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storiesoflilies · 10 months ago

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Of Angels and Curses

Synopsis - In a world where Angels and Curses are locked in a never ending war, an unsuspecting seraph becomes entangled with the very thing she is fated to eradicate.

Pairings - Curse!Toji Fushiguro x f!Angel!Reader. Curse!Ryomen Sukuna x Reader. Angel!Satoru Gojo x Reader.

Warnings - General descriptions of violence and injuries, eventual smut.

A/N: I will be editing Chapter 1 as I’m not really happy with the format of it. I will let you guys know when I finish doing that, but there won’t be any major changes, just some more details here and there. I’m still getting back into the swing of writing again! Anyways, enjoy this chapter and let me know your thoughts :) Ko-Fi.

Next part — Chapter 3

-•-

Chapter 2

From that moment onwards, Y/N’s life was almost never her own.

Gojo dove straight into his duties as her soon-to-be husband; he ate with her, fought alongside her, and prayed with her every night before she slept. If customs didn’t dictate otherwise, he probably would have bathed with and slept beside her too. It was obviously to bond with her, to know her and create more intimacy outside the ties of marriage, but Y/N would have preferred them to continue the way they had before; right up until their vows were promised, and their names written together in between a cluster of stars to form a new constellation.

Was that delaying the inevitable? Perhaps.

He also started sparring with her, which Y/N had otherwise done with Nanami ever since Geto was promoted, and was intensely invested in training her himself. Gojo was desperate, it was obvious from how his eyes gleamed dangerously every time she misstepped, every time she fumbled into him; and Y/N didn’t know how, or why, but she knew it had everything to do with Geto.

“You need to be stronger than before because of who you are now,” Gojo said, looking far too calm and collected, a tense facade, as he looked down at her heaving with exertion. “Even if you’ll never fight without me.”

That particular morning, after yet another gruelling session, Y/N had been too exhausted and in agony to even descend and fight. Gojo had taken it upon himself to cover her duties for her, and so she stood there on the grassy plains of the training grounds after he had disappeared; using up all of her mental willpower for her knees not to buckle to the ground in front of the other seraphim. There was immediate pressure on Y/N following her engagement, Angels she’d known her whole life now avoided looking at her directly, their voices shaking with reverence if they so happened to speak to her. Her new role gave her power, but expected it returned tenfold; she was expected to be an apparition, an untouchable deity that was always composed and poised. Y/N felt their heavy gazes upon her all the time, daring her to give in and fall, and felt a flash of rage course through her that settled into its usual constant underlying discontent.

Why did she feel so much anger? Was it her soul protesting its dismay over her choice to marry Gojo, it’s grief manifesting as constant rage?

How could she feel a loss so deeply for someone she’d never even met?

“He is pushing you too hard,” Nanami’s familiar voice commented from behind her, snapping Y/N out of her inner turmoil.

A sour look was plastered on his face, but there was genuine concern in his hazel eyes; a warmth in them that he never cared to admit he had, but it was there, like a candle flickering determinedly as a reminder it was still there. Nanami had still stuck to his same routine, sparring with other Angels during her sessions with Gojo, which meant he had clearly been observing every part of her new regime. It wasn’t that Gojo was cruel to her, there was just simply no way Y/N could keep up with or even reach an equal level to his power, but she understood why the Nanami thought he was. She had no special powers of her own; her wings were just large enough to fly herself, and she barely controlled any divine power – but just enough to smite her enemies. However, her physical strength and weapon proficiency were her strong suits, which was why her and Nanami were a powerful duo that often worked together on the battlefield; they were nearly equal in terms of raw talent, two becaming one when they drew swords together.

“I’m getting stronger,” Y/N answered back, her face slightly scrunched up with pain as she started to take small steps forward. “And I have to be, I’m going to be his wife.”

Nanami said nothing at this, and walked alongside her in silence as they headed back to Gojo’s tower. She was grateful for his solid presence, it was reassuring in case she stumbled; they’d already seen each other at their worst, it didn’t matter what she did now. They passed through the grand doorway of the tower, and Y/N immediately hurried towards a padded chair in the main common room as the last of her resolve crumbled away into dust. Nanami closed the entrance doors behind them, shielding them from the outside, and since there was nobody in the immediate vicinity, Y/N could safely let out a large sigh of relief as she melted into the chair. She heard the clink of glass and a pouring noise, and her eyes drifted over to see Nanami offering her a clear glass of water.

Y/N murmured a thank you as she cradled the glass. He turned away from her, looking out of one of the windowed marble archways at the passing seraphim, with his hands held pensively behind his back. Like the rest of Gojo’s tower, the common room dripped with obnoxious opulence; intricate tapestries and paintings decorating the walls, all of them depicting ancient great battles between Angels and Curses. The numerous seating arrangements were made of oakwood, with velvet padding for comfort, enabling many to sit throughout the room. Warm sunlight filtered through the marble archways, basking the room in the light of the midday sun, and a slight breeze tenderly kissed Nanami’s golden hair.

“Always so deep in thought,” Y/N teased as she slowly sipped her water. “Don’t you have other places to be?”

“It can wait, I just wanted to stay and make sure you’re alright,” he replied, still not looking at her. “As I said, he is pushing you too hard.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Besides, you’ve wasted enough time accompanying me home when you need to be out.”

“You’re obviously in pain, you think I was going to risk you falling and crawling back undignified? Absolutely not, I have respect for you that has been there even before Satoru proposed.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that. Nanami respected and acknowledged Gojo’s supreme strength and value to the Angels, but he was never fond of his character. He believed the Six Eyes was obnoxious; completely unaware of the wide effects of his influence and power, and lacked true empathy for anybody outside his inner circle. She had hoped her engagement would make Nanami more partial, seeing as how it was her own choice to become tied to Gojo, but it obviously wasn’t working – and maybe it never would.

The pair settled into a tranquil silence as they watched the day go by; her own time, a rare moment without Gojo infiltrating it, or anybody else coming to her for decisions on wedding preparations – not that Y/N was actually in charge of anything, it was more a courtesy to let her know what was to be done. She was aware how harsh she sounded, as if she couldn’t stand Gojo just like Nanami couldn’t, but that was far from the truth. She just wanted to stay in silence, peace and quiet, with someone choosing to share her space with as an equal rather than consume it; perhaps Nanami understood that without ever having to hear it directly from her lips, she always did underestimate his compassion and intuition for others emotions.

It didn’t last long.

“Ah Nanami, so good to see you!” Gojo’s voice called out from the entrance, announcing his return with a great clap of his hands as he joyfully traipsed into the tower. A number of his followers filtered in behind him, like honey bees following the scent of their queen.

Satoru Gojo carried no weapons during battle, as his divine power was wielded through his hands, and they had to remain as free as possible. His silver and gold armour gleamed in the sun, not a single drop of Curse blood offending its cleanliness, his hair tousled and wild from battle; and he walked with a swagger, his entire being oozing confidence, completely untroubled by the weight of the world. Y/N felt a spark of pride, a sense of awe that crept up on her suddenly when she lay awake in the dead of night unable to sleep.

Of all Angels, Gojo is going to be my husband.

“I’ll take my leave now Gojo, I was just ensuring your future wife is well,” Nanami quipped, but still respectfully bowing his head at Gojo, while sparing a glance at Y/N with a much softer look.

Gojo’s smile never faltered, “You have my thanks, I’ll take care of her now.”

Nanami nodded to her as he left, and she smiled at him. She hoped he knew just how much she appreciated his unwavering solidarity for her, and how much she missed him; fighting alongside him was like singing a song only the two of them knew the words to, safe and familiar. Gojo sat beside her, holding his hands together as if he was anxious, and his smile dropped completely.

“I’m sorry, are you alright? I didn’t mean to push you so hard,” Gojo asked, worry evidently lacing his words. It was strange, like he didn’t know how to handle her anymore, and she realized this new dynamic was as foreign to her as it was to him.

“It’s ok Gojo,” Y/N said as reassuringly as she could, squeezing his hand in a comforting gesture. “I know I need to do this.”

He immediately perked up at her touch, ethereal eyes twinkling with just a hint of mischief. This was something she had learned during their time bonding together; Satoru Gojo instantly responded to physical affection, and returned it intensely. It had taken sometime to adjust to, because it was something she never thought to expect from him, but Y/N felt that wide crack in her soul grow smaller with every one of his embraces; as her doubts drifted away, his cooling aura drawing her into him like a prayer.

“You’re already far better than you were a month ago, you’ve been working hard,” he praised, leaning back into the chair as he tenderly swung his arm around her. “I think I might be a good teacher you know?”

She giggled, a delicate tinkling noise, “Of course, shall we go and eat something so we can do it all over again?”

“Ah good idea! You stay here, I’ll bring some food for us,” Gojo chuckled, brushing his temple into hers, stray hairs tickling her forehead, before getting up and sauntering towards the food hall.

Y/N sighed when he had passed out of earshot, her weariness and frustration returning at the thought of having to exert her limits once more. How much did Gojo had to have pushed himself to become limitless? Or was the Six Eyes born limitless, unable to comprehend how much a single Angel could be stretched before snapping? Would he ever come to understand when he became her husband, and would she ever uncover the sheer magnitude of his power when she became his wife?

She was overwhelmed, but marrying Satoru Gojo was never going to be easy.

You have to get through this. You made your choice.

Y/N heard his familiar footfall approaching and quickly composed herself.

“Here we are!” Gojo exclaimed as he carried two plates laden with food, plopping down beside her again and handing her a plate.

They dug into their meal whilst discussing their wedding, the newly appointed Sky Sentries, as well as their mutual concerns about the increasing number of deeper layer Curses emerging. More of Gojo’s followers entered the tower, relieved from their duties as the sun sank further down the sky; casting shy glances towards them despite their obvious exhaustion. At the start of their engagement, Gojo had thrown menacing glares towards anybody lingering within earshot of them conversing, and the seraphim had quickly learned to leave the couple alone. Y/N discerned that it was part of his unwillingness to let any Angel be privy to a even a slightly deeper side of him, as if it angered him to give a piece of himself to anybody he didn’t deem worthy enough.

“Don’t you think it’s strange, that this is finally happening to us?” she asked after some time, their meals long since finished and lighter conversations passed.

“What, us getting married? It took me long enough to ask,” Gojo replied, an easygoing aura to him that seemed to only seemed to come out the longer they spent time together.

Y/N smiled nervously, twisting her fingers as mustered up the courage to ask, “Well, what made you decide then?”

Gojo’s eyes darkened, his ease falling dramatically like a heavy cloak, and he looked away. He didn’t seem inclined to answer, and she internally scolded herself for asking when she probably wasn’t ready to hear the answer, or never really needed to know.

“I don’t want to just be the strongest,” he finally said, looking at her but not directly into her eyes; like she was playing the part of the benevolent apparition. “Geto thinks that’s all I am, and that’s all I’ll ever be, he said so the last time I saw him. I want to end this war, but I don’t want our entire existence to be about it. I want to build a legacy that’s not just about my power, and you’re the only one left I care about that I want to build that legacy with.”

She froze.

So… I’m just a means to an end?

“It wouldn’t matter if my soulmate was here right now either,” Gojo continued, looking at her intensely. “I never planned to marry anybody else but you, I only trust you now.”

“You wouldn’t trust your own soulmate?”

“No, I don’t know them. How can I have any trust?”

Y/N nodded silently, mulling his words over in her head. She was unsure of how to respond, and Gojo didn’t seem to want to converse anymore; he was all taut, his muscles pulled tight and ready to lash out if he didn’t find a release soon. And so they sat together watching the day turn into night, until he was summoned to fight once more.

-•-

She woke gasping for air, her body fighting back from returning to land of the living as the warm tendrils of her dreams begrudgingly released her from their grasp; still whispering to her of delightful vengeance, promises of pleasure and freedom, and pain. So much pain. Y/N frowned, her fingers splayed across her bare stomach, a familiar shard of loss tearing through her.

Why is it so cold?

She felt like she’d experienced this a thousand times before, her heart aching from an age old ailment that could never be healed. Her soul was floating downwards and out of her body, just like the Angels fleeing from their punishment of sinning, but forever doomed to remain experiencing it over and over.

A prompt rapping at her door pulled her from her state of limbo, snapping her soul back into place.

”I hope you slept well,” Gojo greeted, the door only slightly ajar to preserve her privacy. “Nanami and I are waiting outside for you, come join us when you’re ready.”

Y/N composed herself, the coldness dissipating almost as quickly as it came, and hastily donned her armour and sheathed her katanas. Gojo’s urgency was unnerving, as well as the fact that Nanami would be there as well. She huffed, shaking off the remnants of her dreams from her shoulders, displeased from her lack of knowledge. The street outside was shaded in the shadow of the towers; the sun still not yet high enough over the city to cast the light of the dawn over Heaven. Gojo was lazily stretching his thick arms over his head, not a care in the world, and Nanami stood looking away from him – not looking particularly pleased.

“Good, you’re here!” Gojo exclaimed as he noticed her, instantly interlinking his hands with hers.

“What’s all this about?”

Gojo looked at Nanami expectantly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Nanami sighed, already tired of having to repeat his tale like a mysterious storyteller. “I picked up the start of an odd trail yesterday just before nightfall, and so I couldn’t pursue it. I requested that you and I track the Curse that left it.”

“Naturally, I have to accompany you both on this,” Gojo interjected, earning a scowl from Nanami. “I swore to protect Y/N from any harm. Besides, this is a good opportunity to see you both fight, I’ve heard you’re a formidable pair.”

Without skipping a beat, he placed a hand on her and Nanami’s shoulders, and Y/N sucked in a breath as her psyche was stretched across the Unlimited Void. She wondered if Nanami was fighting to keep his mind closed from the Six Eyes prying, or if he even cared to shield himself; Nanami was simply incapable of sin, he was too in control of himself. On the other hand, Gojo handled her soul with more care in the Void; still overwhelming as before, but his essence didn’t control her so much – she had some freedom to take in the infinite space around her.

Within seconds, they were standing at the edge of a charred forest; the air thick with smoke and dust, leaves of the trees long since been burned away, and only their remains stood bent and broken like the bones of spindly skeleton. A lone mountain loomed overhead, spewing ash as if it was preparing to spit down on them. Y/N hated that initial breath on Earth, it reeked of death and sulphur – the smell of Curses and Hell that could never be washed away.

“Ahhh, isn’t this so much nicer than descending through all the gates?” Gojo remarked, his nose turned up as if he too was offended by the smell and ugliness of the burnt forest.

“Descending through the gates is a mark of respect for those guarding it,” Nanami murmured, taking in his surroundings. “I heard you spent much of your power during last night’s battle, this seems like an unnecessary expense of your energy.”

”Bahh, nothing I can’t handle.”

Y/N ignored them and crouched down, concentrating hard to visualize the lingering energy imprinted in the soil. Viridescent wisps flickered in and out of sight, settling into a singular writhing root that seemed to extend from deep within her core. She knew this energy; it was like rediscovering long lost ancient knowledge from eons past, only to find that she’d never really forgotten it in the first place.

She pointed a finger towards the forest.

”There, do you see it Nanami?”

He nodded, and Gojo towered over her from behind as he studied the trace too.

”This energy… have either of you ever felt anything like this?” He questioned, his excitement palpable like a child unwrapping a gift.

Gojo didn’t skip a beat before answering anyways, “The only kind of Curse that leaves energy traces like this are their Kings. I’m guessing maybe a Third or even Second Layer King has left these.”

He was unnaturally giddy, nearly bursting with glee at the prospect of unbridled violence; the outlet for him to finally unleash himself upon. Y/N sprang up and stepped back from him. A Curse King hadn’t been killed in centuries, they rarely emerged from the depths to fight at night, much less during the daylight; surely Gojo didn’t think there was one running rampant on the Earth at this very moment?

“Gojo, you can’t be serious.”

“I am, let’s see if we can hunt it down. There’s a chance it mightn’t have descended yet.”

Gojo motioned with his head for them to follow, and he set out at a brisk run through the forest. Y/N understood why Nanami didn’t waste time yesterday trying to follow its tracks; the energy followed no clear pattern, as if the Curse had sprung up from the Hells just to jump around for the fun of it. Nanami and her kept a similar pace beside each other, while the Six Eyes forged on ahead like he was on a warpath. Perhaps it was Nanami’s previous comment, but Y/N noted Gojo seemed… erratic. When was the last time he properly slept, or even ate? That wild look in his eyes promised savage violence against his prey and anything else standing in his way, and she pursed her lips with worry; was he really in the right mindset to fight a Curse King?

The landscape barely changed as they traversed the forest, burnt trees were all that was left from the destruction of Curses. It would have once been a mighty forest lush with life, but now there was only death to be seen for leagues and leagues as far as Y/N could see. Sadly, most of the Earth was scorched, and almost nowhere safe from Sukuna’s reign of fire and terror. What little life that grew were in various Angel strongholds scattered leagues and leagues from each other, and even then it wasn’t more than a pitiful bunches of daisies destined to be crushed underneath a soldiers boot. The strongholds were placed as closely as possible to areas of high Cursed activity, known points from which a large volume of Curses ascended from Hell; places the Angels could launch their attacks on emerging threats. They finally reached a clearing in the forest, a tombstone of burnt earth over what should have been vibrant grass, as the sun climbed to its midway point in the sky. Gojo stopped abruptly, his knuckles cracking loudly.

“Nanami, can you detect any traces?” He inquired, his evident frustration complimented with an irritated expression on his face. It was a last ditch effort, almost useless – if the Six Eyes himself couldn’t trace it, nobody else could.

Nanami said nothing as he sidestepped Gojo’s wings, blue eyes flashing wildly upon his white feathers, and observed the ground as he tread farther on ahead, disappearing from view. Y/N moved to stand in front of him, peering up at him with worry.

“Satoru,” she whispered, tilting her head to encourage him to look at her.

His eyes flitted down to her, uncaring. “Hmm?”

”I don’t think it’s here anymore, the Curse must have descended.”

”Tsk, maybe you’re right. It doesn’t matter, that thing won’t live through the night. I’ll hunt it when the sun sets.”

Y/N smiled, knowing well enough that he would keep his promise.

A black flash sliced through the air.

Their blood spilled from a sword buried to the hilt through both their midriffs.

White hot pain coursed through her.

And then, a tidal wave of raw energy crashed over her as she stared at their assailant behind Gojo.

And stared.

And he stared right back at her.

It was a Curse, but he looked much more like an Angel would. He was tall and handsome and made of rippling muscle, like the waves of the sea during a storm; radiating just as much powerful energy, charging the air with a brutal force that demanded attention unlike anything Y/N had ever felt before. His black hair fell over deep forest green eyes that pierced right through to her soul, forcing another shockwave of his energy into her; and she took it gladly, maybe even eagerly, greedily. He glanced from her to Gojo then back to her, as if trying to figure out who they were to each other, and his eyes widened a fraction at her as he loosened the grip on his weapon ever so slightly.

She knew who he was.

She’d seen him a thousand times before this moment.

That dangerous gleam deep within his irises were so familiar to her, promising her violent delights full of sin that only he could deliver.

Y/N knew him from dreams buried deep within her soul; she’d walked with him through the ages, through time and space itself.

She was so deep in their trance she barely felt Gojo’s hands on her shoulders, and before Y/N could register anything he was pushing her away from him. His blade passed through her once more, her blood bursting forth from her mouth and gushing wound, and she collapsed to the ground as there was a blast of blue energy. Y/N weakly raised her head, her vision clouded with black spots, and her ears rang loud and true like the bells in Heaven. Still, she could make out Gojo standing defensively in front of her, and the Curse crouched some distance ahead, his head bowed and raven hair obscuring his facial features.

Her heart beat faster; the weaves of fate had finally been tied together, and there was no escaping it now.

”You’re fast, but something’s off with you, King,” Gojo sneered, his palms poised and ready to unleash his power once more.

He rushed forward at the Curse, and Y/N screamed as she was carelessly flung back through the air from the backlash of energy as both Angel and Curse clashed together in a flurry of slashes; the sky sporadically lighting up with hues of red and blue. Her head smacked into a tree trunk, vision nearly completely blackened now, and more blood trickled down her face as Y/N sensed her wing bones were crushed from the collision; making sickening crunching noises as she hacked up more blood.

What is happening?

Y/N felt his confusion, overwhelming rage that could have set fire to her soul, and perplexing elation that disoriented her.

Their bond had set, her soul was complete; and she knew what it was he wanted.

Oh God help me, he’s in me.

Run. Now.

Gojo’s voice reverberated painfully through her head, and Y/N grunted and gritted her teeth as she willed her vision to return, but was barely able to move herself. She screamed in agony and anger, trying again, her wound threatening to tear her in two as her legs managed, albeit shakily, to keep her upright. Her head swam as Nanami’s face engulfed her field of vision, sharply inhaling in pain as he pressed his hand onto her stomach while shouting something to her. His words were muffled, she couldn’t make out any clear words, and her eyes drifted behind him. Y/N couldn’t see neither Gojo nor him. She felt Nanami sling her arm around his neck, hoisting her from the ground as her head rolled forward and panic gripped her like a vice.

“Nanami, no,” she heaved, shaking her head wildly, her vision and hearing clearing only just slightly. “Nanami.”

“We need to ascend, you can’t fly can you?”

She shook her head again. Nanami’s wings were just like hers, large enough to fly himself but not enough to support another beings weight, and Gojo was too distracted fighting to send them back to Heaven through the Void.

They were both stuck until the Six Eyes won his battle.

“Nanami,” Y/N sobbed, her words a blubbery mess, “That Curse, I can’t-.”

“Don’t worry, Gojo can handle it. We need to get to safety, otherwise we’ll be killed in their crossfire.”

“No no no Nanami, no. The Curse, it’s - he’s - my soulmate. I can’t leave.”

Nanami halted, “Are you quite certain?”

Y/N could only nod, and Nanami paused to look back over his shoulder, “You’re too injured, we have to go.”

“Nanami, please. Please!” She begged, gasping as she tried to dig her heels into the earth, flailing against his strong hold on her.

Nanami looked torn as he gazed down at her with such pity, as if he shared her heartbreak and pain, and murmured, “Y/N, I can’t help you. I can’t fight the Six Eyes. He’s too strong for either of us.”

Y/N shuddered as her limbs gave out, her head rolling forward. Would she feel it when Gojo ended his life, her soul ripping from his like tearing flesh from bone? Nanami hoisted her up again, apologies falling from his lips like prayers as he carried her farther away from him.

“Well well, seems like you Angels come in threes! How unbelievably lucky!” Both of them looked up sharply at the figure chuckling in front of them; undoubtedly a Curse, its energy rhythmically pulsating from it, enveloping them in a mist of negativity and hopelessness. It had a strange shade of long silver hair, even stranger haphazard stitches all across its body, and mismatched coloured eyes that glinted with fake sympathy that masked a malicious intent.

Nanami set Y/N down gently as he unsheathed his blade.

”Hmm, I wonder if killing three Angels is considered lucky too?” It pondered, almost childishly considering an answer to its own question.

Nanami didn’t hesitate after that.

He launched towards the Curse, swinging his blade in a great swooping arc. The Curse giggled and crossed its arms to block the attack; lilac energy sparking off from where the blade hit it.

”You’re strong!” The Curse exclaimed cheerfully, wonderfully naive. “This is going to be such fun.”

Its unsettling gaze fixated on her, and Y/N tensed in fear; she was far too vulnerable, unable to defend herself if it decided to come at her. Nonetheless, her bloodied hands reached for her katanas.

A flash of anger, his anger.

The silver haired Curse tore its gaze from her as Nanami took another swing at it, and they danced together in a deadly whirl of his blade and lilac fists of cursed energy; neither of them able to land a proper blow on the other. Y/N staggered backwards as it reached out to her, gripping her katanas defensively as Nanami grabbed it by the leg and, with a great display of strength, flung it backwards and away from her. Y/N frowned as three small oddly shaped clods flew through the air, and thudded at her feet.

Instantaneously, they all erupted into life.

She barely had time to react as they metamorphosed into grotesque Curses, snarling and spitting unintelligible words, and she slashed at the closest one to her. Another barrelled into the right side of her, knocking the wind out of her, and she stabbed her blade into it as she was pushed into the dirt. The last one seemed to be waiting for her to make a move, swaying back and forth on its hind legs like a disfigured frog, babbling yes yes yes! over and over again. Y/N sliced its clawed hands, the severed limbs flying through the air, and brought down both her katanas through its head. Her heart hammered in her chest, life force rapidly draining as her blades slipped from the hilts sullied with her spent blood.

Perhaps they were both meant to die today. Maybe they were meant to lock eyes upon each other for the first and only time, and then shut them forever as their souls passed on to the next world. But was there any version of the afterlife where they could be together? He was a Curse, she was an Angel, and God hadn’t made a paradise for them to co-exist.

What was the point of it all?

Her pain was dulled now, her heart slowing. Her legs finally failed her and sent her to the ground, her blood pooling around her.

“Y/N I’m here, don’t give up.”

Nanami was pressing a hand down on her stomach, and Y/N’s broke for him. Half his body was severely burned, pale pink flesh rippling in the sunlight; his armour and wings in tatters, as his blood dripped from an empty eye socket onto her face. He looked haunted, desperately fighting a lonely losing battle of holding onto both their lives, the inevitable mercilessly creeping forward like hungry rats ready to devour them.

”Nanami, go,” she mumbled, pushing against him weakly.

She didn’t notice the crown of silver behind him until it was too late; the Curse placed a hand delicately on Nanami’s exposed flesh, as if caressing a blossom that threatened to fall apart.

Still, Nanami smiled at her like he was seeing her again after a long time.

No no no.

”Y/N, I’ll see you again. You take it from here.”

And then her golden haired guardian burst into nothingness right in front of her eyes; showering her in a cooling mist of his blood, an almost soothing farewell.

Time stopped.

Y/N took a deep breath in, her weak body rattling in shock as tears rolled down her cheeks, and the Curse kneeled in front of her.

“There there,” it cooed, and she closed her eyes, shuddering in disgust as she felt it stroke the feathers of her wings.

“Just end me already,” she rasped, a last cough sputtering out as she spoke, her final display of whatever strength she had left.

Defiance… and his desperation.

The Curse cocked its head at her, as if it was the most bizarre thing she could have said.

”Why? Your soul has the strength of more than one, it would be a waste.”

It wrapped its hands around her neck, smiling softly at her as Y/N’s eyes fluttered open and searing heat spread across her back. The sky started to seem farther away, like it was shrinking. No, the Earth was crumbling away underneath her, like she was sinking into her own grave that kept on extending further and further. The Curse stayed put on top of her, a hue of bright red appearing behind it as the last glimpse of the Earth faded away into nothingness.

She succumbed into darkness after that.

-•-

205 notes · View notes

that1emowitch · 25 days ago

Note

here me out

AU where instead of doing the whole red hood thing, jason just stays with the all caste. he finally meets the batfam when the justice league is facing a threat and need the help of the all caste. could be pretty good angst, since it directly disproves every shitty thing bruce said about jay, and bruce realises that his son was alive like way later than in canon

also it's a crime that jayessence basically doesn't exist, there are 11 fics on ao3. i want jayessence and competent!jason pls

That'll be so interesting, ur right! I'm definitely gonna go read RHATO issues again so I refresh my memory (if there r any other issues with the all-caste story PLEASE lmk cuz i have a very tumultuous love/hate relationship with RHATO lol)

I think Jason would've been happier, with the All-Caste. Talia would've visited him when she could (let's make her a mom not a pedo), Ducra would've trained him in every single war form she knew, putting hum on a path to surpass even her

Essence and Jay would've been her top students (if u don't mind, could u pls give me a lil recap on what Essence's story is? I kinda got confused in that part. Was she banished? She's one of the Untitled, technically, is she not? I don't rmbr 😭)

But basically, Jayessence! I've never read a fic about it or written one, but I've always thought it was an interesting dynamic! It'd be fun to try writing it out. Maybe I'll make a happier AU, where Essence and Jason train together under Ducra, both of them named her heirs. That kinda makes them play-fight with each other which ends up with them kissing. Oh god Jason would be so smitten by her, he'd pretend to be annoyed but he knows she's a goddess, knows she could kill him in a blink, knows his blade could kill her—but they both choose to love. AAHHABSBSHS I'm dying

Then the Untitled attack.

I love Ducra so much, she's their BAMF Granny, so let's not kill her. Maybe instead, she is kidnapped, in hopes of getting Jason and Essence to surrender (They know these two could destroy them). And at the same time, the Untitled are also attacking JLA outposts, for a reason I'll come up with later. Bruce remembers, back when he trained under the League, Ra's mentioning evil beings of this type, immortal and unstoppable by all but the All-Caste. Hence they seek their help.

And with Ducra gone, Jason and Essence are in charge, and they have to meet with the JLA—with Batman, Superman, and WW, specifically.

Jason makes sure to cover himself completely. Puts white nose generators in his mask and chest plate to ward off Supes. Makes sure to double, triple check his voice modulator. He cannot risk them finding out his true identity.

Not when he's finally recovering from his past as Robin.

I'm imaging they work together for a while, with everyone noticing the Red Hood (would he still be called Red Hood, if he never returned to Gotham? Maybe? Maybe he was reclaiming it, as a way to heal himself instead of for getting revenge) basically everyone notices RH being antsy around Batman. The amount of effort he puts into concealing his identity, unlike the other members of All-Caste. His name being Joker’s old name, something deeply meaningful to Gothamites.

Batman thinks RH is a reformed Gotham villain, who he's dealt with before. He thinks that's why RH doesn't ever face him, doesn't look him in the eye. He feels bad for him, but is strangely proud (just feel like mentioning, the thing about Batman is, he cares SO MUCH. About everyone. He feels sorrow when they lose themselves to their insanity, feels guilt over it. And he feels pride when they bounce back, grow better, like Harley Quinn did.) Like, this man, this absolute machine, clearly well honed and trained, who seems more than capable of taking on the entire Justice League by himself. Clearly he has experience.

Essence helps Jason through it. Soothes him at night when he has panic attacks, because his Dad is two rooms away from him. Helps him cope. Helps him calm down.

Then one day in some battle, one of the Untitled fatally injures Jason, and Batman is the only one nearby. Batman takes a hasty decision, rips Jason's mask off to save him.

And freezes.

That... that's his son. He looks older, more scarred, but thats... that's his SON!

(ALSO another addition: when they find Ducra she's like "uncuff me, and I'll show you just who Essence and Jason learnt from" BAMF!DUCRA FOR LIFEE)

Sorry for the rambling I just kept getting ideas and I kept writing lol

I promise I'll write this as a proper story as soon as I can, thanks so much for the ask! As usual, lmk in the comments if you'd like me to tag u in updates, also feel free to share any ideas u have! I'm just writing what yall want to read that makes me happy hehe

#note to self: write this later #jason todd #batfam #batman #red hood #all caste jason todd #justice league #fanfic #essence #ask

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90shaladriel · 15 days ago

Text

AI Manipulations of Rings of Power. (Longish)

Saw the AI edits of Haladriel scenes being altered by GenAI to make the characters* kiss. I have seen chatter about it and the negative implications of creating or interacting with AI generated content.

At the risk of being nuanced, (feel free to block or scroll past this) it interests me what exactly is the concern with it and why. To be clear, I do work in an industry that is both working to incorporate and profit off AIs while simultaneously my own job is increasingly at risk by the same products or we are forced to use them for productivity reasons.

Some reasons that make sense to me that you would not want AI content would be

1. Legal and copyright infringement of the ownership of the art or source material used to train the AI models. Stolen work, no credit or payment to artists

2. It’s generally shitty, sloppy, uncanny valley. Which aesthetically I think most people would be against

3. It directly competes against manual labor of a human, devalues work, replaces jobs, or floods the market so creators never can be separated, investment in a skill or art form isnt worth it.

4. It extremely energy intensive, the environmental implications can he huge with the climate crisis.

5. Its being shoveled in our faces by overhyped tech bros because they think its cool and can find gullible investors for, like NFTs and crypto curriencies

6. Deep fake abuse with AI, making up fake news, abusing a real person image in a degrading way without consent.

I think all of these are serious issues with AI.

The stuff that was shared about Sauron and Galadriel kissing does it materialize those concerns? I’m going to assume that it may for the first one, legal and copyright ownership of training data. Im not a lawyer, and there are also some AI models trained on legally owner content or public domain / open source content. I have no way of knowing what models were used by the GenAI that made those haladriel kisses, so we probably have to assume they may have questionable provenance, and I think by that alone we should boycott those.

Now what if someone used a more solidly vetted model or genAI service without those legal issues? What if the artists do get paid or some form of royalties?

The kiss videos themselves were ok, maybe halfway believable, there were obviously the weird uncanny ai artifacts and stuff. It’s objectively worse than if ROP had actually filmed a kiss with live actors in the show proper. But who am I to judge whether that slop is aesthetically pleasing to someone else or not? Sometimes I have found AI art that is truly bizarre in that this is too weird surrealness quality like looking into a dream while being awake. I’m not sure that this feeling is necessarily wrong to enjoy on its own.

Regarding the AI replacing jobs argument. I suppose it depends what we mean. They were never going to remake ROP Season 1 or 2. Morfydd and Charlie won’t be offered the same role if another company were to buy the rights and make Rings of Power reboot. We will never get those kisses on screen. Maybe you can say that if people were fed content for Haladriel you could give them that almost infinitely by GenAI and then those people would be less likely to consume or pay for some other newer media that might otherwise give a satisfactory ETL with backstory and build up equivalent to what ROP has done with Haladriel? I’m not sure how to weigh that, it might be true? I tend to think these AI kisses arent replacing any creative workers in the film/tv industry. I don’t think we say that fanfic reusing known characters competes with original written stories (or do people argue this?) although i suppose it does on some level. Do people boycott fanfiction?

Along these lines, what about the actors consent and deep fake aspects? Personally, I don’t see how the AI images are more offensive or harmful than fanart which uses the actors depictions to do all sorts of things, stabbing, killing, kissing, screwing and everything and everyone in between. Or fan edits which use clever editing and overlay soundtracks with pointed lyrics which completely change the artistic intent of the actors /creatives who made the original in a particular way, say make two characters have a romantic chemistry that wasn’t there in the original? Or even the old photoshop manipulation stuff? I thought we’re ok with this in the fandom world, is this that different?

I’m not saying I like AI or you need to. I probably wont interact with it and try to avoid it personally wherever I can. But I do wonder if the arguments people are making against ROP AI edits are actually in good faith? Because then i question why other kinds of fan creations are acceptable?

#the rings of power #ai manipulation meta #rop meta

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positivelybeastly · 2 months ago

Note

Welcome to the first Installment of

Goat’s Gremlin Gibber-Jabber

(Hell yeah alliteration)

Hi, I’m currently at work at the moment but I’m on a break now and I wanted to share my thoughts because I got to about an issue in the 20s of astonishing X-Men. I believe the last issue that I read before my Internet decided to say no more, had Kitty saying it’s not like it’s written in stone, flash cutting over to it actually being written in stone.

The reason why I mentioned my work is because my mind tends to wander a lot because it’s a very muscle memory job rather than using brain power, so it wanders and you know I’m currently on the thought train of feline Hank as discussed earlier.

BUT I was just noticing a thing of the similarities in 97 with astonishing X-Men especially the portion with Emma Frost. because it really depends on the material with her secondary mutation of how it occurs. and with Astonishing X-Men there’s that moment where it’s revealed Cassandra nova I believe, altered her to have that sort of secondary mutation because of the genocide on Genosha. It’s not EXACTLY the same in 97 but her secondary mutation wasn’t a thing in the og series till 97.

Cuase there was the genocide on Genosha and there’s Emma being one survivor with her secondary mutation popping up and, that kind of makes me think “oh is there a possibility that we may see feline Hank animated” is it like a possibility because in that storyline if there’s any sort of connection to that storyline which I might be reading into too much but I can only hope it’s just the possibility that we may be able to see him like that.

Cause yknow I was talking about him in his feline form to my rp group and A lot of them did not know about that.I had to explain that and that’s the reason why I did my thing on my blog because of my love for feline Hank.

Cause initially I had noticed that when they introduced Trish Tilby. I knew about her after my initial watch so when I went back I really realized who the reporter was because she kind of slipped out of my mind immediately name wise, but realizing that because she had the thing with breaking up with him, and I don’t like her for that, but whatever. It just lead me to go, “Oh that was the first clue on a possibly feline Hank.”

I really hope it is but then reading astonishing X-Men. I see that connection with Emma and it makes Hope even more that we get to see him animated. I just MMMM feline hank.

Hope you enjoyed my extreme ramble that was mostly Speech to Text cause I had to get it out of my mind immediately else I’d lose it.

Goat’s Gremlin Gibber-Jabber is an S-tier name for a recurring segment, I'm here for this.

So, the secondary mutation is absolutely on the cards, because secondary mutations, as introduced, can just happen.

The two best known instances are Emma Frost's, as you mentioned, and Hank McCoy's, and they happened extremely close to one another - and despite what Cassandra Nova claimed, she had nothing to do with Emma's secondary mutation. Emma's mutation happened out of luck and trauma and pressure.

And it happened . . .

Interesting.

Notice the little blue fella to the right of Professor X in the comic panels? Yeah, Hank is already in his feline form by this point. '97 has already started adapting storylines, directly quoted, outright lifted panels, from the stories where Hank is feline. He's absolutely on the board.

So, the question then becomes, well, what triggered Hank's secondary mutation?

Uh. Well.

He nearly died.

Now, granted, Sage is not in play in '97, so her ability to jumpstart mutations isn't on the playing field, but frankly, it isn't really required, as demonstrated by Emma. You don't need anyone to trigger a secondary mutation, it will just happen by itself - when the right situation arises.

So, literally all we need is for Hank to die, and come back to life.

. . . Which, you know, cheery thought. But it also means that the '97 team can just do it - honestly, I was watching Hank get the living shit beaten out of him during the first part of Tolerance is Extinction like, oh, is he gonna pop? Is he gonna pop? It's on the board now. We're adapting these storylines.

All it takes is for someone on the writing team to take enough of an interest, to want to dive further into Hank's character and develop him.

I'm also heartened to see that you've fallen as in love with feline Hank as I have! He's honestly the version of Hank that I have the most experience with, the one that I grew up reading in the comics, and the sheer amount of depth and complexity inherent in his character, the wild bipolar swings between chattering wit and utter despair, the bon mots and the dumb jokes, the dysmorphia and the bleeding heart, it's such a potent stew of a character that I really do wish it had just been his permanent status quo going forward.

Thank you for the ramble, it was honestly a joy to read. <3

#goat-bones #outofmuffins #blood tw #explosion tw #genocide tw

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fsfghgee · 1 year ago

Text

You know, Bi-Han is a cold person, not a machine. He got feelings just like everybody else. And he's hurt by his brothers, especially Kuai Liang for the betrayal

Bi-Han may have made bad choices, but everything he does is always in the best interest of all those he cares about: His clan and, believe it or not, his brothers.

When he broke his oath of defending earthrealm, he wasn't being selfish, self-centred yes (since he no longer cares about Kuai's opinion...), but not selfish. You can't even see him talking about himself, It's always "us", "our" and "we". I'm sure that Bi-Han just wants what's best for them. And he doesn't wanna kill his brothers! He's just hurt because of their betrayal. And why shouldn't he be? They didn't obey his orders, they have rebelled against him, they formed another clan, they revealed Lin Kuei tactics and training to outsiders, they angrily threatened to destroy the Lin Kuei...

Bi-Han to Kuai Liang: Your rebellion stings.

He is hurt. They hurt him and he is talking nonsense in some intros because of it.

But at no time he threatens them with death. He isn't a coward and doesn't fear them. So why wouldn't he just say directly to them that he'll kill them, if kill them is his true intention?

I'm sure that Sub-Zero and Quan Chi dialogues were written with their temporary alliance in mind, It's too inconsistent and if you compare them with Shao/Sub-Zero and Sub-Zero/Shang Tsung dialogues, they are pretty much the same (in meaning):

They were the closest thing he had to a friend, Kuai was his best friend and brother, without him he just had his allies to vent. You can't take these "threats" seriously. If Bi-Han wanted his brothers dead, he would say it directly to them, but he doesn't say such thing at no time.

And we can't forget, he's not relying on them anymore, his new initiate (which is just a bunch of robots and an armor like iron man's one, built by Sektor) is the sequence to his plot and his plans of elevate the Lin Kuei, so I guess we will have a better insight into the Lin Kuei organisation in this new era.

He wants the sovereignty of his clan, he wants his brothers back, either by choice or force. That's why he's gonna attack the wedding.

He miss them, but he'd rather die than admit it.

Bi-Han: Heed your Grandmaster!

Kuai Liang: I will not betray our principles.

Tomas: Are we to be enemies for life?

Bi-Han: Unless you submit, Tomas.

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helionpegasus · 1 year ago

Text

ceilings part 5

Azriel x Reader

masterlist

summary: Reader always had vivid dreams due her Seer heritage. But things take a twist in her life when she wake up in a world that is not hers and the loving male that were always in her dreams shows to be very different from what she known him to be.

warning: none. but let me know if you find anything :)

words count: 1979

author's note: we're baaaack! now things will start happening more quickly and i'll try not making it too slowburn haha. i'll also include my personal theories in the story. anyway, hope you like it ❤️‍🩹

A whole month had passed.

The dream with little Azriel never happened again, and you didn’t know if this was good or bad. Because it wasn’t the only one to disappear, all the other dreams you used to have did.

All that surrounded your mind was what could that possibly mean. You came to Velaris because of those dreams, so it’s logical that you must need them to go back. So the possibility of not dreaming ever was starting to get the best of you.

The Shadowsinger being so wary of your being was not helpful at all. Once you talked about it with Nesta and she only said that “He’s like this. It’s nothing personal.”, but it feels extremely personal to you.

How he would stop talking about something once you enter the room, or send a bunch of his shadow to follow you through the House of Wind, and even look at you in a weird way during dinner.

Today you woke up to the rain pouring outside, the thunder humming low. When you enter the dining room to have breakfast, you find Nesta there, with a cup of tea in hand and a book in the other.

“No training today?” You ask sitting across from her and already putting a piece of strawberry pie that you found to be your favorite thing in this world.

“Headache. I’ll take the day off, since dealing with Cas and Az the whole day would only make it worse.” She said, taking a little laugh from you. You can’t even imagine what it was like to work with both of them.

“Well, today seems like a good day to relax. I don’t think the rain is gonna pass too soon.” You took the last bite from the pie.

“You’re right.” Nesta sighs. “I’m gonna give myself the privilege I didn’t have for so long: Spend the whole day in bed.”

“You deserve it!”

“Thank you! See you at dinner.” She took the last sip from her tea and exited the room going directly to the main hallway.

Unlike Nesta, you weren’t feeling so useful lately. So you think the best decision was to take your cup of tea to the library and continue your search, which you started last week but ended up in nowhere.

The floor you use to study wasn't much visited, you assumed the first time you went there. Even after having your presence for a whole week handling books and discovering shelves, all of them still have a layer of dust. And maybe the people who live here simply didn’t hold a curiosity in learning Prythian history, you thought that it would be a better option than the fact that this floor was so close to the darkness under it.

After hours of hard searching, because you are dealing with history and most of the books were written in the oldest language, your mind gets tired of it. Your tea was no longer hot and your eyes hurt from reading.

When your mind starts questioning if it was lunch time already you felt the presence. His presence. You could ignore how much it makes you uncomfortable, like you have been doing for all this time. But, today you were tired of it.

“You know I can feel when you are spying on me, right?” You say closing a book. Your back is still fronting him. “I’m just saying that, in case you didn't know, I think it would be good the information that I knew you were there all those times.” Then you finally turn to face him.

Azriel tried to not show the shock in his eyes, since this was the first time something like this was ever happening. He decides to stay silent, trying to form a sentence that wouldn’t make him sound like a stubborn child.

“Look, I don’t know what you have against me. But I already said a bunch of times that I’m willing to answer any question you have and I also said that Rhysand or Feyre can look in my mind if they want to.” You said looking into his eyes, hoping that he could see the truth in them.

You never stop being surprised with how his eyes could be so different looking at the same person. You.

“I don’t trust you.” He simply said.

Those words cut deep that you wanted to. With his low voice echoing in your head.

“Well…” You start, still gathering the right words to say and not betray how hurt you felt. “If I could help to change that, you certainly know where to find me.” You gave him a small smile that did not reach your eyes, and left the library not in the mood to continue your research anymore.

Azriel went straight to the River House after the quick conversation. Calling Rhys through his mind to an emergency meeting.

“You should look through her mind.” Azriel said when they entered the High Lord’s office.

“We already had this conversation a million times, Az.” Rhys says massaging his nose bridge. “She never was suspicious and never made any harm to any of us or the court.”

“Yet.”

“For Mother’s sake, Azriel.” Rhys rolls his eyes.

“I’m just saying that I think we should treat her like any stranger that enters the court out of nowhere.” Azriel said firmly with his opinion. “We gave her a roof the first day she came here. We don’t know anything about her, and I think this decision can put us in danger.”

“I wouldn’t make a decision to put any life in this court in danger, Azriel.” Rhysand's look was not friendly anymore. “And I don’t know what is happening with you lately. This is not the first time I say that you are having weird behavior.”

The Shadowsinger still remembers every word they shared in this same office in the first week you spent here.

“I’m just worried.” Az's voice was calmer this time. “I have noticed some things about her that I found strange.”

“And what would it be?”

“She can sense me around while I’m still hiding in the shadows.”

“She always had a weird connection with your shadows, we’re all working with that and she included.”

“Right. But I noticed that during her first nights, she disappeared.”

“What do you mean?”

“When she went to sleep, she just disappeared for a few hours and then came back still sleeping. She did this for two or three nights and never did it again.”

Rhys was processing the information Azriel just said, his mind working on how she was capable of doing that on the House of Wind, a place that you could not winnow in or out.

“I can ask if she gives me the permission to look into her mind.” The High Lord says. “But if she doesn't, I will not force her to do so.”

Azriel let out a sigh of relief, only nodding at his friend before leaving the office.

You weren’t expecting a reunion today. So when Nesta knocked on your door saying that everyone would meet in the living room, you needed to take time to fix yourself.

Everyone was already there when you arrived, and Feyre invited you to sit by her side.

“You must be wondering why we decided to do this unplanned meeting.” Rhysand says and you only nodded in confirmation. “We all want to help you to find answers and we need answers as well…”

“You want to look into my mind.” You finish his sentence.

You couldn’t keep your eyes from looking at Azriel for half a second. Remembering the convo early this morning.

“I’m only doing this with your permission and firstly, if you are comfortable with it.”

“You can look at it.” You look into his eyes, transmitting all the confidence you could gather.

Rhys took the spot in the chair in front of you. The first thing he did once he entered your mind was make himself present. He could be sneaky if he wanted to, you knew that from other experiences with Ruhn even if he only entered to communicate.

“I’ll show you everything and some things may need an answer. But I would prefer to answer all questions you may have privately.”

“You have my word.”

And you showed him everything.

The first of your dreams, the work you have been doing with your friends in Crescent City, your life with them and the University. Till what happened the day you came to their world, the fight with the strange creature and your last dream.

“The creature that attacked you was a kelpie.” Rhys said once he left your mind with all the information he needed.

The atmosphere of the room that was thick with expectation suddenly turns into shock and worry.

“A kelpie? In my world they look very different.” You say mostly to yourself.

“What do they look like?” Nesta asks to you.

“They are species that belong to the House of Many Waters. They are shapeshifters that appear mostly as a black horse and sometimes in a human form.”

“If those things were supposed to look like humans they are in the wrong shape.” Nesta says remembering her own fight with the creatures. That got a fit of laughter from everyone in the room.

“Thank you for showing me, (Y/N). Now that we have more details, maybe we can help you more.” Rhys said, offering you a soft smile.

“Since everyone is here, we should all take dinner together.” Cassian says and we all agreed.

“I will take Nyx and be back.” Feyre says going to the balcony with wings already appearing in her back.

“We can talk now if you want to.” The High Lord offers and you give him a nod.

He leads you to the private library of the house. Much smaller than the one the priestesses work, but as beautiful.

You both sit on a couch near a window. You loved every view of this place, because Velaris was beautiful in every angle and every weather.

“I put a sound barrier and a shadow barrier, so we can talk freely.”

“What do you want to know?” You ask the male in front of you.

“You only dream with Azriel specifically, do you have any idea why?”

“No. I’ve been waiting for this answer and a bunch of other ones for a long time too, but the only one answer was learning his name when I arrived.”

“I’ve dreamed with Feyre before we met each other too…” He says with an expecting look that makes your cheeks warm.

“You think we are mates?” Rhys only smiles. “Well I bet that your dreams with Feyre were not like those, and I am certain that she wasn’t from another world.”

“Well, you’re right. But that can still be a possibility.” He took an invisible dust from his pants. “Warn me if those dreams return, we see what we can do to help.”

“I’ll let you know.”

“Also, Azriel commented to me that you disappear while sleeping. Do you have any explanation for that? Because people weren’t supposed to be able to winnow from here.”

You gave him a questioning look. A million questions going through your mind.

“Disappear? I don’t have the power to winnow.”

“He said that it happened on your initial nights.” Rhys was also confused. “You don’t remember exiting in the middle of the night?”

“No. Those nights I only dreamed.”

Then Rhysand started to connect all the points. He also didn’t see you in any other place besides your dreams, so you disappearing did not make sense. And he would know if you manipulated any of the memories.

The fact was that there were only dreams. Vivid dreams.

“I think that your dreams are where you disappeared to.”

taglist (overlined users i couldn't tag): @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @valeridarkness @his-sweet-nightmare @leeknows-wife @mich0731 @kristalhi @marina568 @brekkershadowsinger @cafe-inaaa @lovierhys @kenmaisacinnamonroll @alt-ghost @marigold-morelli @thelightnddarkness @amysangel @thecraziestcrayon @fall-myriad @a-court-of-milkandhoney @hungryforbatboys @elizarikaallen @allison-rosewood-maximoff @gamarancianne @weirdo-fun @tsumsamu @myheartfollower @acourtofmarvels @sunshine-and-midnight-rain @act1839 @reareaikea

if you asked for being tagged but it didn't happened, please gentle remind me :)

#acotar #azriel acotar #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar imagine #acotar fics #azriel

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blackwidownat2814 · 2 years ago

Text

Magical Mystery Ride (J.Seresin)

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x plus size!reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x librarian!reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Garcia!reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x latina!reader

Word Count: 4719

A/N: This was written for @roosterforme's Love Is In the Air challenge. The song I chose was John Legend's romantic hit, All of Me; it's what inspired the title! Thanks once again to the incomparable, amazing, sweet @jobean12-blog for her help beta-ing and letting me bounce ideas off her when I'd get stuck.

Trigger Warnings: Bob has an accident that isn't described. Jake has an accident that is described. Depressed Jake. Negative feelings of self-worth. I know absolutely nothing about comas because I am not a doctor.

‼️⚠️I do not give permission for any of my work to be copied, translated or reposted anywhere else but on my own blog.⚠️‼️

Masterlist

You didn’t think you’d be back here so soon. The pale cream walls of BMC MCAS Miramar taunted you as you made your way down the hall. Everyone had just been here a few weeks before when Bob had been recovering from a training accident. You weren’t privy to the details of said accident, but all you knew was that Jake was directly at fault.

And even though Bob forgave Jake, the guilt was absolutely crushing him.

You hadn’t been to see Bob in the first couple of days after the accident because you knew he was going to feel overwhelmed with the squad, Mav, Penny, and quite a few others checking on him. You sent a ‘Get Well’ gift with Mickey and you texted with him regularly. When you finally went to go see him, you heard Jake’s raised voice.

“How can you say that to me Bob?” Jake snapped. “How can you forgive me for that stupid mistake when it almost cost you your life?”

“Jake, did you do it on purpose? Did you do that with the express purpose of killing me?” Bob asked quietly. You could hear Jake stammering, like he was so appalled that Bob would ask him that and he just couldn’t form an answer.

“Hell no. Of course not!” he cried. “I may act like an asshole, and tease you like we were kids in school, but I’m not that guy. You’re one of my favorite people, man. Dewey loves you like you were another brother, and I love her, so…”

“Then why shouldn’t I forgive you?” Jake didn’t respond, so you made some noise to alert them you were heading their way.

You walked into Bob’s hospital room with a smile and went to greet him first.

“Hey Bobbers, how are you feeling?”

“I’m getting there.”

“Good.” You gave him a kiss on the temple and turned to see an expressionless look on Jake’s face. You pulled him into a hug, which he seemed less than enthusiastic to return. “Jake?”

Jake wouldn’t look at you. His eyes focused on the floor.

“I, uh…I’m gonna go now.”

“But J-” He swept out of Bob’s hospital room without so much as a ‘goodbye’ to either of you. You were staring at the doorway your boyfriend had just walked out of when you heard your name being called, your real name. You went and took a seat at Bob’s bedside.

“He’s just beating himself up over what happened. Jake’s one of the best–don’t you ever tell him I said that–and so when he messed up, and someone got hurt, it threw him for a loop.”

“I just wish I knew how to help him.”

“Just give him time Dewey.”

You gave him time. Everyone did. Bob was released several days later, and Jake wouldn’t look him in the eye when Bob (once again) told him that he forgave him.

“I mean it Jake”, Bob said. “You don’t need to hold this over yourself. You didn’t do it on purpose. I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t.” Jake picked up his things and turned back towards him. “You shouldn’t forgive me. I ruin every good thing I touch.”

That’s the day it started…at least, that’s what Bob and the others told you. Jake started to be more reckless with his flying. Jake was no longer dripping in confidence to which everyone was accustomed. Mickey would tell you that he appeared to lose his confidence, in his abilities to be the best and just about everything else.

You saw it too, if you were lucky to see him. When you did see him, he barely held you; at first it was just holding your hand and kisses at the corner of your mouth. It eventually whittled down to no touches or kisses at all. He barely acknowledged you, except for saying ‘Hey’ when he noticed you were around. You knew what was happening: he was pulling away.

You did everything you could to show him that despite his mistake, you still loved him and you always would. Jake wouldn’t accept that, however, so you decided not to push anymore. You’d be there when he was ready, but you wouldn’t push because you knew that would only drive him farther away.

You stood in the doorway of Room 2188, watching the gentle rise and fall of Jake’s chest. His sister, Lauren (Jesse and Isla’s mom), was sitting with him

“You know, Jake, the girls miss you. They keep asking when they can see Uncle Jake.” She sniffled a little before continuing. “So I’m going to need you to wake up. For them, for me, for Leslie, for Coyote and all your other friends…but especially for your girl. I know you love her and she loves you. You miss him somethin’ awful, don’t ya, Dewey?”

You hadn’t realized she knew you were there.

“Very much”, you replied. Lauren stood as you walked over and hugged her. “Any change?”

“None.” You could see she was tired. She’d spent the entire night at the hospital since you weren’t allowed to. You and Jake weren’t married so you weren’t ‘family’.

“Go get some rest. Get you a shower and something to eat. The girls are probably tired of Rooster and Coyote. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

“I think it’s more the other way around to be honest.” She gave you a big hug before gathering her things to leave. “Thanks Dewey. We’ll get our Jake back soon.”

“I hope so.” Lauren shut the door as she left. You leaned forward and kissed Jake’s hair since his face had several bruises that you didn’t want to aggravate. You sat down in the chair Lauren had been occupying and reached forward for Jake’s hand. You made sure to avoid touching his side, where he was still healing from being impaled by a piece of debris (he had been lucky because the piece of jagged metal had missed major organs).

Before you could speak, there was a knock at the door and Dr. Bast stepped in.

“Hello Miss Garcia. How’s our favorite librarian today?” The doctor’s English accent was soothing and helped calm your nerves.

“Ok as I can be Doc.”

“That is quite understandable.” Dr. Bast picked up Jake’s chart and started reading over the notes made by the night nurses.

“So, any theories as to why he hasn’t woken up yet?” you asked.

“Unfortunately not. While he has no swelling in his brain, he did get thrown against the ground harder than we would like, so that’s what caused the traumatic brain injury, therefore the coma. It could’ve been worse, had he not been wearing a helmet.”

You looked back at Jake, and brushed the hair from his forehead. “I need you to come back to me cowboy, okay? Please.”

“Don’t worry Miss Garcia, your lieutenant will be alright, even if I can’t tell you when. He’s improving each day.” Dr. Bast smiled at you from the other side of Jake’s hospital bed. “Just keep talking to him, he’ll hear you.”

“I always thought that was a myth.”

“Patients may not hear every single thing, but they still hear you. Anyways, I’ve also got a surprise for you: You’re being allowed overnight stays with Lt. Seresin.”

Your head whips around to the doctor.

“Really?” He nods and you shoot out of your seat to pull him into a hug. “Thanks so much Dr. Bast, I really appreciate it.”

“It was nothing. Now, I’ll leave you to it. We’ll be back to check on him later.”

You resume your post next to Jake’s bed once again, but you suddenly couldn’t stand the quiet, so you switched on the tv and were deep in commentary about a movie you were watching on Netflix called Set It Up (“You know, if you look real close at when Charlie and Harper are having pizza, you can see the exact moment he falls in love with her, I swear!”) when there was a knock at the door and your brother and Reuben stepped in.

“Hey hermanita.”

“Little Garcia.”

You stood and both men gave you almost bone-crushing hugs and pulled up chairs.

“Thanks for visiting guys.”

“Of course. We needed to see how Jake was doing”, replied Mickey. He took a deep breath before continuing. “But we also came because we wanted to talk to you.”

“Fanboy, maybe we shouldn’t–”

“She needs to know man”, Mickey said, cutting off his pilot.

“But–”

“Guys! What are you talking about? What do I need to know?” you asked as you looked at your brother and Reuben.

“About the conversation we had with Jake the day of his accident.”

“What did he say Mickey?”

“You have to understand, he felt like shit after what happened to Bob. All of us could see he’d lost confidence in himself and he wasn’t flying like we all know he should’ve been…”

“You need to get out of your head Hangman, or you’re going to make my sister a widow before you can make her a wife.”

Jake felt the hurt of that comment in his spine. It had been so long since Fanboy, or anyone for that matter, had said his callsign with such disdain, so it only piled on the hatred Jake was already feeling for himself. It also didn’t help that he’d taken Fanboy to lunch to ask for his blessing to propose to Dewey a few days before Bob’s accident.

“Well, maybe she’d be better off without me. I was the reason her best friend got hurt, and he could’ve died”, Jake said. No one had ever heard him sound so defeated. “Besides, I know you never liked me for her…” Fanboy sighs.

“Jake…man, that’s not what I sa–” Jake cuts him off.

“You thought it though.” Fanboy was getting increasingly worried as the conversation continued. “Maybe I should just go. I’m probably only going to fuck up her life.”

“Jake.”

Before Jake could reply, he heard a horrible sound coming from his jet’s engines and alarms began going off in the cockpit. He heard Payback and Fanboy calling out to him.

“Hangman, what’s going on?!”

“Is it a bird strike?” he heard Fanboy call out over coms.

“No, there’s something wrong with the engines!” Suddenly he heard another grinding sound and then his left wing was on fire.

“Hangman! Eject!” Maverick’s panicked voice came through his headset. “Eject!”

“Extinguishing left engine!” Jake went through the process of trying to quell the fire in the engine, when an alarm went off signaling the failure of his right engine. “Damn it! Extinguishing right engine!”

“HANGMAN! EJECT NOW!” Memories of the day of Phoenix and Bob’s crash years before played through Jake’s mind as Maverick screamed at him. He tried starting the engines once more, if only to gain a bit more altitude so he could eject safely. That did the same as it had when Phoenix tried it and it sent Jake’s Super Hornet spiraling.

Jake pulled the ejection handle and flew upwards as his jet made impact and exploded, sending debris flying at him. He cried out in pain as he looked down to see a piece of metal sticking out of the left side of his abdomen.

And because luck was not on his side, a gust of wind sent him careening towards the ground. The impact was enough to knock him completely out and as the darkness crept into his vision, his last thought was of you.

“...and if that hadn’t happened, he probably wouldn’t be in a coma”, Mickey said. You had tears streaming down your face by the time Mickey finished (an abridged version) of his story. Your brother and Reuben pulled you into a group hug.

“I’m sorry Little Garcia”, Reuben said. “I know he’s going to be okay. He’ll be back to normal, showin’ us all up in no time.”

“I hope so Reuben”, you replied. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No problem hermanita.”

Mickey and Reuben stayed a couple more hours, eventually leaving only because they had training to get to.

Eventually, Dr. Bast returned to do his nightly check on Jake, so you went down to the cafeteria to pick something up for your dinner.

The doctor was gone by the time you got back, so you settled in the chair and flipped the tv on just so you had something on in the background. After dinner, Bob and Phoenix stopped by for a quick visit after training and dropped off a small bag of your things that Mickey had put together for you.

After your best friend and his pilot left, you decided to get ready for bed. After Mickey’s story earlier, you felt emotionally drained. It was when you were about to start your face care routine that you got an idea. You put on your headband and grabbed the extra and left the bathroom to see Jake.

“I’ve decided that we’re going to have a spa night cowboy. Now, I know you hate my cat ear headband, but you’re unconscious so you have no say. Got to keep all that glorious hair out of the way you know.”

You slipped it on and then went to the bathroom to do your cleanser. After patting your face dry, you grabbed a package of face wipes, moisturizer, and a jar of eye masks and placed them on the small hospital bed table.

Before you began anything, you opened Spotify on your phone and pulled up your Liked Songs playlist and tapped play. The soothing tones of Henry James’ It’s Been A Long, Long Time started flowing from the speaker (it being the song that played on your drive to the hospital). After setting aside the phone, you popped open the package of face wipes and carefully wiped his face clean.

Henry James segued into John Legend’s All of Me, one of your favorite romantic songs. You started singing along quietly as you twisted open the jar of eye masks, and carefully place one sparkly patch under Jake’s right eye.

'Cause all of me

Loves all of you

Love your curves and all your edges

All your perfect imperfections

Give your all to me

I'll give my all to you

You're my end and my beginning

Even when I lose, I'm winning

After you put down the patch under Jake’s left eye, you put the eye masks on yourself, sat down next to Jake, and put your hand in his. You continued singing along, and it got to the last verse when you felt a squeeze. The song was immediately paused and you turned to look at your pilot.

“Jake? Sweetheart?” His face showed no signs that he was waking, and his heart monitor was a steady beep. Maybe I imagined it? you thought to yourself. You were looking at your hands when you saw it happen. It felt like the hundreds of movies you’d seen where the unconscious person heard something and they magically woke up.

So, you watched and waited.

Nothing happened.

“Baby, can you turn it down?”

“Why does my face feel wet?”

“Where am I?”

“Dewey, why are you crying? I can hear your crying.”

“Wait…why can’t I move? Why can’t I open my eyes?”

“WHAT IS GOING ON?!”

Unfortunately, you were not privy to Jake’s inner turmoil. You didn’t hear him calling out for you as you pulled the headband and eye masks off his face, tossed them into the trash can, pressed the call button.

It was a few minutes later when you heard a knock and Jake’s night nurse (who’d introduced herself earlier), Nurse Jo, stepped in.

“Everything okay, love?”

“Uh…um, he squeezed my hand.”

“Now, are you su–”

“I know what I felt and what I saw. He squeezed my hand. Twice.”

“I’ll page Dr. Bast.” She noted your shining eyes and came over and placed a calming hand on your back. “Don’t worry, love. He’s going to be okay. If anything, this was an indication that he might be coming out of the coma.”

“I hope so.”

You texted Lauren to update her on what was going on with Jake, because you needed her to know immediately. You had just put away your phone when Dr. Bas came in.

“Jo, what have we got?”

“Miss Garcia informed me that Lt. Seresin squeezed her hand twice.”

“Are you s–”

“100%.” You cut him off. “I saw it happen.” The doctor looked Jake over some more, before he typed up his notes in Jake’s file.

“I cannot, with absolute certainty, tell you why he squeezed your hand. It could be random muscle spasms, it could be something worse. However, it could also mean that he’ll be waking up soon. I’m hoping it’s that. For now, I’ll have the nurses increase their checks on him, as well as I’ll come a few extra times each day if my schedule permits.”

“Thank you so much.”

“I will caution you, however. When he wakes up, it usually comes in stages. This isn’t like the movies where he’ll open his eyes and automatically remember what happened, who you are or who he is. He’ll most likely be suffering from post-traumatic amnesia, which would account for his potential memory loss and he could also become restless and agitated. So it’s best to not take a lot of what he says in the first hours or days to heart, it’s just his brain rebooting.”

“Will he remember all that? The time right after he wakes up?”

“I couldn’t tell you for certain. It’s different with every person. But also, none of what he says, if he even does, is one of those ‘this is how feels deep down in his subconscious’ type of things. Like I said, don’t take any of it seriously.”

You looked over at Jake and ran your hand through his messy hair.

“Is there anything else I need to keep an eye out for?” you asked without looking back over at Dr. Bast.

He explained a few more things before he and Nurse Jo left the room. You called Lauren and let her know everything the doctor had told you. After you finished the call, you put on Spotify again (on random), and by some weird chance, ‘All of Me’ started playing again.

You smiled as you set a sleep timer and grabbed a pillow and blanket to get comfy in your chair for the night.

Lauren arrived the next morning, just in case.

Jake showed no other signs of waking up.

The next day was almost the same. Except that Bob, Rooster, and Coyote came to visit and Lauren told them what Dr. Bast had told you. At first, everything was normal. But when Rooster started talking, Jake squeezed your hand. You failed to connect the two incidents and didn’t mention it.

Coyote took over the conversation, then Lauren said something that caused Rooster to chime in and Jake did it again. The more Rooster spoke, you finally started putting it together. The group realized something was going on when they realized you weren’t even paying attention to the conversation.

“What’s going on?” Lauren gave you a questioning look.

“Everytime Rooster talked, Jake squeezed my hand.”

“Ha. Even out cold, Bagman can’t get enough of me”, Rooster said with a smile. It had been a while since Jake and Rooster would consider themselves rivals, and thought of each other as the brother neither ever had.

But Jake didn’t squeeze your hand when Rooster spoke that time, instead he–

“Uggggh.”

It was almost comical the way everyone stopped talking and snapped their heads towards Jake. When he made no sounds, you looked at Rooster and motioned for him to talk some more.

“Uh…I never told you this Jake, but when you saved Mav and me, I almost cried. I went to visit my parents after we got back and I told th–”

“Ch…”

“You’re a good man Jake, and one of the best wingmen I could ask for…”

“Chick…”

“So we need you to wake up, okay brother?”

“Chicken.”

“Really?!”

Still, Jake didn’t wake up that day. Everyone (but you and Lauren) left when Dr. Bast arrived. They took Jake for tests and when they brought him back, told you two that he was showing amazing improvement. Lauren switched out with you that night so you could go home for rest, but you didn’t really get any. You were so worried he’d wake up and you wouldn’t be there.

When you arrived the next morning, you found Lauren and Dr. Bast in the hallway, both looked worried.

“--completely normal for him to not remember anything. He’s suffering from Post-Traumatic Amnesia. His head injury wasn’t too severe, so I don’t think it’ll last a significant amount of time.”

“He woke up?” They both turned to look at you and Lauren rushed over.

“About 15 minutes ago. I knew you’d already be on your way, and he needed to be looked over, so that’s why I didn’t call you.”

“No worries at all.” You hugged her tight. “How is he?”

“It appears that Lt. Seresin only remembers being in the Navy and being from Texas.”

“Can I see him?” you ask in a small voice. Lauren nodded and Dr. Bast led you into the room.

“Lt. Seresin?”

“Yeah, doc?” You felt your heart swell. It had been so long since you’d heard that Texan drawl.

“Are you okay to receive another visitor?”

“‘Course doc.” His accent was thicker than you had ever heard before.

“This is Miss Garcia, your–”

“--friend.” You didn’t want to overwhelm Jake so soon. "We're friends."

“Well, I’ll leave the two of you to it.”

“Like I said, I’m a friend of yours”, you said and took a seat near the bed, but not super close. Jake’s eyes looked you over closely, making you want to shrink in on yourself. You couldn’t help looking him over just in the same way: his hair looked a little shaggier and he had a decent beard going on.

“How are we friends?”

“My brother is in your squad. His name is Mickey, Mickey Garcia. Callsign Fanboy.” Jake looked away for a minute, as if he searched his mental files for that name.

“Does he like Star Trek?”

“Yes! Yes. Loves it. I like to call it his one flaw, because I love–”

“Star Wars.” Jake was still staring off into space. “Your voice sounds familiar.”

“Well, we have known each other for a year or two now…”

“What’s your name?” He smiled when you told him.

“But Reuben–his callsign is Payback…he’s a member of your squad too, and Mickey’s pilot–he likes to call me Little Garcia sometimes. I still don’t get why. I’m not younger than Mickey and I’m certainly not littler than he is–”

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Oh.” You felt the heat creep up your neck and settle in your cheeks. “Um, thank you. You, uh, you don’t have to say that though.”

“I mean it.”

It went like that for a couple days, but you weren’t at the hospital as often as you were when he was unconscious. You told yourself it was so he could recover without having so many people around him, just Lauren to help him along.

But in truth, you stayed away because you were worried; worried that he wouldn’t remember you or everyone but you and the relationship you two shared. You always thought it was like a dream, a man like Jake wanting to be with someone like you…even after all this time. Lauren would message you several times a day, telling you that Jake was asking for Little Garcia. You made excuses that you were busy at work since you’d been gone for a bit after what happened to Jake. You knew you had chosen the wrong time to distance yourself, but you couldn’t help thinking What if, when he remembered everything, he realized he didn’t want to be with you anymore? or worse, What if he blamed you for the accident? The rational part of your brain was screaming at you that you were so very wrong…but you just couldn’t hear it.

Around four days after Jake woke up, you planned on finally going back to visit him after work, and went so far as shooting Lauren a quick text letting her know and set about working on shelf reading (aka organizing and straightening) the graphic novel section.

You were up on a step stool, when you heard what sounded like a group come in downstairs. You thought about going down to see if Cas needed help, but decided against it; she’d call if she needed you. Hoping the footsteps that signaled someone was coming upstairs were planning to avoid the section you were working in, you continued your organization.

You were zoned out as you worked so you were beyond surprised when you felt hands at your waist. You let out a yelp as you were falling preparing for the pain of a fall that never came. There was something about the arms around you, so as soon as you felt calm enough, your eyes snapped open.

“Jake?” He helped you stand comfortably and scooted away from you. “Oh my God, what are you doing here? How are you feeling?”

“They let me out, and I’m feeling way better”, he replied. “I’m not 100%, but I’m getting there.”

“Good! I’m so glad.”

“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting to see you Dewey.”

“I’ve been b- - Wait. You called me Dewey.”

“I did.”

“That means- -”

“Yup. I remember everything darlin’.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“I’m s- -”

“Do you not love me anymore?” he asked. “Is it because of the accident that hurt Bob? D-do you have feelings for Bob?”

“No! No, Bob is my best friend. I love him the way I love Mickey, he’s another brother to me. You know that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I love you more than everything. I was just so scared that you’d never remember me or you’d wake up and realize your accident was my fault.”

“Sweetheart, my accident was a simple malfunction. It happens sometimes.”

“I was so scared, so so scared, that I was going to lose you.”

“I won’t lie to you and say that will never happen, because nothing is ever certain in this job.”

“I know.” Jake smiled at you and took your hands in his, leading you over to the balcony overlooking the library’s main floor. You gasped upon seeing all of the Dagger Squad, Penny, Amelia, Lauren, Cas, and even Nurse Jo and Dr. Bast gathered together. Every one of them was holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers in your favorite color, smiling up at the two of you.

“Fanboy?”

“I know I’ve already given it, but yes, you have my blessing…and our parents’ too.” You turned to look at Jake so fast, you swore you heard a cracking sound.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. You’re- -”

“I am”, Jake answered with a smile and got down on one knee. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. “This belonged to Nana Seresin. Our grandpa gave it to her back in the day when he proposed and said it was going to be handed down to me when I met the love of my life. I went to visit Nana after that Halloween carnival. You remember the one?”

“Mmhmm.” You were completely incapable of words in that moment.

“I knew then, that one day, I was going to marry you.” You were crying in earnest now. “When I first woke up, and I couldn’t remember anything, I just knew there was something I was missing. So I’m just going to keep it simple. Miss Garcia, Dewey…Will you marry me?”

“You know how much I love quoting my favorite things…”

“Yeah…?”

“So, before I give you my answer, I’m going to use the words of a woman much wiser than me: ‘The only thing I ask is that you outlive me so I never have to live another day without you'.” **

“Is that a yes, baby?”

“Yes Jake, I’ll marry you.” He slid the ring onto your finger and stood up, pulled you into his arms and kissed you.

The two of you pulled apart to everyone’s cheers.

“I love you so much Jake.”

“I love you too sweetheart.”

Please don't forget to reblog and comment! Let me know what you think, but don't be a dick!

There will be more adventures for Jake & Dewey!!!

**Click here if you want to see what wise woman Dewey quoted. Spoilers for season 3 of Yellowstone.

#Jake Seresin #Jake 'Hangman' Seresin #Jake Seresin x librarian!reader #Jake Seresin x latina!reader #Jake Seresin x plus size!reader #Jake Seresin x Garcia!reader #Jake Seresin angst #Jake Seresin fluff #Jake Seresin fanfiction #love is in the air tgm

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merv606 · 7 months ago

Note

Puritan AU but it’s Terry Silver teaching Daniel how to ride his thigh. I believe you mentioned something along those lines in a previous post and it’s gotta be written out

🤔 I think I did! Sounds like something I would have said 😂

Ask and ye shall receive.

Daniel is whimpering, grinding into Terry’s thigh.

His little omega is naked from the waist down for him, while Terry is fully clothed, with his shirt unbuttoned.

Terry can feel Daniel as he pants wetly against his chest, from where he head rests.

Just riding his thigh, no pressure on his aching bud, no direct contact.

Reaching down, Terry rubs at the little rosebud, his hips stuttering, a little hitch of his breath, and then feeling the slick that produces coat his thigh, until his pants are sticking to him.

The little pearl hidden within pokes out from under the protective hood and Terry flicks at it, the little omega nearly bucking off.

Then his thumb starts rubbing it - the little omega rutting up and down his thigh faster and faster.

Terry stops, holding him in place, and his little one whines.

“Shhh shhhh,” Terry soothes, although the fact that he slips a finger between Daniel’s slick folds, to his most intimate spot, does nothing to calm him, bringing his finger back soaking wet. Making him omega look him in the eye as he brings the finger to his own mouth to taste him, Terry licking his finger clean.

He repeats it, but this time, his finger rubs along Daniel’s full bottom lip, which he opens obediently, licking his own slick off of it.

“Now lean forward for me,” Terry explains as he helps his desperate mate position himself how he wants him. “There we go,” and when Daniel starts to move now, he rubs his omegan clit on Terry’s thigh directly, the smooth material torture against his swollen pearl, but there is no stopping him now.

Working himself into a frenzy, Terry decides skin to skin is needed and the little omega is like something possessed, digging his fingers into Terry when Terry tries to lift him off, but he’s no match for Terry.

He wails in distress.

“I know you were close baby, don’t worry. This will feel even better.”

His little omega is soaked, his thighs smeared in his arousal, his slick running down Terry’s thigh now, so much now that the ride is slippery, almost falling off. Only Terry’s hand on his hips keeping him steady and from falling off his thigh, as he humps himself like a bitch in heat on his husband.

When he comes, slick gushes out of him. He soaks the alpha’s thigh, the floor below, himself.

His face burns with how wet he is; how wet he made the alpha.

He’s afraid almost that he has peed.

But Terry just grabs his hips forcing him to keep rubbing - whining - pleading that it’s too much.

“One more baby - I can smell how needy your cunt still is,” forcing another orgasm out of him.

Daniel clenches his legs together, squeezing Terry’s thigh tight between them, as he shakes apart on another orgasm.

Terry holds onto him. It allows him to ease up on the pressure of his clit again this thigh. Terry can feel his trembling as he rubs up and down a narrow back in an attempt to calm him. He’s so worked up.

But then he’s on his back, his legs spread wide - Terry’s hand on his inner knees, pushing down so he’s splayed open.

“Now, my turn.”

Leaning over him, on his elbow, other hand guiding his cock into his cunt - so impossibly wet and relaxed from the orgasm - Terry’s cock slides right in.

“Take me so well - I remember when it was struggle … but your cunt is made to fit my cock now.”

Their wedding was only mere months ago, and Daniel had been a virgin to all forms of physical love.

It didn’t take long for Terry to break him in; train his precious boy on how to open his body to accept his husband’s love.

Wet squealing, the sight of his own cock, soaked in the juices of his omega’s cunt, a mixture of his slick, Terry’s precum, and spit.

“Hear how open you are? How ready to be seeded?”

He pulls out though, to finish on his little omega wanting to mix his seed with his slick but two thick fingers screw in instead, fingering him roughly as he pleads with the alpha, but Terry doesn’t stop. Not until he screams, pussy squirting everywhere.

Fucking back in to finish inside, feeling his omega’s cunt still clenching from the orgasm as he does so. The little omega is limp, glassy eyed and unseeing, drool at the corner of his mouth that mixes with the tears streaming down his red cheeks.

He is utterly destroyed; beyond ruined for anyone else but Terry.

He has never looked more beautiful.

His cunt equally so, once Terry finishes coming inside him; pumping him full of seed, deep inside where it belongs.

Face burning when Terry remarks about how the staff will have to clean the bedsheets again because of him - although he’s smug as hell - proud of what he can get the little omegas body to do - his little one sings for him.

#I need a puritan verse #ask #I got an ask 🤩#cobra kai #daniel larusso #karate kid #terry silver #silverusso #silverrusso

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taliaxlatia · 1 year ago

Text

Rating: G

Summary: Xehanort continues to haunt Kairi's dreams. She hopes to find a way to uproot his phantom presence for good.

Wordcount: 2,011

Notes: Written for @kairizine with illustrations by @mellekist! This was super fun, so glad I got to be a part of it!!

XXX

In the Weeds

Sweet scents fill the crisp spring air, wafting up from blossoms of every shape and color. The flowers are separated within geometric plots: tall from short, leafy from bare, vibrant from muted. Blue-gray paving stones wind between each bed, like island chains connecting blooming continents.

In the center of it all, a fountain gurgles. Shimmering water flows out like spokes of a wheel, giving life to flowers spreading past the horizon.

It’s a beautiful world. It resembles what would’ve been, should’ve been, her world—if not for the silver-haired man kneeling in the plot of flowerless dirt before her.

“Good evening, Kairi,” he says, even though the sun hangs directly overhead, casting no shadows on the world below. He doesn’t look up from his work—though why he’s bothering to weed a plot of nothing but weeds is anyone’s guess. “I hope that your day was sufficiently pleasant.”

How can it be, when I have to see you at the end of it? she wants to snap, bitter as the violet garlic blossoms in the plot behind her.

It doesn’t matter what she says, though. Nothing has been able to uproot this shadow of Xehanort from the soil of her dreams.

Tonight, he resembles his complete self—the one who had taken her as a child and sent her adrift. The one who had connected her heart to Sora. It’s his favorite form, from what she can tell, though he seems as helpless to choose between his alternate selves as she is to banish them.

His purple ascot hangs untied around his neck. His lab coat has been set aside, folded neatly on the ground between the budding plants, leaving him in a collared shirt under a ribbed gray vest. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, but dirt has still managed to stain his cuffs.

If he’s a phantom, he’s a very vivid one. And if he’s not…

“Ah. No words to spare for me tonight? And here I was rather looking forward to your clever barbs.” He plucks a thorned weed from the plot of leafy stalks, twirling the stem between his fingers.

She doesn’t know why a magical dream garden grows weeds at all, much less why Xehanort bothers to remove them, night after night. If not for his sisyphean effort, she would attribute the thorns to his corrupting influence. Of course, maybe he’s the reason this plot lacks the blooms that color the rest of the garden.

“I’m not here to entertain you, Xehanort,” she sighs.

“I suppose that’s true.” He nods thoughtfully. “I am meant to entertain you, more likely.”

She snorts, plopping down on the curved beam that edges this flower bed. If she has to be awake during her dreams, she can at least stop standing like she expects to be attacked.

Xehanort won’t harm her. He can’t. He’s tried a few times, when he first began invading her dreams. He seemed to believe that destroying her would free him from this dream-prison, but she’d just respawned, more frustrated than ever.

His idea of “entertainment” is likely just as violent. If she hadn’t sparred so much today, she might’ve picked a fight with him, just to see if her training would show.

Not that she expects to destroy him, either. No matter which form he’s taken, she hasn’t been able to best him—unless she counts the one time Sora had projected enough of his consciousness to assist her.

(She doesn’t.)

“Well, if you have nothing to say, then you won’t object to me filling the silence.” He hums, inspecting a narrow, slightly yellowed leaf that looks just like every other narrow, slightly yellowed leaf in this plot. “I have not been able to determine what time of year this place is meant to mirror. Every bed seems to run on its own timeframe. I’ve spotted zinnia and hellebore blooming in plots barely two stepping stones apart.”

“It’s a magic garden.” Kairi yawns. “You don’t expect it to make sense, do you?”

“Not particularly. But that’s why this bed is so fascinating. None of these plants have flowered, despite every other species’ state of perpetual bloom.”

Kairi’s brow furrows as she inspects the plants. A few leafy stems end in tiny bulbs, with the hint of orange petals hiding within. For the most part, though, they just resemble tall grass.

It is strange. Not as strange as hearing Xehanort sound so interested, though.

“I assume you are familiar with these flowers, considering this is your garden,” he continues. “Asclepias tuberosa. More commonly known as butterfly weed. But are you aware of their significance?”

He’s wrong. The garden is as much a mystery to her as it is to him. She hesitates to give him any more power by admitting her ignorance, though.

“So… they are weeds?” she asks tentatively.

“‘Weed’ is merely a title given to any plant that grows where it isn’t wanted. It isn’t a very useful classifier, botanically.”

She frowns, leaning forward to pick at one of the leaves.

“Something that grows where it isn’t wanted, huh? Sounds like you might know something about that.”

“Ah. There’s that wit of yours.” His smile looks entirely too genuine. On anyone else, she’d call the expression warm. “But yes, I do. What about you? You haven’t answered my question.”

She sighs. Unfortunately, she has nothing better to do than humor him.

“I don’t know anything about butterfly weed,” she admits, deciding that his opinion of her doesn’t matter enough to pretend otherwise.

“Really?” His eyes go wide with surprise. “I must reevaluate my hypotheses. That is what I get for assuming, I suppose…” He shakes his head. “Butterfly weed. In the code of flowers native to Radiant Garden, it is gifted as a goodbye—particularly to someone from which one desires long-term distance. The literally translated meaning is ‘let me go.’”

“Let me go…” she echoes quietly.

If only the buds would bloom. This is the only flower she’d want to share with Xehanort.

“How do you know all this?” she asks, caught between suspicion and curiosity. She can’t imagine him studying flowers alongside the experiments that plunged her homeworld into darkness.

“Ah. Let’s just say my former Master had plenty of chores for me to attend to… and my former companion had plenty of trivia to distract from the menial labor.” He smiles again, reminiscing fondly. “Of course, the meanings he assigned to each flower weren’t always accurate. I recall him trying to convince me that daffodils meant someone was ‘daft and smelled like dill.’”

He snorts softly, and Kairi’s teeth grind together to keep a shocked laugh from escaping.

How can he sound so normal? This is the man who stole her from her birth family, who used her as a pawn against Sora time and time again. He doesn’t deserve to be here, tending flowers without a care in the world.

“It would be wonderful to see him again…” he murmurs while caressing one of the stems.

“You should’ve thought of that before you tried to destroy the worlds,” she says sharply.

Before you destroyed me.

She can’t listen to this anymore. She doesn’t care if she’s stuck here all night; she’ll find another section of the garden to hide away in.

She stands, only to be stopped short by his melancholy voice.

“Yes… I suppose I should have.” He sighs. His hand falls to his side, index finger tracing aimless trails through the dirt. “If I had only been content with what I had… perhaps my life would not have ended alone.”

His form flickers like static, and a black coat replaces his gray vest and pants. The spikes of his hair split and darken a shade.

Xemnas. The Xehanort who delivered her up to her final fate.

“If that’s your way of apologizing for kidnapping me, it could use some work,” she huffs.

She refuses to flinch away from his more intimidating appearance. He’s still kneeling in the dirt. He still can’t hurt her. Not this time.

“You would accept an apology from me?” he asks, brow furrowed. His voice is at least a half-octave deeper now.

Jarringly, it reminds her of when Wakka’s voice dropped in junior high. At least the ridiculous mental comparison makes it easier to stand up to Xemnas.

“No. But it wouldn’t hurt.”

He chuckles ruefully, dipping his head.

“Very well. I am sorry for the pain you have suffered at my hands…” He takes his original form again, and his shoulders relax a little. “Though it is impossible for me to honestly apologize for everything.”

She frowns. She doesn’t believe he’s honest about anything—but if he’s going to lie, why not go all in?

“What do you mean?”

“Radiant Garden was already doomed, before any of my actions took effect. The Ansem you call ‘Wise’ made sure of that.” He snorts. “But you… you were our hope, Miss Kairi. If not for your bond with Sora, who would have come to pull us from the dark?”

He snaps a closed bud from its stem, holding it out to her like a peace offering.

“I sent you off. And you found a home that you treasured, did you not? The same home that half of me hailed from.” His visage flickers to that of Master Xehanort, but thankfully becomes his younger self again. She can’t look into the Master’s eyes without feeling like she’s choking. “And so the wind blows the next generation of seeds back out to sea…”

She does treasure the Islands. But most of all, she treasures the friends she has there. Her adopted parents. Sephie, Tidus, Wakka. Sora and Riku…

Sora, trapped in a realm beyond her comprehension. Riku, searching for him alone.

“I just want my friends back.” Her throat tightens. She doesn’t take the offered bud. “If you really cared, you wouldn’t have sent me to them just to take them away.”

“This is true.” Xehanort’s arm drops, letting the snapped stem fall. “I did not care. It is only in death that I can see how shortsighted that was.”

He looks up, and for once, she believes the regret in his brown eyes—a different color from the other Xehanorts.

(Why? It can’t be Terra’s influence. Terra’s eyes are blue.)

“But there is nothing I can do for them now. I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “You and I are both seeds drifting far from those we called friends.”

“Don’t—don’t compare yourself to me.” She shakes her head, her hands trembling.

He can still hurt her. He doesn’t need keyblades or magic—he just needs to be human. To nurture her sympathies the way he attempts to nurture this garden.

She hates that she wants to fall for it. She wants to believe the man trapped in her mind isn’t as evil as he appears. Is she really this desperate for someone to understand her?

Xehanort simply nods, returning to his silent plucking of weeds. Red wells from the pads of his fingers where thorns prick them.

It’s what he deserves. To be alone and forgotten.

(As alone and forgotten as she is.)

…Light, now she’s comparing them. The seed he’s planted has already taken root.

She brushes one butterfly weed bud—and a single petal peels free, facing the sun.

Her breath catches. How…?

Xehanort looks up at the sound, then to the opening orange bloom. His eyes widen.

“How did you…?” he echoes her thoughts.

She nearly says she doesn’t know. But—but she does.

She knows. And she knows how to make him leave.

(Asclepias tuberosa. “Let me go.”)

The flower bloomed when her hate had wavered. The question is, can it waver again? Can she let go of this pain for good?

Not yet. Not yet, but eventually. Hope blooms in her chest, bright as the flower in her hand.

“It’s my garden, remember?” She grips the blossom tight, its stem leaking warm sap against her palm. “I still hold the power here.”

And with that power, she’ll set herself free.

#fic tag #tali writes #kairi #xehanort #kingdom hearts #kh #kairi zine

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owls-and-bees · 1 year ago

Text

This is the only Fyolai fic I’ve ever written but I’d love to write more for them

Title: the eccentricities of flirting with a customer

Words: 1,713

Nikolai Gogol's pathetic attempt to win over his reserved customer.

_____________________________________

In his many years of writing, fyodor found that he got the best work done in the quaint cafe down the street from his apartment. The place was small and rather quiet, and unlike his own apartment, there were no loud neighbors to distract him from his work.

It held the constant scent of fresh baked pastries and coffee, and the only distraction to be seen was the oddly dressed barista who always seemed ecstatic that fyodor had come back once again.

The man had long white hair, tied into a braid behind him. With some shorter pieces in the front to frame his face.

One eye was bright green, the other a pale gray, with a scar across it. Fyodor found himself wondering how exactly that scar was created. And his clothing, despite being mostly black and white, had red accents mixed in which fyodor took to be his favorite color.

From time to time, fyodor felt the man’s eyes on him. The place never seemed to have many customers, so he assumed there wasn’t much else to do besides check up on whoever came in.

The interesting thing about the barista, was that he never seemed to mind being caught staring.

Fyodor would occasionally feel those eyes burning into him. He'd look up, expecting to see the man’s mismatched eyes darting away, for him to pretend to be working instead of watching.

Rather, the small, oblivious smile that always seemed to rest on his face just widened and he kept those eyes trained on fyodor.

Most might find this behavior disconcerting, but fyodor found it interesting. He couldn’t help but smile to himself at the eccentricity of the man behind the counter. The Baristas stare was in no way creepy or uncomfortable. It didn’t feel like the gaze of a person undressing another with their eyes.

Rather, it was that of someone who found the actions of the other interesting, it was simply observation in its purest form. And that burning gaze that followed him so often served as a comfort in some sense. Like no matter how much changed in fyodor's own life, he would still have that one constant of those pretty eyes observing his every move.

The barista of course, had his own reasons for this watching.

Nikolai had worked in this coffee shop for quite a while, generally with little to no care about the patrons of the place

It was just a good way to make some money.

That is, until the reserved author he now knew to be named Fyodor began visiting regularly.

The man had a peculiar air about him, which was only partly on account of his appearance. He had shoulder length black hair which fell into his face, clearly often enough he didn’t care much to fix it. His eyes were an enchantingly deep shade of purple, one that Nikolai got quite lost in. And he wore simple clothing, black slacks and a white button down which draped over his thin frame.

He seemed tense simply being around other people, and always made sure to sit in the furthest corner of the cafe. Despite the fact that the cafe had more than enough seating everywhere else, and rarely had other patrons to take them up.

Nikolai figured he chose that seat specifically, because it had the windows, doors, and barista all in sight. And he was sure to never sit in the seat directly against the wall, but one over, as it made getting in and out quicker.

The barista never could help himself when it came to socializing with the unsocial. It was, more than anything, the need to know what it would take to win them over. Unfortunately, fyodor had made this exceptionally difficult for him.

He had no interest in small talk, usually ignoring Nikolai’s feeble attempts to ask about his day. He sat far from Nikolai, and occasionally looked up at him from behind his laptop with those sharp eyes, like he could see right through Nikolai’s schemes, like he could read his thoughts. Maybe he could, maybe that’s why after all this time coming to the cafe, fyodor never once looked at the cup in front of him.

The cup that every day, Nikolai wrote his phone number on. Often along with a small doodle of some sort, Todays was of a small cat, with a Cheshire grin, drawn in a bright pink marker Nikolai bought with only the hope it would draw the others eye.

Yet every day, fyodor would take the coffee from him, sit down across the room, and stare at that laptop of his.

He only ever drank about half of it, seemingly getting too caught up in whatever he was writing to finish it.

Nikolai once tried to ask what he wrote, but the man gave him a sour look and didn’t answer.

In fact, in all this time, the only thing fyodor had ever said to him was “a small black coffee, please and thank you.”

That was it.

Yet Nikolai felt, for the most part, content with this routine of theirs. Fyodor would come in, and order a small black coffee. Nikolai would try his best to start a conversation, or even make a stupid joke in hopes that fyodor would laugh…

He never laughed.

But that was alright, Nikolai didn’t mind.

Then fyodor would take his coffee, sit far away, and spare Nikolai an occasional glance with those heart stopping eyes.

And Nikolai would wait, in hopes that his strange new companion would finally notice what he wrote on the cup.

He never noticed.

This, Nikolai did seem to mind as time went on.

So, he thought up a plan. One that he thought himself a genius for. The next time fyodor came in, he gave him the wrong drink. He figured that fyodor would take a sip, notice the difference, and finally look at the cup.

However, Nikolai miscalculated something in his plan. The slight affection that fyodor had grown to hold for the odd, foolish, barista who always tried to make him laugh, and stared at him like he was the first person he’d seen in years.

Fyodor took a sip from the overly sweet coffee he had been given in place of the bitter drink he’d become used to. He scowled slightly at the taste, and his eyes shifted off of his computer screen. Not to the cup, and instead to the barista. He noticed the oblivious smile on the man's face, and looked back down to his computer. And maybe it was just the poor cafe lighting, or the reflection of the screens light on his face.

But Nikolai could have sworn there was a small hint of pink on the pale man’s skin. A trick of the eye, he could only assume.

Fyodor didn’t look at the cup, though he did take another sip. Trying his best not to grimace at the taste. Nikolai watched on in pure confusion. As the man who had so pointedly ignored him for so long, for the first time, finished the drink he clearly disliked.

Fyodor then stood up, offered Nikolai a polite smile, and left without a word.

Nikolai let out a loud sigh as soon as the door closed, leaning against the wall and letting himself sink down onto the ground.

‘Is he oblivious or just stupid?’

Despite his frustration, Nikolai couldn’t help the smile that crossed his lips, nor the heat that burned at his face, when fyodor came to mind. He couldn’t help but wonder if fyodor even bothered to learn his name, and truthfully he didn’t care all that much. Because getting even a tiny smile out of that sheltered new friend of his was an achievement.

Friend… that probably isn’t the right word.

What they had could never be described as a friendship… but there was something there.

Regardless, weeks passed and their routine has returned to normal. Nikolai decided not to change Fyodor's drink again, as fascinating as it was to watch the man drink something he hated.

But once again, Nikolai found himself getting bored of their routine. Wanting quite desperately for Fyodor to just look at the cup. At this point he didn’t care much whether fyodor completely ignored his advances, however he at least wanted some sort of attention from the man. Anything to tell him fyodor knew about the writing on his cup.

So, finally reaching his wits end, Nikolai decided on a less subtle course of action to demand a response. Nikolai walked up to the table, and placed a sticky note right onto the face of Fyodor's laptop. Receiving a confused and rather annoyed look from the man.

“I have written my number on your cup every day since you started coming here. Not once have you even glanced at it.”

Nikolai huffed, letting his frustration get the better of him to a man who he hardly knew. But as strange as this approach was, it finally seemed to all click in fyodor's mind. His eyes finally flickered to his cup, and scanned over the numbers, as well as the small drawing of a mouse which sat next to them.

Then, he looked at the note placed on a laptop which he had previously been too shocked to pay any real attention to. It read “go on a date with me.” In a large font, and chicken scratch handwriting.

Without a word, fyodor pushed his laptop in front of the seat closer to the wall, and moved to the further seat.

For a moment, Nikolai thought this was Fyodor's silent way of rejecting his offer, which in retrospect seemed more like a demand. However fyodor looked back up to the man and with the slight tilt of his head, for the first time, spoke something other than his order.

“Well, are you going to sit?” Flicking his eyes from Nikolai, to the empty chair he had previously sat in, and back to Nikolai. And once again, Nikolai could swear that in the poor lighting of the coffee shops Fyodor's face looked slightly red. Though he was sure he looked about the same, as he sat next to the man he’d been observing for so long.

#I had just gotten into TMA when I wrote this so there’s a lot of eyes #the eccentricities of flirting with a customer #they are my sillies #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #fyolai #fyolai fanfic #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #nikolai gogol bsd #coffee shop au #OwlBee #owlbee_writing #OwlBee writing

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marypsue · 1 year ago

Note

what has griffin mcelroy taught you about the dreaded middle of a story, if you don't mind me asking? i've listened to taz and i feel like i have the barest memories of this being mentioned, but for the life of me i can't remember the details

So I have to apologise, because it wasn't something that he said directly or a piece of advice that he gave, exactly. And I don't know that I can say that everything about what I learned came directly through TAZ Balance, or if TAZ Balance was just a lens through which I could finally see and understand some things that had been building up for some time before that.

BUT.

For the longest time, I had a bad habit of getting hung up in the middle part of any story I was working on. I had a vague sense that Something had to happen between the inciting incident and all the 'ooh, what's going on?!' of the first third, and the big reveals and explosions and fanfare of the final third. But I had absolutely no idea how to map out what actually had to...happen, in that middle third. So I mostly just...didn't.

This, as you may have realised, is an excellent way to get hopelessly lost and mired in the Dreaded Middle, and never make it to that fun exciting ending that you have in mind.

I'm not sure why it was TAZ Balance that unlocked something for me. Whether it was the fact that I was listening to Griffin's Baby's First Long-Form Narrative unfold as it was written, or if it was the collaborative TTRPG format, or what. But there were two important things that I figured out about the Dreaded Middle as a result of listening to TAZ Balance.

First, that I had some secret rules about the Dreaded Middle, that even I hadn't realised I had. One of those rules was also a misconception about outlining - I felt like I had to know exactly how everything in the Dreaded Middle was going to go, how it was all going to play out, before I could write it. I felt like I couldn't put a problem in front of my characters that I didn't already know the solution to.

But listening to some of the big TAZ moments - the train crash in Rockport Express, Hands Outstretched - and The The Adventure Zone Zones about them, and realising that Griffin set up an interesting problem and then let his players figure out the solution, and that sometimes the solution they came up with was not the solution he'd had in mind, but actually ended up making the story better, really illuminated it for me. I didn't have to be all things to my story at all times. I could break it down - come up with a fun and interesting problem to put in front of my characters, and then come at it from the perspective of my characters and try to figure out how to solve that problem and get to the next big interesting thing to happen in the story.

(Jettisoning this secret rule has also really helped me embrace outlining, which has helped me improve hundredsfold as a writer. With my previous secret rule in place, of course outlining felt boring and soul-draining and like it sucked all the fun and spontaneity out of writing! Because it did! Because I was trying to plan out every single little moment, down to the last detail, in chronological order, instead of figuring out what my big problems were going to be first, and then going through and brainstorming what possible solutions there could be to them and what I would need to add to or remove from the story to allow each solution to work!)

The second thing that I learned from TAZ Balance was that I was thinking of a story in three parts: beginning, middle, and end. And I had a sense of The Middle as a place where stuff had to happen in between The Beginning and The End, so that the story would be long enough to feel satisfying. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I had this sense of The Middle as...well, basically filler.

I cannot put my finger on why, exactly, TAZ Balance was the thing that broke me out of that mindset. Maybe it had something to do with how each individual story arc was, well, its own story with rising action and a climax within the larger, overarching story? Maybe it was just that everything that happened was so much fun, even if it didn't necessarily feel...connected to the larger, overarching story in a way that was easy and natural to parse? Maybe it was the fact that Griffin threw everything and the kitchen sink, genre-wise, at it? I don't know.

But for some reason, listening to that show was the first time I really got that the Dreaded Middle was not really a separate, discrete, modular piece of story, but just...the beginning and the ending running into each other. Yeah, it has its own fun problems - and they can get weird and apparently unrelated to the Big Overarching Story! - but it also is just the place where all the 'ooh, what's going on!?' of the first third flows almost invisibly into the reveals and explosions and fanfare of the final third.

I had a secret rule here, too, about how long the story had to go on before certain types of big reveals and dramatic moments could be 'allowed'. And, while I didn't identify it and jettison it immediately after finishing TAZ Balance, I know that TAZ Balance contributed. No part of the Dreaded Middle needs to be filler. Stuff can just happen. This isn't Disneyland, you don't have to hang around waiting for your FastPass time. The story doesn't have to have boring stuff you have to get through to get to the interesting bits. The interesting bits are the story.

So! In a nutshell, that is my advice for dealing with the Dreaded Middle, thanks to Griffin McElroy and the shenanigans of his family. 1) You don't need to know the solution when you come up with the problem, that's what the writing part's for, and 2) if you're getting bored and bogged down in the Dreaded Middle, make one of the things you're looking forward to happen.

#chatter #writing #cut for. this got long #also i may not remember the specifics of the disneyland queueing system.

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breithenua · 1 year ago

Text

Ok I'm just gonna say it, whoever says Boruto sucks probably hasn't given it half a chance, for any combination of reasons. Be it just to be contrarian, or them expecting it to be the same as Shippuden despite it taking place in peacetime, hating slice of life, or not trying to understand Boruto's frustrations with his dad at all.

He's a kid whose dad was present in his life for a while, and then all of a sudden was a lot less present because his dad's now the Hokage. Of course he's gonna be resentful. Of course he's going to have disdain for the position of Hokage, and want to be his own person. Of course he's going to be desperate enough for his dad's attention and approval to cheat during the Chunin exams. Of course he's going to not understand as much at first the value of hard work versus shortcuts. And of course, he's going to be immature about a lit of shit in general *because he's a kid*. It's ok if that's too annoying for you, kids can be fucking annoying, but don't tell me it isn't realistic of Boruto to be such a little shit. Naruto was a little shit too, for his own reasons.

All that being said, Boruto shows a lot of growth during the course of the series. He doesn't stay as much of a little shit. He learns the value of hard work. He resents his dad a lot less, he becomes a little less impulsive and stupid. Sure, he's still impulsive as hell. But that doesn't change overnight, and he's still around 12. You expect him to be as mature as Naruto was at the end of Shippuden when he's only 12? Come on now.

Putting aside the complaints with Boruto himself for now, let's talk about the characterization, because dear god they are doing that well. From Sumire being a victim of her former Root member father's hatred of the Leaf, to the kids of the previous generation being such a good meld of both their parents (Inojin being a combination of Ino and Sai not just in abilities, but personality as well), to Kawaki being distrustful of everyone because of how he'd been abandoned, neglected, and mistreated by everyone he'd known up until that point. There's numerous other examples as well. Ao's reason for his face-turn. So many shinobi being resentful of a world in which they're afraid that their role is no longer needed. Etc etc.

And then, there's the world-building. Starting off with the more negative (as in depressing, not badly written) we see that just because it's peacetime now, that doesn't mean everything is great for everyone outside of the 5 great nations. Or even some inside them, for that matter. A lot of smaller nations are still in poverty, still suffering. Naruto for as benevolent of a Hokage he is, he isn't capable of helping everyone. He doesn't have the time, the land of fire doesn't have the resources to help everyone, and because of bureaucracy, it isn't always possible to give help even when it's available.

On the more positive side of world-building, we see pretty-rapidly advancing technology. From the Kamanarimon company heir straight up using a laptop in combat to survey the battlefield and be the team analyst, to the new generation playing actual video games, to there being machines that can use ninjutsu for the user without seals, and there being actual trains to travel not just around Konoha, but between nations. Hell where I'm at in the story rn, I'm seeing actual flashbang grenades, chakra lightsabers, etc etc.

We also still have a looming threat to everyone in the form of the Otsutsuki clan. We're getting a logical continuation of the Kaguya storyline and her legacy, we're finding out more about where she came from and how it not just impacts, but endangers the shinobi world as a whole. Not just directly from the Otsutsuki invaders as a whole, but from organizations linked to them somehow, as is the case with the Kara.

Point being that Boruto is way better than people give it credit for, if you don't go in expecting the exact same thing as Shippuden, and keep an open mind for all the changes. It's not the same as Naruto was, it was never going to be the same. And if it was, it wouldn't be believable. I'm not saying the series is perfect by any means, it isn't. But neither was Naruto. I'm not saying you have to like it, but at least give it a chance yourself before writing it off, and don't just listen to what other people say about it.

#boruto #naruto

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bcdrawsandwrites · 2 years ago

Photo

[ID: A banner for a Psychonauts fanfic chapter, featuring Loboto’s prosthetic arm on the right side of the image, grasping a blue-and-white pen ballpoint pen with a Psychonauts logo and preparing to sign his name onto a form sitting on a table. On the top left of the image is written “Chapter 8: A New Practice” in black writing. /end ID]

Psychonauts Ruin Everything

Fandom: Psychonauts Rating: K+ Genre: Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort Characters: Razputin Aquato, Caligosto Loboto, Morceau Oleander, Truman Zanotto, Morris Martinez, Milla Vodello, Sasha Nein Warnings: None in this chapter Description: A few days after the whirlwind of events of Psychonauts 2, Razputin receives his first mission as a Junior Psychonaut: go into the mind of the recently-re-captured Caligosto Loboto and make sure he’s ready to be released… and if not, well… go from there. But it shouldn’t be that hard, right? Loboto’s all better now that his moral compass is back… isn’t he? Beta Readers: @jaywings and @of-science-and-stars

—

Chapter 8: A New Practice

Summary: In which Raz learns his mission is not over.

—~~~—

The meeting room was silent.

Unlike the day prior, only four people sat within it, one on one side of the table and the other three on the other. Truman's gaze fell over them, looking from Oleander, to Raz, to Loboto.

Raz followed his gaze as it turned. Oleander was biting a knuckle as he watched Truman, while Loboto stared intently down at the desk. While yesterday he had been trembling in silent fury, now he shook in obvious anxiety, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. Raz couldn't project comforting thoughts into Loboto's mind thanks to the special cap he wore, so instead he wordlessly reached out and placed a hand on Loboto's back, above where the restraint held him.

Initially Loboto jerked at the sudden touch, but when his mechanical eyes flicked over to Raz, his shivering calmed down a fraction.

"You're sure of what you've seen?" Truman finally asked. "Both of you?"

"Yes, sir," Oleander replied with an eager nod.

"Absolutely," Raz said with a firm nod of his own. "We had to travel deep into his mind, so I don't think there's any room for doubt here anymore."

Truman stared at them evenly, folding his hands together in front of himself, before turning to Loboto. "Caligosto," he said, and Loboto flinched. "You've been an enemy to the Psychonauts for many years—perhaps not directly, but you've worked against us nonetheless."

Loboto curled in on himself, the lights from his optics turning cold, his lips a tight line.

Face falling, Raz looked back at Oleander, who shook his head. Though his heart sank, he opened his mouth to speak, only for Truman to go on:

"But if anyone knows people can change, it's those of us who have delved deep into the minds of others, and seen it happen again and again. And if someone is willing to change, we are willing to welcome them with open arms."

The words removed a heavy weight from Raz's chest, and Loboto lifted his head, brows raised and optics flickering.

Truman's face, however, was still serious. "But you do have to be willing to change. Is that understood?"

For a moment Loboto stared at him dumbly, mouth hanging partially open, before he managed a dazed, "...uh-huh."

"You will need to undergo psychic training so that you learn proper control of your powers, and we are fully able to provide you with that. You will also need to stay within the facility—we can have a dorm room readied for you—until your training is complete. As well, you'll have certain agents you'll need to check in with every so often. Do you agree to these terms?"

Loboto's body and head were tipped slightly to one side, as though his brain was struggling to process what was being said. With a soft nudge from Raz, he gave a full body jolt, shaking his head as though waking from a daze. "Uh..."

"Do you need to hear all that again?"

"No, no, it's fine!" Once again his optics were flicking back and forth, his mouth twisting as he gave a short series of hums. Finally his gaze locked onto Raz before turning back to Truman. "Will he still be here...?"

Though Truman raised a brow incredulously, an amused smile crossed his face. "Well, junior agents aren't typically the ones to oversee this sort of thing, but I can certainly pull a few strings, if Agent Aquato is okay with that."

"Yes!" Raz blurted out, only to realize everyone else was suddenly staring at him. Leaning back, he cleared his throat. "Um, I mean, yes, sir. I fully accept this responsibility."

"Not all of the responsibility," Truman clarified. "He'll still need instruction from our senior agents, but you can certainly help oversee all that."

"I can help out with the training too, sir," Oleander put in. His unease had melted away, and he was grinning. "My classroom's still good to take on new students, heheh."

Heaving a sigh, Truman waved a hand in the Coach's direction. "Yes, Agent Oleander, that will be fine, so long as you both check in with your assigned agents. I'll be gathering up other senior agents to help out with this once they're able."

"Great!" Raz exclaimed, turning to grin at Loboto. But the dentist didn't look near as excited as Raz felt, his head lowered in contemplation.

Glancing over at some of the boxes in the room, Truman put a hand to his forehead and TK'd out a stack of paper. "I'll need you to fill out some paperwork for this and read the formal agreement, of course." He gently deposited the form in front of Loboto. "I know it's been a long day for you, but I'd like this back late tomorrow. Oh—" With another quick TK maneuver, he pulled out another stack of papers and set them before Raz and Oleander. "Speaking of, I'll need you to fill out your mission report for our records."

While Raz frowned down at the unfamiliar form, Loboto mumbled next to him, "Not sure how you plan for me to do that."

"Hm?" Truman looked at Loboto, brows knit.

Loboto squirmed in his seat, drawing attention to the fact that he was still bound by the anti-psychic restraints. "I suppose you could put a pencil in my mouth, but that's terrible for your teeth, y'know."

"Oh! Yes. Agent Oleander, could you..." Truman's eyes darted from Oleander to Loboto a few times, and he leaned slightly away from the latter. "...Release him?"

"Oh wait, I've got the key for that!" Quickly Raz TK'd the key out from his bag, inserting it into the lock at the front of Loboto's restraint. With a click, the restraint around his middle released, as did the one at his feet half a second later.

Once the restraints clattered to the floor, Loboto stretched his arms in an exaggerated manner and rolled his shoulders. "Finally," he said, pulling the anti-psychic helmet off. His showercap immediately popped back up into shape as he tossed the helmet aside.

Raz found himself smiling until he realized the room had gone silent again. Blinking, he looked back at Truman, who was leaning back warily, and Oleander, who sat at the edge of his seat, hands clenched.

But Loboto only reached beneath his apron straps to scratch his back as his optics twitched back and forth over the table. Finally he looked up, frowning. "So are you gonna give me a pencil or what?"

Immediately Truman relaxed, chuckling as he TK'd a ballpoint pen off the floor. "Here you are, Doctor."

"Thanks." Clenching the pen with his prosthetic claws, Loboto looked over the paper again.

"But as I said, there's no need for you to do it right this moment. You still have until… let’s say 6 PM tomorrow—I'd rather we not rush something important like this. Agent Oleander?" Truman waited for the Coach to perk up before he TK'd a set of keys over to him. "I'd like you to show him to the dorms."

"Hmph, am I back in college?" Loboto muttered, tapping the pen against his lips. "Always had nightmares about that..."

"It'll be a better learning experience than the one at the dump you went to before," Oleander said as he hopped off his seat, leaving the papers Truman had given him still sitting at the table. "Forward march!"

"Oh, so you're ordering me around again, are you?" Loboto said, without any bite to his words. After snapping up the forms in his claw, he pushed himself away from the table and moved to follow Oleander, only to teeter and collapse forward like an oversized domino.

"Loboto!" Raz cried, hopping off his seat. "Are you okay?!"

"Eh, he's just been all tied up and off his feet too long—" Oleander started, only to be interrupted by a loud gurgle. "...Not to mention running on an empty tank." Summoning a TK hand, he grabbed the straps on Loboto's back and hoisted him back to his feet. "Up you go."

Groaning, Loboto rubbed his forehead and wobbled where he stood.

"C'mon, Cal," the Coach urged, waving Loboto toward the meeting room door. "One foot in front of the other."

Raz nearly pushed himself away from the table as well, but stopped when Truman's voice rang in his mind: One moment.

"Huh?" Raz looked anxiously between the door that Loboto and Oleander were exiting through, and Truman, who watched him seriously. "Wh-what is it, sir?"

"Hey, you comin', private?" Oleander asked, sticking his head back through the door.

"He'll catch up in a moment," Truman answered. When Oleander shrugged and stepped back through the door, Truman faced Raz again. "Now, Agent Aquato—"

"D-did I do something wrong?" Raz asked. He'd subconsciously wrapped his arms around himself, feeling small as he faced the Grand Head. "I'm sorry, this was my first official mission, but I promise I'll try—"

"What?" Truman stared at him in utter confusion. "No, you did nothing wrong, Razputin." But before Raz could relax, Truman's gaze turned serious. "I just needed you to know that this is not the end of the mission."

"What—?!" Raz looked back at the door where he'd last seen Loboto. "But he's better now! Isn't he?"

"Well... yes, and no." Sighing, Truman glanced off to the side. "While you brought the Doctor over a hurdle—which is quite an accomplishment—you should know that it's when people are brought out of terrible situations that they're at their most vulnerable." He turned back to Raz, staring him in the eye. "This is when you will need to show him the most support."

The tension in Raz's body eased. "Of course, sir! I wasn't just gonna let him go off on his own, anyway." Feeling a pang in his chest, he looked away. "He... needs a friend."

Though Raz couldn't see Truman's expression, he could hear his quiet, warm laugh from across the table. Frowning, Raz looked up. "...What is it, sir?"

"Oh, I'm just thinking," he remarked. "You've got a special quality, Raz."

"I do?" He straightened in his seat. "I mean, I think I've been pretty good with my powers, though Dion says I've never been the best with balance, and—"

"No, no, I mean..." Truman turned away, looking upward in thought. "The former Grand Head had an innate quality to see the best in people, even when they were at their worst." He chuckled. "Apparently I have the same thing... or so Hollis tells me." Finally he looked back at Raz. "If your latest mission is anything to go by... I'd say it's the same for you, Razputin."

Raz felt as though he were floating some distance away, not really sitting before Truman. "Oh! I... you really think so, sir?"

Truman nodded.

Still feeling distant, Raz could only stare for a few more moments before something jarred him back to reality. "Wait, you're not really Gristol's brain in the Grand Head's body, trying to butter me up again, are you?"

"What?" Truman reared his head back. "I hope not!" He placed a hand on his forehead, rubbing it. "What did he do in there...?"

"Oh, uh, sorry sir, didn't mean to make you worry."

After shaking his head, Truman focused back on Raz again. "That's all right. In any case, I'm glad we have you on board, Agent Aquato. You're free to go now." He cast a wary glance at the door. "I'm not sure I fully trust those two to be on their own for too long yet."

"Right! Thank you sir!" With that, Raz snatched up his papers and hurried out the door, shutting it behind. As he headed out of the office, however, Truman's words slowly sank in, and he found himself full of giddy energy, grinning as he shook his fists in delight, inadvertently crumpling up the form he carried. "I can't believe the Grand Head of the Psychonauts thinks I'm cool!" he squealed.

It took him a moment to realize he was in the Nerve Center, and he felt his face heat up when he noticed that a few of the agents were giving him funny looks. Fortunately he had enough excitement to keep himself buoyant, and he hopped on a lev ball to speed out of the room and catch up with Loboto and Oleander.

It wasn't hard to spot the two of them in the Atrium, where Loboto's presence was attracting a lot of stares. Raz hurried over, hopping off his lev ball and landing directly next to him. Both Loboto and Oleander jumped, the former letting out a small yelp.

"Sheesh, watch the blind side, private!" Oleander grunted, pointing at his glass eye.

"Right, sorry." Raz gave them a sheepish grin. "Truman had to keep me for a minute to give a few more instructions."

"That so? Huh." The Coach rubbed his chin. "You'll have to relay them to me later. First though, let's finish this part of the mission." With that, he resumed walking toward another wing of the Motherlobe that Raz had yet to explore. This one wasn't marked in big letters like the others, but instead was a quieter, much less grand hallway. There were a few benches and seats here and there, and they eventually passed a vending room (which featured a few different machines and a microwave), as well as the occasional bathroom and a laundry room.

"Seems a bit mundane for the Psychonauts," Loboto muttered, his optics twitching toward the laundry room as they passed. Through the open door, they could spot an agent in casual clothes, nearly dozing off as she stood next to a running dryer.

"Better than some musty old tower, though, right?" Oleander replied.

"That musty old tower was my home," Loboto snapped, then wilted, his eyes tilting away. "...There's not even a lab here."

"Sasha has a lab!" Raz said, turning around and walking backwards so he could look up at Loboto. "Otto too! You could probably work something out with one of them if you wanted to use those."

At that Loboto seemed startled. "Not that I'm in any particular hurry to go back to either of those places," he said, "but I'll think about it."

Nodding, Raz went to turn around, only to walk straight into another person in the hall. He let out a yelp, dropping the crumpled papers he'd been carrying.

"Hey, watch it, kid!" the agent he'd bumped into grunted.

"S-sorry." Quickly he scooped up the papers and hurried back over to Oleander and Loboto. He looked over the forms as he did so, frowning. "Man, I didn't think about how I'd have to fill out this kinda stuff after missions."

"Yeah, it's not the most fun part of the job." The Coach eyed the forms with a frown as well. "I'll have to help you out with those."

Loboto bent down, optics searching over the papers. "Oh, I could give you a hand there," he said, nodding. "I've still got a knack for forgery."

"NO," Raz and Oleander said simultaneously.

While Raz quickly folded the papers and TK'd them into his bag, Loboto straightened, looking away. "Suit yourself."

"We'll tackle that part of the mission later," Oleander went on. He looked down at the key Truman had handed him, turning it one way, then another, and eyeing some signs on the wall (one featuring room numbers, another with an arrow pointing down the hall with the label "DAY ROOM" and another arrow in a different direction with the label "KITCHEN"). "Come on, we're nearly there." It wasn't long before he stopped in front of a door, compared the number on it to the one on the keyring, and nodded. "Yep, here we are." With that, he unlocked the door and opened it, gesturing into the room. "Welcome to your new living space, Cal."

Both Raz and Loboto stepped in, the latter having to duck through the door. Raz knew he didn't really have to be here, but he'd never seen one of the dorms before, though he'd seen the posters on the bulletin board advertising movie night. The room wasn't terribly large, featuring a bed, a desk and chair, a closet, a dresser, and a shelf. A few tiny holes pockmarked the walk here and there where posters had originally hung, but otherwise the place was in decent condition.

"They're not the greatest," Oleander remarked, "but you're free to decorate 'em as you like. Typically there's a security deposit for these things, but your situation's a bit different. Pretty sure you're still responsible for paying for any repairs, though."

"I wasn't planning on trashing the place," Loboto said, setting the papers and pen Truman had given him on the table. He stared down at it for a moment, then cast another glance around the room, his gaze falling on the bed. Raz wished he could read Loboto's expressions more easily, but something told him the doctor wasn't especially happy. Maybe he was just tired?

Another gurgle filled the silence of the room.

Or hungry. That could be, too.

"Heh, well, you can follow the signs to the kitchen," Oleander went on, "but I'd say the Noodle Bowl should be our next stop. But before I forget—" He tossed the key up to Loboto, who snatched it with his left hand. "Don't lose that."

"I wasn't planning on that, either," Loboto said, pocketing the key. Or any of this, Raz swore he heard him mutter into his collar.

As Oleander ushered them out of the room and back the way they came, he put his hand to his temple.

Who are you calling? Raz asked.

The Coach barely suppressed a laugh. Just a couple of his future instructors.

Raz had an idea of what he meant, and sure enough, they ran into the two of them just as they stepped out into the Atrium.

"Good afternoon Morry, Razputin," Sasha greeted as he and Milla approached the group. He nodded toward Loboto. "...Caligosto."

"We heard from Morry that you'd be staying here for a while," Milla said, taking a step closer to the dentist. "That's so good to hear, darling!"

Loboto mumbled something unintelligible in response, looking away.

"Sasha and I will help train your psychic powers," Milla went on. "We've taught plenty of chi—of students before, and we'll be happy to help you!"

"Indeed." Sasha stepped beside his partner, gesturing toward her. "Milla in particular will be able to help you with levitation, while I'd be happy to show you how to psi-blast in my shooting gallery."

Immediately Raz, Oleander, and Milla balked. "Uh," the Coach blurted, "might wanna wait on that one for a bit, Nein."

"Why? It's a healthy way of dealing with pent-up psychic energy, which I'm sure the doctor has no shortage of, given his situation," Sasha remarked, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Let's just start with the basics for now, Sasha," Milla said hurriedly.

"Yeah, I'll be teaching him too!" Raz put in. "I... don't have a classroom like you guys, but I can probably figure something out."

"First thing's first, though, we gotta fill up the tank." Oleander jabbed a thumb in the direction of the Noodle Bowl. "You two gonna join us?"

"Oh, we won't be staying—we were just about to pick up lunch for our subject," Sasha remarked, only to clear his throat. "Er, detainee. Though we also needed to discuss a few things with you, Morry."

"Ah, really?" Scratching the back of his head, he looked between Raz and Sasha a few times. "Well, all right. Lemme just get some rations settled for these two."

As they headed into the cafeteria and made their orders, Raz watched the three camp counselors chatter, while Loboto remained oddly silent. His gaze remained fixed on the floor, though occasionally he looked up, eyes twitching left and right anxiously before hurriedly looking downward again. It looked like he might be shivering, too, though he supposed it might be a little chilly in this place.

"Razputin, darling," Milla said, jarring Raz out of his thoughts, "why don't you and Caligosto take your meal outside?"

Remembering the spots he'd seen around the outside of the Motherlobe, Raz brightened. "Sure! That sounds fun!"

Just let us know immediately if there's any problems, Sasha added telepathically.

Raz straightened. Sure thing, Agent Nein, but I don't think he'll be any trouble.

Hopefully not.

Just as he was about to say something else to Sasha, Raz found himself interrupted by a plastic salad container and a water bottle held out to him. "Oh, thanks, Coach!" he said, grinning as he accepted the food.

"No problem, soldier." Oleander winced as he held up a greasy-looking container and water bottle to Loboto, who hesitated a moment before snatching them. Frantically the Coach wiped his gloves with a napkin as he glanced back at Raz. "I'll meet up with you later to help with that paperwork. For now, dismissed!"

"Yes, sir!" After waving to the Coach with the water bottle he was holding, he looked up at Loboto, who fiddled with his own water bottle in his claw. "C'mon, Doctor Loboto, there's some nice seats outside."

Loboto only made a hum of acknowledgement, but followed him regardless as he headed back out into the Atrium and toward the lobby.

Raz had to apologize before holding Loboto's apron straps in a gentle TK grip as they took the lift down. ("Milla will teach you about levitation later so you can use these on your own," he had explained.) He had to do the same once again to use one of the lifts outside to get to the balcony. Once there, he sighed at finding one of the tables free from other agents, and took a seat.

The sun was still high and kept the quarry warm, while a cool breeze prevented it from getting too hot—perfect weather to explore more of this place... or to just relax for a moment. After how hectic the past week or so had been, Raz felt a bit more comfortable just unwinding for now. He cracked open his water bottle and eagerly dug into his salad—a sort of food he was still getting used to eating, but it was a lot better than he'd expected—but after a few moments, he noticed that Loboto... hadn't started eating, nor had he said much in the past while. Frowning, Raz turned to look at him.

Rather than sitting back in his chair, Loboto was sitting at the edge of the seat, shoulders hunched and back stiff. Yet he made no move to eat his food either—the food box and water bottle sat untouched on the table. His eyes looked out into the distance, yet not focused on any specific point, and his lips were a tight line.

"...Doctor Loboto?" Raz ventured, and the doctor jumped in his seat, as though startled out of a trance. He winced. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Are you okay?"

"P-perfectly fine," he stammered, waving Raz off.

Frowning, Raz looked from Loboto to the greasy box on the table. "Do you not like hamburgers?" he asked. "I mean, I get it if you don't—I really used to like them myself, but uh, some kinda messed up stuff happened, and I've been staying away from meat for the past few days." He held up his salad box. "But you can have some of my salad if you—"

"I'm not hungry," Loboto said, only for his words to be followed by a growl from his stomach. In a quick move, he swung his prosthetic arm and hit himself in the gut, wincing. "Don't listen to that—it's lying."

Raz raised an eyebrow. "Uhh... okay. I'll take your word for it."

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments, Raz shoveling more food into his mouth. Loboto still wouldn't look at his food, instead opting to stare down at the water in the quarry. Even when Raz finished his meal, Loboto had still barely moved.

"So, uh..." Raz bit his lip, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table. "That was a lotta stuff that happened, wasn't it? In your mind, I mean. And here, too! But everything should be a lot better now, right?" Turning to face Loboto, he gave him a hopeful smile. "How do you feel?"

Still Loboto did not look at him, instead continuing to stare silently down at the water. He did not immediately answer, only continuing to gaze downward until a shudder wracked his frame. Finally he spoke, his words so quiet and fleeting that Raz could barely catch them: "I'm terrified."

A sudden gust of wind knocked the empty food box off the table and tipped over the mostly-empty water bottle. The air around them was suddenly cold.

"Wh... why?" Raz leaned closer, feeling a tug in his chest. "What are you afraid of?"

Raising up his hand, Loboto gestured at the quarry, the psychoisolation chamber, the lab, the Motherlobe.

Raz followed Loboto's gestures before turning back to him. "I know this place is big, but it's really great here. You'll get used to it!"

"It's not that," he growled, shaking his head. Slowly he pulled his hand back to his chest, and clenched it. "You... plucked me from that crumbling cavernous cave I was trapped in all that time, like a tiny tooth swallowed by a child before they could get anything valuable for it. But now I feel…” He hesitated, then looked up. “Crooked? Fallen out of place? Like… someone dropped me, and I bounced under the fridge.”

After taking a moment to parse the metaphor, Raz sighed and looked down at the ground. "I think I know how you feel." To his surprise, Loboto turned to look at him, and he continued: "Everything here is different from what I've been doing my whole life. I've never..." He tried to gesture with his hands, but wasn't sure what to do. "I've never stayed in one place before. We always moved around, and... now, this is where I'll be."

He paused for a moment, feeling his stomach knot up again. "To be honest, Cali... I'm scared too."

Loboto shifted, turning his body to face Raz and tipping his head.

"I learned a lot of stuff I'd always thought was true... wasn't true at all. And there's things that are still... kinda new to me." Raz glanced at the spilled water on the table, and with a bit of concentration, a little hand sprouted out of the water and waved at him. His smile was brief, and he stared down at his hands. "My whole life's gonna be different from now on, but..." Finally he clenched his hands, looking up. "It's going to be better. It's how I want it to be."

After a moment he looked back at Loboto, who was back to staring downward. This time, though, instead of his eyes staring off into space, his brow was furrowed, his mouth twisting in thought.

"Don't you want things to go better, Cali?" Raz asked. "Don't you wanna use your powers for the right thing?"

Loboto's chest heaved in a deep sigh. He looked up at the items on the table and reached out with his prosthetic arm, pressing a claw against the top of his water bottle and wobbling it, watching the water slosh inside. "...Y'know, old dentist practice was just to pull teeth."

Raz blinked. "Uh... come again?"

"If there was a problem with a tooth, you'd pull it. Certainly the most fun way to handle things, but not the most... productive." He flicked the bottle, knocking it over. "But that's not what's done nowadays. Always better to save the tooth when you can. But it's... not quite the easiest way of doing things." Sighing, he set the water bottle upright again. "I've been pulling teeth all this time."

Perking up, Raz nodded. "But you know the better thing to do, now, right?"

Loboto hesitated. "I... I think so...?"

"Well..." Raz looked aside for a second, then shrugged before looking back. "We'll figure it out together. How's that sound?"

"Together...?" Loboto murmured. His mechanical eyes twitched in one direction, then another, his mouth wobbling. Then his optics turned to face Raz, the mechanics whirring as he stared into his eyes. Finally he clenched his claw, not in anger, but determination. "All right. Let's do it."

---~~~---

The moon gleamed over the quarry, its light reflecting off the water and the brain-shaped dome of the Motherlobe. Crickets chirped around the dozing goats, but luckily their high-pitched cries didn't reach the microphones set up within the tree house. Morris kept an eye on Queepie as the kid skillfully tuned the radio, while across from them Raz sat cross-legged on the floor, glancing up to observe Loboto’s latest… look.

While, even when perched on a stool, he more-or-less retained his familiar silhouette, his entire outfit other than his shower cap had completely changed: Rather than his filthy lab coat (which was in the process of being thoroughly cleaned), he wore a long, yellow dress, a green turtleneck over said dress, a pink glove on his left hand, knee-length white socks, and black shoes with medium heels. The clothing had been lent from a variety of donors—Sasha and Cassie being the main ones, since they were closest to his height, and Otto and Milla had pitched in too. The doctor's appearance garnered more stares than he'd gotten previously, but he'd assured Raz he was comfortable in the outfit (the dress especially made him think of his lab coat).

Now, though, he seemed slightly less comfortable, hands on his knees as one of his legs bouncing uncertainly. Once Queepie gave Morris a thumbs-up and skipped out onto the balcony, however, Loboto perked up, looking more alert and excited, while Morris TK'd one mic closer to Loboto while moving his own closer to himself.

"Goooood evening, everyone!" Morris began. "You're listening to K-L.O.B., the Motherlobe's exclusive radio station! Tonight we've got a special guest for you—"

"Oooh, I've always wanted to do one of these things!"

Morris winced, making a swiping motion at his throat. "Yes, that voice you just heard is our special guest, the newest trainee of the Psychonauts, Doctoooor..." He drew out the word, flipping through some notecards before glancing frantically over to Raz. Help me out, how do you pronounce this guy's name again?

Cah-lee-goh-stoh, Raz answered with a nod.

"Caligosto Loboto!" Morris finished with a flourish.

Loboto giggled, clasping his hand and claw together in delight. "Yeah, you hear that, dad?" he cried, leaning aggressively into his mic. "I'm on the radio! Too bad you never got that interview, eh?"

While Morris grit his teeth, stealing an already-exasperated look at Raz, Raz covered his mouth to hide his silent laughter.

I told you to keep this from getting out of hand! Morris hissed into his mind.

What, you can't handle this?

Clearing his throat, Morris faced Loboto again. "So, Doctor Loboto, I'm told you have quite the patchy history with the Psychonauts?"

"Oh, yes, it’s practically a quilt at this point. I've probably worked for half the scoundrels in their rogues' gallery!" Loboto waved a hand flippantly, as though he were admitting to an extremely petty crime.

"Uh... huh."

Raz frowned when he noticed Morris glancing at the entrance to the tree house as though eyeing the escape route. Queepie was sitting just outside, legs dangling over the edge of the porch and finger shoved firmly up his nose. Man, Queepie's less scared of Cali than Morris is, Raz thought with deliberate loudness.

Morris shook his head, straightening in his chair. "But now here you are, living at Psychonauts Headquarters! Quite the change, huh?"

"Certainly. My last room was in an abandoned asylum, and it had windows. Though this place seems to be in better shape."

To Raz's relief, his fellow Junior Psychonaut decided to overlook the asylum comment. "Ah," Morris continued with a smirk. "So you haven't seen the dorm kitchen yet."

"I said it was in better shape, not perfect. The kitchen at Thorney Towers was cleaner than that dump!"

"Man, I am not surprised." Morris chuckled. "How about work-wise, though? What's it like going from a dastardly villain to working with the good guys?"

"Dastardly?" Loboto tipped his head, tapping a claw against his lip. "That's... evil in a handsome way, right?"

"...Sure."

"Well, there's no more terrifying bosses lurking over me."

"Right, you haven't met Hollis."

"What—?"

"The work's pretty different too, right?"

Loboto leaned back, his optics swiveling away. (Raz TK'd his microphone closer, an action that received a grateful nod from Morris.) "It's... not work exactly..."

"Yeah? They let you loaf around all day?"

"No, no! It's..." His mouth twisted for a moment. "Psychic... training."

"Interesting! Did you not use your powers much when—"

Nope, nope, don't go there, Raz thought hurriedly, waving his hands.

Morris cocked an eyebrow at him, but shrugged and flipped to a different note card. "What kind of training do you do here?"

"Oh, stuff like levitation... and telekinesis..."

He moved his right arm, and a clawed, purple hand materialized in front of Morris, who rolled back in surprise as the claw shakily plucked up a note card before flicking it to the floor. While Raz was excited at seeing the progress, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety at how Morris would respond.

To his surprise, Morris zipped back up to his mic, disregarding the dropped card. "So our listeners didn't see that, but our guest just did a quick demonstration of his telekinesis powers." Grinning in excitement, he looked back up at Loboto. "Did you do that with your prosthesis?"

"What?" Loboto's optics switched on and off quickly in a “blink.” "Is that unusual?"

"I've never seen a psychic do that before! Then again, you're the first psychic I've met with a prosthesis."

Raz swallowed back the urge to inform them that True Psychic Tales #299 featured a psychic from Canada with a prosthetic leg; Morris wouldn't be keen on the interruption.

"Psychic..." Loboto murmured, his mouth forming the word uncomfortably as he stared down at his claw.

"I suppose it's not too surprising," Morris went on, switching to his calmer radio voice. He shifted his chair back and forth slightly and patted the armrest to indicate it, raising an eyebrow. "We psychics are known for solving problems, right?"

Loboto gave a start, looking up at Morris, then down at Raz, who grinned back up at him.

"...Right," Loboto answered slowly, and his expression softened. "I... suppose we are."

#caligosto loboto #razputin aquato #morceau oleander #psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #truman zanotto #milla vodello #sasha nein #morris martinez #my art #my writing #fanfic #psychics ruin everything #OKAY IT'S FINALLY POSTED #MERRY LATE CHRISTMAS #gonna try to get some oneshots posted too before the year is up

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