fears (incorrectly) the effect that the news about Mr. Elton will have on her.3 (pp. 39–40)

T.A. B. Corley argues that Harriet’s speech itself tells on her education:

Having spent all her time, apart from occasional stays elsewhere, at Mrs Goddard’s, Harriet finds the school and its trivial events dominating her conversation, until Emma diverts her thoughts into more enticing channels, and soon eradicates her schoolgirl’s giggle. […] [W]ith Emma she talks slangily as she does at school. “I thought it would have been the death of me”, and “I would rather have done anything than have it happen” [p. 115].4 To do her justice, after a few months in Emma’s company most of the slang has disappeared. (p. 127)

Footnotes

Craig notes that this generosity is not displayed by others in the novel: “Newcomers to Highbury’s gentry class, the Coles reveal their social ineptitude when they […] invite Miss Bates, Jane Fairfax, and Harriet Smith to come for tea, but only after the two-course dinner for the wealthier guests has been eaten and cleared away. […] Mrs. Coles is asserting her own, assumed, social superiority […]. This is an antisocial blunder that the Woodhouses, Mr. Knightley, and the Westons do not make” (p. 129).

On Emma’s tendency to generalize, see Babb (pp. 181ff).

Bray perhaps considers this to be free direct speech (FDS), rather than direct speech (DS), because it lacks an “introductory reporting clause” (p. 32).

The Norton Critical Edition has “would rather done any thing.”

Discussion Questions

How does this section change or deepen our understanding of Emma’s charitableness, or lack thereof?

How is Jane characterized throughout this section?

Has Miss Bates really guessed the truth of Harriet’s feelings? What does her dialogue in this section suggest about the relationship between perception and narration?

Bibliography

Austen, Jane. Emma (Norton Critical Edition). 3rd ed. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, [1815] 2000.

Babb, Howard S. “Emma: Fluent Irony and the Pains of Self-Discovery.” In Jane Austen’s Novels: The Fabric of Dialogue. Columbus: Ohio State University Press (1962), pp. 175–202.

Bray, Joe. The Language of Jane Austen. London: Palgrave Macmillan (2018).

Brownstein, Rachel M. “Why We Reread Jane Austen.” In Why Jane Austen? New York: Columbia University Press (2011), pp. 195–236.

Corley, T. A. B. “Jane Austen’s ‘Real, Honest, Old-Fashioned Boarding-School’: Mrs La Tournelle and Mrs Goddard.” Women’s Writing 5.1 (1998), pp. 113–30. DOI: 10.1080/09699089800200035.

Craig, Sheryl. “Emma: William Pitt’s Utopia.” Jane Austen and the State of the Nation. Palgrave Macmillan (2015), pp. 118–40.

Deresiewicz, William. “Emma: Ambiguous Relationships.” In Jane Austen and the Romantic Poets. New York: Columbia University Press (2004), pp. 86–126.

Hong, Mary. “‘A Great Talker upon Little Matters’: Trivializing the Everyday in Emma.” Novel: A Forum on Fiction 38.2/3 (Spring – Summer 2005), pp. 235–53. DOI: 10.1215/ddnov.038020235.

Lane, Maggie. Jane Austen and Food. London: Hambledon (1995).

Miller, D. A. Jane Austen, or the Secret of Style. Princeton: Princeton University Press (2003).

Mooneyham, Laura G. “The Double Education of Emma.” In Romance, Language and Education in Jane Austen’s Novels. Houndmills: Macmillan Press (1988), pp. 107–145.

Murphy, Terence Patrick. “Monitored Speech: The ‘Equivalence’ Relation between Direct and Indirect Speech in Jane Austen and James Joyce.” Narrative 15.1 (January 2007), pp. 24–39. DOI: 10.2307/20107402.

#Jane Austen #Emma #Emma Woodhouse #Jane Fairfax #Mr. Knightley #Miss Bates #Mr. Woodhouse #Mr. Elton #Harriet Smith #Robert Martin #e

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nxrthmizu · 3 years

Text

| honoured | day 16

»»——⍟——««

@daminette-december2019-2020

prompt | Royalty AU

pairing | Damian Wayne x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

words | 1.7k

author’s note | Hi watch me indulge myself in this because it’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a royalty au

»»——⍟——««

“You’re all pathetic.” Damian hissed, twisting the sword out of yet another knight’s grip. “How are you supposed to protect me when you can’t even beat me in a duel?” His sharp words glared at the line of knights that had applied to be Gotham’s prince’s personal guard. None of them lived up to his expectations, and at this point Damian wasn’t even surprised anymore.

He huffed impatiently. “Is that all you lot have got?”

“May I try, sir?” Spoke a knight that was way too short and way too small in comparison to the line of other silver-clad men. A pair of bluebell eyes met the prince’s emerald ones, a spark of determination and confidence glinting in them.

Damian sighed, eyeing the spark in the bluebell eyes, a smirk overcoming his features. How naive, he thought. He couldn’t wait to smite out that light in those bluebell eyes.

»»——⍟——««

He didn’t.

The room was completely silent as Damian’s sword flew across the room with a clang, twisted quickly out of his grip as the small knight surprised him with the sudden attack. It was so quiet that the failed knights could hear the prince’s shallow, panting breaths that hurried to pay off the oxygen debt in his muscles.

“... What is your name.” The prince’s voice was deadly quiet as he stared into the blue eyes. The knight slid the helmet off, dark blue hair tied up in a ponytail, flushed cheeks painted red from the ten continuous minutes of unending parrying.

“Marin Cheng, sir!”

The failed knights watched with bated breath as the prince stared down coldly at the shorter knight. They had underestimated the knight greatly- No one thought that the small midget stood a single chance against the prince, who was one of the best swordsmen known throughout the kingdom.

“...” He surveyed Marin with a careful eye. “Very well. See Mr. Pennyworth about your new living arrangements.” The words were unspoken, but the whole hall was clear about what the prince had left unsaid.

You are my personal guard.

»»——⍟——««

Marin never left Damian’s side, per his request. His personal guard’s job was to follow him around to ensure he was never outnumbered in an ambush- And he had to admit, Marin’s presence was rather enjoyable. The small knight was not made out of a lot of muscle- But certainly had the wits and deftness to make up for the lack in size.

The knight quickly learnt that there were times when Damian wanted the air to be filled with chatter, and when he did not. During the times that he wanted to rid of the silence, the blue-haired knight would begin talking animatedly, chatting about anything and everything around them- The bushes around the royal garden, the new bakery that opened downtown, the new uniform for cadets. And when the prince valued his silence, the blue-haired knight would keep quiet and simply follow the emerald-eyed teen around.

“Marin.”

The knight was sitting on the floor of Damian’s private library, flipping through a book with the prince’s permission. Blue eyes glanced up instantly, the book forgotten quickly as the knight waited for the prince’s instructions.

“I’m bored.” Damian pushed the documents he was supposed to read aside. “Fence with me.”

The two of them were in the palace courtyard in a while, both their swords drawn as the prince stepped forward with the first move. The metallic ringing of sword on sword rang through the courtyard, the blows consistently repeating as the prince parried his knight’s attack.

“You’ve gotten better, my prince.” Marin commented with a slight smile, blocking another of Damian’s attacks.

A smirk slipped onto the prince’s features. “Of course.”

»»——⍟——««

Months flew by uneventfully, Marin moving seamlessly into the prince’s life, getting used to the daily schedule of the emerald-eyed teen. Marin would be up at 5am, training alone in the empty courtyard until 6, when a shower and a quick pop-in to the kitchen would be needed. At 6.30, the knight would accompany Damian to breakfast and the rest of the day would be spent in the study or in the courtyard.

Of course, Marin’s appointment as the prince’s personal guard brought a lot of attention in the form of jealousy and hate in the knight’s direction- But most of the time, these glares were simply dismissed by Marin. The other knights started trying to find any sort of dirt on the personal guard, knowing there was no way they could outmatch Marin in skill.

And fortunately for the other knights, (And unfortunately for Marin), the blue-haired knight had a giant secret.

The blue-haired knight shrieked in terror as the other silver-clad men dragged her into the middle of the king’s court, wrapped in only a white towel, all of her secrets laid out after they ambushed her in her morning bath.

“Sir!” One of the knights said with a scoff. “We have an imposter among us.”

It was clear now, without the wall of her silver armour to hide in, that Marin was actually a Marinette. Her long, dark blue hair covered her bare shoulders like a curtain of ivy, her bluebell eyes sharp in fright of the king’s reaction.

“Prince Damian’s personal guard...” The knight continued, eyeing her hatefully and with a glint of victory. “Is a woman.”

Before anyone could express their surprise at this discovery, the doors of the hall slammed open, as loud as a thunder clap across the kingdom’s skies. The furious prince stood in the middle of the doorway, marching to the centre of the court with narrowed eyebrows and a displeased frown.

“What is this?” He demanded, eyes flitting over to the nearly-naked woman sitting in the centre of the hall.

“Damian,” King Bruce begin slowly. “It seems that your personal guard is... A lady.”

‘Infuriated’ didn’t even begin to describe the prince’s expression. “And?” He snapped, turning to point his glare at the knights that surrounded the blue-haired knight. “She’s more than competent at her job. More competent than you lot, actually.”

“My prince, with all due respect, don’t you think it’s inappropriate to have a lady as a knight?” One of the silver-clad men spoke up with a raised eyebrow, his fellow knights murmuring their agreements.

The prince sucked in a deep breath before sharpening his ice-cold glare. “I am to be the future king of this country.” Hissed the emerald-eyed prince. “And if the knight, whether a she or a he, is capable of holding he or her ground in a duel against me, which, may I remind, you lot weren’t, then I would be nothing less than honoured to have her fight by my side.”

Silence rang deafening volumes in the courtyard as men registered the fact that Prince Damian- The ice prince himself- Just admitted to be honoured to fight in someone’s else company- Never mind the fact that the someone happened to be a woman.

“Father.” Damian said in an icy tone, shedding off his cloak to wrap around Marin- No, Marinette’s shoulders. “These knights clearly have no concept on respect and privacy. They dragged out a woman in nothing but her towel into the centre of a hall. Father, surely you don’t believe that these people here deserve to be knights?”

The king hummed thoughtfully. “You do have a point. I don’t suppose they do.”

“Your majesty-”

“Alfred, have these men be removed from the palace premises and be stripped of their knight titles, please.”

“Father, if I could make one more request?”

“Speak.”

Damian stood up, a cold fire burning in his eyes that would later lead him to be a fair and just ruler. “I would like to allow capable women to join knight ranks officially.”

The court was so silent that you could hear the pen scratching of Mr. Pennyworth, who was busy making arrangements and smiling proudly at the emerald-eyed prince’s request.

“That is an interesting request, Damian.” The king smiled thoughtfully. “Have your proposal on this new law finished and on my desk by tomorrow afternoon.”

The prince nodded his head, gripping his personal guard’s shoulders as he helped her stand. “Thank you, father.” He said, emerald-green eyes glinting at the now former-knights as he guided Marinette out of the hall, the doors slamming close as if nothing had just happened.

»»——⍟——««

“Did you know this whole time?” Marinette asked quietly, now decked out more comfortably in her knight gear. The prince and his personal guard were seated on the stone steps of the courtyard, the sun beating down into the ceiling-less area.

“... Ever since you beat me. Yes.” Came the prince’s answer as he watched the blue-haired woman wipe his sword clean. “You were too small-built to be a man. Your shoulders aren’t wide enough.”

“I see.”

Silence resumed as the blue-haired knight fidgeted awkwardly on the step, her hands moving quickly to make the metal shine under the glow of the sun.

“You don’t have to always wear your armour around me.” Damian mused quietly, leaning against one of the pillars comfortably. “You can just wear a shirt. It would be easier for you to move around. And since everyone knows anyway,” He shrugged. “No point in you trying to cover up with your armour anymore.”

Marinette blushed at the prince pointing her out blatantly. “I... Yes, my prince.”

“Go change. I want to duel for a bit before I have to draft up my proposal.” He said lazily, flicking his hands at her. “I’ll practice on my own first. Hurry up.”

He watched her retreating back, the clanks of her armour gradually getting softer as she returned to her room, which was only a corridor away from his. His mind flickered back to the day he first met her- Damian thought he’d never lose to a man in swordplay.

And he was right.

He lost to a woman.

A woman by the name of Marinette Cheng.

»»——⍟——««

taglist. @maskedpainter @animegirlweeb @starmist19 @myazael @stainedglassm @user00000003 @toughluna @nickristus-dreamer @missmadwoman

send in an ask to be added to Cady’s Daminette December taglist!

»»——⍟——««

also I feel so sorry for everyone waiting for me to update never knowing which dates I’ll write for lol

Oh oh and I'm pretty proud of this because I didn't use she/her at all before Marin's gender reveal :)

#damian wayne #marinette dupain-cheng #daminette #damian wayne x marinette dupain-cheng #mlb x dc #mlbdc #cady's daminette december 2020 #cady writesss «

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dustofbrokenheart · 3 years

Text

The Covenant: Study Habits

Pogue Parry x Reader

Word Count: 2,095

Summary: You are stressing about finals and need to study. When Pogue graciously volunteers to be your study buddy, you don’t refuse the offer.

Silence and solitude, you decided, were your ideal conditions for studying for finals. Spencer Academy was a fairly serious institution given its status as a prep school, but the library and various common areas tended to transform into social scenes, especially during this point in the semester. As much as you enjoyed the chatter and laughs, you really needed to study in order to pass your physics final and make the honor roll.

At first you tried moving your studying to your dorm, which was definitely quieter, but it didn’t exactly give off study vibes either. It was way too easy to take a nap or raid your snack stash or eavesdrop on conversations that were happening in the hallway.

You looked and looked for a good spot and you finally found it in the discovery of the school’s shop classroom. Not many students at Spencer took wood or metal shop that you were aware of and you were a little surprised those classes were offered at all. The room itself was tucked away in a dim basement that shared space with random storage rooms and an unused bomb shelter, a relic leftover from the 1940s.

The day you found it was also the day you found out that the room’s door wasn’t locked by the teacher, which wasn’t good from a security standpoint, but made entering very easy for you whenever you dropped by after hours to study.

Being a shop classroom, it was mostly open space and machinery, not unlike a garage situation. You were extra careful not to disturb any of the projects-in-progress, even though some of them looked really cool, and avoided all of the tools, most of which you couldn’t name much less identify.

But there were a couple of waist high counter tables along one wall so you could sit down. The height was just right where you could alternate between sitting on a stool and standing on your feet which was honestly better for your circulation. Most importantly, it was abandoned at this time of night and that meant no distractions.

The sneaking around continued for a couple of days until your anxiety had had enough, prompting you to find out the teacher’s information so that you could email them and ask formal permission to use the room when school wasn’t in session. Mr. Clarke seemed happy enough to let you use it and you decided you liked him even though you had never met in person.

It wasn’t even until the second week of studying down there that you finally saw someone other than yourself. You had just finished dinner and made the trek from the dorms to the shop room when you noticed them. A radio played softly in the distance but as you got closer and closer to your spot, you figured out that it was coming from the room.

You paused just outside the door and debated whether you should still go in or not; you really needed to get through some practice problems, but would you still be as productive if someone else was in there? You really should do these problems. Besides, maybe the other person would leave soon.

The metal handle clicked as you opened the door.

A small boombox was blaring some Green Day out of its speakers and figure in a black tee sat next to it fiddling with a hand drill.

Wanting to get his attention before the drill started up you cleared your throat loudly.

Beautiful hazel eyes locked onto you immediately and you felt a little breathless. That was before he turned fully around and you were better able to appreciate his toned chest and arms through the black fabric of his shirt, small barely detectable sawdust particles attached themselves to his jeans.

“Hey there,” he greeted with a raised hand.

Of all people to run into you couldn’t believe that it was Pogue Parry, one of, and in your opinion, the student body’s top eye candies. Dazzled, all you managed was a timid wave back.

He cocked his head, his shaggy hair falling slightly to the side. “I’ve never seen you before.”

Come on, Y/N. Get it together and answer the boy.

“Actually, we have—”

“Physics together,” he finished with a smile. “I know. I meant down here in the shop.”

Your face felt like it was on fire. He recognized you! A Son of Ipswich noticed that you were in a class with him and you were so excited that you managed to ignore the fact that you had misunderstood him. “You’re right about that. I’ve only been coming here for, like, a week. I got permission to study here.”

“Cool. Mr. Clarke is a sweetheart so I’m not surprised.”

Trying to get back on track you asked, “How long do you think you’ll be working on that?”

Both of you looked at the drill.

“You probably want it quiet, huh? I can stop for today, this is just a side project I’m doing anyway, it’s gonna be a tv stand when it’s done. Definitely not as important as a final.”

As much as you felt bad for interrupting him and essentially taking over his spot, you took him up on his offer. He was now the hottest and kindest classmate in your mind. You dropped you backpack on the floor and spread your papers across the countertop trying your best to sneak peeks at Pogue where he was cleaning up a few feet away.

When he finished, he walked over. “What class are you studying for?”

“Physics.”

“No way!” He pulled up a stool and straddled it opposite of you.

It made you nervous to have him watch you write and when he pointed out a mistake you made, you felt like crawling into a hole. The eraser left behind eraser shavings as you corrected the error.

“Hey, wanna work together?” he asked either not noticing your embarrassment or choosing to ignore it.

“Sure,” you said with a shaky voice.

“Cool.”

He wasted no time and grabbed his own copy of the packet, clicking open a pen, ready to go.

You moved to the next problem and read it out loud.

“A block weighing 200 N is pushed along a surface. If it takes 80 N to get the block moving and 40 N to keep the block moving at a constant velocity, what are the coefficients of friction μs and μk?”

Pogue hunched over, quickly working it out when he noticed you sitting still, rubbing the end of your pencil against your mouth. Scooching over to your side of the counter he showed you his work and walked you through his steps.

“Wow, you’re really good at this.”

He laughed off the compliment. “Nah, I promise you I’m a pretty stupid student.”

“But you finished this problem in under a minute,” you insisted. “Meanwhile, I would’ve been stuck for hours and still have gotten it wrong.”

He stared at you and even though you couldn’t get a good read on him, it was too easy to get lost in his eyes. Eventually, he spoke.

“I don’t want to throw off your groove of anything, but maybe we can study together.”

Was this a dream? Because an invitation like that only happened in your fantasies.

“But I don’t know how that benefits you—you seem to a good handle on it already,” you admitted.

“As I told you, stupid student. Besides, my study habits are non-existent so maybe some of yours will rub off.”

You beamed at him, easily convinced. “Well then let’s go over the first problem again because I’m still confused...”

Every night for the next seven days Pogue met you in the basement and walked with you to the classroom for your study session. Despite not having a high opinion towards his academic abilities, he was very patient and effective tutor/partner.

“Wait, remember to multiply the variables in the parenthesis before subtracting it from the total. PEMAS is your friend Y/N.”

He was also very easy to talk to. Whenever he talked about his bike or swim regimen, two things you knew nothing about, he took the time to put it into words you understood without making you feel like an idiot. And when you were feeling chatty, he would actively take an interest in what you had to say.

“Hunger pains after a swim workout are the worst, especially after long swims where your aerobic systems are gassed. It feels like you’re one stomach growl away from wasting away.”

“Oh, speaking of food, I found a granola recipe. I don’t know who decide to mix coconut and cranberries with granola, but that palate combination amazing. I’ll bring you some if it turns out alright.”

“You’d better save me some then, even if it’s not to your ridiculously high standards. I can feed some to the boys, too.”

Time flew by and it didn’t feel like the studying had gone on for a whole week. Each session seemed to pass faster as you got to know him better, to see the him that didn’t have to be filtered for the public eye. You liked this side of him even better than what you have seen of him in class and in the halls.

But all things come to an end. On the last session before the final, you guys finally finished the last question in the review packet with a grateful exhale.

“You sir, are a physics godsend. I can’t believe we’re done with the whole review guide.”

“I hope the final isn’t as long as the guide is. He must’ve stuck every problem we did during the semester in this thing,” he complained.

“I really hope not,” you groaned. Because if it was, there was no way you would finished within the allotted one-hour period.

“But, I have a feeling you’re going to crush the exam. Just try your best not the set the curve too high, for the rest of our sakes.”

You playfully shoved him for the last part of his comment. Silence stretched on and you realized that this was the last time you guys were scheduled to study together. Fast on the heels of that thought was another: you didn’t want to leave. By the way he didn’t seem in a hurry to leave, you hoped that meant he was reluctant as well.

“So…” he trailed off and you waited with bated breath. “Guess we should pack up, it’s almost nine.”

Your shoulders slumped in disappointment at his words. “Yeah, I guess.”

For a second, you were tempted to ask him out, or at least see if he wanted to hang out as friends, but you decided against it. He was the type that would’ve spoken up if he were interested. Best just to act dignified and be thankful that he bothered helping you in the first place.

You were steps away from walking out the door when he stopped you by grabbing your hand.

“Actually, what I meant to ask is if you want to get a bite to eat after the test tomorrow. Is that weird?”

Your pulse fluttered in obvious joy.

“You mean like a date?” you breathed.

“Yeah. You’re a pretty cool, Y/N, and I’d be sad if this is the last time we hang out.”

“I would love to,” you assured him with a huge smile on your face.

He reached to slowly envelope you in a hug, and even if the angle was a little awkward due to the backpacks being in the way, you automatically hugged back. You were thrilled to discover that he smelled like an exotic mix of leather and, dare you say, magic.

You were even more thrilled when he walked you back to the dorms like the sweet boy you had observed him to be over the past week. Luckily there weren’t any people loitering out in the hallway because if word got out that a Son of Ipswich had walked you to your room, the whole school would know by morning and you were enjoying the moment far too much to have to worry about that.

“Good luck tomorrow. See you on the flip side,” he said in parting.

That night you laid in bed but felt like you were on cloud nine. In less than twenty-four hours, you would be done with physics for the semester and have had a date with Pogue Parry. Pogue Parry! You snuggled into your pillow and swore his scent still lingered freshly in your nose.

_______________

I was super inspired yesterday and wrote this. Good luck to everyone that’s prepping for final exams! Thanks for reading.

#the covenant #pogue parry #pogue parry x reader #imagines

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jubans · 4 years

Text

title: honeysuckle pairing: settsu banri/fem!reader rating: m (mature) premise: contrary to popular belief, there exist certain things that not even banri “easy mode” settsu is particularly good at, and that lacking skill just happens to coincide with yours.

“Settsu-kun…”

Your voice is hoarse with desire when Banri trails a path of fire from the jut your collarbone to the corner of your mouth—a wicked smile ghosting across your feverish skin. When he raises his face to look at you, his sandy hair falls across his face in loose tufts, framing blue eyes that glint with hunger in the receding sunlight. He hovers over your pitiful form, helplessly pliant from where he has you pinned under his weight. Banri always wondered if you would kick his ass if he suggested kissing you on top of your desk in the council room, but the heady look in your eyes subverted his expectations entirely.

“Please,” you breathe, lips parted with need as you tug on the lapels of his blazer.

He spares you a soft laugh, dipping his head to nuzzle the crook of your neck—the sweet scent of honeysuckle filling his nose.

“Please what, prez?”

The mirth melts right off his face when he feels you squirming beneath him, raising one of your thighs to massage the growing heat in his trousers. Banri stiffens, the practiced charisma he’s gotten so used to taunting you with falling apart all in a single moment. When you pull him down to slant his mouth on top of yours, he’s too stunned to reciprocate but you’re too consumed by your own lust to notice.

“Please, I...I need you.”

Breaking his predicament down to the roots, Banri supposes that this all started over a harmless discussion shared between his classmates.

He usually opted to just ignore people whenever they tried to strike up a conversation with him, and when the other party was a little more persistent, he’d scare them off with a single glare. Though he may not have Hyodo’s naturally terrifying disposition, Banri likes to think that he’s intimidating in his own right. He should have just done the usual and told those losers off with an offhand comment before playing hooky somewhere else. Yet, he ended up breaking character, falling prey to a teenage boy’s natural curiosities in the end.

“Kanae-chan’s adorable when I try to kiss her,” Classmate 1 (Banri doesn’t really bother remembering their names) bragged with stars in his eyes. “She turns all red and says she doesn’t want me to kiss her until she’s the one who initiates instead.”

Classmate 2 pushed up his glasses on the bridge of his nose with a scoff. (This guy pissed Banri off the most. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he reminded him of someone—someone annoying.) “You like girls who play hard-to-get? That’s kind of childish. I want someone who knows exactly what they want.”

“You talk like you’ve already kissed someone,” snickered Classmate 3, who slings an arm across Banri’s shoulders despite the latter being a good three inches taller. “What about you, Settsu? With all those girls fawning over you, I doubt you don’t have any experience with any of them.”

Banri frowned, feeling his face flush. “The hell does that mean?”

“Aw, don’t be like that, man! Care to share your secrets with commoners like us? How do you get them wrapped around your finger like that?”

The more Classmate 3 implied that he was Hana High’s local Cassanova, the more Banri had to shove down the embarrassment that was beginning to bubble in his chest. What even gave these guys the idea that he was good at...at kissing? Sure, he was inherently talented in anything that didn’t involve cozying up to another human being, but that didn’t automatically make him a—

“Can you stop talking about girls like inanimate objects?”

Upon hearing your voice, Banri rolled his eyes more out of reflex than anything else. He could count on the student council president to badger him about every aspect of his high school life at the most inconvenient of times. You stood a few feet away from the corner of the classroom they’d claimed for themselves, hands braced on your hips as your brows knit with thinly veiled disgust.

“Prez, it’s not like that,” groaned Classmate 1. “I swear, you’re too uptight; always hounding people at the vaguest sign of disrespect—”

“So you do admit to disrespecting women.” You narrowed your eyes.

Classmate 3 sighed, peeling away from the group as he scratched his head irritably. “No wonder everyone else thinks you’re annoying. C’mon, guys. She isn’t worth arguing with.”

As your classmates stalked back to their own seats, Banri’s shoulders eased with finally being spared from their frivolous questions. He nearly made a beeline for the door so he could take a nap at the rooftop, but he caught the frown tugging on your lips from the corner of his eye, momentarily stunting his plans.

Not having any real sympathy for you, Banri merely sighed. “If you don’t want to be called annoying then stop being annoying.”

He left the classroom before you could offer up any sort of response, shutting the door behind him with more force than necessary. A bunch of girls from other classes greeted him on his way to the stairwell, earning themselves an irritated look from him that they responded to by giggling into their hands. What the hell was up with these people? Do they like asshole delinquents by default?

When he finally made it to the solitude of Hana High’s rooftop, he climbed the ladder placed right next to the door. Banri hoisted himself up with ease, sighing with satisfaction as he laid beneath a rake of warm sunlight. It was a bit cloudy today, plunging his surroundings in a temperature comfortable enough to lull him to sleep. But just when he was about to toe the boundary between slumber and consciousness, the sound of the door below creaking on its hinges reeled him back into awareness.

Banri strained his ears, hearing only one set of footsteps that paced around for a few moments before the door swung shut once again. He relaxed, convinced that whoever was about to interrupt his siesta had already gone—only to be caught off guard when someone emerged from the ladder.

“What the…” He scrambled to sit upright, squinting at the intruder. “What’re you doing here, prez?”

You swallowed thickly, averting your eyes from his scrutinizing gaze before hesitantly walking over to take a seat beside him. Banri observed you with rapt attention, watching as you pulled your knees to your chest—resting your chin on the ridge in between.

“You’ve never kissed a girl in your life, have you?”

He practically choked on the next breath he drew, causing you to whip your head to stare at him with concern lining your eyes. Banri muttered some half-hearted apology as he collected himself, wondering if he’d even heard you right. But the earnest look on your face told him that he really didn’t just hallucinate that. How the hell did you single him out anyway?

“What’s it to you?” he parried defensively, hyper aware of what little distance sat between the both of you.

You weren’t facing him yet Banri could make out the beginnings of a smile on your side profile. “Nothing, really. I just wanted to strike a deal.”

“W-What could you possibly want?”

Out of all the things he’d expected for the student council president to do, the last thing on his list would be this: you turning to him with an unreadable look, shifting from where you sat as you gently trailed your fingers on the side of his face. Your skin was burning despite the tenacity of your actions, but Banri couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

Your eyes fluttered underneath thick lashes, lips lightly swelled into a pout.

“Settsu-kun...do you want to practice kissing with me?”

As a high schooler, Banri had a lot of firsts that he was yet to conquer. It was normal, and it wasn’t like he was in a rush to tick all the checkboxes for the sake of bragging rights. But his first kiss and the first girl whose house he would be intruding on came barreling into his life far sooner than he’d anticipated.

Your mattress was much softer than the one he had in the Mankai dorms, accommodating his body almost snugly. The soft glow of the twilight outside snuck into the room through the cracks in the curtains, but the ambience was the last thing on his mind right now.

“Is...is this okay?”

Banri couldn’t help the smirk that hooked across his lips, relishing in the embarrassment that painted itself on your face. Although he was just as flustered with the knowledge that a girl was straddling him on her bed, he was better at hiding his discomposure than most.

“I think so,” he offered, testing the waters by placing both of his hands on your hips. “Are you okay?”

“W-Why wouldn’t I be?” you muttered, unsure of where you should place your hands so you flop them over your chest instead.

He laughed softly, remembering all the bad porn movies he may or may not have come across at some points in his life (except he’ll cap this escapade at the kissing). This was the part where he should encourage you a little, right? With some newfound eagerness, he hiked his hands up your back, tugging you down without warning. You yelped in surprise, hands floundering around until they’re splayed on either side of his face. Banri’s mouth twitched into a sordid smile when he felt each bated breath you made fan across his skin.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you make a face like that.”

You sputtered, the redness on your cheeks worsening. “Stop saying embarrassing things, Settsu-kun!”

“You’re pretty cute, aren’t you?” Banri chuckled, trailing his hand on the back of your head as he twined your hair in his fingers. “We’ve come this far and you’re still embarrassed?”

Just before you could make the motions to hop off of him altogether, Banri’s grip on your head turned rigid, forcing you to meet his smoldering gaze. You let out a surprised squeak—a sound he found adorable, but was too occupied to comment on.

“Do you really want this?”

His voice was decibels softer than usual, an earnest look creasing on his brow. Though he came off strongly at times, Banri had seen Masumi fawn over the director enough to get a proper grasp on the concept of consent. Even if you were a perpetual thorn on his side, he’d never want to make you do anything your mind wasn’t a hundred percent sure of. The fact that you were the one to propose this whole arrangement didn’t change that.

Hesitation crossed your meek features, eyes inching away from his despite his firm hold on you. Banri breathed out a long breath, surrendering his tight grip as a last-minute apology rested on his tongue.

“I do.”

Before he could even form a proper response, you’d already screwed your eyes shut, dipping your face down to mold your lips on top of his.

Banri’s brain blanked out for a few moments, nothing but static feedback ringing in his ears. But he was quick to kickstart his senses back to life. One second, the featherlight weight of your kiss incapacitated him from coherence, and in the next, he suddenly knew how to put his hands to good use. He used his right to cradle your cheek, and his left to tug your head impossibly close. At this point Banri was probably grappling at the vague stories about a romance game Itaru once told him of in passing. Wait, why the hell was he thinking of Itaru when he was literally kissing—

When you pulled away, he hadn’t noticed the way your fingers curled around the front of his shirt, but he did notice the forlorn look that befell your face.

The laugh that escaped you was hollow. “I’m that bad, huh?”

“What are you talking about?” Banri’s voice was far more guttural than he’d intended it to sound. “I don’t think I’m any good at this shit either, if that makes you feel better.”

You began to peel yourself away, and this time Banri opted not to stop you when you sat on the edge of your bed. He barely registered the sigh that you let out over the sound of his chest pounding into his ears. Despite you claiming it was a bad kiss, the prickling sensation that bristled on his lips begged to differ.

He...kind of liked it.

“Settsu-kun, it’s getting kind of late,” you pointed out, and Banri didn’t miss the way your voice trembled. “You should probably head—”

“Can I kiss you again?”

Slowly, you turned your head to face him, eyes blown with surprise. “What?”

Banri shifted on your bed, crawling closer to you as he imitated the same thing he did in the heat of the moment, cradling your face once again with a gentle hand. His eyes shot back to the curve of your lips, much pinker after that little kiss.

Boldly, he repeated, “Can I kiss you again?”

He liked to think that it was relief that glazed over your eyes in the few seconds that passed before you careened into his touch, pressing your mouth back to his. Banri had a bit more initiative the second time around, languidly moving his lips against yours in a rhythm that he hoped could translate into his actions. But the two of you were still woefully out of sync—teeth clacking awkwardly, not knowing where to place your hands; the list went on.

But apart from the half-second breaks as the two of you drew shaky breaths, neither of you pulled away from the other.

Sometime in between those hasty kisses, he’d finally timed himself with your own pace. When he snaked a strong arm around your waist, it seemed to catch you off guard and Banri took advantage of the gasp you breathed against his mouth by kissing you even deeper. The press of your tongue against his coaxed a soft mewl rumbling in your chest—one that sent dangerous shivers skidding down the length of his spine.

Banri wasn’t sure how long he’d been making out with you on your bed, but by the time he made himself aware of his surroundings, the room had already darkened several shades and you somehow ended up lying back on the mattress with both legs dangling over the edge. This time he was the one peering at you from above, palms planted on either side of your head as he completely took in your disheveled appearance.

The collar of your uniform was rumpled, lips swollen and parted as you heaved one deep breath after another. He could tell your eyes were unfocused—or rather, so hyper-fixated on one thing that you couldn’t bring yourself to pay attention to anything else.

He could feel his own lips twitch with anticipation.

But despite the heat that coiled in his gut, fueled by the desire to just lose himself to the feel of your inexperienced yet mind-shattering kisses, he shakily got back on his feet.

Banri wanted nothing but to wipe off the disappointment that eclipsed your vehemence in the next second, but he told himself that if he indulged you even more, he might just lose control. Turning away, the actor patted down his clothes, carding his fingers through his sweat-stricken hair as he forcibly leashed his heart back into repose. Calm down, you little—

“Will you ever come over again?”

The question came with such an innocent tone that Banri suddenly felt all kinds of obscene. He hesitated, casting you a sidelong glance. You were seated upright now, but your hair was still mussed from all the tugging and pulling he’d done. The way your face was still flushed from your little session didn’t help in anchoring his sanity, either.

Somehow, he managed to mask all the emotions that clashed behind his eyes with an easygoing smile.

Banri leaned back down, breathing in the sweet and heady scent of your shampoo—his next words ringing like a promise.

“I will.”

He wasn’t sure what made him think that things would be any different when you both saw each other again at school the next morning. Omi definitely noticed the spike in Banri’s disposition when he slid a plate of fresh toast and eggs over to him on the dining table—asking if everything was alright at school. Taichi wondered the same thing, while Juza opted not to comment on it. Although Banri could feel the bizarre look his rival cast his way, he strangely decided not to antagonize him for it. Even Sakyo was freaked out when he greeted the older man with a chipper, “Mornin’, Sakyo-san.”

But Banri’s pleasant mood ultimately depleted when he ran into you in the hallway.

“Hey, prez,” he spoke with a flirtatious drawl that he hadn’t intended to make. “How are you on this fine morning?”

Instead of the blushing mess he’d reduced you into the previous day, you assumed the mask of pensiveness you’d worn on literally every day since you assumed your position.

“Settsu-kun, how many times do I have to tell you to abide by the school’s dress code? The rules are there for a reason, you know.”

Even your voice was stone cold. Banri frowned, pouting a little as he slung his bag over his shoulder. If you were going to revert back to your usual dynamic, so be it.

“Never gave a damn about ‘em,” he muttered, brushing past you without another thought.

You practically ignored each other for the rest of the week.

Banri knew that segregating work from play was an essential ability that an adult needed to have up his sleeve. But, given that he was months away from turning legal, he let himself wallow in his own pettiness for the meantime.

He was overreacting. He knew he was, but who could tell? It wasn’t like he wasn’t already skipping classes in the past. The only difference was this time, he was actively avoiding someone (read: you). But instead of hanging around on the rooftop, where he knew you could find him, Banri just decided not to go to school altogether.

Being the voice of reason among the Hana High boys, Sakuya reprimanded him for it every single time, but Banri waved away his concern—insisting he’d still be at the top of his class despite being a truant. But of course, slipping away from Sakuya’s wellspring of concern wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

“Banri-kun.”

He was just about to shut the front door when Izumi’s I-know-you-did-something-so-you-better-fess-up voice greeted him. Banri felt a chill run across his skin, the director harboring an uncharacteristically pissed off look on her face.

“Hey, director-chan,” he managed, trying his best to skirt away from you. “Um, I gotta—uh, take a quick dump. Is someone using the—”

“What is this I hear about you playing hooky?” She narrowed her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. “I thought we agreed that you’d cut that out already.”

That damn Sakuya.

Banri fell silent for a couple of moments, standing his ground against the almost-glare that Izumi was sending his way. But after a few moments, he felt her stringent gaze ease up.

“Is something the matter?”

He sighed. How the hell was he supposed to lie through his teeth when Izumi used her mother hen voice?

“It’s nothing,” he insisted. “I just...I don’t—ugh. Someone’s been avoiding me and I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Izumi blinked, not expecting for him to cave so easily. Nonetheless, she offered up a reassuring smile, patting the younger boy’s shoulder soothingly. “Well, I don’t know what’s going on but I’m pretty sure you won’t solve any of your problems by avoiding them, too. Have you tried talking to them?”

“Talking…?”

“Yes, talking. You know, the thing you do when you want a certain point to come across to another person?”

That incited a soft laugh from him, shaking his head. “Who knew you could be a funny guy, director-chan? The Summer Troupe might just recruit you.”

Mustering up a laugh of her own, Izumi rolled her eyes. “I’ve dealt with men like you in the past, you know. Based on experience, you wouldn’t have half the problems you have now if you just talked it out with the person concerned.”

“You’re not talking about the old man, are you?” Banri teased with one eyebrow raised.

Her reaction had no delay. “S-Sakyo-san has nothing to do with this!”

As Izumi flung the front door open in her haste, closing it behind her without a glance his way, Banri shook his head with amusement. He didn’t even drop any names. Nonetheless, the director’s piece of advice echoed in the back of his head even when he was already lying in the comfort of his own room.

Blue eyes peeked from behind the curtains draped across his window as he watched the sun slowly dip into the horizon. Banri briefly wondered if you were witnessing the same thing.

“Talking, huh…”

“Settsu! There you are, you little fiend.”

His first day back (again), and the first person that met him at the gates was the guidance counselor, Azumi. Banri waved a quick farewell to Sakuya and Masumi before begrudgingly dragging himself to his teacher’s side.

“Did you miss me, sensei?” he joked, hoping to lighten up the mood. “I bet it’s gotten quiet since I—”

“You’re on marshal duty with the student council. They want a tough guy like you to round all the troublemakers up.” Azumi didn’t even bother scolding him anymore, merely handing him a red bandana with the word MARSHAL hastily scribbled with a black marker. “You can meet (Surname) at the council room so she can give you the breakdown of duties. Go on, now. Everyone’s doing their share for the school festival.”

Now that he’d mentioned it, Banri just noticed all the students milling around the courtyard. Some were carrying props to a makeshift stage in the quadrangle, and others strung decorations on the entrances to the school buildings. He’d been so caught up in his own sulking that he forgot about the school festival.

“Sure thing,” he responded with some semblance of enthusiasm as he pocketed the bandana.

Banri made the trip to the council room at a leisurely pace. He wasn’t at all in a rush, given that, despite the time he’d spent away, he still had no idea what to say once he saw you again. A bitter part of himself insisted that he didn’t have to go through all the trouble, since he didn’t seem to mean anything to you in the first place.

When he twisted the knob, muttering a quick greeting to whoever was present inside, he was surprised to see that you were the only one occupying the council room right this second.

You were nose deep into some paperwork when you spoke to him without looking up. “Oh, Kasumi, when you get back to the stage—”

“I’m afraid I go by Settsu, prez.”

The startled look that painted itself on your face was so comical, Banri had to resist the urge to pull out his phone to snap a picture. For a few moments, the room was plunged into thick silence as you gawked at him like he’d just grown two heads. Had you stared any longer, Banri would have used it as an opportunity to slip in some sly remark, but instead, you shot up from your seat—pacing the short distance that separated you before engulfing him in the warmth of your arms.

Banri let out a startled noise, internally panicking. What the fuck? Why the hell were you hugging him? But he couldn’t resist the urge to reciprocate your affections, shakily returning your embrace in spite of his embarrassment.

“Weren’t you avoiding me?” he muttered.

You flinched away from him, and he noticed the moisture that gathered on the lines of your lashes. A brief shot of guilt lanced through his chest. Did...did he do that?

“You’re the one who suddenly just disappeared after... that,” you sniffled, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand.

Banri breathed in sharply, reaching one hand up to brush your face with delicate fingers. “You were so cold to me the day after. Here I thought I was just a one-time thing for you.”

“Shut up. I just...didn’t know how to react.” You untangled your arms from his lean frame, curling your fists over his chest instead. “I even asked if you were coming over again, didn’t I?”

He found himself smiling fondly at the petulant look you sent his way. No one was as adorable when you made that face. With a familiar flare of courage surging in his veins, he leaned down to ghost his breath against your jaw—delighting at the shiver that racked your body.

“Do you want me to make it up to you?”

Your breath hitched somewhere in your chest, but the slightest tug you made on his clothes was all the confirmation he needed. Without warning, Banri switched your positions—nearly slamming you against the door to the council room as he braced his palms against the vertical surface. You winced at his urgency, seeming like you were about to tell him off, but he claimed your lips in his before you could utter out a single word.

The helpless whimper that you muffled against his mouth shot straight to his core, making him groan in approval when you tangled your fingers in his silky hair. Banri unknowingly pressed his knee in between your legs, forcing them apart as he continued licking into your mouth. The breathless calls for his name made this little escapade all the more dizzying; making him yearn for more.

Banri didn’t even count how many kisses it took to satisfy you—the only things filling his frazzled brain being the addicting plumpness of your lips and the sweet scent of your hair. (He wasn’t kidding about the last part. He’d have to ask you about your shampoo some other time.) And he would have continued ravishing you against the council room’s door had it not been for the three subtle knocks that reverberated from the other side.

“(Surname)-senpai, the vice prez is asking for the complete class lists for the second year students,” a gentle, feminine voice called out.

Your eyes widened in a panic, and Banri could only let out some muted chuckles as he lazily latched his lips on the column of your throat—nipping at your skin with a smirk.

“I-I left the folder with Secretary Ame. Could you look for him for me, Kasumi—hah!”

Oops. He didn’t mean to bite down that hard.

“Senpai, are you okay?”

“Y-Yes! Please don’t come in I’m—um, changing!” Banri had to admit that you sounded quite convincing there. “I’ll join you guys in the courtyard a little later.”

“Hm? Alright, if you say so.”

As he practically felt the relief wash over you, Banri breathed an airy laugh against your skin before wrapping his arms around your waist—tugging you closer. “Nice save, prez. You were almost subjected to the scandal of a lifetime: Hana High’s goody-two-shoes student council president caught in the act with the local delinquent. Now that’s a headliner.”

Chuckling at his whimsical words, you leaned up on the tips of your toes to plant a soft, fleeting kiss on his lips. Banri immediately felt his face flare up with heat.

“If it’s you I wouldn’t mind.”

Banri knew that people say things they don’t mean all the time. Even he did that to others. But even when the two of you had become engrossed with keeping everything in line for the school festival, those last few words you shared with him in the council room haunted him for the rest of the day.

Omitting the part that he was doing it with you, the person who was only second to Azumi-sensei in setting him straight, this whole thing was a pretty sweet deal. He’d come over to your place every now and again to “practice” kissing, and that was one more addition to Banri “Easy Mode” Settsu’s ridiculous repertoire.

Although, he’d failed to factor in one thing before agreeing to your proposal.

You almost always had your house to yourself—the reason behind it being your parents often working late into the night. Banri didn’t mind, since the last thing he wanted was to be chased out of the house by an angry father wielding a kitchen knife. But there were times, much like this one, where he wished someone would barge into the door to personally kick him out. To yell some sense into his thick skull, because when you fell asleep on his shoulder while both of you lounged in the living room, he couldn’t help but stare.

He’d gotten so accustomed both the tough demeanor you showed him in public and the needy look in your eyes in private, that Banri didn’t think that he would still be surprised by new sides of you he was yet to discover. That realization only set once he observed how vulnerable you looked—trusting him enough to fall asleep in his company. Not that you had a reason not to. He was just a little... touched was all.

It’s been a good few weeks since you’d agreed to be ‘practice partners’, and Banri was beginning to think of the crunching days left before graduation. He used to be so ready to just get high school over with since it was boringly easy. But that was before he’d joined Mankai Company; before he let the student council president ruffle his feathers like this.

And with each shallow breath you drew, Banri counted all the times he began to think he was falling in love with you.

It was natural, wasn’t it? To catch feelings for someone he’d invited so close into his personal space? Sure, the two of you kind of did everything backwards, but you at least liked him enough to keep him around. It wasn’t too outlandish to maybe ask you to take...whatever your current relationship was to the next level, right?

Banri’s thoughts were thwarted when you stirred from your nap, gazing around the room with drowsy eyes as you asked him what time it was. He told you it was nearly time for him to leave, since the guys from the dorm might start looking for him, but with a hesitant whine, you snaked your arms around his torso.

“Can you stay a little longer?” you asked, and Banri had to physically look away from your pleading eyes. Goddamn it. You were pretty even after you’d just woken up.

Relenting, he let out a long sigh, praying Sakyo wouldn’t gut him for going home so late again. Banri tilted his face to plant a chaste kiss on the crown of your head, inhaling the familiar scent of sweet flowers in your hair.

“Just five more minutes, okay?”

“Please, I...I need you.”

With his mind suddenly zipping back into the present, Banri feels the way his heart thunders in his rib cage. He must have made a face because the arousal in your eyes tethers back into reason, a question hovering above them.

“I…” Banri runs out of words before he can even fathom any. Because how the hell can he just say, I need you, too but I’m bound by my own moral principles not to do this until I’ve told you I’m in love with you without scaring you off?

He wants to pretend that he only sees you as a practice partner and nothing else. That he definitely doesn’t look at you with a yearning that he shouldn’t even harbor.

But even if he’s an actor, there are just some things he can’t fake.

Then again...you’re (Surname) (Name). The adorable girl he’s been fooling around with for the past few months. The student council president who climbed up his little private space on the rooftop with the strangest proposal that fell on his ears.

(The same person who weaseled her way into his heart.)

He’s almost too sure he knows you well enough to expect you not to run away from him.

“(Name)...” The syllables tumble from his mouth so naturally, he feels like he never called you anything else before. You blink up at him, the blueprint of pure innocence that you are. He falters for a moment, questioning his own gamble, but when you say his name once more, Banri recovers his resolve.

“There’s something that you need to know.”

“Banri-kun, we’ll be late for the ceremony!” He can hear Izumi calling out to him from the gates, the urgency in her tone telling Banri to hurry it up. But he’s a little preoccupied in the garden at the moment.

“One sec, director-chan!” he yelled over his shoulder before turning back to Tsumugi. “These are good enough, right?”

His fellow troupe leader nods at him, sporting the kindest of smiles. “Yup. Honeysuckle flowers complement cosmos really well. I didn’t know you had an eye for flower arrangement, Banri-kun.”

“Not really,” he laughs, bringing the hastily put-together bouquet to his nose. Banri inhales the sweet scent he’s caught on your hair several times in the past. It took a little convincing, but you eventually told him what shampoo you used.

“Honeysuckle,” you said, going red in the face. “What are you even going to do with that information?”

Banri scrambles back onto his feet, adjusting the ribbon pinned to his blazer while he cradles the flowers in his arms. He does a few weird poses in front of Tsumugi before asking, “How do I look?”

“Strange. Why are you wearing the proper uniform, necktie and all?”

He nearly yelps in surprise when you emerge into the garden, arms crossed over your chest where you stand right next to Sakuya. Banri sputters a little, making a pathetic attempt at hiding the bouquet from your view as he asks Sakuya what the hell you were doing here.

“No one expected the prez to come over, Banri-kun,” Sakuya swears, stifling a few laughs. “She came on her own accord.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow at Banri, peering behind his back. “Is that for me, Settsu-kun?”

The way you still address him makes his shoulders sag, and Banri grumbles as he hands you the flowers. “Is it so difficult to call your boyfriend by his first name?”

As expected, your face immediately colors itself scarlet at the mention of him being your boyfriend. He doesn’t blame you. He has to tell that to himself over and over so he wouldn’t think he was still dreaming, too.

“F-Fine,” you huff, caressing the vibrant blooms with a gentle finger. “This is really thoughtful of you, Banri-kun. I love them.”

“Anyone else you love?”

You pout, and both Sakuya and Tsumugi let out their own bouts of laughter. Before Banri can gloat about your flustered reaction, your little moment is interrupted by the sound of someone angrily pounding on a car horn. From where he stands, Banri can see Sakyo fuming in the driver’s seat of his car as Izumi placates him outside. Sighing, Banri spares Tsumugi a minute nod before seizing your free hand. You squeak in surprise, but you don’t jerk your hand away either.

“I’m waiting for an answer, prez,” he teases.

Rolling your eyes, you crane your neck up to place a swift kiss on his cheek.

“I love you, Banri-kun. Happy?”

Elated, he thinks to himself, but instead presses his lips to your forehead.

“I love you, too.”

#a3 #a3!#act addict actors #act! addict! actors!#settsu banri #banri settsu #a3 fanfiction #a3 headcanons #a3 x reader #banri x reader #welp i just did this #i blame the wonderful prompt generator my friends gave 2 me #((smooches banri #i lovw him

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