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tigerkirby215 · 4 years ago

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5e Samira, the Desert Rose build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Jessica 'OwleyCat' Oyhenart. Made for Riot Games.)

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Still fucking hate this champ but her theme still slaps.

The eternal joke of me putting off making a build for Samira is finally over, though ironically enough my distain for this champ has only grown overtime. Jesus fucking Christ Rito can you nerf this champ’s goddamn damage? Like nerfing her lifesteal is nice and all but it doesn’t mean shit when my dumbfuck teammates picked 4 assassins into her and I’m the only one who can CC her as a Lulu.

Ah well: Samira still definitely fills a fantasy everyone wants, being a badass with sword and gun styling on the competition. Devil May Cry? Yeah I suppose Samira would be pretty good in a campaign against Fiends.

GOALS

You want style? You've found her - Smile, Sweet, Sister, Sadistic; we’ll need to Surprise the Service with Style to Spare. Sssssssssssssssssamira.

Eyes up! - We’ll need to be everywhere at once, dashing and dancing around the battlefield so no one can lock us down.

Showtime! - When push comes to shove it’s time to speeeeeeeeeen~

RACE

Samira is human no matter what the meta might dictate, and for once in my life I actually want something particular from Variant Human. But firstly: you can increase two Ability Scores of your choice by 1: increase both Dexterity and Wisdom for sharp sight and sharper shots. You also get a skill of your choice and a language of your pleasing. For your skill take Slight of Hand for flips and other gun tricks, and for your language Infernal will be good for your Inferno Trigger.

Again: we came to Variant Human land for a Feat because two guns are better than one. The Crossbow Expert Feat will give you a variety of benefits: no need to reload (or at least the ability to ignore the Loading property), no disadvantage in melee range... But most importantly if you fire a Hand Crossbow (which will be working as our handgun in this build) you can fire it again as a Bonus Action! "Well! Look at you."

ABILITY SCORES

15; DEXTERITY - Dexterity is tied to both shooting and backflips.

14; CHARISMA - Who needs a military license when you’ve got style?

13; WISDOM - Wisdom measures how in-tune you are with the world around you, and you need heightened senses not to die doing stupid shit.

12; CONSTITUTION - Most of Samira’s sustain comes from Lifesteal but we won’t really be able to get lifesteal, so just focus on not dying really.

10; STRENGTH - It takes a lot of upper body strength to do the stuff that Samira does but Riot isn’t about to make another Illaoi.

8; INTELLIGENCE - Your primary goal is to do things as recklessly and dangerously as possible... “for the Vine” as the kids say. Vine shut down ages ago!

BACKGROUND

Samira is a mercenary. I wonder if there’s a background for that... hey look at that Mercenary Veteran in the Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide! You get proficiency in Athletics and Persuasion as well as Ground Vehicles and a gaming set of your choice. But of course the main benefit of being a mercenary is the Mercenary Life. You can easily identify other mercenaries and know bits and pieces of their lives. You can also easily find work by hanging around taverns and such until Captain Indari passes on some info to you.

(Artwork made for Riot Games)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - ROGUE 1

Starting off as a Rogue because I like skill proficiencies! Skills like Acrobatics, Perception, Insight, and Performance; you were a street performer once! You also get Expertise in two of those skills: Acrobatics and Athletics are necessary to be everywhere at once.

You can chat in Noxian military code thanks to Thieves’ Cant, but c’mon that’s not what we’re here for. We’re here for Sneak Attack! If an enemy is distracted or you have advantage you can stick a d6 where the sun don’t shine!

LEVEL 2 - ROGUE 2

Second level Rogues get Cunning Action, letting them Dash, Disengage, or Hide as a Bonus Action. Dance around the battlefield like an Olympic gymnast... does Runeterra have the Olympics?

LEVEL 3 - ROGUE 3

Third level Rogues get to choose their Roguish Archetype: to be the queen of style and also make people think you’re from Bilgewater (yeah I get it; it’s because of the eyepatch) look no further than the Swashbuckler subclass. Swashbucklers get two abilities at level 1 but honestly it’s more like three abilities: Rakish Audacity will let you add your Charisma modifier to initiative rolls so you can get into fights fast, and will also let you Sneak Attack anyone who’s beside you. I’d consider it less like you sneak attacking them and more like you slashing them with your sword. Oh and speaking of Sneak Attack? That increases to 2d6 now.

Speaking of sword slashing: Fancy Footwork is the mobile feat! Well, it makes it so that after you try to make a melee attack against an enemy you can move away without provoking opportunity attacks. It’s a little weird to run around with a sword in one hand and a gun in the other but you can easily slash at someone before backflipping away and running off to shoot them next turn!

(Artwork by @Aruneeko on Twitter)

LEVEL 4 - BARD 1

You didn’t think we’d be settling for just one class, did you? It’s time to go Bard; the masters of style! Bards get another skill proficiency at level 1 because why not be good at everything? Grab Medicine proficiency because it’s good to know how to bandage yourself up when living a dangerous lifestyle. “On my worst behavior." You also get a musical instrument and you know that I’ll always opt for good ol’ Noxian War Drums.

Bards get Bardic Inspiration, letting them show off their awesomeness so that awesomeness radiates onto their allies to give them a d6 to attack rolls, ability checks, and saving throws. You’ve got a number of these equal to your Charisma modifier, and regain them at the end of a Long Rest. For now, at least.

And of course while you may be all guns your style makes it look like Spellcasting... because it is. Bards get 2 cantrips and 4 spells at level 1:

CANTRIPS

Prestidigitation will let you put all the visual flair you could want on your moves, and more!

If you wanna walk the walk you’ve gotta talk the talk, and Vicious Mockery will let you talk smack so hard they can’t hit back! "Keep the change; you're gonna need it."

SPELLS

Magic is usually dangerous, and danger is usually fun! Take Detect Magic to see where that danger may be!

If you need some space in a pinch Thunderwave will give yourself some peel.

Steel yourself to do something crazy with Heroism, which will also give you a bit of a shield to do so!

You are still technically working for Noxus so it would be good to Identify anything important... or valuable... For safe keeping of course!

LEVEL 5 - BARD 2

Second level Bards truly are good at everything thanks to Jack of All Trades, letting you add half your proficiency bonus to any skill you don’t have proficiency in. You probably noticed that we already have proficiency in a silly amount of skills but I’m not going to say no to MORE!

After dangerous stunts it’s good to cool off with a Song of Rest, letting you help your crew with a d6 of healing during short rests to bandage up those wounds.

And of course: more spells! Faerie Fire will let you light ‘em up to get advantage, which will make it easier to sneak attack!

LEVEL 6 - BARD 3

Third level Bards get Expertise in two more skills: Perception will help you spot danger and Medicine will help you after dealing with danger.

But of course what we’re mainly here for is your Bardic College and in order to be too cool for school go for the College of Swords. You get some Bonus Proficiencies that don’t really matter but what does matter is you can use your sword to cast spells instead of a drum! Additionally you get a choice of Fighting Style and Dueling will make your sword swings do more damage if you swing it with one hand. I guess it’s worth mentioning that while a rapier would do the most damage a scimitar is the only finesse weapon that does slashing? (Excluding whips.)

But the main feature we’re here for is Blade Flourish which despite the name does also work with your hand crossbows. When you attack your movement speed increases by 10 feet as you charge up that Daredevil Impulse. If you hit with your shot however you can make a Blade Flourish (which again works with your hand crossbows?) of your choice from the following list:

Defensive Flourish does extra damage and also increases your AC as you dodge incoming projectiles.

Slashing Flourish will let you cleave with your sword (and just your sword because it only works on nearby enemies.)

Mobile Flourish will let you chase after a fleeing foe... after pushing them. But after shoving them into danger you can use your reaction to dive right in!

You can only use one Blade Flourish per turn which will matter later. As for what will matter now? Second level spells! Enhance Ability will help you give 110%!

LEVEL 7 - BARD 4

Heeey it’s about time we got an Ability Score Improvement! Our Dexterity has been lacking and you need that to fire straight!

Word of advice: if you know you aren’t going to level 20 feel free to get 4 levels in Rogue for the sake of the ASI.

You also get another spell, and another cantrip! For your cantrip Message is always good for keeping in team chat. For leveled spells Warding Wind does let you deflect nearby projectiles so...

LEVEL 8 - BARD 5

5th level Bards get Font of Inspiration so their Bardic Inspiration die come back on a Short Rest, which is good because said Bardic Inspiration die also increases to a d8! Oh and when I say “Bardic Inspiration” I actually mean your Blade Flourish die. "If you can't keep up don't step up. I don't have time for fools."

And now third level spells are up on the table, but they all suck so take Mirror Image from the second level instead, which was added to the Bard spell list thanks to Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything!

(Artwork by GaMu-ChAn on DeviantArt)

LEVEL 9 - RANGER 1

Three way multiclass? Don’t mind if I do! You get an extra skill proficiency by multiclassing into Ranger, because why not. Take Survival because you’re clearly damn good at it since you’re still alive.

Rangers get Deft Explorer at level 1 because Natural Explorer sucks and Tasha’s made Ranger a good class! Canny lets you learn two languages (honestly just pick your poison) and get Expertise in another skill, because lord knows we don’t have enough of those. I know we just got Survival proficiency, but it’s good to be good at not dying! (As well as finding food.)

You also get Favored Foe at first level, because Favored Enemy smells. If you shoot someone you can legally-not-Hunter’s Mark them so they take a d4 of extra damage once per turn when you shoot them. You concentrate on it like a spell and it works a lot like the Hunter’s Mark spell but you have a limited number of uses equal to your proficiency bonus, instead of using your spell slots.

LEVEL 10 - RANGER 2

Heeey more Fighting Styles! You already improved your sword swings so take Archery for +2 to ranged attack rolls to ensure that you hit your shots.

Rangers also get Spellcasting, only this spellcasting works with your Wisdom instead of your Charisma! You learn two spells from the Ranger list: Jump will let you do some hardcore parkour because the Ranger spell list sucks and I’ve got nothing else to give you, and Cure Wounds will allow Samira to have some healing... as a treat.

LEVEL 11 - RANGER 3

Third level Rangers can choose their archetype and Hunters are masters at taking down their foes. You can choose a way to take down your Hunter’s Prey. Colossus Slayer is a fairly simple affair: if you shoot (or stab) someone who’s already hurt they take an extra d8 of damage. Though you can only apply that extra d8 once per turn.

You also learn another spell: Longstrider will help you move thanks to that Daredevil Impulse. 10 feet may not seem like much but remember that you get an extra 10 feet thanks to Blade Flourish and can dash to turn 50 feet into 100 feet of movement!

Oh and I also completely forgot about Primal Awareness, which replaces Primeval Awareness. You can Speak with Animals once per day! Maybe not in character, but it helps if you have a Yuumi!

LEVEL 12 - RANGER 4

4th level Rangers get an Ability Score Improvement: time to finally cap that Dexterity score for the most precise shots and deadly cuts possible!

(Artwork by Jennifer Wuestling. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 13 - RANGER 5

Total level 13 isn’t too late to get an Extra Attack, right? Well you can shoot twice now and mix some more Flair into your combos.

You can also learn second level spells now like Aid (ty Tasha’s) to let that adrenaline kick in so you feel no pain. Primal Awareness also gives you Beast Sense for a bit of covert Psy Ops.

LEVEL 14 - RANGER 6

6th level Rangers get Roving from Deft Explorer for 5 extra feet of movement along with a climbing speed and a swimming speed! Reminder that in combination with both Longstrider and Blade Flourish that increases to a whopping 55 movement speed, which means that you can Dash as a Bonus Action to move 110 feet in a turn! "Danger runs from me." Your Favored Foe mark also increases to a d6 of damage.

LEVEL 15 - RANGER 7

7th level Hunters learn some Defensive Tactics: while perhaps not the most useful since you have Heroism and all you’ve certainly got a Steel Will, giving you advantage against being frightened. “Death isn't the scariest thing; it's a mother's rage."

You can also learn another spell: Lesser Restoration can be helpful in a pinch if someone’s trying to slow you down. Or at least if they’re trying to blind, deafen, poison, or paralyze you.

LEVEL 16 - RANGER 8

8th level of Ranger means another Ability Score Improvement: Charisma means higher initiative rolls as well as more Blade Flourishes. Simply put Wisdom can’t beat style!

Oh yeah and you also get Land’s Stride to move through non-magical difficult terrain and plants without slowing down, and for advantage against magic plants. I legit forgot this was even a thing before seeing it on the character sheet.

(Artwork by dominaART on DeviantArt)

LEVEL 17 - RANGER 9

9th level Rangers get 3rd level spells like Conjure Barrage for some bullet rain; "My kind of rain!" Basically you shoot a bunch of bullets in a big cone, because Rangers get this instead of Fireball. Honestly something like Elemental Weapon (ty Tasha’s) would probably be better but we’re still sticking to flavor.

Oh and you can Speak with Plants thanks to Primal Awareness? Honestly these extra spells don’t fit at all but Primeval Awareness sucks. I’m literally adding these extra spells to the build last second.

LEVEL 18 - RANGER 10

10th level Rangers get Tireless from Deft Explorer. As an action, you can give yourself a Shieldbow shield for 1d8 + your Wisdom modifier in Temporary Hitpoints. You can do this a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus, and regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest. Additionally: whenever you finish a short rest, your exhaustion level is decreased by 1. Because danger doesn’t wait!

You also get Nature’s Veil because even if Vanish fits Samira better it still freaking sucks. Basically you can play around with Duskblade to turn invisible as a Bonus Action until the end of your next turn. You can use this feature a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus, and you regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest.

LEVEL 19 - RANGER 11

11th level Hunters can finally spin around and hit everyone around them. Whirlwind Attack will let you make a melee attack against any enemy within 5 feet of you (with a separate attack roll for each target.) This is best used when surrounded (obviously) because unlike Samira’s ultimate in League it doesn’t do much extra damage, and you’re better off just stabbing them twice if you want DPS in a 1v1.

You also get your final spell known: take Wind Wall because you have an AoE Wind Wall and I thought it would be funny to steal directly from mister 0/10 powerspike himself. But really get whatever spell you think will be useful.

LEVEL 20 - RANGER 12

Full disclosure: feel free to go for 4 levels in Rogue if you know you aren’t going to hit level 20. I only went for Ranger level 12 because the hit die is bigger.

One last ability score improvement to top the build off: Charisma is still used for a lot of abilities, so increase that because who needs common sense when you’ve got blade flourishes!

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Came all this way to die? - You have many a way to bump up the damage. With 2d6 on a sneak attack, an extra d6 from Favored Foe, a d8 from Blade Flourishes, and a d8 from Colossus Slayer that means that on average you can do about 20 extra damage every turn. That’s definitely nothing to sneeze at!

Finally some action! - Have you ever had +12 to initiative? Would you like to? You are incredibly mobile for a girl who didn’t bring Flash (IE Misty Step) with tons of ways to increase your movement speed and the ability to Dash every turn as a Bonus Action.

This took years of practice... for everyone else - It was not my intention but wow you’re quite the little skill monkey. Two expertise skills from Rogue, another 2 from Bard, and one more from Deft Explorer. Not to mention Jack of All Trades in what few skills you aren’t proficient in to make sure you can do just about anything.

CONS

Oh... I really gotta check these more often - Your spellcasting really isn’t fantastic. We invested almost everything into Charisma but we have very few Bard spells. While I did my best to avoid Ranger spells that forced saving throws there are still some that suffer due to your relatively low Wisdom score... Oh yeah you also have 6th level spell slots but your known spells don’t go past level 3. At least that means you can buff the party with Aid!

I feel most alive when I'm walking the line - As great as your skill checks are your saving throws are quite lacking. Your Dexterity is nice but that’s about it; all your other saves range from average (+5) to bad (+0) Notably your Constitution saves are a mere +1, which means you won’t keep concentration up for long if you play recklessly.

Well-behaved women don't make it - There are a lot of features I took more for flavor then actual utility. For a start Hunter is a rather meh multiclass. This might be one of the times “just play a Fighter with a bow” applies as a subclass like Battlemaster would’ve likely been a better choice, and honestly going down full Swords Bard would’ve given you far more utility overall. There were benefits from Ranger levels but they were lost in the multiclassing MADness.

But you prove that modern-day killers really must hate fun; more often people can’t get style rockin' knives and guns. You don’t need no fancy magic or divine ascension to be a badass: gun ‘em down and cut through whatever remains to show that S stands for Samira and Samira alone... As long as she isn’t permabanned.

(Artwork by @Yangyexin on Twitter)

#dnd #dnd build #dnd guide #DnD 5e #League of Legends #League of Legends Samira #Samira LoL #dnd rogue #dnd bard #dnd ranger #Devil May Cry #S #fuck this shitty champ #Rito plz remove her #holy shit #now she's ruining my TfT too

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liannyeong · 4 years ago

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Crimson (Chapter 11)

Summary: Jaebeom and Yujin attends the autumn festival hosted by the Air court.

Word count: 4390

Pairing: Jaebeom X OC

Warning(s): some fluff, some angst :o

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

A/N: Finally managed to put this up albeit late. D: Anyway, let me know what you think about this chapter! ^^ Show your support for my works by buying me a coffee! Follow me on Twitter for random updates.

Once again, Yujin stands before Jaebeom, in the fog. The fae is emotionless, just staring at her with his crimson eyes. He doesn’t even reach out to her, doesn’t even look at her with the usual fondness.

"Jaebeom, can’t you see?” Yujin speaks first, holding up a finger. “My heart is already in your hands."

The Fire fae looks down, Yujin following suit. His right hand is stained, red liquid dripping onto the ground. Similar to the previous dream, there is a beating heart in his hold. As if curious, Jaebeom goes on to squeeze it. Immediately, Yujin doubles over, her fingers clutching at her chest, nails digging into the skin. Yet, Jaebeom seems the least affected. He spares her a glance, before clenching his fists tight, knuckles turning white. Visually, Yujin can see how the heart in his hand is further compressed, as if he’s wringing the laundry. Yujin’s knees buckle slightly before she collapses to the ground. She screams, the pain in her chest excruciating, tears streaming down her face. Despite that, Jaebeom doesn’t stop. It’s as if he’s blind to her pain, deaf to her screams. It’s as if he doesn’t care what’ll happen to her at all. His fingers continue to dig into the heart, until finally, it punctures through. Blood splatters everywhere, some droplets land on his face, onto the ground, some even reaching Yujin.

Yujin gasps for air, her breathing getting weaker by each passing second.

“Why…?” the female croaks out helplessly.

Jaebeom brings up his free hand. A ball of fire is produced on his palm -- larger than any he has ever conjured. The fire spreads up to his elbow, engulfing his entire left arm. The fae looks mesmerized by his new ability, turning his arm around, his eyes reflecting the light of the dancing fire. In the next moment, the flame dissipates completely.

Jaebeom glances down to the heart in his other hand, before darting his eyes back at Yujin. He holds it up, and fire ignites once more. This time, Yujin watches as the flame engulfs the heart, as the flame turns from orange to a deep blue, as the heart scorches in the heat. She watches as the muscle turns to ashes. Her vision goes out.

“Yujin, my love,” she hears a sweet voice calling her repeatedly. She feels someone shaking her body awake.

Opening her eyes, Jaebeom is already peering at her, his face contorted in worry. Her mind flashes the image of dream Jaebeom, and Yujin jolts up, nearly butting heads with the male.

“Relax, it’s just me,” Jaebeom soothes her, running a hand up and down her back. Then, he pulls her for a hug. “I’m here.”

Immediately, the tension in Yujin’s body vanishes, though tears are flowing down her cheeks.

“Jaebeom, you love me, right?” she mutters.

“Of course I do,” the male answers, tightening his arms around her. “You had a bad dream, that’s all. If the dream told you otherwise, then know that this Jaebeom has always loved you.”

Yujin nods slightly, burying her face into his chest. Despite the nightmares relating to Jaebeom, it’s only a dream. Why it occurs, Yujin doesn’t know. But perhaps, it stems from her insecurity that she’s nothing compared to the person Jaebeom holds dear. In the end, Jaebeom has assured her of his love, and Yujin finds comfort in that.

Don’t you worry, Yujin tells her heart, Jaebeom loves us.

---

The day of the Air court autumn festival arrives in no time. Yujin wears a cream-colored wrap dress, personally designed by Bam. The dress is made of linen, but it flows beautifully whenever Yujin moves. The skirt reaches her ankles, and there is a slit at the side that exposes her left leg. Yujin finds it simple, nothing too eye-catching, but the couturier was confident that Yujin will outshine Yena. That Jaebeom will never take his eyes off her! Yujin had laughed it off then, had shaken her head in amusement.

But when she emerges from her room and meets Jaebeom at the bottom of the main staircase, it seems to her that Bam's words ring true. The male is staring at her in pure awe. He's wearing all black underneath the maroon overcoat. Part of his chest peeks through his satin shirt, the top few buttons left undone. Jaebeom has his hair slicked back neatly, exposing the beauty marks above his left eye.

"You look amazing," he exhales, as if he's catching his breath. His hand goes to her waist, fingertips lingering there.

"You look dashing too," Yujin returns. She tugs at his shirt and buttons it, except for the topmost one. "But that was too much. I don't want anyone else looking at you."

Jaebeom laughs. "Don't worry, my love. Only you get to see my all," he says, adding a wink.

"It better be," Yujin utters, pouting.

The male strokes her cheek, his eyes fond. He doesn't reply in words. Instead, he presses a kiss at the corner of her mouth.

“Shall we?” Jaebeom gestures to the front door, one hand sliding from Yujin's waist to the small of her back.

Outside, a carriage is prepared for them, though there are no horses to pull it. A fae waits beside it, someone Yujin has never seen before. His eyes are white, indicating that he's an Air fae. Yujin reckons he's tasked to usher the couple to the Air court.

The fae opens the carriage door and Yujin climbs in first. The space inside appears small but when Jaebeom enters, the carriage seems to accomodate for the both of them. Still, they're pressed together, shoulders and knees knocking, even though there is a gap between Jaebeom and the door. Yujin bites down her smile, at the thought that Jaebeom wants to be close to her as much as possible.

When the door clicks shut, Jaebeom knocks at the roof with a pattern. In the next moment, Yujin feels a slight shake to the carriage before she hears a pop sound in her ears. The temperature has dropped and when Yujin exhales, a puff of air is released.

The door opens from outside and Jaebeom climbs out first. Yujin follows behind, popping her head out. The mansion is gone. What beholds in front of her is a huge palace, its walls are the dullest gray. Yujin recalls that the Air faefolks live in the mountains. There are low-lying clouds covering the pillars, almost hiding it away from view.

There isn't anyone around to receive them, that Yujin briefly wonders if they arrived early. Suddenly, a person dressed in a white robe appears in front of them. He has a hood on, the shadows underneath covering his face. He forms an incomplete circle with his hands before pushing it towards the couple. A gust of wind is produced. Then, the man ushers both Jaebeom and Yujin through the bushes, instead of going up the main stairs to the front door. They approach a wall of bricks and Yujin watches with curious eyes as the man waves a hand across. The wall splits in the middle, sliding to the sides to reveal a tunnel. Yujin reckons this is the secret pathway that Jaebeom told her about. They hadn't meet any other fae since their arrival.

Only when the wall merges back did the mysterious man pull off his hood.

"Pardon me for not greeting you earlier," Youngjae places a hand to his chest out of respect, "I didn't want to risk being seen."

"But we didn't even cover our faces though?" Yujin asks, confused.

Youngjae laughs. "Well, I casted a spell on you, distorting the air around you and making you momentarily invisible."

"Woah," Yujin lets out in amazement.

"Follow me," the prince beckons, stepping onto a wooden plank that is large enough for the three of them. There are rods of metal at the sides. "You might want to hold on tight."

Jaebeom cages Yujin between his arms, his hands curled around the metal railings. "This is the fun part," he whispers to her ear.

Youngjae faces the back, and moves both his arms in a circular motion. The makeshift cart starts to move in the opposite direction slowly, before building up its speed. Jaebeom screams in pure joy, enjoying the ride. Yujin can't help but join him, a smile on her face as they move through the long tunnel.

It doesn't take long for them to arrive at the very end, though Yujin wonders how much longer it would take if they had walked. A spiral staircase is in sight and Yujin peers up. It's an endless flight of stairs, and if they have to climb all the way to the top, she reckons she'd pass out. Thankfully, they're saved from it because Youngjae exits through the door on the third floor.

They needed to navigate through a few more corridors before they finally reached the ballroom. Nevertheless, because they’re at the higher floors, they are practically invisible. At this position, they can oversee the mass of faefolk at the main ballroom. Interestingly, Yujin notices faes of all sizes and all elements in the crowd. She had always thought that the different elemental faefolk cannot bear the sight of each other. Perhaps they’re civil just for today.

Youngjae continues moving forward, not once batting an eye at the event below. There's a door at the end of the hallway, and as they come closer, there are voices on the other side. At this, Jaebeom takes Yujin's hand, their fingers interlocking. Youngjae knocks on the door before pushing it open.

Before Yujin could even peer her head in, Jaebeom is sent backwards, their hands released. Yujin's surprised expression quickly turns to anger because it is Yena who has her arms around Jaebeom’s neck, legs off the floor. She can't fault Jaebeom for having his hand on the princess' back. He needed to keep them steady, but still, she can't help the jealousy bubbling in her chest.

"You came!" Yena squeals.

“Princess Yena, behave. Is that how the future Queen carries herself?” says an air of authority.

Almost instantly, Yena detaches herself from Jaebeom, her face sulky.

“Queen Choi,” Jaebeom greets, kneeling before the owner of the voice.

Yujin stares. The queen is the embodiment of the white color. Everything on her body is white: her eyes, her long hair that nearly touches the floor, her pale skin that is akin to snow. Even her clothing is white! Looking between the queen and the princess, Yujin realizes that Yena bears a striking resemblance to her mother. They're almost identical, if not for the height.

“So,” the queen speaks, glancing at Yujin, “This is your… wife?”

Her voice is cold and distant, and it sobers Yujin up. She mimics the same movement Jaebeom did, though she hears a snicker from Yena. The queen scans Yujin up and down, as if evaluating her.

“Yes, my Queen, this is Yujin, my beloved,” Jaebeom answers, tugging the female close by the waist when she stands again.

“Lovely,” Queen Choi replies coolly. “I hope you'll enjoy the day today. There's lots of events you may want to check out, though I'm uncertain if it is to your wife's tastes."

Then, she hastily turns to the two siblings. “Come along, you two. We need to address the other guests." She exits the room, not sparing a second glance to the couple.

Yena has a sweet smile on her face when she turns to Jaebeom. “Don't leave until I get back," she says, "I'll see you later."

She trails behind the queen, but not before sending a glare at Yujin.

“You can watch us from the ballroom balcony,” Youngjae supplies kindly. “Our servant will tend to you if you need anything at all.”

---

Jaebeom and Yujin have been left alone on the ballroom balcony. The servant assigned to them was long dismissed by Jaebeom after setting up a table for them to dine. While the royal family stated that this event is to celebrate the arrival of autumn and the kinship between the different fae courts, Yujin finds that it is more geared towards showing off the strength of the Air court. They showcased a variety of talents and performances: dancing, singing, and martial arts. Being performers themselves, Youngjae and Yena put on a special performance themselves as the grand finale.

“How do you find it so far?” Jaebeom asks, leaning closer to Yujin. The cheers from the crowd are so loud that they need to talk over the noise.

“It’s fascinating,” Yujin answers honestly. “It’s my first anyway.”

The fae nods. “Yeah, you’ve been watching the stage intently from the beginning.”

“Oh?” Yujin lets out, darting her eyes to the male. Then she narrows her eyes. “Have you been watching me?”

The fae smiles wide, unabashed at being caught. He leans closer, slipping a hand beneath the skirt of her dress, onto her bare knee.

“Took you that long to notice?” Jaebeom asks in a low voice. Slowly, inch by inch, his hand trails up her thigh, on her bare skin. Yujin feels a tingle coursing through her veins. She tries to hold back a whimper.

“S-Shouldn’t you pay attention to the performance?” Yujin exhales shakily, wrapping a hand around his wrist, trying to halt his movements.

“Hmm, why should I?” The fae feigns ignorance.

“It’s your friends--”

“Oh? So you’d rather I pay attention to Youngjae and Yena instead?”

The way he emphasizes the word brings a bitter feeling in her chest.

“N-no…”

“Hmm, I don’t quite understand,” Jaebeom drops his voice even lower, barely a whisper, “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to watch the performance? Or do you not want me to watch the performance. Which is it?”

At this, Jaebeom slides his hand higher, up her inner thigh, close to the end. This time, Yujin can’t help the whimper that escapes her mouth. Embarrassed, she presses her palm to her mouth.

“J-Jaebeom, please--”

“Please what?” he murmurs at the shell of her ear.

“Please stop…”

Yujin can sense a smirk on the male’s face. “Stop?” he echoes, “You seem to like it though?”

“You c-can’t do this here--”

“Hmm, and what am I doing? I’m just holding you close, that’s all,” he whispers, an innocent smile on his lips.

At this point, Jaebeom is pressed against her, their shoulders, thighs and knees knocking. The warmth from his body is pure temptation. Yujin realizes that she’s powerless against him. She’s caught between drowning herself in the pool of heat and pushing him away. Still, there’s something so thrilling being intimate in the open. They could be easily caught if anyone were to look up.

Entranced, Yujin doesn’t even repulse when Jaebeom tips her chin up. She just lets him, losing all control. Their lips meet, and it’s electrifying. Tongues sliding over each other, moans swallowed.

They kiss fervently for a long time, only pulling away to catch their breath before diving in again. Yujin feels Jaebeom’s fingers traveling further north, and she’s sure he’s about to do something else, something more--

A commotion occurs at the main ballroom and they unceremoniously break apart. Yujin sees a shade of red on Jaebeom’s face, and she wonders if she looks the same. They hastily adjust their clothing, patting down any creases, pushing away any loose hair strands that have fallen over their faces.

The crowd below is slowly dispersing, indicating that the performances have come to an end. The stage is cleared, and a few moments later, the royal siblings approach the couple. Jaebeom rises to honor them, pulling them into a congratulatory hug.

“Beautiful performance, the both of you!” he praises, but Yujin blushes. It’s a clear lie -- they were busy doing something else instead, but the siblings definitely don't need to know that.

“Thank you for coming down to see us,” Youngjae says. “We really appreciate it.”

Jaebeom winds an arm around Yujin, squeezing her shoulder as he responds, “Yujin enjoyed it a lot. She found the performances truly amazing.”

She can only offer a smile through pursed lips.

“That aside,” Yena speaks, her face clearly annoyed, “We’d like to have a private audience with Jaebeom. We have important things to discuss.”

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Youngjae adds with a polite smile.

“In the meantime, we have prepared a room for you to rest in.” Yena chimes in, “Otherwise, our servant can show you around if you like.”

Still, it’s not the same to be around the faes without Jaebeom. Yujin is reluctant to let him go.

“It’s alright,” Jaebeom assures her, noticing her discomfort. “Jinyoung should be around. You can find him if you don’t wish to be alone.”

Yujin hears a scoff from Yena and her mutter, “What a weakling.”

Something about it ticks her off, so Yujin tiptoes and presses her lips against Jaebeom’s. She has to show Yena that Jaebeom is hers, that Jaebeom cannot be taken away from her. When she pulls away, Jaebeom stares at her, surprised that Yujin would show such affection in front of an audience.

“Come back to me soon,” she whispers.

“You know I will,” he breathes, smiling. He proceeds to plant a kiss on the back of her hand. Then, he follows the Choi siblings into the hallway, and Yujin watches their retreating backs.

---

In the end, Yujin decided to wait for Jaebeom in the guest room that the royal family has prepared. She’d rather stay in a room than roam the palace alone. The guest room is definitely larger than her room in the mansion -- probably twice or thrice the size!

“Princess Yena has kindfully picked out this room for you,” the servant shared when they entered the room. “She suggests heading out to the balcony when the sun has set and the sky is dark.”

True enough, the view from the balcony is breathtaking. The room faces the mountain landscape and oversees the entire Air court. Despite the drifting clouds, the lights from each home of the Air faefolk shine through, creating a reflection of the night sky. The celebration has not ended, for Yujin can see a sea of crowds through the streets. She can hear the echoes of chatter and laughter. A sudden pang of loneliness hits her, and she wishes for Jaebeom’s company.

Yujin smiles to herself. What has Jaebeom done to her? She misses him even though they hadn’t spent a day apart. Perhaps love does change people.

“Hello, Yujin,” greets a voice, much to Yujin’s surprise. She whips her head around to see Jinyoung leaning against the wall closest to the balcony. “I did knock. You just didn’t hear it.”

“Right,” the female responds, turning back to the scenic view.

“Why, are you disappointed I’m not Jaebeom?” the fae teases. “Do you miss him that much already?”

“Shut up, Jinyoung,” she mutters, cheeks turning red at being caught. “Why are you here?”

He shrugs. “Jaebeom requested that I accompany you.”

“Such a loyal brother. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, you know. I’m perfectly fine here.”

Jinyoung scoffs. “Perfectly fine, you say? You look like you’re moping around, waiting for your beloved to return! What’s that famous mortal play-- Oh! Romeo and Juliet!” The fae clears his throat and raises his hands up, his face crumpled to portray sadness. “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?”

Yujin lets out an exasperated sigh, pressing her hands to her ears. She can still hear Jinyoung’s cackling though.

“Alright, alright,” the fae gives in, “I shall not disturb you any further. I’ll relay the message to Jaebeom that his beloved is yearning for his return.” He proceeds to exit the room, but not before calling out, “You’re welcome!”

Yujin only shakes her head in disapproval.

It doesn’t take long before the door creaks open again. Without looking over, Yujin huffs, “I thought you said you were gonna leave me alone?”

“Yes, I will, but I thought I should tell you this,” comes a reply from a voice much higher than Jinyoung’s. Yujin immediately turns around, her eyes blown wide at the presence of Yena in front of her. What the hell is she doing here?

The princess has her arms crossed over her chest. She’s changed out of her previous outfit, now dressed in a similar fashion as Queen Choi.

“Stay away from Jaebeom if you want to live,” the fae threatens.

Yujin mimics her posture, tipping her chin up. “And why should I do that?”

“Do you really think Jaebeom loves you?” Yena taunts. “I suppose he didn’t tell you, did he? About his grand plan.”

Yujin frowns. “What are you on about?”

A devilish grin appears on the Air fae’s lips. “Oh, what a pity! That's proof that he doesn’t love you. Yet you are so blinded by his sweet words and touches--”

“Cut the crap! Tell me what do you mean by that! What grand plan?” Yujin snaps.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” the princess simply says before moving away. But Yujin grabs her by the shoulder. The fae slaps her arm away, and shoves her aside.

“You dare touch me?” Yena growls.

“I don’t know what you’re plotting, but it won’t work. Jaebeom and I, we trust each other, we love each other! You can’t break our bond that easily!”

Yena barks a laugh. “He really reeled you in, huh? I won’t feed you with words, but you can find the truth at the fountain in the Garden.”

“The Garden?”

“Yes, that magical garden within the Im premise. That same Garden that has been calling out for you for so long.”

How does she know that? Yujin wonders.

“There’s a water fountain in the center,” the princess continues. “Put your head in the water and you’ll see the truth.”

Yujin narrows her eyes, highly skeptical. “What makes you think I’ll trust your words? Besides, I can’t enter it. I may be killed if I try.”

Yena looks at her amusingly. “He told you so many lies and you still think he loves you?” she retorts. “Yes, the Garden will strike against intruders or the like, but the Garden will never attack you. After all, you are its owner.”

Yujin frowns, even more confused. “What--”

“Heed my warning,” the Air fae interrupts, heading towards the door, “Stay away from Jaebeom if you want to live.”

---

Yujin’s mind has been going through Yena’s words over and over again. She mentioned something about a grand plan. What could that possibly be? Is it something related to Jaebeom’s revolution? But he’s striving for a cause, for equality! Why did Yena make it sound more sinister? And the Garden! What did she mean by Yujin being its owner? She was never involved in its construction.

Yujin is perched on the edge of the bed, her head buried into her hands, tugging at her hair. Just what is happening? A few hours ago, she was preoccupied with Jaebeom’s ministrations, overtly intimate with him. But now, Yena has messed up her mind, leaving her confused. Does she truly know Jaebeom? Or is Yena just instilling doubt in her heart? Is this part of the game Yena is playing? Or is this truly a whole deception?

Memories of the nightmares cross her mind. Words from her father ring in her head again. The faes are skilled in deluding people. But no, Yujin refuses to believe it. Everything that Jaebeom has done for her… How can it not be genuine?

The sound of a door slamming breaks Yujin from her dismay. It seems like it’s from a floor somewhere below her room.

"Jaebeom, please--”

That’s Yena’s voice.

She hears a sigh next. That must be Jaebeom.

Quietly, Yujin tiptoes back to the balcony. She keeps herself still, not moving a single muscle as she strains her ears.

“You know my feelings for you. You know that I'm in love with you! I’ve always loved you, and have always been!" Yujin hears Yena say. Are they arguing?

"Of course I know,” Jaebeom responds, “I would be blind if I don't notice your feelings for me.”

"Then why won't you take me as your love?" the other asks, sounding frustrated. "Why do you still have that mortal as your wife?"

"Yena, darling," the affectionate way Jaebeom calls the fae makes Yujin’s heart drop. She feels angry. Betrayed even. "I told you, didn’t I? Yujin could be the key to our mission."

Yujin’s blood runs cold. What?

"Yet you seem to care so much about her. You refuse to lay a finger on her even though all you need is her heart.”

Yujin swallows her saliva. He needs my heart...? She musters some courage to peer over the balcony. Jaebeom has taken Yena’s hands in his, fingers loosely interlocking. Yujin suddenly feels out of place, as if she’s intruding into something intimate. The side of their faces are illuminated by the light from inside the room. Still, there is no mistaking that fond look in Jaebeom’s eyes. It’s the same gaze he’s looked at her too.

"It's not that easy, Yena," comes Jaebeom’s response. “I need her trust. I need her to fall for me so that she can do whatever I tell her to. All of these take time, you know that.”

"And when that's done, will you then come to me?" Yena drawls, almost purring, stepping closer to the male.

"Definitely," Jaebeom mutters, tucking a hair strand behind Yena’s ear.

Yujin feels sick to the stomach. Her knees buckle, and she drops to the floor. She clasps her hands over her mouth, trying to muffle her sobs.

Is everything a lie from the very beginning? Is she nothing but a deal to Jaebeom? A tool for him to use? What about those sweet memories that they’ve created together? Does that mean nothing at all to Jaebeom?

If Jaebeom needs her heart, she'll never live to see another day. Is that what Yena warned her about?

Yujin wipes her tears away. Yena mentioned that the Garden will show her the truth. She will have to access it, no matter what it takes. She doesn’t know what to believe in. She can only hope that the Garden will be the truth that she seeks.

#got7 #got7 scenarios #got7 writing #got7 imagines #got7 fanfic #jaebum #got7 jaebum scenarios #got7 jaebum #got7 im jaebum #got7 im jaebum scenarios #got7 im jaebeom #got7 im jaebeom scenarios #got7 jb #got7 jb scenarios

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sevlgi · 4 years ago

Text

when I miss you

requested: yes

group: mamamoo

pairing: wheein x fem!reader

genre: angst

contents: idol!au

warnings: none

synopsis: Wheein’s always on your mind, but it’s torture when you’re missing her.

a/n: read part 2 here!

word count: 2.2k

Almost every minute of every day, you think of Wheein.

It’s perfectly natural to think of your girlfriend all the time. She’s everywhere- a photocard of her is in your phone case, and she’s your lockscreen and wallpaper on your phone. To everyone else, it just looks like she’s your idol, but you’ve been hiding a relationship all this time.

Somehow, you’re still stuck in your honeymoon phase, even after going steady for almost 2 years.

It’s hard to date an idol, but Wheein makes so much time for you that you barely realize it. Recently, as you prepare to finally debut, you’ve been spending even less time together, which is why you’ve been thinking of her even more today.

You’re going over to your girlfriend’s apartment today, and you’ve been staring at the clock all day, pining for when practice will be over and you can kiss your girlfriend.

During dance practice, the heavy bass thumping through the studio sounds like Wheein Wheein Wheein, and you can’t help but imagine her reaction when you finally debut. To be honest, you can barely focus on the dance itself.

“Y/N, pay attention, please,” your leader Heeyun sighs, a benevolent smile nonetheless gracing her face. “There’s barely 10 minutes left, let’s just finish practice.”

10 minutes? You perk up when you realize that Heeyun’s right, 9 minutes ticking away slowly on the clock. The steady thrum of Wheein Wheein Wheein low in your chest grows louder, and you whine, “Please, Heeyun-ah, we’ve worked so much today!”

Another one of your members chuckles, looking at you fondly. They all know about your relationship with Wheein, and they’re unbelievably supportive. “Y/N’s right, we can stop for today. Is Wheein unnie excited for our debut?”

Nodding, you scramble up to start pulling your sweatshirt over your head. “Unbelievably, she always tells me to practice hard, but I can tell it’s hard for her to not spend time with me.”

“Ew, just go,” echoes in the practice room, giggles bouncing off the walls. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you wave a goodbye, Wheein Wheein Wheein still pounding in your heart.

Wheein’s apartment is barely 15 minutes away from your company when walking, which you’re very glad for. It isn’t rare for you to head to her apartment right after work instead of your dorm, though you try to give her space too.

You don’t even know what the two of you are planning to do, you’re just excited to spend any time you can with your girlfriend. All day, you’ve been thinking of what to say, what important details of your life to tell her and which ones to ask for.

You smile at the feeling of your fingers clasping around the cold metal of the spare key Wheein gave you, your initials etched into the metal, the familiar smile you give to the receptionist.

All of it has always been a comfortable constant in your life. You remember running through the halls with tears streaming down your face on the hard days, with a huge smile on the good ones.

The elevator ride to Wheein’s apartment is the same length as always, each of the 67 seconds punctuated by the thrum of Wheein Wheein Wheein. Your steps are timed perfectly with the beats of your heart, smile growing wider at the click of the door opening for you.

As always, the apartment smells like your girlfriend’s favorite perfume, a sort of sweet yet sharp smell. You’re surprised when Wheein doesn’t immediately pounce on you for a hug; in fact, she’s nowhere to be seen.

“Jagi?” you call out, closing the door behind you, eyes scanning the apartment. It’s not the first time your girlfriend has pranked you. “Where are you?”

The bedroom door swings open immediately, a tired-looking Wheein emerging. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you at first.”

“S’okay,” you grin, opening your arms for a hug and nestling your nose into her hair.

You’re surprised again when she pulls away quietly just a few moments later. It’s completely unlike your goofy, cuddly girlfriend, and you can only stare as she walks to the kitchen. “How was practice?”

“Um, good.” She’s obviously avoiding your eyes, studiously concentrating on the cup of tea she pours out. “Still on track for debut, anyway.”

“Good. You still have a few weeks, right?”

Wheein finally faces you, and you can only notice stress pulling her eyebrows together and darkening the circles under eyes. “Y-yeah,” you manage to say, your own forehead creasing as you step closer. “Jagi, are you okay?”

A beat of silence passes before she sighs, biting her lip. “Y/N, we need to talk.”

“Well that’s not good,” you joke, trying to alleviate the tension in the room. It doesn’t work; your girlfriend still looks stressed. “Okay, what do we need to talk about?”

A beat of silence passes before she looks up. “I think we should break up,” Wheein finally says.

You can only stare for a second, only managing to say, “Wh-what? Is this a prank? This is a prank, right?” She doesn’t look like she’s pranking you; every time in the past that she tried to pull a trick, she’s never been able to look as serious as she does now.

“Come on, we should sit.” Once you’re both situated on the couch, knees almost touching and facing each other, Wheein sets her tea down and starts to explain. “You’re debuting soon. Your group will be much bigger than mine, and you won’t be able to hide our relationship like I do.”

“No, I-”

She holds a hand up to stop you, continuing, “It’ll hurt your image, Y/N, for a rookie to already be dating. We’re not a normal relationship either, do you understand how terrible it is to be gay in Korea?”

You bite your lower lip, your mood significantly worse than before. Of course you understand the stigma about LGBT people, but you tried not to think about it much. “I… yeah, I do, but we can do it, we’ve already hidden it for so long.”

Wheein frowns, genuine sadness in her eyes. “You were a trainee, Y/N-ah. I don’t want to bring you down, so… so I think we need to break up.”

It feels like everything’s unraveling at those little words, your entire life coming to a halt. Just a few hours ago, you had everything you ever wanted, and it feels like it’s all just being taken away. “I…”

“We can still be friends,” she offers, hands over yours. “You know, we don’t have to cut off contact.”

“Yeah.” You feel numb, heavy, like you’re watching something you can’t control. “Um, I think we should reschedule this hangout. My members and I have more practice to do.”

She smiles, though her eyes don’t crease like they do when she’s really happy. “Sure. Call me sometime, okay?”

You both know you won’t.

For the first time, you hate the thrum of Wheein Wheein Wheein in your head, the pounding low in your stomach making you nauseous and irritable.

As always, she is the only thing you can think of, but now, you find yourself constantly trying (and failing) to push her out of your mind.

Your members stare at you with sympathetic looks in their eyes, expressions that you also fail at ignoring. Luckily, you haven’t seen any of Wheein’s members since the incident; they probably look even more saddened.

Of course, your good luck doesn’t last. You’re collapsed on the dance floor, sweaty and tired, your members chattering quietly, when all of a sudden they go quiet. When you lift your head, you scowl at the sight of Yongsun.

“Hi, everyone.” The cheery note in her voice sounds false, but maybe your mind is just twisting everything. “I brought you desserts!”

“Yongsun unnie, you’re too sweet,” everyone else choruses. When you don’t move to get up for the snacks, the blonde approaches you herself.

She makes an attempt at a smile. “Hey, Y/N. Listen, I can’t stay long, Wheein’s waiting for me outside, but… I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“For what?” The words seem to bite at Yongsun; even you have to admit that they’re far sharper than they had to be. “It’s not like you had anything to do with it.”

“Please don’t hate Wheein for this,” she sighs, dropping to the floor next to you. “It’s not her fault, it’s mine. Byul and I, we were the ones who told her that it’d be difficult to hide your relationship once you debuted.”

Your eyes narrow, but you shake your head. “Doesn’t matter. She chose to go through with it. I don’t hate her, Yongsun unnie, but I can’t forgive her either.”

A beat of silence passes before Yongsun stands. “Okay. I understand, but will you talk to her? She… she misses you.”

I miss her too. “I don’t miss her.” The lie tastes bitter on your tongue, but you know it’s what’s right. You need to move on, and you can’t do that if you’re still hung up on Wheein. “You can tell her that.”

The look in Yongsun’s eyes is nothing less than heartbroken as she purses her lips in a smile and bows lightly to you, then your members. “I gotta head out, everyone,” she calls out. “Good luck on your stage, we’ll be watching!”

You don’t join the chorus of ‘thank you’, your throat seemingly clogged when you see Wheein’s face through the glass of the dance studio.

Wheein Wheein Wheein.

Your breath shakes when you exhale backstage. Heeyun sings scales to warm up beside you, and Soonja mumbles her rap; others rehearse the points of the dance, even more touching up their makeup.

At the moment, you can see Wheein talking to the camera, MC’ing like her life depends on it. She doesn’t look nearly as wrecked as you feel, her dimples as pretty as ever and her eyes smiling.

It’s totally unfair.

Of course you should be more nervous for your debut stage, but it’s difficult when your entire mind is fixated on one person. Wheein Wheein Wheein thrums in your chest in time with the pounding bass of someone’s performance; your hands clutch at your sternum as if they can quiet the noise.

They can’t.

“And the winners… QSR!”

The crowd’s cheers are deafening, but the smile on your face feels like it’s plastered on. You can vaguely hear the cries and laughter of your members around you, but your fingers are numb when the clutch onto your trophy.

More importantly, your eyes are fixated on Wheein, who stands a good 5 feet away from you as she claps. She’s steadily avoiding your eyes, waving and smiling at the crowd, but she approaches you with a bouquet of flowers. “Congratulations,” she murmurs, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“Thanks, sunbaenim.”

The formal term seems to hurt Wheein physically, but she recovers quickly. “I look forward to your success.”

With a bow, she retreats to go and congratulate your other members. To be honest, it pains you when she hugs Heeyun with a huge smile that you know would have been yours too.

You can’t focus even during the encore, and there’s no emotion when you sing your lines. Wheein Wheein Wheein feels more like steady stabs at your stomach tonight.

Over time, the pain dulls. It gets easier to see Wheein, which is good because you see her too often for your own liking. Your members offer to stop hanging out with Mamamoo, but you insist that you’re fine.

You’re not.

It’s not like you’re recovered; no, the pain of Wheein Wheein Wheein just feels more like a dull punch than a stab now. You’re no longer hurting, but you’re like an empty shell.

Your new fans assume that you’re just a quiet person, but you’re not. On the internet, they wonder why your members seem so close with everyone in Mamamoo and you won’t give them a passing glance.

But there’s no way you can explain to them how numb you feel to everything; even when your first MV hits 500 million views, you can barely smile in the celebratory Vlive. Even when your group earns your own lightstick, when you’re declared the rookie of the year, you feel nothing.

And you hate that so much of your group’s fame comes from articles wondering why you seem to have no emotions. You hate that your bond with everyone is destroyed, that your friendships are ruined because of you.

Most of all, you hate that you’re still not over her. You hate that the thump of your heartbeat still sounds like Wheein Wheein Wheein, and you hate that you still think of her.

You hate that she seems fully over it, happy and smiling like she didn’t break your heart. You hate that you still keep the key to her apartment on your dresser.

You hate that you still miss her.

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betweentheracks · 4 years ago

Note

On a scale of 1-5000, how annoyed do you get when people have the gall to tell you, “Wow! You’re so lucky!” when they find out that you work in entertainment and with celebrities?

Also on a scale of 1-5000, how unimpressed are you with the celebrities you end up working with?

Please share some horror stories so we can commiserate over nightmare clients! 😂

Yeef and also yikes, do I actually want to dive into this particular can of worms? Lmao.

I thoroughly see spots of red in my vision whenever people try to do the whole “Wow, that’s really cool and lucky for you! How many famous people have you met or worked with? Your life must be so glamorous and exciting!!” Like please, spare me. It isn’t glitz and glitter all the time - in fact, the fun parts are in the minority of how working in this industry goes. Beyond that, I’m not ‘lucky,’ I worked my ass off to pull this off and have never slowed my pace (until this COVID-19 chaos) to ensure my post remains relevant. In accordance to your ranking, I guess I would go with 4999 points annoyed.

Frankly, my rating and impressions of my clients are like a river that flows on and on and yet there is no apparent water to be found. I have a good rapport with most of the ones I am contracted with exclusively, but they're prone to make my feelings change from sentence to the next. Celebrities will forever remain exhaustively effervescent.

If you really want some dish, I can offer up some from a client I once worked with in my apprenticeship and how much I hate the time I had to spend with her while also retaining a sense of gratitude for helping shape me into someone that can withstand some of the prickly goings-on of the industry. She wasn’t even my client, as I was merely apprenticing and therefore was little more than a ghost that shadowed one of the veterans of our company. I’m highlighting this now before diving into the thick of what was the worst week in my career thus far because it is extremely important to keep in mind that I was under no actual obligation to work with this woman.

Ahem, so, story time! Let me start off with first making it clear that even now I will only work with actresses and actors when I have no viable means of refusal. This is simply a preference of mine and stems mostly from this woman’s behaviors and treatments of me and some of the crew I worked with at the time. I was quite young when I entered my apprenticeship, like barely more than 20, and I was simultaneously accustomed and starstruck by the world I was entering. Before the apprenticeship, I had already been working off and on via temporary contracts and commissions as a MUA at the time, so I knew the ends and outs of the place and the people that worked my end of it. However, I hadn’t worked with many clients one on one as either a MUA or as an aspiring wardrobe stylist. Due to this I was still very green and awkward and hadn’t yet figured out the line between casual and professional (to this day, for me, this line is nearly nonexistent) and I tended to make a mess whenever I opened my mouth so mostly I kept quiet and melded into my role as an observing trainee with occasionally useful ideas but was mostly just an extra pair of hands. The stylist I was shadowing was, in a word, cumbersome. They weren’t a very great teacher and had a tendency to drop projects into my lap without much proper instruction or insight and would leave me to attempt making sense of what was wanted by means of vision boards and client portfolios. In much a similar fashion, when a scheduling conflict came up involving the actress which will star in this tale and another more major artist; naturally, he had to see to the client he had a more tangible contract with and stuck me with wrangling our golden girl.

Within the first 4 sentences of our first exchange as stylist and client I hated her immensely. She was the type of client I abhor to work with; overbearing and demanding, thankless and impatient. She was in the midst of her career finally catching some interest which is the most pivotal time in any celebrity’s career and I like to think she was so bitchy and just plain mean due to the stress and pressure she was under but it doesn’t make what happened any more justifiable. Her immediate and first words to me were, “You’re young and clueless enough to be my baby sister. Whatever authority you think you can have in dictating what I wear ended with the sound of the door opening when you stepped in, get that straight now.” I remember this extremely clearly because I went from gobsmacked to incensed within the time it takes to pop the top on a can of soda. But! I knew at least enough to know to keep my mouth shut and temper my immediate dislike of this person and tried to push forward and steer the conversation in the direction of what her ideal style and presentation should be. It went well enough for all of an hour tops before she domed me again by calling me “baby sis” in place of my name. As I am, in fact, the baby sis of my family I am well aware of when a power play is being maneuvered in on me and spotted this for what it was: her trying to remind me that I had no right to be speaking to her, let alone designing her. This was a culmination of her being upset and put out that she wasn’t chosen by my mentoring stylist and was stuck with someone that had basically no merits behind her.

Calling me this wasn’t really an issue for me, but it did chafe against my skin enough to make me feel uncomfortable and anxious. Still, I let it slide and she continued to call me as such for the duration of our time together. The true horror of this story is what comes next and the escalation from minor verbal insults meant to belittle me fanned into blatant sabotage. She and I had come to a sort of estranged agreement when it came to modeling her vision board - she wanted to retain some traces of her perceived sweet and demure self from when she was cast in her first role, but play up the maturity and grace she held now and have it reinvented into timeless class while holding a touch of being chic. It was a headache to make sense of since, from a the perspective of fashion and trends at that time, this wasn’t the ideal and even seemed counterintuitive to someone in her position and of her age. I went along with it and threw myself into the quest to pull from the brands she mentioned liking most and for days I learned firsthand how exhausting and tedious it is to make acquisitions and swear responsibilities/accountabilities one after the other and put my name and my company on the line. I handpicked every item and steadily managed to pull off forming my second ever ensemble of 4 sets of styles each with 2 or 3 substitution items that could alter the look entirely while still remaining within the realm of what the client had asked for. I worked upward of 13 hours for 4 days and when I finally was able to bring the client to her showroom and present my designs, I was only able to feel relieved for mere minutes before she began to yell and make a scene. She demanded my supervisor and the head of the styling department of our company both come to tend to her and see what a mockery I had made of her ideal image. She went on to use her acting quirks to insinuate that I had gone off half-cocked and overruled her every idea and word and then dared to present her with such low quality fashions. She even managed to produce a vision board that was entirely different from the one she and I had planned together! It was obviously done by herself and lacked the detailed attention any of the stylists housed in our company would have added, but it was convincing enough to appear damning.

At this point my head was in a weird place, trying to make sense of the perilous world I was throwing myself into and the fact that this was actually happening to me at all and wasn’t just me daydreaming while watching daytime dramas. After I worked through that initial shock, I was more than mad but less than enraged. I was confused as to why this client was being so purposefully obstinate and difficult for me, even briefly wondered what sort of grievance I could have possibly cost her when I had only just met her and had done my utmost to seem cool and pro like all the seasoned stylists I had worked with. I thought I was going to lose my job and have to go back to my family with my tail between my legs and tell them they were right and I never should have strayed from my original course and career path. I only became aware that I was crying, like big fat tears that made a mess of my face and were embarrassing to the point that I wanted to flee, because my supervisor had given me his handkerchief. It was at this point that I teetered and looked deeply at the person accusing me and wasting my time and efforts and realized that it wasn’t about me and was only ever about her. This moment of clarity, though, was like the opening of a gate I had been clinging to all week in hopes of keeping all my spurned senses quietly simmering beneath my skin rather than wreck my name and finish off my chances before they truly begun. I very rudely told my supervisor and the department head that if they needed proof of my hardwork and dedication to the vision of a thoughtless actress caught in the weeds of her own wilting fame then they were free to examine my copy of the original vision board and compare it with the one she had; that they could check through the 15 or so LORs under my name and in her stead (both names are featured for security means). Anyway, she was attempting to spill a stain across our company and specifically the stylist in charge of me for blowing her off. Her idea was that if I failed in a big way it would make him look like a horrible mentor and cost him some of his reputation. I was merely cannon fodder.

This got insanely long - let’s put it up to me also being a storyteller and writer as well as very passionate about this encounter. It sparked the timid embers of my uncertain pursuit of my career into a fire that has since gotten me through many other rounds of hard hitting clients and their excessive personalities and entitled arrogance. I love my job a lot, but man is this industry full of bullies.

#peekbackstage #style asks #style speak #anyway now i adamantly avoid working with the acting crowd and my life is a lot more simple

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tarithenurse · 5 years ago

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Skinny Dipping - Challenge

Pairing: Thor x fem!reader Contents: The title gives some away...but not all. Expect: pining, bit of insecurity, incredulity, some nudity and sexual details, mostly hinting at smutty thoughts, implied smut. Probably some grammar/spelling/writing errors too. A/N: This is my contribution to wonderful @firefly-in-darkness‘ Summer Challenge using the prompt “Skinny Dipping”. Technically not due ‘til the 2nd of September, but maaaan, it’s impossible to tell when the summer really is in this wet country. Was it last week when we had 15-20 degrees celcius? Is it a month from now? Or maybe we’ll have a heatwave in October. Who knows?! I don’t, so let’s create our own summer right now.

Skinny Dipping

... Reader ...

The buzzing of insects is overwhelming, at night the cicadas are the worst, and the only moment where there seems to be some sort of silence is in the middle of the day when the sun is at its highest, burning down on the already scorched grass. Not even the trees can grant much relief from the rays as the leaves have started shrivelling up after weeks and weeks of no rain.

“Why did...I...agree to this?!”

Your voice is raspy, dry from the exertion of running and the dust that’s constantly picked up with the lightest breeze or disturbance. At least you brought plenty of water – it’s just not enough to soothe the sensation of getting the liquids slowly squeezed out of you by an invisible force. You’re not wearing much (shorts and a tank top over your sports bra) but it’s too much and you’re soaked.

“I have faith in your prowess, my friend,” Thor smiles back to you.

The Asgardian is leisurely jogging a few meters up ahead, apparently unbothered by the extreme conditions and unknowingly adding to the frustration bubbling inside. Still it’s the sight of him that keeps you moving because the man really is endearing when he cheers you on and – oh boy – the look of him is enough to keep anyone moving: shirtless, his skin has tanned to contrast the rose golden hair and beard, and even if he isn’t worn out like you, the man still has pearls of sweat running down the perfectly sculpted muscles. Not that you ever would admit to thirsting for him.

Never going running with an Enhanced or whatever again!

Somehow – at the moment you can’t recall how – Thor had cajoled the you to follow him along a new path. A long path. You are used to running with Sam: together with Clint the three of you make up the completely human core of the Avengers while everyone else has something amazing going on. Well...maybe not Tony, but he refuses to go jogging like this. Smart man.

Pulling out a water bottle for the umpteenth time, it’s a brief relief to feel the lukewarm liquid running down your throat (both inside and outside) and one you make sure to use while you can.

“Tho-o-or,” you moan with a pout, “can’t you...like...make it rain or som’thin’?”

“That is not in my power, little one,” he laughs, smiling almost as brightly as the sun, “I can brew up thunder and lightning, yet the rain is not within my realm of command. But fret not, there is a stream not far ahead.”

... Thor ...

The air hangs heavily even here in the shadows of the only green vegetation left for miles. He has slowed to a walk, allowing [Y/N] to spare herself a bit, but now finds that her scent is filling his lungs and clouding his mind with the sweetness of her sweat and the saltiness of her breath...or is it the other way around? The words he had picked carefully days ago are gone. Dried up like the drops of water that had run from her lips, along the neck, over the collarbone before delving between her breasts and disappearing with his courage.

“Oh, Thor!” Her revitalized cry shakes the God back to reality and he finds that they have arrived at the once thundering river – the drought has reduced it to a lazy flow. “It looks so...so...yay!”

Hurrying to the river bank, she quickly sheds backpack, shoes and sock before wading out into the shallows where the stones are rounded from centuries of streaming water. He can see the rush of goosebumps spreading along her limbs.

“I’m glad you approve of this place for a few minutes of rest.”

“Few?!” Water splashes as she spins to confront him. “I’m not getting out ‘ntil I’m cooled down, sir! In fact -” Thor holds his breath as sparkles of mischievousness adorns her eyes –”I’m gonna enjoy this to the fullest.”

Nimble hands start to pull the top she’s wearing off. Thor’s gaze becomes fixed on the bared skin of her belly even as the abandoned fabric lands by his feet and his throat instantaneously dries when she reaches for the clasps of her intimates. I shan’t. Forcing himself to turn away, every instinct is trying to fight Thor’s upbringing each time a discarded clothing item flies past him.

One.

Two.

Three.

He shivers when realizing nothing can be left, the waves of excitement planting themselves in his groin to grow rapidly. A splash. A sigh – one he echoes unwillingly due to the images the sound conjures up.

“You’re just gonna stand and fry in the sun?”

“I...maybe you...” Why is this so hard? “It would be a shame to impose.”

“It’d be a shame to miss out on this, Thor.”

And I do not want to miss a thing. Like a siren’s call, she draws him in with simple orders sent skidding across the water’s surface from where [Y/N] has lowered all but her head below water. Clear eyes never leave his face as the Asgardian, self-conscious for once, frees himself from the restraints of his clothing and wades into the water. A shiver runs through his body as his sac meets the cool, clear stream before lapping around the entirety of his manhood.

“Ahhhhhh!” Thor sighs with delight, lost to the surroundings the moment he submerges to the neck.

Sweat and dust is lifted from the body, leaving him re-freshened, and he understands [Y/N]’s stubborn joy.

A small splash behind him indicates where she is. “Not bad, eh?”

“It is truly wondrous...” Still, it could be better. The thought throbs through his cock with a will of its own. “I...is this a normal custom for Midgardians?”

There’s a pause in her movements through the water and it’s as though the air stands still, like the world is holding its breath. “I think it might depend on where...different cultures you know.” She inhales deeply. “Here it’s generally not something anyone would do with random people or...or even...friends unless they’re...” The awkward tone in her voice dies as she tapers off into a groan.

Yet here we are. “Then I will not bring any shame on you.”

When there’s no answer, Thor peeps over his shoulder to see what’s going on only to find that [Y/N] has submerged fully. And stays submerged. Puzzlement grows into worry, and in a few swimming strokes the god hurries to her, carefully aiming through the blurring water for the woman’s arms and lifting her to breach the surface, making her splutter at the shock.

“[Y/N]?”

Still coughing, [Y/N] doesn’t pull away from him, not even as he brings her a bit closer to support her through the fit. Her skin...she is... Subtle, cooled by the water, and carrying a scent unlike any other her body leans back to fit against his chest, curve of her ass positioning perfectly against his pelvis to allow the cock to nestle between the butt cheeks – it isn’t until a tiny sigh slips between her lips that Thor realizes what he is doing but by then she’s already reached behind her to pull him closer.

... Reader ...

It’s a dream. Gotta be a dream. I probably drowned when I swallowed that water and now I’m dead and in some sort of heaven. The only problem with your theory is how strikingly real it all feels: Thor’s body (and certain parts thereof) are pressing hard and warm against you, his hands drifting from your shoulders to let him wrap his arms around your chest. Muscles bunch, cocooning and tempting, under the tanned skin.

“If you tell me no,” you whisper, too afraid of that to happen, “then I’ll stop.”

“And if you accept my yes,” the deep voice is husky as he nibbles at your ear, “then know you have all of me for as long as you wish. I’ll be yours.”

Maybe your heart just stopped beating. It doesn’t really matter because these seconds would be enough to fill you a lifetime. “Yes, please.” Twisting slightly in his arms, your lips finally brush against his and his stubble prickles teasingly. “That sounds perfect.”

Next second, his mouth kick starts your heart but steals your breath away.

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yikestripes · 5 years ago

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Turning Tables

authors notes:

Back with another Richie imagine, because i’m tozier trash (HA!) unfortunately i do write my own material, which is why it’s half baked at best

shoutout to my best friend for the inspiration for this one

“Rich, you comin?” Richie mumbled a response, not exactly listening. He was lost deep in his thoughts, all of which pertain to you. Not that you knew of course, that was one secret it seemed Richie Tozier would never tell.

“Come on, R-r-richie. I p-promise, s-s-she feels the same w-way! She was t-telling me just l-l-last week t-that you’ve b-b-be-been distant, she was w-w-wondering what she did wrong.” Richie refused to meet Bill’s eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude. I don’t feel any certain way about her,” Richie hesitated, hoping Bill wouldn’t catch the insecurity in his voice.

You were gorgeous, especially in Richie’s eyes. You were kind, caring, enough to make any guy go crazy. Which they did, always. Every new boy you dated, every person to walk you from your locker to class, made Richie’s blood boil. His excuse always ran along the same lines, “He isn’t good enough for you, you’re way out of his league. He’s such a douchebag, why’re you even with him? You can do so much better!” As all the Losers got older, it quickly began to dawn on them what kind of game Richie was trying to play.

“Come on, (Y/N)! I promise it isn’t as scary as it looks.” Richie grinned as you looked over the edge of the cliff, leading to the bright blue water below.

“I don’t know, Richie. I really don’t like heights- or falling.” You said, nervousness lacing your voice.

“Do you want me to jump with you?” Richie extended his hand, and you took it gratefully.

“On 3….”

“ 2,1! Close your eyes!” Richie took off, pulling you off the edge with him, flying into nothingness.

You hit the water with a loud splash and resurfaced to find Richie smiling at you, wide.

“See! I told you you could do it!” You blushed a little bit, feeling your hand still in Richie’s, under the water.

He seemed to realize at the same time as you, and ripped his hand away.

“You do realize you can’t do this to her forever, right? She’s gonna get frustrated, man.” Bill bore holes into the back of Richie’s head as he stared off in a different direction.

“Who even cares, Bill? She can have anyone she wants! She doesn’t want some loser like me,” Richie paused. He couldn’t have this debate again. He had it enough in his own head, let alone out loud with one of his best friends.

The rock in Richie’s stomach seemed to weigh heavier today, the closer he and Bill got to the quarry. Tension had never been so high with you before, so Richie was even more stressed out than usual, especially since he knew he would be seeing you in your bathing suit.

When they’d gotten there, you were sunbathing on a rock, presumably waiting for the rest of the Losers to show up. You were always first to the quarry, because it was one of your favorite peaceful spots for thinking. Since it overlooked sky blue water, and was the optimal place to sunbathe and just feel the sun on your skin, you were consistently at ease being at the quarry. It was your sacred spot.

Originally, it had been yours AND Richie’s, but as you two grew apart, he stopped showing up. You usually came here when you couldn’t sleep at night, and staring at the night sky helped you to sort out your thoughts. It made you feel as if you were so small in the big wide world, that your problems could be sorted out much easier than if the world seemed so small. Richie could almost always find you out here, wearing one of his sweatshirts, in your pajamas. You would talk about anything and everything, from your day at school to how his parents were never home, and what he was going to do. Where he was going to go, what was life outside of Derry like? You almost never talked about the encounter with It last summer, it was too traumatic, even a year later. The worst part was that one of the terrible images It conjured up for Richie, was you. Dead. Richie refused to talk about it, even after you were the first to find him. Somehow he’d gotten separated from the rest of the group, and kept calling out to you.

Lo and behold, he found your body amidst some garbage in one of It’s caves. His stomach jumped into his throat and tears slipped down his face as he stared.

“(Y/N)?” Richie’s voice cracked as he dropped to his knees, about to throw up. “(Y/N)!”

Richie reached out to caress your cold cheek when your supposedly dead body sat up, and maniacally grinned at him.

“Hiya, Richie!” You said in a voice not your own. Richie fell back with his eyes wide, as you slowly stood up. “Miss me?” You laughed, something inhumane.

“Wh-what? I thought y-y-you were d-d-”

“Dead?” Yeah! You left me behind, Richie. Why didn’t you save me, Richie?” You frowned. “You were supposed to be my savior. Why did you let me die?”

Richie was full out sobbing now, and kept backing up until he felt his back hit the wall of the cave behind him, as your likeness approached. Distantly, he heard someone screaming his name, and when he looked back to where you came from, no one was there. Richie hugged his knees and wept until you found him, scaring the living shit out of him, causing him to sob louder and harder.

“Rich, it’s okay, I'm right here! I’m fine, it’s okay.” His eyes were red and puffy by the time the rest of the Losers found you, and no one asked questions. They all had an idea of what happened, since Richie wouldn’t let you more than 5 feet from him the rest of the battle.

“Hey guys!” You said brightly, lifting your sunglasses into your hair. Richie gave a half baked grin as he went to set his backpack down, and Bill smiled.

“Are Stan and Eds taking their time again?” Bev asked, coming out from behind a tree.

“They’re probably taking turns sanitizing each other in between layers of sunscreen,” You said, making Richie laugh.

“Wow, (Y/N) gets off a good one!” Richie said in between bouts of laughter.

You smiled proudly, despite feeling a knot form in your stomach. Making Richie laugh was hard to do on it’s own, but unfortunately, you couldn’t bask in your success for long. Once the others finally got there, you were planning on taking a spare moment to pull Richie aside, and see what the hell was going on with him.

For about the last month, he’d been avoiding you entirely. It started slow at first, making excuses as to why he couldn’t hang out. He was sick, he wasn’t feeling well. He had too much homework. His dad asked him to mow the lawn.

As the excuses became more common, and Richie became more quiet around you, you really started to notice something wasn’t right.

Was he mad at you? Had you upset him somehow, and you didn’t even know? Or did he not want to be your friend anymore, but had to because of the rest of the losers?

This weirdness had been going on for about a month, and you were quickly getting frustrated with it. You decided it was now or never; you would finally confess your feelings to him.

Stan and Eddie showed up about 15 minutes later with Mike and Ben in tow, and it was FINALLY time to get the party started.

You took turns chicken fighting one another, you on Richie’s shoulders, and then Eddie on yours. You were the reigning champion, having the most total knock-offs.

“Woah, you’re really strong!” Richie remarked, shaking out his wet hair like a dog when he resurfaced. Richie ran a hand through his wet curls and headed towards the shore.

“Hey, can we talk really quick?” You asked, swimming after him.

“Sure. What’s up?” Richie asked, making eye contact with Bill, who gave him a look before throwing an arm around Bev’s shoulders.

“I meant privately.” Your eyes hardened slightly.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Lead the way.” He reached up to rub the back of his neck, an awkward tension had settled in the air.

You walked in the direction of the bonfire area, a ways away from the Losers in the water. They pretended not to notice you disappear, sharing one common thought.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” You asked.

Richie refused to make eye contact with you, picking at his cuticles instead.

“I don’t know.” He mumbled.

“What do you mean, “you don’t know”? You’ve literally been avoiding me for a month. You have to leave when I show up, you won’t return my phone calls, and you haven’t come to the cliff in weeks! What did I do, are you mad at me for some reason? Did I upset you somehow?”

“I mean I don’t know! I just can’t be in the same room with you sometimes, it’s like torture!” He snapped.

“What do you mean it’s torture? We were best friends 2 months ago, what the fuck happened?” Hot tears were streaming down your face as your voice cracked, giving way to your anger and sadness. Richie took a shaky breath to steady his voice.

“Fuck, alright. Listen, (Y/N), I have to tell you something. I-i wasn’t sure how to tell you, and I really didn’t realize how long I’d been fucking lying to myself until a few years ago.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Fuck it. I-i don’t know how to say this, other than to just say it. I’ve been fucking in love with you since we were little kids.” Richie said quietly as tears spilled down his cheeks, still refusing to meet your eyes.

Your eyes widened.

“You what?” Your breath hitched in your throat.

“I was so afraid to tell you because I thought it was going to ruin our friendship and like you mean so much to me that I didn’t want to make things weir-”

You cut Richie off by crashing your lips onto his, so soft and familiar, but fireworks and your own heartbeat echoing in your ears all at the same time.

“Richie Tozier, you idiot, I’ve been waiting to hear you say that for 10 years.”

Richie’s eyes scanned your face for any sort of hint at a joke, or waiting to wake up from another sick Pennywise-induced nightmare.

“I didn’t realize it until recently, how much I loved you growing up. I never knew how to talk to you about it or bring it up, I didn’t want to make things weird between us. You were my best friend and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, especially because of something as stupid as me.”

You gave him a small smile, and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Hey, don’t say that. You’ll never lose me.”

Richie broke out into a huge grin.

You raised your eyebrows as he kissed you again.

“Doing that is NOT gonna get old.”

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chipper9906 · 4 years ago

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Bound To You - Chapter 4: Training Wheels

<--- Previous Chapter

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 15

NOTE: Pairings and Ratings Will Change As Story Is Updated

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 8,413

Overall Word Count: 26,136

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Progress (4/?)

Chapter Preview:

It was then, he thinks. As the flash went off, Dean stood next to Cas with their best blue steel impressions, immediately cracking up into laughter after and playfully tapping at the rim of Cas’s cowboy hat whilst Cas smiled at Dean like he was the sun that Sam realized…

If they ever were to lose Cas again… the Dean he knows is going to die with him.

Link To Fic

Click Below To Keep Reading

Character Key For Telepathic Conversations

'Italic Text' - Castiel

'Bold Text' - Dean

* * *

After an entire day of tests, tests, and… oh yes, more tests, Dean had assumed he would sleep peacefully for the night. You know, that type of mental exhaustion where you fall into a deep sleep with nothing but total blackness? The one where you blink, and then all of a sudden there’s daylight peeking in through the blinds?

Yeah, well… he didn’t get that.

He was back there again. Same place, same night. The wooden walls of the barn around him seemed smaller somehow, closing in on him. Not enough space to move around, not enough places to move away from the fangs wanting to sink into his neck.

And there were more of them. That was clear right off the bat, there were way too many of those mime freaks for him to handle. No matter how many necks he sliced through, how many heads he sent dropping to the floor, it seemed there was always one of them ready to take their place.

“SAM!” He yelled out into the chaos, unable to see his brother in the swarm of bodies. There’s no response from Sam, only the cruel laughter of the Vamp’s mocking his cry for help.

And then it was happening again.

It played out just as it had that night. The Vamp’s hands on his shoulders, pushing him back with its unnatural strength. He knew where he was headed… he knew what would happen… but he couldn’t stop it. Within seconds, he’d have to feel the agonizing pain of that rebar sliding through his chest again.

Instead, his back meets a wall of solid muscle. The impact sends them both tumbling back, the person behind him steadying Dean with two hands on his shoulders. Dean both feels and hears as the person hits the support beam he was supposed to hit, a soft grunt escaping the person at the collision.

The Vamp didn’t expect for another person to join the party either it seemed, hesitating for just a moment, its grip on Dean’s shoulders weakening in its disorientation. Dean took advantage of that hesitation, bringing up the machete in his hands hard, slicing off the Vamp’s right arm on his shoulder. It only screamed in pain for a few seconds before the machete was slicing through its neck, screams reduced to a gurgling, choking mess as the body collapsed to the ground.

The Vamps are closing in on him, fangs bared under their clown masks and low hisses emitting from within. But Dean doesn’t care. Because this wasn’t how it was supposed to play out. He needed to see who was behind him, what had – quite literally- taken the bullet for him.

“CAS!” Dean can’t help but scream his name as the fear grips him hard.

Castiel doesn’t look pained. It doesn’t look like the rebar is bothering him at all. But there’s a fury in his face that’s both awe-inspiring and terrifying, and Dean can only be thankful it isn’t aimed at him. Cas pulls himself off the rebar like it’s no trouble, like the blood soaking through his pristine button-up shirt doesn’t matter. Dean knows he should be focusing on the Vamps breathing down his neck, but he can’t look away.

This was a Cas he hadn’t seen in a long time. This was the wrathful Castiel he had first met; eyes lit up with burning grace and bursting with a golden light that illuminated the two ginormous wings that had filled up the cramped interior of the barn.

“…Cas?”

In a blink, he was gone. A puff of air behind him, the flutter of wings, and Dean whirls around to see Cas there, machete in his right hand whilst the other is wrapped protectively around him, pushing him to safety.

Dean could help. Nothing is stopping him from telling Cas to ‘stop treating him like a kid’, to rush in there and let more Vamp heads roll. Instead, Dean finds his feet frozen in place, watching with mouth agape as Castiel works.

And that’s the only word that fits it, really. This was what Castiel once was. This was an angel; not the fat babies in diapers with a halo and a golden harp, Castiel was a soldier of God. He doesn’t even flinch as he pushes the machete through the countless bodies in front of him, blood splattering across his face and trench coat with every swipe of his blade. There’s only one moment where Dean is close to intervening, when the last Vamp very nearly gets the jump on Cas, running full sprint at Cas while his back is turned.

Cas’s hand shoots out, not even looking behind him as he catches the Vamp by its neck. The creature can only flail uselessly, it’s hands desperately scrambling at Cas’s arm to free itself. The furious gaze Castiel sets on the Vampire would be enough for even Dean to drop to his knees, able to taste the rage that rolled off the angel in waves. The mask is ripped off in a flash, then Cas’s hand is covering the Vamp’s entire face, an intense white light bursting from within. The Vamp’s screams are tortured as it’s burned from the inside out, reddish goo leaking from the empty sockets in its head, eyes melting into nothing. When Cas finally drops the body to the floor, all that remains of its face is a burnt and ashen mess, pieces of blackened skin peeling away as it hits the ground.

“Holy shit.”

Dean’s expletive is enough to snap Castiel out of his rage-filled trance. His face softens as soon as his eyes land on Dean’s awed expression, ducking his head and sinking in on himself, seeming almost… ashamed?

“I… I think I may have gotten carried away,” Cas admitted, glancing around at the bodies that littered the floor. “I’m sorry if I startled you, Dean.”

Dean is still waiting for his brain to reset, images of Castiel in full smite mode replaying over and over in his mind. “Uh… What?”

“You’ll get used to this,” Castiel told him, gesturing at their surroundings. “Most humans don’t realize they’re dreaming until after they’ve awoken. It’s only because I’m interfering with your dreams that you become aware of your unconscious state.”

“You… you took that rebar for me, Cas.”

Cas’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at Dean’s statement, bending his arm back awkwardly to touch the hole running through him, his hand coming back soaked in blood. “Yes, I know. But I’m fine, Dean. Neither of us can be harmed, not truly. Not in your dreams.”

“Then why’d you do it? If you knew it didn’t matter, why’d you throw yourself in front of that rebar for me?”

“Because…” Cas paused, eyes dropping to the ground. “There’s still pain in your memories… pain that your sleeping mind can recreate in your dreams. I didn’t… I couldn’t let you go through that again. Not when I could do something to stop it.”

“Oh…” Dean swallowed deeply, glancing down to the burnt-out Vamp body by his feet. “And… Why’d you go all psycho-angel on my dream Vamps?”

“Because they deserved it,” The dangerous edge was back in Cas’s voice again. “And… because I couldn’t protect you when you needed me.”

“Cas…” Dean uttered softly. “You died for me. And then came back for me. You’ve saved my life more times than I count.”

“And now, I can no longer do that,” Cas sounded pained, face twisting in annoyance at himself. “I’m of no use to you. I couldn’t even scrape enough of my grace together to heal the damage to your spine. If you get hurt again-,”

“I’m not gonna get hurt again,” Dean stepped closer, gripping Cas by his bicep, catching Cas’s attention. “Does losing my legs suck? Of course it does. But without you, Cas? I wouldn’t even be here talking to you. Hell, maybe me losing my legs was for the better. Only something like this would force me to stop hunting.”

“But you enjoy hunting.”

“I do,” Dean agreed with a nod of his head. “I did… but, hey – we can figure something out, right? I can still find a way to be in the hunter game, maybe not just as ‘physical’ as I used to be.”

“And what about your brother?” Cas asked. “Will he continue to hunt without you?”

“Sammy? I… huh, I don’t really know. He’s got Eileen now, so… Guess it’s up to them whether they continue the hunting game or get smart and retire.”

Castiel’s lips twitched into a subtle smile. “And can you not do the same? ‘Retire’ from hunting?”

“You can get the hunter out of hunting, but you’ll never get hunting out of the hunter,” Dean answered with a sly smile. “Our line of work, ‘retiring’ is usually more of a permanent option. Now Sammy and Eileen, I can see them taking the more ‘pleasant’ option of retiring, but me…? I dunno. Feel like I’ll always have my toe dipped into the hunting waters.”

The soft smile on Cas’s face slipped slightly as his gaze dropped from Dean, landing on the bodies around them. With a sigh, Cas clicked his fingers, and their surroundings changed. Back in the bunker it seemed, though this time in Dean’s ‘man-cave’, one of the spare rooms they had renovated into their movie room.

Castiel took a seat on the comfy, well-worn couch pressed against the wall, the still-wet blood covering his trench-coat immediately staining the couch.

“Dude!” Dean complained, gesturing to the new stains. “Come on, man!”

Cas rolled his eyes at him, snapping his fingers once more. The blood vanished from the surface of the couch, along with his trench-coat returning to its usual clean state of being.

“Uh, does that not use up your grace?”

“No. This is your dream, remember? Your mind's unconscious state. I can manipulate your dreams in any way I choose.”

“Wow, uh… Should I be worried about that?” Dean joked.

Cas almost looked offended at his question. “Of course not. I’d never do anything that would affect you – not without your permission.”

“I know, Cas. I was just messing with ya,” Dean dropped next to Cas, nudging his shoulder against Cas’s with a beaming smile. “So how does this work exactly? You gonna swing by every dream I have?”

That’s up to you, I suppose,” Castiel answered. “This isn’t like when I visited your dreams before. There’s nowhere else I can go but inside your head. If you don’t want me here, I suppose I could force myself into something close to a ‘sleep’.”

“Sounds boring,” Dean noted, leaning back and crossing his feet atop the chipped coffee table in front of them. “I'd rather you drop in on me, Cas. Ruin a few nightmares my pain in the ass brain has planned for me. And, uh…”

“What?” Castiel pressed.

“I… I meant it, you know. When I said I missed you. I’m guessing this is the only way I can hang out with you in person until we get your body back, so…” Dean cleared his throat, giving Cas a few pats on the arm. “Yeah… Drop by whenever you want.”

Dean didn’t know what message he was trying to send with his words there, but whatever it was, the smile Cas sent his way meant he must have said the right thing.

“Just make sure I’m not doing anything embarrassing first,” Dean threw a wink in Cas’s direction, chuckling deeply at the befuddled look Cas had in response to that.

“Like what?”

“Uh…. You know…” Dean wiggled his brows at Cas. “Like when there’s a sock on the door… if the rooms rocking, don’t come knocking?”

“I don’t get it,” Castiel’s answer nearly had Dean burying his face into his hands. “How would your room start rocking? Unless in the event of an earthquake, or – oh….”

“And he’s got it…” Dean glanced up at Cas, surprised to see the deep red color that had spread across Cas’s face. “Wha – Really, Cas? Talking about sex still gets you all flustered?”

Somehow, Cas’s face only got redder. Dean cracked up into a fit of laughter at Cas’s expense, who didn’t look too pleased with being the reason for Dean’s amusement.

“I thought that reaper popped your cherry? Woulda’ thought you wouldn’t be as, you know, Cas about this kind of stuff anymore.”

“It’s not exactly the greatest of memories,” Cas snapped irritably. “It’s difficult to look back at it fondly when I was tortured and killed the morning after.”

“Ah… yeah, I guess that’d put a damper on things…”

“You could say that.”

“Tell ya what, soon as we get you back into your body, we’ll head out to a bar. I’m telling you Cas, there’s no better wingman than me. The girls will be clambering over themselves for a shot at you. Get you some better memories, yeah?”

Castiel’s gaze slid away from Dean’s, hunching over himself on the couch, staring down at his hands in his lap and fiddling awkwardly with his fingers. “Um… no, thank you.”

“No?”

“No,” Castiel repeated firmly. “I’m not interested.”

“You’re not interested?” Dean mirrored Cas’s words in disbelief. “You’re just… not interested in sex? Like, at all?”

“I didn’t say that,” Castiel replied testily. “I’m not interested in sex with random strangers I do not care for.”

Dean’s face scrunched in confusion. “Uh, okay? If not with strangers, then who? Who else would you want to-,”

Dean’s words dried up in his mouth as the realization clobbered him around the head, mouth still hung open in mid-sentence. He closed his mouth with an audible clang of his teeth, feeling the heat rush to his face, now the same deep shade of scarlet that Cas couldn’t quite seem to shake.

“So, uh… anyway… guess having more control of my dreams is kind of like… a second life, huh?” Dean thought out loud, eager to change the subject. “You can’t usually tell when you’re dreaming, right?”

Thankfully, Castiel rolled with the change without a complaint - though Dean resolutely chose to ignore the brief flicker of disappointment he saw from Cas. “Not typically, no. I believe some people are more aware of when they’re dreaming, with some even able to gain some form of control over their dreams.”

“Think that’s called ‘Lucid Dreaming’ or something like that,” Dean said. “Hey, wait – does that mean I can control my dreams too? Like how you did, with the changing where we are and all that.”

“I don’t see why not. Though, you may accidentally wake yourself up with the effort.”

Well, no time like the present. Dean focused on the table in front of him, eyes squinting and body straining as he tries to summon two frosty beers. He released his held breath with a harsh sigh when nothing appeared, crossing his arms and pouting like a child.

“What did you try to do?” Cas’s eyes darted between Dean and the empty space he had been staring intensely at.

“Make two beers appear…” Dean grumbled, arms still firmly crossed.

As he said it, two bottles of beers appeared magically from thin air on the table. A brief surge of excitement ran through Dean, thinking he had managed to do it himself, but the pleased smile he saw on Cas’s face quickly proved him wrong.

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” Castiel assured him, gesturing for Dean to take one of the beers.

Dean plucked up the beers from the table – already with their lids popped off – passing one of the bottles to Cas and keeping the other for himself. “Might be dangerous once I do… all that power at my finger-tips… how did you not abuse your angel powers more?”

“I can’t do what I’ve been doing in your head,” Castiel replied, taking a sip of the cold beer, the bitter liquid going down smoothly. “I couldn’t manifest items. I couldn’t change environments on a whim – though I suppose my power of flight was close to that…”

“Noticed you had your wings back in the barn,” Dean noted, gesturing at the empty space behind Cas with his hand, beer still firmly gripped in hand. “Thought you couldn’t fly anymore with them?”

“I can take up any form I wish to,” Castiel answered. “My true form right now is nothing but light, my grace circulating through your body. I chose to appear to you as Jimmy because… it’s what I’m most comfortable with now. And it allows me to speak to you face to face.”

“Can’t say I blame you for wanting your wings back,” Dean said. “Must’ve felt like you… lost some limbs…”

Castiel glanced over at Dean’s deflating tone, face softening in sympathy at the sight of Dean staring woefully down at his own legs. “That is an apt comparison, yes. Dean… I can't even begin to apologize-,”

“And you won’t,” Dean cut him off curtly. “This isn’t on you, Cas.”

“But it is,” Castiel argued back. “I could have healed you completely If I had just-,”

“If you had what? Burnt through all your grace and died? Again?” Dean finished his sentence for him, voice growing in irritation.

“Yes.”

“Sorry Cas, but that ain’t a fair trade. If losing my legs is the price I have to pay to keep you here with us, then I’ll take that deal a thousand times over.”

Castiel genuinely looked taken aback by Dean’s sentiment, eyes locked with his, trying to assess if Dean’s lying or not. And as much as he hates to admit it, Dean finds himself getting angry again. He can’t help it. Why does Cas not see? What does he have to do for Cas to understand how much he means to him? After twelve years of non-stop apocalypses, end of the world’s and pissed off cosmic beings, with Cas always by his side… he thought Cas would get the hint by now that he wants him around.

“Besides, I’ve still got the use of my legs in my dreams, so that’s a plus,” Dean slapped at his legs on the table with a grin. “I got cold beers, the use of my legs, and my best friend back. Can’t ask for much more than that.”

Cas shook his head, the kicked puppy look still plastered on his face. “You deserve more than that…”

And as those words lingered in the air between them, Dean let the thoughts in his mind run free, knowing he’ll never have the balls to speak them out loud:

‘If you could see yourself how I see you, Cas… You’d know I’ve already got more than I could ever deserve.’

* * *

“They really think Dean’s good to go in a few days?” Eileen followed just behind Sam as they descended the bunkers metal stairs, stepping out into the map room.

“That’s what they told me, yeah,” Sam answered, craning his head around so Eileen could read his lips, coming to a stop in the center of the room. “He just needs a few days to recover from the blood loss, and make sure his immune system doesn’t start attacking the metal pins in his spine.”

“That’s a thing?”

“Apparently…” Sam sighed, glancing around the bunker’s interior, a concerned frown etched on his features. “Huh, usually she’s-,”

Sam couldn’t even finish his sentence before there was the sound of claws clicking against the bunker’s concrete floors, soft pads pacing down the hallway rapidly as Miracle came into sight. Her blonde tail began wagging impossibly fast as she laid eyes on Sam, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth as she pants.

“There she is!” Sam beamed, dropping down into a crouch and holding out his arms. Miracle ran straight into them, hopping up so her front paws were resting on Sam’s thighs, trying to lick every bit of his face she can reach.

“This is Miracle-,” Sam introduced her to Eileen, turning his beaming smile over to her. “-She’s very friendly, as you can tell.”

“I can see,” Eileen said with a laugh, crouching down alongside Sam. Miracle immediately shifted her attention to the new face she has yet to meet, giving Eileen a thorough sniff-down before she too began pawing at Eileen’s lap, tail whipping between Eileen and Sam’s legs, excited to have a new addition to the bunker.

“You should see her with Dean,” Sam gracefully stood back up, stretching out his back until it popped – his age really was starting to catch up with him. “You think she’s loving with us? You haven’t seen anything until you see her fawning over Dean.”

“Maybe Dean’s just good at forming ‘profound bonds’ with strays.” Eileen shot him a joking smile, giving Miracle one last scratch behind the ears before standing up.

Sam barked out a laugh, shaking his head fondly and turning to walk further into the bunker. “Are you calling Cas a stray?”

“In a nice way-,” Eileen made sure to add, keeping up with Sam’s long strides as they headed down the bunker’s hallways, Miracle’s bounding footsteps following just behind. “Dean just seems to have a soft spot for those that can’t find a home.”

Sam stuttered in his steps as he came to a stop outside Dean’s room, his gaze resting on the doors to Jack’s and Cas’s rooms. “Yeah… guess you could say that… But, so long as Cas has Dean? He has a home.”

Dean’s room hadn’t been touched since they had left. The bed had been left hastily made, its sheets wrinkled, and pillows haphazardly placed atop the covers. A few half drunken bottles of beers were dotted around the room, most in arms reach, giving the room a perpetual stench of alcohol that lingered in the air – though not as strong as Sam had smelt just a week before.

Sam couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his mouth at the photo he saw lying on the bed. It was the one of Dean and Cas, from when they had to dress up as cowboys to blend in with the locals. Right after the photo had been taken, Dean had set up the old janky printer they had in the bunker and printed out two copies.

The moment was still fresh in Sam’s memory. Dean had joyfully pressed his phone into Jack’s hands, babbling about how he couldn’t miss the photo opportunity – and the blackmail said photo could be used for against Cas, who still didn’t seem too sure on the western-style and trench-coat combo. It had been one of the first times Dean had treated Jack like… well, like one of them. Jack had smiled in that moment, Sam remembered. Jack had always tried so hard to please Dean… and there, on that day, bringing Cas back into their lives… he had done just that. Even with the knowledge of mom trapped in that other world, the responsibility of getting her back, Dean was finally starting to look more like his old self again.

If they ever were to lose Cas again… the Dean he knows is going to die with him.

“They kind of look like models for some Texan ranch magazine,” Eileen commented, leaning over Sam’s shoulder to get a better look at the photo he held precariously in his hands. “When was this?”

“Few years ago, now,” Sam answered, soft smile still lingering on his face. “This was, uh… this was not long after we got Cas back. Dean realized we don’t have any photos of Cas, so… yeah.”

“Cas doesn’t look too impressed with the hat.”

Sam huffed with quiet laughter, gently placing the photo on Dean’s dresser next to Dean’s framed photo of him and mom. “Yeah, but it made Dean happy, so he put up with it.”

Miracle had already made herself comfy on Dean’s bed, looking up at the two with half-moon eyes, tail thumping lightly against the bedsheets. Sam gave her a good ruffle on the head, sighing to himself as he glanced around the room.

“Alright, I’m gonna grab some of Dean’s clothes, find his laptop… somewhere in here. If you, um…”

Eileen raised an eyebrow at Sam’s hesitation, trying to catch his eye when he kept his eyes fixed on Miracle as he stroked a hand down the fur on her back. “Sam?”

“I think the keys to your truck are hanging in the garage somewhere,” Sam finally got out in a rush. “If you wanted to take them and head home…”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“What? No! No, of course not!” Sam spluttered, backtracking quickly. “I just… with everything going on, I thought you might want to-,”

“You think I’d leave you now?” Eileen stepped closer to Sam, pinching his chin between her fingers to force his attention onto her. “Just because Dean’s the one that got injured doesn’t mean he’s the only one that’s going to need help. This is going to be tough on both of you. If I can help? I’m not going anywhere.”

Sam smiled gently down at her, covering her hand on his chin with his own. “I don’t want to make you feel like you have to stay.”

“You’re not,” Eileen assured him quietly. “I want to stay. With Chuck finally gone… things seem calmer now. Clearer.”

“If you’re sure…?”

“I’m sure,” Eileen leaned up on her tiptoes, planting a kiss on his stubbled cheek, then another on his lips, lingering there for a moment longer before pulling away. “Think it’s about time you shave off that five o’clock shadow, too.”

Sam ducked his head down with an abashed grin, huffing in almost silent laughter. “I’ll get right on that.”

“I know you’re worried about him,” Eileen was able to read his mind, like usual. “But he’s in the best place he can be right now. Cas is with him, and I think we both know Cas would rather sacrifice himself than let something happen to Dean. But that’s not going to happen. He’ll be fine. It’s going to be a lot of work. A lot. There’s going to be times where Dean doesn’t want to look in our direction, times when he lashes out, and we’ll handle all that, okay?”

“I know we will. It’s just… it’s always something, you know? With what happened to Dean, and now… now we’ve gotta fix Cas, too…”

“At least this problem isn’t one that’ll potentially end all life as we know it. If you’ve taken on God - and won - then I think something like this would be a walk in the park.”

“Yeah… just got to find a way to recreate a body that belongs to an angel which was destroyed by a being older than God himself. Sounds easy…”

“You’re a Winchester,” Eileen pointed out, patting at his chest. “Beating impossible odds is in your blood.”

* * *

Sam was up the next morning early as usual, electing to forgo his usual jog in the woods outside the bunker to get Dean’s stuff together. It didn’t take too long to scrounge together a few pairs of jeans and sweats from Dean’s cupboard, along with some soft cotton t’s and flannel shirts- they’re wardrobe didn’t exactly have too much variety.

He found Dean’s laptop after a few minutes of searching around Dean’s room, eventually finding it tucked under Dean’s bed, having to get down on his stomach and army crawl underneath to retrieve both laptop and charger. It was hastily shoved in the clothes bag they would typically use for hunts, then stored just outside his room while he ducked into the bathroom for a shower.

The soothing hot water did it’ trick, scrubbing away all the grime, sweat, and stress built up from the past two nights. Sam savored the feeling of the warm water pounding atop his head, bracing himself against the tile walls as the drops cascade down his body and soak into his hair. He couldn’t stay in there forever though, eventually gathering enough energy to flick the switch off and cut off the water, the instant chill of the air pushing him out of the cubicle to grab a towel.

Now, freshly clean and with a new set of clothes, Sam felt at least somewhat more prepared to take on the rest of the day. He plucked the bag of Dean’s clothes and laptop back up from outside his room, making his way to the bunker's kitchen to find Eileen already sat at the table, chewing on a slice of buttered toast. Miracle was sat patiently next to Eileen, her head in her lap, best begging eyes on full display as she watched every movement of the toast in Eileen’s hand.

“Thought you were still asleep,” Sam said as he dropped the bag off on top of the kitchen island.

“Felt when you got up,” Eileen told him once she had swallowed her bite of toast. “I’m a light sleeper, so it happens.”

Sam pulled out the last few slices of bread from the bread tin, popping it into the toaster to prepare his own breakfast. “Oh, well, sorry for waking you up.”

“Eh, I needed to get up anyway,” Eileen waved off his apology. “I fed Miracle, by the way. Just to make sure we don’t double-feed her.”

“Me and Dean still do that,” Sam admitted with a small laugh, leaning his hip against the kitchen isle as he spoke. “She’s very good at convincing you she’s been left to starve.”

“I bet these puppy eyes work a little too well on Dean,” Eileen ran her fingers through Miracles soft curls, whose tail began thumping harder in response. “I bet you guys give her everything she asks for.”

“Maybe,” Sam admitted, jumping slightly when his toast popped out of the toaster – never fails to get him… “I’m stronger willed than Dean, though. She doesn’t even have to beg him for anything; Dean’s already scraped his leftovers into her bowl before she even knows he has food.”

Sam was halfway through buttering his own slice of toast, searching through their depleted cupboards for his sugar-free jar of jelly (which is not real jelly, according to Dean), when Eileen places a gentle touch on his shoulder.

“There was something I wanted to talk to you about,” She said once he had turned around, jar of jam in hand.

“What’s up?” Sam’s eyes followed her as she dropped her plate into the kitchen sink, flicking on the tap switch and grabbing a sponge from the sink, scrubbing at her plate.

“I think it might be best if I stay here. While you go and get Dean, I mean.”

“Oh,” Sam blanched, mostly moving on autopilot as he picks the knife back up and dunks it into the jar of jam. “You don’t want to come with me to bring him home?”

“You know it’s not that,” Eileen corrected him, turning the tap off and plucking up a towel from its hanging place and using it to dry the plate off. “I just think it makes more sense, don’t you? I can be here to look after Miracle while you’re away instead of trying to find a pet-friendly motel, and I can help get this place ready for when Dean gets here. For one, your cupboards are in a desperate need of a restock.”

“Yeah, we… were never the best at keeping track of things…” Sam rubbed at the back of his neck, averting his gaze. “But don’t feel like you have to do all this stuff. I should be doing all of that, too.”

Eileen finished off drying the plate, placing it atop the drying rack before turning to face Sam, leaning her side against the sink. “Think of it as earning my keep. Besides, I want to help, and I feel like I’d be more help here than I would at the hospital. Dean’s probably going to be feeling overwhelmed already, and I don’t want to make that worse.”

Sam’s brows scrunched into a frown as he finished spreading the raspberry jelly onto his toast, placing the knife into the sink with a soft sigh. “Maybe you’re right… I don’t really know what’s the right thing to do with all this…”

“We’ll figure it out,” Eileen reassured him with an understanding smile. “Right now, your brother needs you.”

“Yeah… and I’d imagine Cas needs saving soon, too.”

“…From what?”

“Poor guys trapped in Dean’s head with nowhere to go,” Sam joked with a teasing smile at his brothers’ expense, shoving his slice of toast into his mouth. “Won’t be long till he’s driven out of his mind.”

* * *

To say Dean was bored was an understatement.

Usually, waking up from his dreams was a relief. That typically happens when 99.9% of the dreams you remember are nightmares, so it’s not too much of a surprise that he tries to limit the amount of sleep he gets to the bare minimum. This time, though? He actually found himself feeling disappointed when he woke up. Probably the most well-rested he’s been in years, and all he wanted to do was go back to sleep.

His dreams somehow felt more normal than reality. Just hanging out in the bunker with a few beers, his best friend by his side as they talked about everything and everything… compared to now, quite literally stuck to his hospital bed, squinting up at the laughably tiny box tv and flicking through countless channels of nothingness… Yeah, he was living the life…

‘Have you somehow gained enough brain power to process a single second of every show you’re flicking through to process each and every storyline?’

Dean paused with his finger hovering over the button to change the channel, surprised by Cas’s voice in his head for the first time since he’s woken up.

‘Uh… no?’

‘Well neither have I, so could you please stop?’

Dean huffed with a roll of his eyes, changing the channel over to the only show out there that never fails to keep his attention.

‘Oh… This show again…’

’If you could not refer to Dr. Sexy MD with such disdain, I’d appreciate it.’

‘I don’t entirely understand the appeal of the show to you. Out of all the movies and shows you’ve shown me, this one always seemed to be the outlying one.’

‘Everyone’s got a guilty pleasure show, Cas. Besides, what’s not to like about Dr. Sexy MD? Plenty of drama, girls slapping people left and right - and then there’s the man himself, of course.’

‘The Doctor?”

‘Doctor Sexy, thank you very much.’

‘You do seem particularly fond of him.’

‘Part of the whole ‘guilty pleasure’ thing, Cas.’

‘Is it the cowboy boots?’

‘…What?’

‘I noticed you seem to have a certain, um… attraction… towards western related fashion, and the overall time period.’

‘Yeah, coz it’s cool as all hell. Your point being?”

‘Nothing… Just something I’ve noticed about you.’

‘Can’t help but feel like you’re judging me here, Cas.’

‘Of course not. You’re welcome to any fetishes you may partake in-,’

‘It’s not a fetish!’

‘If you say so, Dean.’

The door to his room swung open at that moment, saving Dean from any further embarrassment. Sam walked through the door, looking a fair bit more rested than he had when he left, one of their old gym bags hanging from his hand.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam greeted him the second he stepped into the room, posture relaxing in relief when he sees Dean. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby that’s just been through some hellish trauma,” Dean replied with the fakest smile he can muster. “You look like you had no trouble getting to sleep.”

Sam shrugged in response as he dropped the gym bag by Dean’s bed before dragging one of the visitor chairs closer and flopping down in it.

“Kinda surprising-,” Dean added, catching Sam’s attention. “-Since I would have thought you and Eileen would be getting down to business.”

Sam upped his bitch face to max power, barely resisting the urge to shove his brother off the hospital bed when Dean wiggles his eyebrows up and down at him. “You know Dean, as much as I appreciate you taking an interest in my love life, could you not do it in the creepiest way imaginable?”

Dean grinned unabashedly at his little brother, raising a hand over his heart. “Ah, I tease because I love, Sammy.”

‘You’re a very complicated human being, Dean Winchester.’

‘Aint that the truth.’

“Where is Eileen anyway?” Dean got round to asking, expecting to have seen Eileen trailing after Sam.

“Back at the bunker,” Sam answered with a jab of his thumb over his shoulder. “She’s looking after Miracle while we’re here.”

“You telling me she chose a dog over you? Oof -- that’s rough man.”

“Very funny,” Sam deadpanned. “Actually, she was trying to figure out how best to help you. She didn’t want to overwhelm you while you’re here, so she stayed behind to take care of the bunker.”

‘It would probably be best not to antagonize your brother further on this subject, Dean.’

‘Yeah, kinda figured out for myself that I hit the limit, Cas.’

‘Just wanted to make sure. Since we now share a body, I would also feel it when Sam punches you in the face.’

‘Sammy won’t beat me up when I’m already broken… I think…’

‘Dean…’

‘Alright, alright, I’ll stop.’

“How’s she doing, by the way?” Dean asked. “I mean, she’s died, then came back as a ghost, then been brought back to life, died again, and then brought back again by something unknown… that tends to disorient people a bit.”

“Okay, I think. Obviously, she wants to find out what did actually bring her back, and why…”

“And more importantly – is it on our side,” Dean added. “Whatever it is, it’s gotta be powerful, right? It would be nice to find out we’ve got a major player on the board that’s fighting for us. Especially if it can help us with the whole ‘remaking Cas’s body’ problem.”

Sam snorted with laughter. “Since when are we that lucky? Or ever have it that easy?”

“Wow. Way to be a pessimist, Sam.”

‘He has a point.’

‘Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side!’

‘Sorry.’

“Hey, if something is on our side that’s willing to fix everything for us, then I’ll be happy to be proven wrong,” Sam defended himself. “But just in case, I’m going to rely on research in the bunker to find us a solution.”

“I’m just saying, we shouldn’t leave it out as an option. We’d be stupid to ignore someone with that much power who is willing to help us.”

‘I know I’m supposed to be one your side… but I think Sam’s right. Perhaps we should just take Eileen’s return as a blessing and move on. Digging into things out of our control could potentially escalate the situation into something we can’t handle.’

‘I get that Cas, but… what if whatever this thing is has some crappy plans for us? Shouldn’t we get the jump on things early, find out what we can so we’re better prepared?’

‘We don’t know that. For all we know, something went wrong whilst Jack was bringing everyone back from Chuck’s culling, and Eileen took a little bit longer than everyone else.’

‘Just Eileen?’

‘It may have happened to others around the globe. We can’t know for sure.’

’I think we’d be seeing some news articles about people popping back into existence if that was the case.’

“Dean!” Sam’s shout snapped Dean back into reality, his face displaying a strange mixture of amusement and bitch-face. “You’re doing the thing again.”

“Sorry, sorry – Cas likes to chatter.”

‘I am talking no more than I typically would.’

Dean chose to respond to Cas in his head with an echoing snort of laugher, nearly laughing out loud when he could feel Cas’s scowl in response.

“It’s super freaky when you do that. Your eyes glaze over like you’re on some kind of a drug trip.”

“Having an angel riding shotgun does that to you.”

‘My presence in your mind does not illicit any stimulant effects.’

‘Pretty sure hearing voices in your head is a common side effect of being high off your ass.’

‘I suppose that’s true. Though, I am not actually making any sound, rather I am sharing my own thoughts with you.’

‘Wait, does that mean you can hear my thoughts?’

‘Only the ones you direct at me.’

‘…What if I’m like… thinking of you? Do you hear that?’

‘Again, only if you’re directing it at me. Though, judging by your reaction, I’m assuming you didn’t mean to share your thoughts with me earlier.’

‘…What thoughts?’

‘The one you had while you were dreaming; where you thought about how I was more than you deserve?’

‘Shit.’

‘I’m assuming you didn’t mean to direct that at me either.’

‘Dammit, uh – I mean no, but I guess I wanted you to know it, but I wasn’t sure how to say it, but that wasn’t really what I-,’

‘Dean?’

‘…Yeah?’

‘It was an incredibly sweet thought to have. And one I didn’t expect for you to have, so… I was very thankful to hear it.’

‘Oh, uh… then I guess you’re welcome. Also guess I should get better control over my thoughts…’

‘For your personal privacy, yes you should. And perhaps for selfish reasons, I hope you don’t.

‘You hoping to hear some more compliments from me, Cas?’

‘It’s rare to get an opportunity to hear the inner truths of Dean Winchester.’

‘It’s a dangerous game.’

‘I don’t have much else to do up here. I’m more than willing to play.’

Dean tried to pretend he didn’t feel a thrill rush through him at Cas’s playful tone in his head.

“I don’t think I even want to know what you guys are talking about…” Sam’s voice barely filtered into his mind, almost like background noise. “You’re focusing on Cas about intensely as you focus on porn.”

That got Dean’s attention. “What?”

“Oh, you heard that, did you?”

Dean was saved from having to answer, the door creaking open once more to reveal the tired yet smiling face of Doctor Sullivan peeking into the room.

“Ah, the Winchesters!” Doctor Sullivan exclaimed at the sight of them, gently closing the door behind him. “How’s my miracle patient doing?”

“Right as rain, Doc,” Dean replied, eyes dropping to the files Doctor Sullivan held in his hands. “That about me? Hope it’s good news.”

“I’m pleased to tell you that it is,” Doctor Sullivan reached his bedside, standing next to Sam and flicking through the files. “Blood tests came back good – no sign of infection. I was quite worried about the potential of tetanus wreaking havoc… Your vitals are looking steady, about as normal as you can expect in your circumstances.”

The doctor placed the files down on the small table next to Dean’s bed, turning back to face Dean with a friendly smile. “You mind if I take a look at your stitches?”

“If it gets me out of here quicker Doc, I’m about willing to do whatever you want me to. Not to say that I haven’t been enjoying your company.”

The doctor chuckled light-heartedly as he snapped on a fresh pair of latex gloves. “Alright… Can you give a go at leaning forward for me? Don’t strain yourself, and don’t worry if you can’t do it at first – your range of movement is likely to be limited.”

Dean nodded up at the doctor, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Sam was peeking around Doctor Sullivan, apprehension painted across his face as he watched him. The second Dean tried bending himself forward, his body ached in protest. He gritted his teeth through the pain, placing his arms behind him and pushing down on the bed to give him an extra boost. Doctor Sullivan had an encouraging hand on his shoulder blade, gently guiding him forward.

“God, that sucked…” Dean said with a sharp exhale, breathing heavily as if he had just finished running a marathon.

“Actually, it was incredible,” Doctor Sullivan told him, gloved fingers getting to work peeling off the bandage wrapped around his body. “Most partially paralyzed patients I’ve personally treated have been unable to do what you just did. With time, sure, but never on the first attempt.”

“Eh, what can I say,” Dean said with a shrug of his shoulders, glancing back at Doctor Sullivan with a grin. “Guess I’ve got an angel watching over me.”

“Hmm… I’m inclined to believe you on that one.”

‘If only he knew, eh Cas?’

‘Most people tend to have some kind of a breakdown when they found out that we exist, so probably best not to tell him.’

‘No, probably not, Cas…’

“Mr. Winchester I have to say, every time I examine you, it increases my desire to carry out a study on you.” Doctor Sullivan mumbled from behind him, gently poking and prodding at the tender flesh around his stitches.

“Uh, I’m flattered Doc, but I’m afraid you’re not really my type.”

“On behalf of my brother, I’d like to apologize.” Sam butted in, already looking tired of Dean’s antics after being back for all of fifteen minutes.

“And on behalf of my brother, I’d like to apologize for his lack of a sense of humor. There anything you can do for him doctor, or is he a lost cause?”

‘Would you both let this poor man do his job?’

‘Nothing wrong with making his job a little bit fun, Cas. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were getting jealous of our budding friendship. You worried he’s going to take your place as my best friend?’

Dean knew better not to tease him about that anymore when he could physically feel the glare Cas was sending his way inside his head. It was like Cas’s grace was flaring up inside him, burning hot with… something. Anger? Sadness? Bitterness? Jealousy? Something negative, that was for sure.

‘Chill, Cas. I was joking. No one can replace you; don’t you worry.’

Immediately, the burning sensation running through his veins cooled. He could still sense it’s presence, the power humming just below the surface. It was trippy when he thought about it for too long. It wasn’t just Cas’s grace running through his body. It was Cas. An entire angel just… chilling in his body.

Possession is weird.

Doctor Sullivan finished his examination, wrapping a fresh bandage delicately around Dean’s torso, making sure it was secure and wouldn’t shift around. “Your stitches have healed at a remarkable rate. I’m half-convinced you’re not entirely human, Mr. Winchester.”

“If that was the case, I would have been strong enough and fast enough to stop some random guy shoving me into a pole,” Dean said bitterly. “But hey, healing power’s a cool power to have, I guess.”

“As a medical professional, I’m rather biased towards healing powers being the best superpowers,” Doctor Sullivan pulled the gloves off his hands, tossing them into a nearby bin. “Now, if I know you well enough at this point, I imagine you’re going to ask me if you can go home now?”

“You read me like a book, doctor.”

“Well, personally, I’d recommend you stay at the hospital for a few more days. But… from a medical standpoint, I’m not too concerned with you leaving today. So long as you promise me you’ll take it easy. You’re not entirely healed yet, okay?”

“Look at me,” Dean blanched, gesturing to his legs atop the bed. “There’s not much I can do but ‘take it easy.’ What am I gonna do, run away?”

“No,” Doctor Sullivan said, crossing his arms and giving Dean a stern look. “But I can imagine you might try to do things you used to do and over-exerting yourself.”

“Don’t worry-,” Sam popped up from the chair, stretching out his back as he stands. “-I’ll be keeping a close eye on him.”

Doctor Sullivan nodded at Sam, unfolding his arms with a soft sigh. “If you’re sure, then I’ll go get things ready to discharge you from the hospital, Mr. Winchester.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Dean expressed his gratitude. “Not just for this, but y’know, helping save my life.”

Doctor Sullivan gave him a small smile in response, bobbing his head at Dean in acknowledgment. “It’s what I’m here for. Oh, and thank you for being such an interesting patient. I may just have to write a paper on the man who defied all odds, then continued to amaze with his healing abilities.”

“Long as you make me sound cool and omit the part where I nearly threw up having my catheter removed - then I’m all for it.”

‘That was a… surprisingly uncomfortable procedure.’

‘You mispronounced “agonizingly painful” there, Cas. At least I know I still got some sensation down there…’

‘I was honestly shocked that wasn’t the first thing you asked upon waking up.’

‘What? If my junk still works?’

‘The thought was so loud in your mind that it was like you screamed it. It was a rather disorienting thing to hear upon waking with you.’

‘I mean… can you blame me?’

‘Speaking as an angel that has spent the past twelve years occupying a male vessel… I suppose not.’

‘And, y’know, since you’re sharing my junk now.’

Cas’s silence in his head spoke volumes.

‘I made it weird, didn’t I?’

‘Yes. Which is odd, since I’m usually the one that does that.’

‘Maybe we’re rubbing off on each other?’

‘Perhaps. That’s likely to happen when you spend twenty-four-seven sharing a mind.’

‘Hopefully, there’ll be enough research in the bunker to distract you from becoming a drunken, flannel-wearing, “too old to be hunting but too stubborn to give it up” hunter. And the quicker we get out of here to do that, the better…’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Coz the longer we stay here, the higher the chance the insurance company we scammed comes to make sure I never walk again…’

* * *

Next Chapter - - ->

#destiel fanfiction #Destiel fanfic #destiel fic #Destiel #Dean Winchester/Castiel #castiel/dean winchester #castiel/dean #casdean #fix it #fix it fic #destiel fix it #supernatural spoilers #angst #fluff

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omgbigfluffwriting · 4 years ago

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The Pregnancy Bond Chapter 1

A/N: This isn’t as explicit as some of my other ones, the majority recent. So those who are underage, or don’t like this, DON’T read. This fic was inspired by both Red Light and Partners by VincentMeoblinn.

Gabby POV

"The government gets to pair us up like prize cattle. Why am I not surprised?" I muttered to myself as I sat in the courthouse office, waiting for my soulmate to show up. He was a mere 3 years older rather than the 20 years older soulmate my friend had been matched with last week. "Small blessings..." I mumbled as I threw my head back and closed my eyes.

Soulmates met via the Department of Soulmate Connection and despite the government's declaration that they had pinpointed (with a slight margin of error) everyone's soulmate, the only way to find out was if the female partner got pregnant. From then on, they were bonded, a cohesive unit.

"Ms. Rosenthal, I can try calling him again." The secretary offered.

"I don't want to be a nuisance to him, Ms. Allen." I replied as I played with my hair. Out of all the couples who met today, my soulmate was the latest. "Maybe I should come back tomorrow."

"That might be..." the phone rang. "Hello?" Theodora Allen held up a finger to me, indicating I should wait. "Yes, she's still here but we close in an hour, Dr. Reid." Gabby frowned. "I understand. But she's been sitting here, waiting for you since 1 in the afternoon. Okay, I'll tell her."

"What's going on?" I said. Theodora hung up.

"Extenuating circumstances that he prefers to explain himself. He's on his way." Theodora sounded like she disapproved. 15 minutes later, a tall, skinny man, with shoulder length messy brown hair and 5 o'clock shadow wearing black slacks, white shirt, red tie and black jacket strode in. I had gone back to reading 'The Fairy Godmother' by Mercedes Lackey. Theodora pointed to me.

Spencer POV

I hadn't meant to make my soulmate wait that long but with my release from prison and surprise interview with Cat, I'm afraid that I made her wait more than enough. The second that the receptionist pointed her out to me, I was so incredibly attracted to her. She was 5'4 with red-gold hair, blue eyes and an hourglass figure. "Gabriella Rosenthal?" I asked. She looked up from her book. "Hello, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid. I'm sorry that you had to wait so long."

'Please let her forgive me...' I thought as she smiled at me.

"It was worth the wait." She finally said, putting her book away. "Never thought *I'd* be saying that..."

"I know, I thought I'd be the one to say that." I remarked with a nervous chuckle. After papers were signed and needing contact that wasn't Cat's, I took her hand in mine. "So what do you do for a living?" I asked.

"Special agent with the Crimes Against Children unit." She takes her badge out of her pocket and shows me. "My boss let me out earlier today to meet you. I'll have to call her and let her know that you were late."

"You don't have to. My unit chief probably kept yours in the loop." I said and then sighed. "The reason I was late was because I'd been falsely accused of murder. Then I had to meet up with the woman who orchestrated it."

"Bitch." I thought I'd heard Gabriella mumble. "Wait a minute, your unit chief? You're part of the FBI too?" I nodded. "What division?"

"The BAU." I said. "Right now, my apartment's a crime scene."

"Then you'll come to mine."

"You're kidding me!" Gabby exclaimed when my mother related yet another embarrassing childhood story. Figures that she would get along with my soulmate.

"Mom, could you not share *those* stories?" I pleaded. The story my mother had just shared was when I went outside naked at 3. Gabby laughed.

"I did that at 2." My soulmate admitted. I raised an eyebrow at her. "My older brother switched dresses on me, knowing full well I hated yellow. Well, I refused to put it on and went outside. Then my dad picks me up and dresses me in the blue dress." I chuckle.

"I'll have to watch out for that in our kids." I said, the image bringing too much hilarity to my mind.

"I hope that doesn't happen." She said with a snort.

Just to be contrary because I could, I said, "I hope it does." She glared at me.

Gabby POV

I settled Diana in the spare room, then joined Spencer in the living room. "I'm sorry that you got embarrassed." I said. He shook his head.

"Come here." He said. I sat next to him. "No, closer." I raised my eyebrow at him and sat on his lap. "I need contact with you, sweetheart."

"Why, what did..." I started to question as his lips glided over mine and sucked at my bottom lip.

"I don't want to talk about her." He said, pulling away. "And if you persist... you don't want to find out what that consequence will be, little girl." I nodded and pressed my lips against his. He deepened the kiss to my surprise. I pulled away, surprised again by the guttural 'no!' that escaped Spencer's throat.

"Shh..." I said as I straddled him. He became quiet as I resumed kissing him. He quickly took off his tie as I unbuttoned his dress shirt.

Later, Spencer held me as he slept. I sighed contentedly, hoping that we'd conceived tonight. "If you haven't, we'll keep trying." Spencer murmured.

"I thought you were sleeping..." I whine.

"No." He said. 'She's so beautiful.' I heard. My jaw dropped. Telepathy was common between soulmates that had conceived but I didn't know it was immediate.

"You think I'm beautiful?" I asked.

"F***king gorgeous, actually." Spencer replied. I blushed. "You'll be even more so when my child takes root inside you." He murmured. "I'm looking forward to that."

The next day, I found that Spencer was right - somehow my boss was aware of the events of yesterday. I was missing him, though doggedly persevering through paperwork. It felt like electricity was crawling around in my skin.

"Rosenthal, my office." My boss said. I followed her into her office. "I'm giving you three weeks off. It's come to my attention that you need time to forge your soul bond with Dr. Reid. Today is technically the day you two were supposed to meet, when you were 3 and he 6." My eyes widen. "You feel it, don't you? The electric sensation crawling in your skin."

"Yes." I said.

"Contact is the only solution." My boss said. I nodded, thinking of Spencer and blushing.

'I'm going to fuck you hard and senseless, Princess.' I shivered, wondering just how hard he intended to go. This meant he'd been thinking about his recent prison stint.

#Criminal Minds #fanfiction #dr. spencer reid #dr. spencer reid x fem!oc

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flying-elliska · 6 years ago

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I know we’re all waiting for the sky to fall on our heads right now but I’m not ready for fluff week to be over yet so here’s a few glimpses of their post-paint honeymoon weekend. Enjoy <3

SAMEDI 19:12

God, how many time is it possible to fall in love with the same person ?

Lucas asks himself this repeatedly over the week end, as he learns to see a whole new side to his boyfriend.

His boyfriend !

His boyfriend, who is a disaster in the kitchen. His boyfriend, who curls into him as if Lucas was the one that was two heads taller than him. His boyfriend who's been making cute little drawings of all of their meetings.

The image that had been haunting him the past two weeks, that of Eliott the player with the piercing stare and pretty words, the Eliott that could floor Lucas with a glance and stomp on his heart in the next minute, the Eliott he cursed himself for falling in love with - melts away like it never existed in the first place.

In his place now there's Eliott the dork, who makes terrible jokes and then smiles at Lucas knowing full well he can get away with it anyway but still wants his approval regardless. Eliott who loves to call himself a wild forest creature but is way too affectionate for that to be even remotely credible. Eliott who doesn't spare any effort to make Lucas understand how much he cares. Restless, maddening Eliott, who seems to prioritize kissing Lucas first and breathing second, and can’t stop himself from following Lucas even to the kitchen when he goes for a snack.

Lucas always thought it would feel weird, to have a boyfriend, but it really doesn't. It's the most natural thing in the world, maybe because him and Eliott ? They just fit.

...

Now they're entangled on the couch-bed again, watching tv. They never really bothered to fold it back into a couch again. The others are giving them a wide berth. He doesn’t want to throw Manon out of her room, really, and Eliott said he liked it here too much to go back to his appartment - and vaguely alluded to people who might drop by there unexpectedly. Here at least they know how to see the unexpected coming, and the unexpected said he was going to visit one of his old hook-ups anyway and that there was extra lube on the fridge and to call him if they ever needed advice with anything (hell no). Lise has been pointedly walking around with huge noise cancelling earphones while giving them dirty looks and pointedly saying that if she suspected anyone ever did anything in the kitchen again she would set the couch on fire and Lucas would have to go back to the basement. Eliott had the gall to ask if that also meant food and she answered, deadpan - “Oh for you, it certainly does.”

Manon left for Emma’s in the afternoon after presenting them with a tray of muffins and a glowing smile, specifying that they were chocolate chip and vanilla, “the best way to make muffins”. Eliott said he considered that a challenge, and Manon told him to spare his energy for more important things before exiting the room.

Lucas can’t help but feel for her - must be hard to see a couple getting together right in front of her as her own woes are still ongoing. He always thought being happy made people into morons but strangely it’s allowing him to see other people more, to care when he was mostly too exhausted to, before.

“You should try to make her muffins, he tells Eliott. You know, if you can actually manage to make something not totally disgusting, I think she would love someone to engage in a culinary battle with. She’s way too smug about those muffins.” And she needs distraction from a broken heart, he doesn’t say, I just got over one of those and it’s the worst feeling in the world.

“Oh but right now we -”

Lucas puts his hand over Eliott’s mouth.

“But I require at least a week to recover before you try to poison me again.”

...

There’s people putting their hands in boxes full of tarantulas on TV and Lucas couldn’t care less. Eliott’s hands are busy on him, one playing with the little hairs at the nape of his neck, the other one tracing the outline of his ribs and slowly inching lower. He feels drunk, and wonders why they ever bothered to put their clothes back on again.

One week ago he was bawling his heart out on this very couch, feeling like he was drowning and all his support systems were failing him. And now ? Well, he’s swimming in bliss.

The pain was real. He can’t let go of the worry totally, it cut too deep. In time he wants to be able to educate people so they stop making gay jokes and he wants to know what exactly made Lucile such a powerful figure in Eliott’s life that he had such trouble letting go so they can exorcise her completely, and he wants to arm himself so that pain never comes back. But he can’t be like that right now. Right now he isn’t able to be anything but meltingly soft. They are going to coagulate into the couch and leave stains, and the petty part of him thinks that it will serve Mika right for being such a nuisance.

Eliott laughs that high giddy laugh of his, and no parts of Lucas, petty or loving or otherwise, can think anymore.

“Hmm”, Eliott says as he runs the tip of his fingers along Lucas’ arm, touch featherlight and sending shivers along his’ spine, “maybe I should have drawn you as a spider.”

Lucas turns to him with the most disgusted look on his face he can muster.

“What the fuck ?”

“Well, yes, look, you’re getting goosebumps, it looks exactly like the hair on those spiders” he says, leaning his head slightly in the direction of the TV.

“So you think what, that I’m scary and it’s a challenge to touch me, is that it ?”

“No, spiders are misunderstood. They’re a vital part of our ecosystem. They eat the nasty bugs.” Eliott leans down to kiss his arm and looks up with playful puppy dog eyes.

“You’re totally one of those guys who likes weird animals, don’t you ?”

“Well duh, I like you.”

“Oh yeah, is that how it is now ? No more cute hedgehogs, I’m a spider ? Is that how you’re planning to keep my attention ?”

“You’d be cute in any animal form, even the weirdest.”

“F*ck okay, I understand why you won’t let us go to your appartment now. I bet you have a box full of roaches under your bed. Or like, a f*cking snake hanging out in your pipes.”

“Well, I brought my snake with me, baby.” Eliott wiggles his eyebrows at him, looking way too pleased with himself.

“F*cking hell, how do I find you attractive ? You’re so lame ! ”

He starts to push himself up so he can leave, and what happens next is exactly what he knew was going to happen. Eliott rolls on top of him in one fluid move, flattening Lucas into the cushions, lining up their bodies and pressing down. Lucas's next breath comes out all shivery and high pitched. It's embarassing but not as much as what happens next.

As Eliott lowers down to kiss him he grinds his hips against Lucas's, and stars shoot up his spine.

And then he stops, and whispers in his ear "So I'm lame, huh ?"

Lucas lets out a noise he'd never thought himself capable of making, a needy moan that has Eliott in pieces against him, as if he wanted to tease but in the end, neither of them have any self-control left.

All melting, no more walls, not even to be funny.

...

At some point afterwards when they finally fall apart to catch their breaths, a weird wizard on the TV with a raspy voice is scolding the players for having taken so long to solve the enigma and being so messy about it, asking them if they need help to put keys in keyholes, and then looks at the camera with a look so fierce Lucas almost jumps back, his fake eyebrows almost falling off.

“Shit I think he’s seen us !”

Eliott laughs into Lucas’ neck, low and easy and delighted. F*ck, it’s so good to be weird together.

next up DIMANCHE 15:36 and insta shenanigans

#skam france #fic drabble #elu #lucas x eliott #my fic #fluff #thx max for the snake joke lmao

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tigerkirby215 · 4 years ago

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5e Fluttershy, the Element of Kindness build (My Little Pony: FIM)

(Artwork by SophiesPlushies on DeviantArt.)

Like, it took me a solid 5 minutes to find the first image in this post and I had to sift through so much softcore porn to find it. I didn’t even find it by searching DeviantArt I had to go on fucking derpibooru oh my lord.

Anyways: here’s another shit brony build because people don’t hate me enough! Well that and I do genuinely love the characters from My Little Pony, and think that they’d be fun to make builds for. But feel free to call me a garbage brony at your leisure.

These are the words of a man who has been beaten down after being a brony for around 10 years.

GOALS

I'm just good with animals - Fluttershy talks to animals. That’s one of the main things she does really.

I'm doing this because you're my very best friend - As the element of kindness we of course need to share our heart and soul with our friends.

Nopony pushes new Fluttershy around! - MLP Wiki makes an express point of mentioning The Stare in Fluttershy’s powers, so of course we’ll do our best to include that.

RACE

Before you say anything no I’m not a pegasi stan just because I did both Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash. Regardless Aaracokra still makes the most sense for Fluttershy unfortunately because there’s few bird races and fewer flying races.

As an Aaracokra you +2 to Dexterity and +1 to Wisdom which we’ll be keeping because I don’t know if your DM will allow Tasha’s rules. You also get 50 feet of Flight but you can’t be wearing Medium or Heavy Armor to do this, which means I don’t get to say “something something Medium Armor.” And finally you can buck someone to deal damage equal to a d4 plus your Strength; technically their Talons which deal slashing damage but feel free to view them however you want.

If I was to build Fluttershy I’d honestly use the Owlfolk UA race (which will hopefully be out in Wild Beyond the Witchlight and / or Strixhaven) for a multitude of reasons, the most notable of which being the fact that you can fly with Medium armor as an Owlfolk. But the Detect Magic Ritual ability is also nice as is the reaction to stop yourself from falling. Unfortunately Aaracokra technically made more sense since Fluttershy can’t detect magic.

Basically even I have to make choices which are suboptimal in order to ensure maximum roleplay, and even when I play my builds I change them to make them better to play.

ABILITY SCORES

15; WISDOM - You are compassionate and good with animals: both those things are Wisdom skills!

14; DEXTERITY - Since I can’t go “something something medium armor” for this build (yay Aaracokra) I guess getting a 16 in DEX thanks to your race is a good call. If playing an Owlfolk or something you can afford to having 14 total in DEX, as you can then wear medium armor.

13; CONSTITUTION - Look, roleplay stats are great and all but so is not dying.

12; CHARISMA - You are cute small pony... bird... Pony-bird...

10; INTELLIGENCE - Most of your time was spent taking care of animals and most of your knowledge comes from on-hand training as opposed to studying. Basically you’re not Twilight.

8; STRENGTH - As a young filly Rainbow Dash would do most of the heavy lifting for you. As a young mare Rainbow Dash still does most the heavy lifting for you. She is a Barbarian after all!

BACKGROUND

Most ponies know to come to you if their pets are in trouble, and if you’ve ever had pets you know the doctor that helps them is a true Folk Hero. As a Folk Hero you get proficiency in Animal Handling (yay) but I’d swap the Survival proficiency out for Stealth because well... you’re very good at hiding. You also get proficiency with Land Vehicles (most Land Vehicles in D&D are controlled by animals; usually horses! Wait... aren’t you a horse?) and an Artisan’s Tool of your choice: go for Carpenter’s Tools to make some bird houses and chicken coops!

After living in Ponyville for so long most ponies are willing to give you some Rustic Hospitality, giving you a warm place to rest and recover... as long as you can get over your crippling shyness! Eep!

(Artwork by probablyfakeblonde on DeviantArt.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - CLERIC 1

Starting off as a Cleric because I thought Wisdom and Charisma saves were more fitting for Fluttershy, and for the Insight and Medicine skill proficiencies.

As a Cleric you get to choose your subclass at level 1, and there’s nothing you love more than a little bit of Peace and quiet. As a Peace Cleric you get proficiency in Performance thanks to Implement of Peace, for those great MLP song numbers. But more importantly you can call on the power of friendship for an Emboldening Bond!

As an action, you choose a number of friends within 30 feet of you (this can include yourself) equal to your proficiency bonus. Your friendship bonds them together for 10 minutes or until you use this feature again. While any bonded creature is within 30 feet of another they get a d4 they can add to an attack roll, ability check, or saving throw once per turn. You can use this feature a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus, and you regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest.

And finally we can talk about the Spellcasting! You get three cantrips from the Cleric list at level 1: Guidance is always welcome among friends, and Spare the Dying can be a literal life safer! Other than that you are still expected to fight in D&D so take Sacred Flame to defend yourself. You can also prepare a number of spells equal to your Cleric level plus your Wisdom modifier. As a Peace Domain Cleric you can inspire Heroism among your friends, or protect yourself (and hide!) with Sanctuary.

Other than that Healing Word is a staple healing spell (we aren’t taking Cure Wounds right now for reasons but feel free to prepare it), Shield of Faith will let you defend your allies, Protection from Evil and Good will help you invoke the Elements of Harmony against the big bad of the season, and Detect Evil and Good will help you find the Elements of Harmony!

You could also take Bless, but I’m not going to tell you to take Bless because optimizers would crucify me for telling you to double up on d4s.

LEVEL 2 - CLERIC 2

Second level Clerics get their Channel Divinity once per short rest and you have a variety of options to choose from:

Turn Undead will make skeletons and zombies not want to hurt the cute little ponies, which will force them to run away for awhile.

Balm of Peace (the main reason we took the second level in Cleric) will let you run around and heal all your friends for 2d6 plus your Wisdom modifier.

And Harness Divine Power (ty Tasha’s) will let you recover a spell slot, but can only be used a limited amount of times per Long Rest.

You can also prepare another spell and be a little less nice with Command. Telling your enemies to “LOVE” isn’t going to be that effective, but making them grovel or drop works just as fine.

LEVEL 3 - RANGER 1

When you spend enough time around animals you’re automatically either a Ranger or a Druid. Quinn? Never heard of ‘em. Regardless multiclassing into Ranger gives you proficiency in a skill from the Ranger list and it’s good to know about Nature so you can find plants to help your fluffy buddies! Deft Explorer also gives you two language proficiencies (again: pick your poison) and Expertise in a skill. You’ll never guess which skill we’ll be getting... it’s Animal Handling. You’re good with animals.

We actually aren’t going to be taking Favored Foe because we aren’t using weapons for one, but more importantly despite it’s name Favored Enemy is also good for tracking friends! You have advantage on Survival checks to track your favored “enemies”, as well as on Intelligence checks to recall information about them. Go for Beasts to easily find a feathered or fluffy friend! Oh and you also get more languages because I don’t know why, so again pick your poison.

LEVEL 4 - RANGER 2

Second level Rangers get their Fighting Style, or as I like to call it your Helping Style because we’ll be going for Druidic Warrior! You can pick up two cantrips from the Druid list: I opted for Druidcraft (you can grow some flowers for your friends; yay!) and Mending to tend to your cottage.

And of course with cantrips we also get more Spellcasting! You can learn two spells from the Druid list: you’re never not going to want Cure Wounds (which is why we didn’t take it earlier btw) and Animal Friendship is an obvious must.

LEVEL 5 - RANGER 3

Third level Rangers get to choose their Ranger Archetype and we’ll be going for the Gloomsta- Ah you all know it’s going to be Beast Master. You get a Ranger’s Companion not from the PHB but from Tasha’s! The Beast of Land would make the most sense and while it’s probably expected that they be a wolf or something you can pretend that you’re playing Fighting is Magic and have Angel Bunny fight for you! Anyways here’s a crash course on your new fluffy friend:

Their AC is equal to 13 plus your proficiency bonus (currently 16.)

Their health is equal to 5 + five times your Ranger level (currently 20) and they have a number of d8 hit die equal to your Ranger level.

They have a 40 foot movement speed and a 40 foot climbing speed.

You can command it to attack with your bonus action; it has the same hit chance as your spell hit chance (WIS mod + Prof Bonus [currently 6]) and deals a d8 + 2 + prof bonus damage.

If they move at least 20 feet straight toward a target and then hit with an attack on the same turn, the target takes an extra 1d6 slashing damage and must make a Strength saving throw against your spell save DC (if they’re a creature.) If they fail they’re knocked prone.

You can command the beast to attack, dash, disengage, or hide with your bonus action.

If you don’t command it they take the dodge action.

You can revive them with a spell of first level or higher 1 hour after they die, and can change your beast after a long rest.

Man, who knew that taking care of a pet was so difficult? Well you also get Primeval Awareness (because Primal Awareness actually doesn’t work that well for this build.) You can use your action and one spell slot to sense the following types of creatures within 1 mile of you: aberrations, celestials, dragons, elementals, fey, fiends, and undead. This lasts for one minute, and doesn’t reveal the creatures’ location or number.

And you learn another spell: Goodberry is good to feed yourself and all your friends! As long as they’re okay with eating berries, of course. C’mon... they’re good for you! Pleeeease?

(Artwork by AssasinMonkey on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 6 - RANGER 4

Finally an Ability Score Improvement... or Feat? We’ll be going for Eldritch Adept, which is admittedly weird but it’s the only way to get Beast Speech so you can Speak with Animals at will! Is total level 6 a little late to finally be able to speak with animals? Yeah, but this is unlimited so it fits better and doesn’t spend your spell slots.

LEVEL 7 - CLERIC 3

Finally back to Cleric land which means finally we can prepare some second level spells! As a Peace domain Cleric you automatically get Aid and Warding Bond prepared, both of which are very good for keeping your friends alive. You can also finally get Hold Person to finally have The Stare!

LEVEL 8 - CLERIC 4

Level 4 in Cleric means another Ability Score Improvement: Wisdom is still your core stat so increasing that by 2 would be your best choice.

You also get another cantrip at this level, and can prepare two more spells! For cantrips I’d recommend Light to see with your dumb bird eyes unless you’re an Owlfolk, and I’d recommend preparing Lesser Restoration and Enhance Ability to further boost your friends.

(Artwork by Koveliana on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 9 - CLERIC 5

5th level Clerics can now Destroy Undead of CR 1/2 or lower with their Channel Divinity. Don’t feel too bad about it; they were big dumb meanies anyways!

You can also prepare third level spells too! As a Peace Domain Cleric you get Beacon of Hope to help with healing, and Spike can send letters out for you with Sending. You can also prepare Dispel Magic in case Twilight needs help with more dangerous spells.

LEVEL 10 - CLERIC 6

6th level Peace Clerics get Protective Bond. When a creature affected by your Emboldening Bond is about to take damage, another bonded creature within 30 feet of the first can use its reaction to teleport to an unoccupied space within 5 feet of the first creature. That creature then takes all the damage instead. It’s worth mentioning that since this specifies “creature” you can actually bond with your beast companion and have it use its reaction, or have others go in to defend angel.

You can also prepare another third level spell like Revivify, so you don’t lose any friends. And to top it off you can use your Channel Divinity twice per short rest! Woohoo!

LEVEL 11 - CLERIC 7

7th level Cleric, 4th level spells. As a Peace Domain Cleric you get Aura of Purity to protect your friends, and Otiluke’s Resilient Sphere to put your enemies in time out. You can also prepare another spell like Freedom of Movement, in case you need to run!

LEVEL 12 - CLERIC 8

8th level Clerics get a variety of features. To start off you get an Ability Score Improvement, which means we can finally cap off your Wisdom for maximum spellcasting! This also means you can prepare more spells, but we’re actually going to hold off on getting more spells for now.

You can also put a little more LOVE into your spells with Potent Spellcasting, adding your Wisdom modifier to the damage of your Cleric cantrips. And finally your Channel Divinity will now Destroy Undead or CR 1 or lower.

LEVEL 13 - CLERIC 9

The reason we held off on getting more Cleric spells last level is because now we get those big 5th level spells! As a Peace Domain Cleric you can help your friends out of any jam with Greater Restoration, and know what they really mean to say thanks to Rary’s Telepathic Bond.

You can also prepare some of those big hitter spells like Mass Cure Wounds to save your friends, and you can cast both Dawn and Summon Celestial to call on Celestia herself! Isn’t that Twilight’s job? Well, it’s still good to have contacts!

(Artwork by CigarsCigarettes on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 14 - RANGER 5

Now that we’ve got all the support we could need for our friends it’s time to return to our roots and focus on Angel! Feel free to focus more on Ranger instead of Cleric if you so desire when building this yourself; I simply opted for more healing instead of damage.

We’re finally 5th level with Ranger which finally means you’ll be getting an Extra Attack!... Which you probably won’t use because you can use cantrips instead. Well it’s still nice to have?

The good thing though is that you can learn more Ranger spells like Healing Spirit, which is a really strong healing spell that was kinda gutted by erratas. But it’s still nice and efficient regardless of what spell slot you casted it at, effectively being a 6d6 heal for a second level spell slot!

LEVEL 15 - RANGER 6

6th level Rangers can now add Roving to their list of skills from Deft Explorer. Your movement speed increases by 5 feet, and you get both a climbing and swimming speed equal to your walking speed. Is total level 15 a little late to get a 30 foot movement speed? Yeah probably, but every little bit helps!

Speaking of another little bit you get another Favored Enemy... I mean friend! ...I don’t know pick whatever you think will be relevant for the campaign. Also yes: you do get more languages, because Ranger.

LEVEL 16 - RANGER 7

7th level Beast Masters have Exceptional Training with their Animal Companion. You can use a bonus action to command the beast to take the Dash, Disengage, or Help action on its turn... which you could already do anyways thanks to Tasha’s.

I’d say that after Tasha’s this feature would work even if you don’t command your beast, but as always discuss the rules with your DM.

Well at least Angel’s attacks count as magical to overcome resistances, which is good because you were probably dealing with nonmagical resistance for awhile now.

You can also prepare another spell like Pass Without Trace, so you and your friends can sneak around unseen. Pass Without Trace is one of those spells that is always useful regardless of what level you are, so picking it up now is still useful!

LEVEL 17 - RANGER 8

8th level Rangers get another Ability Score Improvement. You’ve probably noticed our uneven Constitution score by this point: yeah that was because we were going to grab Resilient Constitution at some point. Increasing your CON gives you a nice +17 to your health and makes your Constitution saves (and concentration saves!) a +8 total.

You’ve also spent so much time on the ground moving through nonmagical difficult terrain costs you no extra movement thanks to Land’s Stride. You can also pass through nonmagical plants without being slowed by them or taking damage from them. Additionally, you have advantage on saving throws against plants that are magically created or manipulated to impede movement. You may be able to fly but that doesn’t mean being able to move on the ground isn’t useful!

(Artwork by AssasinMonkey on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 18 - RANGER 9

9th level Rangers can learn third level spells, and you’ve probably spent enough time training with Rainbow Dash by this point to make a Wind Wall to protect your friends! (Basically the Ranger spell list sucks and we’re only really going down Ranger still for more subclass features.)

LEVEL 19 - RANGER 10

You get a new feature from Deft Explorer at this level: you are now Tireless! As an action you can give yourself a number of temporary hit points equal to 1d8 plus your Wisdom modifier (so 5.) You can use this action a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus, and regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest. Additionally whenever you finish a short rest your exhaustion level is decreased by 1.

You’re also a master of avoiding social interaction. Nature’s Veil lets you turn invisible as a Bonus Action until the start of your next turn. You can also use this feature a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus, and regain all expended uses when you finish a Long Rest.

LEVEL 20 - RANGER 11

11th level Beast Masters can invoke Bestial Fury! With 11 level in Ranger and 20 total levels in this build your Animal Companion can now... attack twice! Look Beast Master is playable now, I never said it was good.

At least you can learn one last Ranger spell: in your ultimate stand against darkness Daylight will help you banish the dark! ...Or something. Look again: the Ranger spell list sucks.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

You do not hurt my friends! You got that? - Even with the multiclassing you still get spell slots up to 7th level, and have more than enough magic to shake a stick at. Not to mention that Angel will always be by your side to pump out a bit more damage with your Bonus Action!

You’re the cutest thing ever - Maxed out Wisdom was rather expected from a Cleric, but Expertise in Animal Handling combined with unlimited Beast Speech means that you can easily make friends with any beast you come across! Just make sure your DM is okay with you giving a hydra belly rubs.

Whatever you wanna do is fine... - You’ve got quite a good mix of features that will help you both in and out of combat, meaning that there’s plenty that your friends can rely on you to help with! In fact there’s a lot of things that only you can do as a Ranger which are quite helpful!

CONS

You’re such a loudmouth... - Most of your class resources only come back after a Long Rest, with only your Channel Divinity coming back after a Short Rest. You’re still plenty capable with just Angel by your side but don’t spend everything in one fight, or else you’ll be left with nothing but Sacred Flame and Animal Companion attacks.

Are you coughing because... - So let’s talk about Angel: even with 11 levels in Ranger they’re not great. AC of 19 is pretty good but they’ll probably max out around 60 HP. Your average Wizard will have more HP than this by level 20. Two maul attacks will do decent damage but you could get equal value out of Spiritual Weapon, and you only get the second attack with Angel at total build level 20. And yeah for most of this build Angel is going to be sitting around 25 max HP, meaning they’re likely to go down a lot. Aid can help keep your pets healthy and happy but don’t be upset when your level 4 Ranger companion keeps going down.

Awful, just awful! - We kinda miss the best of both worlds for the sake of a build that’s “in-character.” No 10th level of Cleric means no Divine Intervention (even if it’s only a 10% chance it’s still good to have), and no 12th level of Ranger means no ASIs. One good thing about this build is that it does peak around level 10 or so where the multiclassing doesn’t start to damage it, but if you really expect to run all the way to level 20 I’d sooner play either a straight Ranger or a straight Cleric.

But you’re coming along to share your kindness with everypony around you, and guide your friends to victory! Use your expertise to keep your friends alive while Angel kicks some major tail! Get down and be assertive, but remember not to push yourself too hard. Everypony already loves you for who you are, even if you’re in fact a little shy.

(Artwork by Rodrigues404 on DeviantArt.)

#dnd #dnd build #dnd guide #My Little Pony #Friendship is Magic #mlp: fim #brony #dnd ranger #dnd cleric #fluttershy #flutter pony #animals

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comicgirl08 · 6 years ago

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Supergirl recap: Red Daughter tries to turn Kara into Dead Daughter

Supergirl’s penultimate episode finds our heroes embarking on different missions, all of which are presumably racing toward the same end goal in next week’s finale.

Let’s start with Lena, who’s such a boss that she bought her mother’s privately owned prison so Lillian could work on extracting Harun-El from James. To ensure her compliance, Lena poisons her and gives her a day to earn the antidote. She also slaps a baby Truth Seeker on her mother’s arm.

“Couldn’t you just waterboard me like a normal person?” Lillian asks, but she also confesses that she paid $14,000 to make Lena’s middle-school boyfriend scram and she tells her daughter that she loves her. Aww! Happy Mother’s Day!

Lena also tracks down Lockwood to let him know that President Baker, and therefore he himself, is working for Lex. Lockwood, who’s got Harun-El-induced red eyes and shedding hair, isn’t pleased by this news and goes tearing off. James and Lena follow.

Before he confronts Otis, Lockwood injects himself with more Harun-El, which is certainly a choice. Dumb-dumb Otis, tucked away in a safe house with video games and what looks like a sweet plate of donut holes, confirms that yep, they’re working toward Lex’s goals of money and world domination. “Supervillain, right, I get it,” says a disgusted Lockwood. Then Otis and Lockwood start to fight. James tries to pull them apart but is overcome by his Harun-El, and in the end, Lockwood rips out Otis’s Metallo Kryptonite heart and bolts.

Lena then helps James to the lab, where Lillian injects him with her anti-Harun-El solution. And when she suggests that Lena didn’t have the ovaries to actually poison her, Lena coolly offers her a vial and suggests, “You should drink it.”

Okay, our next group of heroes are Brainy, J’onn, and Nia, who are tasked with finding the aliens from the DEO desert facility. Brainy’s also tasked himself with telling Nia he’s in love with her because he’s a multitasker.

A unicorn keychain gives Dreamer a vision that leads them to an Amertek facility, but J’onn says Brainy’s odds for successfully Wookiee prisoner gag-ing their way in are too risky. But when he flies off to survey the scene and the young’uns spot the keychain girl, they move in on their own, with Brainy’s image inducer making him look like Lockwood.

And let me tell you, friends, what follows is an amazing 60 seconds of television as Sam Witwer delightfully channels Jesse Rath’s Brainy trying to be Lockwood. It’s *chef’s kiss* perfection. And the Children of Liberty bust them immediately, of course, because Ben Lockwood’s a lot of things, but robotic he is not.

Time for a little light torture. At first, Brainy begs them to spare Dreamer, but the harsher the treatment gets, the more affected he is. Then he starts glitching—and I use that word intentionally. As he tells his captors, he’s from a race of synthetic beings who are time and space travelers with ancestral memories. And those ancestors were very bad people: conquerers and collectors. He laughs and cries, and the lights on forehead flicker and flash.

Then he announces that they rebooted him to be more like his emotionless ancestors. “And that was a calamitous mistake,” he warns before he effortlessly takes out a roomful of guards, smoothing his hair, and collecting his Legion ring.

In a voice several shades deeper and more dispassionate than we’ve come to know, he explains to J’onn, who snuck in disguised as Eve, that Nia could be useful to his plans. He enters her cell and kneels in front of her. She’s clearly expecting that love declaration, but instead, he locks her back up and informs her that she’s to walk through the portal with the other aliens. Then she can astral project and they can liberate the camp.

Nia’s not cool with this plan, but Brainy doesn’t care. Then he performs what to my untrained eye looked like the five-point palm exploding heart technique and leaves J’onn to be captured, calculating that this doubles their odds of success.

Dreamer catches sight of Brainy turning his back on her as she’s waiting to be ushered through the portal, and dang, you thought Brainy was cold? You haven’t met Brain the Fifth.

Finally this week, we have Kara, informing Baker’s henchmen that in the U.S., we don’t just black-bag journalists. They sneer that the CatCo servers have been scrubbed, so bye-bye evidence. She easily escapes the humans, but Red Daughter gets the jump on her with the help of some Kryptonite.

As Red Daughter casually screws a silencer onto a gun, Kara, restrained with a Kryptonite chain, begs her to see that they’re the same. Red Daughter disagrees, calling Kara limited and mocking her cheerleader skirt. (She’s just jealous, Kar-Kar!)

As Red Daughter rants about the American Dream being snake oil, Kara reminds her that she’s got 15 years of Kryptonite tolerance on her and escapes out the window with only a bullet wound in the arm.

She heads to J’onn for patching up (prior to his Brainy/Amertek exploits), and she realizes that if Lex knows who she is, Alex is in danger. But J’onn says restoring Alex’s memories could destroy her mind if her sealed-off neural pathways are opened up through his psychic force. The only hope is that she remembers on her own.

Well, how convenient, then, that Alex just had a dream about Kara’s unexplained strength when they were children. Kelly, who’s casually hanging at Alex’s, suggests the adoption trauma led to adopted sister memories, but Alex says it’s the same weird feeling she had during the recent DEO security sweep. I think it’s happening tonight, friends! The remembering is upon us!

Concerned, Supergirl sneaks into the DEO to work with Alex on locating Red Daughter using a satellite scan. When Haley finds them, she immediately believes their story that Baker’s working with Lex, particularly because she has reason to believe that Lex hopes to acquire Project Claymore technology. (Apparently,pp all six of the engineers on the project recently woke up dead.)

When the tracker turns up Red Daughter, Supergirl ditches Alex and finds an apartment filled with her belongings. “Oh, Rao, she’s stalking me,” Supergirl breathes.

She’s studying a photo of Mikhail when Alex comes in, horrified that Red Daughter’s place looks like Kara’s. Alex describes her fear for Kara as feeling like a piece of her heart is out there in the world, on its own without protection. As she cries, Supergirl takes her hand, but the almost-sisterly moment is interrupted when their mother calls to say that Kara’s there with her.

Supergirl freaks and races to Eliza’s, where Red Daughter’s super judgy about all of Kara’s stuff. She insists that Lex goes by “Alex” and says she serves the collective, not individuals. Kara asks about Mikhail, which was a mistake because Red Daughter believes the Americans killed him. She unleashes the exo-suit and the pair fight, with Kara insisting, “Hope, help, and compassion for all. That’s what I stand for.” But Red Daughter refuses to listen to her warning that Lex will turn on her.

While Kara assumes they’ll be evenly matched in the powers department, Red Daughter brags that she’s “evolved” and unleashes a purple lightning punch that … knocks out the daylight, somehow? I don’t quite understand it, but it’s suddenly dark as she pummels Kara into submission just as Alex arrives on her bike.

Kara the hero, of course, refuses to submit, and as Alex watches the power show, she experiences the return of other memories: Kara roasting marshmallows with her laser eyes, making it snow indoors with her cold breath, rescuing her plane in the series premiere, reluctantly accepting Alex’s offer to save her with the memory wipe.

“Kara,” she breathes just as Red Daughter delivers a terrible blow. Alex tries to intervene, but Red Daughter knocks her down, listens to the slowing of Kara’s heart, and flies upward. Come on, did Lex not teach her the double tap? Alex remembers everything now and races over to Kara’s body, screaming, “Kara, you can’t go!” as their mother arrives. Red Daughter watches from the sky until a distant noise summons her.

Desperate, Alex tells the unmoving Kara that there’s sunlight in everything, stuffing grass into her fists and insisting, “Kara, just take it. Take the grass. Please.” Then streaks of light travel through the ground and flow toward Kara, who’s pulling the sunlight from the Earth into her body. It revives her, and her first words to Alex are, “I missed you so much.” Danvers sisters forever!

Then Haley calls Alex with bad news: She found plans for a compact Claymore that could fit into a Lexosuit. And the television gives them worse news: Kaznia invaded while everybody else was busy with all the other stuff, apparently. The president tells the nation that Kaznia was aided by the terrorist Supergirl, and Lex in a Lexosuit singlehanded thwarted their plans and killed her. As proof, the news shows a dead-looking Red Daughter in Lex’s arms.

Snaps of the cape

Questions! I’ve got ‘em! How did the Kaznian invasion slip by such that everybody’s hearing about it for the first time on TV? Who can un-reboot Brainy? Was Red Daughter’s purple lightning what brought down Lena’s plane last week? Who else instinctively screams “Wolverines!” when they see the title “Red Dawn”? Is Red Daughter really Dead Daughter? I mean, she can’t be, right? We need her “Mikhail’s still alive!” redemption arc.

Such fun acting challenges for both Witwer and Rath this week! The former nailed the “Brainy-as-Ben” vibe, and the latter gets to create a whole new approach to his character. I can’t wait to see how this storyline unfolds, but I hope it ends with a lot of groveling for forgiveness from poor Nia.

Are you ready for the finale next week? I am (give us more Lex!), and I’m not (the show’s been so fun this season!). Until then, super-friends…

#Supergirl #KaraDanvers #RedDaughter #Dreamer #NiaNal #Brainiac-5 #Brainy #JamesOlsen #MartianManhunter #J’onnJ’onzz #LenaLuthor #LexLuthor #RedDawn #NationalCity #Midvale #TheCW

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 6 years ago

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Chapter 15: more information, and finally, some answers -- but of course more questions.

And surprise! Another chapter! I’m super excited for this one, and even more for what’s next up.

[Beginning] [Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

Wednesday morning sees Apollo wonder if he got stuck in some sort of time sink in his way to work, if he dove through a liminal space and lost a few hours, because there’s no regular, non-fae, mundane reason that Phoenix should be in the office before him.

He has papers spread out over the coffee table, next to a formidable-looking legal text, and is sitting cross-legged on the couch hunched like a gargoyle. “Morning, Apollo,” he says, tapping his pen again a legal pad until it flings forth from his fingers and arcs up into the air to fall somewhere near the piano.

Something shuffles on the other couch, out of Apollo’s sight, and Vera pops up over the back of it. “Hi, Mr Justice.”

She still looks human. She looked human on Sunday, too, when Apollo went to see her and Trucy; he has wondered since the hospital visit when, or if, something will break like Kristoph broke.

“Hey, Vera.” He sets his bag down near the door. “What’s going on here?”

“Inheritance law fuckery,” Phoenix says. “I figured I’d spare you the early start on it.” He yawns and reaches for a mug perched precariously on the corner of the table. It takes all of Apollo’s self-restraint to lunge forward for fear of him knocking it over. “This does mean there’s some tea in the kitchen that hasn’t gone totally cold.”

“I didn’t know you drank tea.” It sounds tempting, though; he and Clay ran out of coffee yesterday and haven’t gotten their shit together for it.

“Not every habit I’ve picked up from people I hang out with is bad,” Phoenix says. “Just about eighty-five percent of them.”

Vera slumps back into the couch. “I don’t think you’re inspiring confidence in our client,” Apollo says.

Phoenix grins sheepishly. It’s an expression that still surprises Apollo, that vulnerability and acquiescence of wrongdoing, even if it must be calculated that he chooses to let it show at all. “Sorry.”

“You did warn me that this isn’t your expertise,” Vera says softly. “It’s okay. It’s better than being alone.”

Phoenix’s face falls. He looks back to his hand, expecting the pen to still be there, and finding nothing. “Oh, Apollo, if there is something you want to do later, I’ve got some folders on my desk I need run over to the Prosecutors Office.”

“Yeah,” Apollo says. “Sure.” It’s still a little cold – not that Phoenix is wearing a scarf inside today, but Apollo feels it biting into his nose and fingers. If he can get some tea and reheat it, that would—

He stops dead.

“Mr Wright,” he says. “This office doesn’t have a kitchen.”

Phoenix raises an eyebrow. It disappears beneath the hem of his beanie. “Sure it does,” he says. “Only just when you want it to.”

“You’re shitting me.”

He waves a hand. He’s found another pen somewhere. “Go look. You’ll find it.”

And in the next room, on the wall that doesn’t have a desk, there is a door that Apollo has never seen. It’s the wall across from his desk, that he has stared at often enough with no idea what to do and the window behind him, and he knows he should have seen it. Cautiously pushing it open, he steps into a narrow kitchen with no room for two people to stand side-by-side between the counters, with two stovetop burners, no oven, a fridge, and numerous cabinets. A teapot and several mugs are laid out on the counter. The teapot, white with black and gold detailing of some sort of hounds or wolves, looks like it cost real money, which means that it was probably a gift that Phoenix took up drinking tea in order to use. The mugs are a mismatch of kitschy souvenir mugs from cities across Europe, another with a cracked handle and the logo for one Ivy University, three hand-painted probably by Trucy and showing a clear progression of skill, and two with weirdly detailed images of cats on them. Someone’s reject mugs handed over? Apollo takes the one with the calico on it, feeling like those two might be the ones with the least meaning behind them (or conversely, the most, but probably a stupid inside-jokey meaning), and pours himself some tea with the distinct feeling that in picking up the pot, he has taken his life into his hands.

The tea is still warm when he takes it back out to the main room. Phoenix smirks. He hasn’t stopped being unbearably smug, apparently; just maybe has less to be smug at Apollo over. “I see you found the kitchen,” he says.

“Anything else I should know about this place?” Apollo assesses his options and decides he would rather sit next to Vera. She unsprawls herself and presses close to the arm of the couch. “Any ghosts or anything?”

“I guess you’re a bit behind the curve since I haven’t been around much,” Phoenix says, “but she’s not really a ghost, technically. ‘Ghost’ implies she died here instead of choosing to ascend into an incorporeal… blanketing life-force blessing who is… still sapient and has opinions about my lack of organizational skills and also everything else.” He straightens his back out and winces. “I’ve lost you, haven’t I?”

“I was only about half-serious,” Apollo says. “I mean, I thought this place was weird, but--”

The lights flicker.

“Oh.”

Phoenix laughs. It stops just short of mocking, but it’s close. “Her name is Mia,” he says. “She was murdered almost a decade ago now – at the end, I’m sure she could’ve lashed back one last time, knocked her killer dead instantly with a curse, but she just – went the other way – ascended, kind of? Stuck around to help me bring him and more to justice, legally. Life and death, she went for the blessing instead. She’d given enough of herself away to the office before, anyway.”

Vera wraps her arms around her knees. “Is that… something anyone can do?” she asks. “To… to learn to stay? Instead of dying, could…?”

No trace of the laugh is left in Phoenix’s face. “No,” he says. “I’m sorry.” They must be all thinking about her father. “Sell your soul and maybe you won’t go if you get murdered before your time, but that’s inadvisable for about a thousand reasons.” He shakes his head. “Otherwise – otherwise Mia’s unique. She’s the strongest fae I’ve ever known – she could have been Queen of the Winter Court if she had wanted. The ones on the throne, now, they’re powerful, but…” He shakes his head again and leaves it hanging, his eyes dark and downcast. “Not like her.”

Apollo doesn’t want to breathe -- wants to ask so many questions and is sure if he moves he makes Phoenix realize that Apollo has learned more of his personal life and relationships to the fae this week than in the past six months. This must be Phoenix’s mentor, fae royalty, and now Apollo knows what happened to her.

Mia Fey.

He always thought that name was bold when he read the trial records.

“Did you love her?” Vera asks.

Phoenix smacks his head back into the couch. “How do I keep getting to this kind of thing?” he asks the ceiling. The lights hum a little louder. “You can’t ask me that in front of her!” His exasperation tilts upward at the end, seems blended with some amusement. “Yeah,” he adds. “Of course I did. And she saved my life when we first met, and keeps saving it.” He sits forward again, rolling his eyes as he does so, but then resting his arms on his knees he stares very seriously between Apollo and Vera. “Whatever your misfortune or your curses, this office, Mia’s blessing here, is about the safest damn place in the world.”

Vera nods, her thumbnail halfway to her lips, and then she hurriedly brings it down. Does she know about the curse? Have they mentioned it in front of her? Has Phoenix told her – does she know of more than the nail polish poison? Does this reassurance, actually for her benefit, seem strangely out of nowhere?

“We should probably get back to work,” Phoenix says quietly, tapping his pen to the legal text, and the look at the man behind the cards is gone.

Apollo stays with them, because he has nothing else to do, and even if he’s personally inheriting nothing but abandonment issues and anxiety, it’s still good to know. Early in the afternoon, Vera begins spacing out and Phoenix is doodling in the margins of his legal pad. Apollo thinks it might be a good time to go.

“I didn’t know you are an artist,” Vera says.

Apollo, in the back, at Phoenix’s desk – still surprisingly bare, if only because he’s migrated to the couch – only catches part of his response, “on the side,” and when he reenters they’re talking about museums and classical art and Apollo definitely checks out. “1202!” Phoenix yells after him, in the middle of the same breath as something about the Renaissance.

Lawyer, artist on the side, turned piano-poker player, legal reformist on the side, seems pretty damn weird to Apollo, but they’re all also squatting in the office of “immeasurably powerful fae being on the side, lawyer full time”, so what does he know?

Room 1202 at the Prosecutors Office is the second prosecutor’s office Apollo has ever seen, but because the first was Klavier’s, he has no idea if this one is typical of their decor, or equally pretentious in the opposite way of Klavier. The couch and curtains are the same shade of – maroon? Burgundy? Apollo doesn’t know what he would call this color. On a small table sits a chess set, red and blue, and the shelf beneath the huge window is a bookshelf with a tea set and some kind of figurine resting on top of it.

The prosecutor at the desk has graying hair and a suit that matches his decor. He looks up over his glasses at Apollo and sits back, and he doesn’t actually look any older than Phoenix. Maybe even younger, but that could be Phoenix’s unkempt aura of existence. “Mr Justice,” he says, standing and starting to move around the desk. “I was told to expect you to come by. My name is Miles Edgeworth.”

“Nice to meet you.” Apollo shakes his hand and turns over the folders. “I have no idea what this is from Mr Wright, exactly. He didn’t say if I was allowed to look.”

Edgeworth flips the first open, scans it, and lazily tosses it onto his desk without a second glance. “Like a lot of the things Wright ferries my way, or has Trucy do, there might be something in there, but mostly, it is an excuse.”

Apollo shifts in place and fidgets with his bracelet. “For…?”

“Today? An introduction between us, I imagine.”

“Does he do anything without an ulterior motive?” Apollo asks, directed somewhere toward the wall, but Edgeworth snorts and shakes his head.

“He learned too well from his mentor and her cohorts.”

Apollo takes a step back away from the terrible, cutting blade of his words. “Forgive me,” Edgeworth says, his eyes and palms turning up, some sort of pleading with nothing or with Phoenix or with the fae. “That is neither here nor there. What I wanted was to speak with you about last week’s trial and your impressions of the system, having stood in the courtroom yourself; I was unable to attend to witness myself.”

It takes effort to stop himself from just weighing himself back and forth, foot to foot, burning off nervous energy in place. He feels like he did early in his career with Kristoph, still terrified of his boss but for mundane career-anxiety reasons. “I’d be glad to, but uh, since you’re a prosecutor, wouldn’t you rather get Prosecutor Gavin’s thoughts—?”

Edgeworth makes a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. Apollo regrets everything he has said so far this conversation. “I am equally interested in the perspective of both benches, but yes, I would perhaps like to hear from Gavin if he would deign to show himself in front of me.” He frowns deeply, squinting not really at Apollo, and then he cranes his neck over Apollo’s shoulder. “I asked him to deliver something to me in person today, so if I seem distracted at any point, I might be trying to make sure that I can corner him.”

“He hasn’t come into work?” Apollo asks.

“No, he has – I’ve seen those ostentatious vehicles of his.” Edgeworth folds his arms over his chest, drumming his fingers and shaking his head. “And he responds to email – but simply, no one has seen him around when I’ve asked.”

Apollo knows which office is his; he can stop on the way down. Is this some sort of machination on Phoenix’s part, too? “Oh.”

Edgeworth waves him over to the couch, returns to his desk, and begins what feels a little more like an interrogation or a trial than a conversation. He shouldn’t have expected otherwise – he knows the name Edgeworth as a famous (and infamous) prosecutor, and already he can see the hints to that reputation. He doesn’t ever ask more about Vera the changeling when Apollo brings it up, makes some quiet dismissive noise when Apollo mentions curses – and that, finally, seems like something he can push back on. He doesn’t know what Edgeworth is looking for from him, a fight or information or one in the form of the other, but he can try a new tactic.

“You don’t think that sort of thing is important to know?” Apollo asks.

“To what end?” Edgeworth asks. “For your own purposes, to secure your own belief in someone’s guilt, or lack thereof? What will you do with it – lobby an accusation that is subjective through your very own eyes and hope that someone believes you – that the prosecution will take pity on you?” He leans forward, intimidating even with the desk and the floor between them. “Will you take photographs through the center of a magatama – can you? – or just hold it to the eye of every detective on the scene, hoping to get corroboration to put before a judge and jury? Presume I trust you, because Wright picked you as his successor – faith and trust between the prosecution and defense can go a long ways, but if you have only that and wisps of magic, you still will not reach the truth.” His eyes, as they have all conversation, flicker from Apollo to the door and back again.

“And furthermore, for the matter of a jury trial, I can only see, going forward, that penalties should be made in cases of wanton claims about curses and magic, as you made.”

“But—”

He holds up a finger. “Consider this, Mr Justice: yes, the purpose of the Jurist System is for common sense to fill in the gaps where a clever killer has escaped with critical evidence. There is, however, a difference between that and a verdict based in impulse because accusations of magic have been bandied about. Consider a clever and unscrupulous attorney, or prosecutor, swaying a jury with passionate and baseless conviction that this witness is one of the Gentry – or even that the one behind the other bench is, and as such their evidence cannot be trusted. How will we ever untangle the truth amidst that slew of hearsay?”

Numbly, Apollo nods. Edgeworth sighs heavily and rests his forehead on his hand. “The psychology behind how a jury might respond to further cases such as this one, with claims of magic, is a headache in clear need of further research before we push the Jurist System toward the mainstream. We desperately need reform to prevent more Kristoph Gavins and so much other corruption like his, but…” Finally, he seems to be at a loss for words. “Wright was – is – a competent attorney, but it was fortunate for us all that the judge most often saddled with him is remarkably unfazed by talk of the Gentry. Going forward, with you and Wright and his methods and the possibility of uniquely made-up juries, I worry what could be unleashed, if the defense make claim to Wright’s Sight but lacks his integrity, or if the prosecution is not the rarest trustworthy witch who can confirm what was Seen.”

“I don’t think Prosecutor Gavin is a witch, actually,” Apollo says, knowing as soon as the first word leaves his mouth that he sounds like an idiot, and continuing on anyway.

He doesn’t even know if Edgeworth would consider Klavier trustworthy.

Edgeworth’s frown lessens, his brow slightly uncreasing. “Wright told me as much, eventually, but I admit I was thinking of a different prosecutor, my mentee.”

“Wait,” Apollo says, screaming again inside his skull because this next statement is actually going to be just as stupid, “you think Mr Wright’s an idiot for hanging out with the Fair Folk, but you mentored a witch?”

“Did I say he was an idiot?” Edgeworth looks, and sounds, puzzled, like he really isn’t sure if that was the phrasing he used.

“No, but I got that kind of, uh, vibe.”

“Hm.” Edgeworth considers it for another few seconds. “You are right, of course, he is; but the circumstances in our cases are very different, and my taking on a mentoring role toward a younger prosecutor was and is independent of him being a witch.” He folds his arms on the desk, quietly tapping a pen in one hand. “The most prominent difference is that I have not and refuse to give in and casually allow this office to become something like a coven, as Wright has your office.”

Apollo cannot lodge an objection to that. “I think I must cut us short here,” Edgeworth says, and Apollo tries not to jump up too quickly in relief. “I have to make more consideration of what we’ve spoken of, and see what Wright has thrown at me this time.”

“You’ve given me a lot to think about, as well,” Apollo says. Edgeworth is right – it is a headache.

His mouth twitches. Apollo hasn’t actually seen him smile. “You aren’t the one running this reform, Mr Justice, so you need lend a little less consideration – but I am glad to learn that you won’t just sit back and let the wind carry you where it may. That you know how you wish to fight, too.”

With nothing to say to that, Apollo nods, turning it into a little bit of a bow of his head, and hurries for the door, finding sitting in the open doorway on the floor, a small stack of papers. He picks it up, glances it over, and finds his eyes are immediately drawn to the signature at the bottom, in purple pen, initials unmistakeable. “Um, Prosecutor Edgeworth?” he asks, turning back around, everything but his mouth and feet frozen. “I think – I think Prosecutor Gavin came by.”

Edgeworth curses, too much of a hushed hiss for Apollo to determine what exactly the words are, and he hurries around his desk to snatch the pages from Apollo’s hands. “Yes, he – yes, that is exactly what I asked him to—” He crumples the edges a little with the tightening of his fists, a harsh scowl tearing across his features. “I have been watching the door, all this time – you didn’t see these on your way in?” Apollo shakes his head. “Gavin, I swear – the man is a goddamned ghost, somehow, when he wants to be.”

“If you wanted me to meet Prosecutor Edgeworth for whatever reason, you could have just introduced us,” Apollo says.

“I wanted you to drop off those papers, Apollo.” Phoenix looks up at him like he’s looking up from checking the new hand he’s been dealt, utterly and frustratingly emotionless. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The second one is a red lie. It circles him – for someone else, he has no tells at all. “Bullshit you don’t,” Apollo says. He has the distinct feeling that he has had this conversation before. Twice before? Every conversation he has had with Phoenix is this one? “Or are you fishing for information on Prosecutor Gavin and hoped I would learn or say something?”

“And how is Prosecutor Gavin?” Phoenix’s lazy eyelid has returned. Apollo doesn’t miss it. Apollo wants to punch it away. It isn’t right that his boss should have such a punchable face.

Apollo crosses his arms. “No,” he says. “I’m not doing this. Ask after him yourself.”

“I have.” Whenever Apollo’s voice gets louder, Phoenix drops his lower, like if he can balance Apollo, Vera out in the front room won’t hear them. “And Ema’s only heard from him in email – Edgeworth too – nobody’s goddamn seen him, so yeah, maybe I did just hope that you could draw him out.”

“And what do you care?”

Phoenix scowls up at him, sticking a pencil to mark his place in the heavy leather-bound book with handwritten script he is paging through, and slamming it shut harder than necessary. “Where should I start?” he asks, voice with all of the bitterness but none of the sarcasm that Apollo is used to. “Maybe I spent seven years with Kristoph Gavin as my closest ‘friend’” – he makes quotes in the air with his fingers, too – “and learned not only how he thinks, but how you come to start think after being around him for a lengthy personal relationship. And maybe I spent those seven years also listening to all of his belittling, dismissive remarks about his little brother.” He smacks his palm on the desk like it is the defense’s bench and then he looks surprised, as though the muscle memory of being in court should have atrophied years ago. “And maybe I’ve seen prosecutors before have their foundations upended, to end with a spiral off a cliff, and maybe” – his voice drops further to a hiss – “I would prefer not to let Kristoph get the last goddamn laugh over any of us who have survived him this far.”

He falls back in his seat, spinning it halfway away from Apollo, and closes his eyes. “Or maybe I’m just morbidly curious how it ends this time. Your pick.”

Two steps forward – Iris and Mia, pieces of a history before Apollo, the man before disbarment – and then three more back. His internal counter of “Days Since I Last Hated Phoenix Wright” resets.

“I think less people would try to kill you if you didn’t pretend to be heartless,” Apollo says. He turns on his heel and heads for the sound of Vera humming along to the radio.

“Magatama’s in the bottom desk drawer if you want to go back sometime,” Phoenix calls after him.

Clay’s advice for no response to his texts was to wait a day and then send some casual, irreverent remark, maybe about something going on at the office, as a bump to the previous message. That, unlike most of Clay’s advice, had actually seemed reasonable to Apollo.

Ran by the prosecutor office today, maybe you saw me talking to Edgeworth I knocked on your door afterward to say hi, guess you weren’t in then

On Thursday, it seems to Apollo that Vera has officially-unofficially been adopted into the agency, because there’s some easels, canvasses, and paints that were not there when he left the prior afternoon. She has dismissed both the paints and her sketchbook for a plain pencil and the edges of a Wonder Bar flyer.

“You’re in early,” Apollo says.

She doesn’t jolt quite as much as she has when he’s surprised her other times. Maybe she’s learning to be a little more at ease in the world. “It’s lonely at my house,” she says. “I’m not lonely when I’m alone here.”

Mia. Apollo nods. “I feel that, too.”

Phoenix wanders in before noon, after the two of them thoroughly investigate the mysterious kitchen. Vera is trying to make a house of cards on an already-precarious end table, and Apollo is looking over the books on the shelves, hoping to find one that can teach him something new without being criminally boring. “Nothing?” he asks Vera, pointing to a canvas.

She shrugs. He is almost to the back room when she says, “Um, Mr Wright?”

He stops dead.

“How do you draw something that isn’t real?”

“Huh?” Apollo asks. Phoenix turns back around, heading for the couch and not looking confused, and Apollo has no idea why they both understand that very weird question.

“How have you done it in the past?” Phoenix asks. Vera has abandoned the cards and is flipping through the legal pad that Phoenix was doodling on yesterday. “I know your first, er, paintings—”

“Forgeries,” she says softly. “Call them what they are. It’s okay.”

“—your first forgeries were identical copies of things, but then – like the diary page – that was still you making something new, something that wasn’t real.”

“But it was always obvious how to make those real.” Vera’s eyes are fixed on the page and a little scribble of a woman with smudged graphite hair and red pen eyes, as many of them as a spider. “I was told exactly what to do. I had the torn edge to match my new page to, and the text to put on it, and the handwriting to put it in, and the type of paper. But I don’t know how to make something new.”

Phoenix digs his phone from his pocket and starts typing. “I’m not ignoring you,” he says. “I just need to, before I forget, tell a friend of mine that I need to introduce him to you.” Apparently satisfied with whatever message he sent, he tosses his phone toward a shelf. It bounces off and cracks to the floor. “Anyway. The advice that’s maybe shitty I can offer you is to find what’s real in it. Like… paint me how you feel today.” He gestures toward a canvas. “Not how your face would look if you were showing those emotions, not what’s making you feel them, but how it feels. That’s real, but it’s not you replicating anything.”

Seeming to decide against doing whatever he meant to, he returns to the couch and sits on the arm of it. “My friend’s a children’s book author-illustrator – he’s human, but his mentor was one of the fae.” The glance he casts about the office doesn’t land in any one place. “I don’t think I have any of her books here, but I’ll bring them in. After her death, he and I talked a lot about what he’d learned from her, because my experience with the fae and art had been my friends getting obsessed with kids’ action shows and needing the concept of ‘fiction’ and ‘acting’ explained about a dozen times.” There’s that fond exasperation again. “She said that her books were always grounded in something real. They had to have that heart of truth, and the rest she could build.”

Vera lets the pencil fall from her fingers and cranes her head back to look at her paint brushes. “Is this a common thing?” she asks. “The fae, drawn to art?”

“Culturally, it’s not their thing,” Phoenix says. “They themselves don’t have much of a tradition of storytelling or paintings that are much more than… apparently accurate versions of history. It’s something about how they consider themselves bound to the truth, even if they’re twisted about it. They’re a little weird about music, too, but I do know that they’re drawn to human artists over this same thing – that they don’t get it, but we do, so they like artists as…”

“Court jesters?” Apollo offers.

Phoenix snorts. Vera has stood and gone to consider her paints, and he slides off the arm of the couch and sprawls across it on his back. “Something like it. But it is interesting to consider, in terms of you, Vera – you’re a changeling. They swapped you for a human baby of artistic parents, who was more or less destined to grow up to be an artist – and there’s a woman I know, human, a musician, and she’s the other side of that coin. So from my nearly-anecdotal sample size” – Ema would not approve – “it’s future artists and musicians who… get… taken…”

He sits bolt upright, his eyes flashing blue. “Oh, son of a bitch!”

At his outburst, Vera squeaks and stumbles into the piano, knocking some some brushes and a palette down to the floor. He looks at Apollo, eyes pale and vacant, jaw twitching but still hanging open. “I do know what the hell he is!”

And Apollo, halfway to Phoenix’s desk to grab the magatama, is sure that they’ve realized the same thing.

#fic: the seelie of kurain #roddy fanfics #next: THE BOY IS BACK. and probably having a mental breakdown. mood but also like. bad.

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caroline18mars · 6 years ago

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A Man On Fire - Chapter 15

“Shayla, stop! Will you stop? It's not what you think?” Sean caught up with her at the elevator, “leave me alone, Sean” she rammed on the button like a maniac, “no, I won't! This is all a misunderstanding, just come with me to my room and let me explain” his heart was thumping in his throat, was he really sure he wanted to do this? Ok Sean, wait a minute, this is your girlfriend..but Harper..she was so stunning, seeing her in that bath had stirred something in him, something inexplicable. What the hell was going on out there? He could barely hear himself think, Jared pulled open his door only to step right into the middle of a huge fight between Sean and..Shayla? What the hell was she doing here?. “Either you put her on a plane right now or tomorrow at the latest, either way, she NEEDS TO LEAVE!”, wow he had never seen Shayla this angry “I don't know what's going on and frankly I don't need to know, but could you take this to your room?” Jared sighed. “Jared's right, come on, my room's right there” Sean grabbed her arm and tried to steer her away from the elevator, “NO, this is all your fault, Jared!!, all your fault! She needs to leave!” Shayla hissed at her boss. Jared pinched the bridge of his nose “What is? And who the fuck needs to leave?”, did he really need to listen to this? “your oh so important light designer, that's who!” she snapped, her nostrils flaring in anger. “Harper?? you kidding? She's not going anywhere, except to dinner with me and the entire crew in an hour or so, so whatever your problem is, you're going to sort it out, get over it and calm the fuck down, is that clear? Or the only one that's gonna be put on a plane is you, Shay” why had he ever hired this girl? she was good at her job, but an emotional wreck in her private life and those were the two things she couldn't seperate which resulted in a lot of trouble and mayhem for everyone involved with her. Jared turned on his heels and went back inside his room, he had far more important things to do like replying to that e-mail and put the record straight and after he was done, Shayla could start checking his agenda so he could finally meet up with Coco, he needed a break from all these lunatics already and the tour hadn't even started.

From: BJLCubbins

To: HCDeRobiano

Subject: Re: I don't know, but I'm confused

Coco,

It would only be fair to say that I was confused too at first when I read your e-mail, but then it finally sunk in that my last e-mail left little to the imagination..and things could easily be misinterpreted, so I'm gonna put the record straight: she's my ex and that's what she'll always be, nothing's going on between us, she's happily married last time I checked, so.. I think it's a good thing that people can somehow stay 'connected' all their lives even after their physical relationship ends, because who still means anything to anyone in these 'modern times'? You meet someone, give your heart and body to them for a certain period of time and after that you just forget that person ever existed? Whatever that experience was, you can never 'unexperience' or 'unfeel' it ever again, our present is shaped by all those relationships past, they partly brought me to where I am now. It just made me think of something you wrote in one of your first e-mails where you said something about people being glued to a screen and not interacting with each other anymore..and I'm gonna agree with you on that, what if we all let go of our bloated Instagram-egos once and for all and started 'living' in the real world again? I swear, nobody would ever have to fake #happyfamilies on facebook ever again!

So how about we take the lead and avoid the misunderstandings by meeting up? I'll have my agenda checked and I'll send you a time and place? I know you're 'in the middle of something' but maybe if you ask your boss nicely, he or she will give you some time off?

What about you though? You share so little about yourself, do you have an ex that stuck or still sticks to you?

P.S. I loved that you care so much or you would've never sent such a 'snarky' e-mail, just so you know I care a lot about you too..

Regards

Joe

Get the hell out of this bath and get dressed before he walks in again, that..disgusting piece of..never in a million years could she have guessed that he was such a pervert..he had a key to her appartment as well, how many times had he been been spying on her under the shower? Or seen her naked? She quickly dried and put on her widest hoodie and pajama pants and stomped over to the door to double lock it, barricade it, don't care, he was NOT getting in again, first he had been checking her phone, sleeping in her bed, and then sneaking up on her in the bath? No, no, no way, not happening again. Just when she wanted to put the chain on, a knock made her jump back, “I don't need to know, Sean” she yelled, “It's Jared..”, oh..she carefully opened the door, he was dressed to the nines, no sign of floppy hair as it was all pulled back in a tight ponytail. “You ready?” he smiled at her, oversized hoodies, leather jackets, anything you could put on looked amazing on her, “I'm sorry but I'm not feeling so good, think I'm coming down with something” she wanted to go if it was just him, but he had said something about the whole crew going to dinner together. Damn, that was a dissapointment, he loved talking to her. “Oh..ok..that's a shame..do you need anything?..” he heard himself say, “no thank you, I was just going to bed, so uhm..” ok let's not stretch this to an uncomfortable length, he was going to find out soon, if he hadn't already..”I understand, ok, well, feel better?” he couldn't help but feel dissapointed, he didn't want to put her on the spot, maybe she wasn't feeling too well because of being drenched all afternoon but the main reason she didn't want to go was because of Shayla and Sean, what the hell happened anyway? Please don't say it was because there was something going on between Harper and Sean, ugghh..wait why did that bother him so much?. “Thank you..I'll try..you enjoy your dinner..” she hesitated as their eyes locked “Goodnight” she breathed, please don't tell me I have to go when Shayla shoots off her big mouth later on, I want to get to know you better. Jared nodded his goodbye and turned to walk down the hallway.

A quick roomservice call and 10 minutes and a big tip later there was a trolley being rolled into her room with a lot of scrumptious food, yummm she took the bowl with noodles with her to bed, crawled under the covers and switched on the television. But after flicking through every channel, she ended up with another episode of 'Catfish' on MTV, pushing another fork of noodles in her mouth, was that really the way anyone wanted to end up on TV, by telling Nev and Max about your suspicions that the internet love of your life isn't probably the person you think him or her to be? Sure honey, you're in an internet relationship with Katy Perry tssssskkkkk sillllyyyyyy, that was just as silly as thinking she was in love with some guy that said he was..well ok, let's take him as example, Jared Leto on the internet, or Jared pretending to be some ordinary Joe online, helloooo!?! ridiculous much? On the other side of town, the restaurant was really busy and particularly LOUD because of Shayla arguing with Sean every time he tried to talk to her, there was nothing interesting on his phone, ahh food being served, perfect timing! “She's leaving! I don't care if she's your friend..or your secret lover” Shayla's voice ruined his appetite, his fork clattered against the plate “Enough! I don't care which one of you but either you or Sean is gonna tell me what the hell happened with Harper?” he banged his fist on the table hard enough to make the adjacent tables stop talking for a second. Sean suddenly thought his plate was much more interesting than engaging in this conversation so Jared glared at Shayla who stuck out her chin “Harper seduced Sean, why else would she give him the spare key to her room? She thinks she can solve a quarrel by getting naked in front of him”. Harper naked? Very, very interesting, those curves, that cute butt.. “if that's true, then Sean shouldn't have accepted the key in the first place, not if you two are so much in love, right Sean?” he turned his attention to Sean who was now pushing his food around on the plate, classic, Harper didn't try and seduce Sean, it was the other way round, it took a man to know another man's body language. “Anyway, can we just eat now? Harper is not leaving by the way” Jared picked up his fork and continued eating, case closed, the only thing he reluctantly had to do now was push the image of a naked Harper away.

Uhhhh overeaten again, put the bowl away now! A dull 'thud' as she pushed the bowl on the bedside table, made her look over the edge of the bed, ah..phone, hopefully no damage to the screen, then again she could afford a new screen..or even a new phone now that she was gonna have so much money in the bank. The phone vibrated warmly back to life, Joe of course, who else? What attracted her so much in this guy? Definitely his way with words, this man could make everything seem reasonable, so jealous of him having every single one of his thoughts in check and then write them down so eloquently.

From: HCDeRobiano

To: BJLCubbins

Subject: Re: re: I don't know, but I'm confused

Joe,

There's just no running or hiding from you, is there? No matter how hard I try, I keep hovering around my phone like a moth to the flame, you're trouble, Joe, and I know it..

That's why I'm not saying yes just yet but I'm not saying no either, I'll go with the flow and see what I can do, it's just that I'm scared you'll make an absolute fool out of me and stand me up again..and those chances are real, don't deny it.

That's why I decided I need to protect myself, so if I do decide to meet up with you and it's a no show from you again, then I'll pull the plug on you and you'll never read anything from me again, is that clear?

Regards

Coco

#jared leto #jared leto fanfic #jared leto fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #30secondstomars #30 seconds to mars fanfic #a man on fire #chapter 15 #harper #harper and jared #caroline18mars

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writerjodie · 6 years ago

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Renegades: The Journey

Assassin’s Creed: Renegades - The Journey (Chapter Three)

Renegades Masterpost

Pressing a kiss to her hand, and placing her hand on the smooth body of her bike, Lisa bids farewell to her favourite piece of machinery. Luckily for her, Connor offered to keep it safe in the Assassin’s garage for her whilst she is away - but still, she’ll miss it, almost as much as the Assassins here. Both Connor and his senior, Achilles, are there to wave her off, the former enveloping her in a crushing bearhug whilst muttering something about missing her already. Mentor Achilles opts for a more formal approach, offering Lisa a brisk handshake instead.

“Are we ready to go, then? The car’s waiting,” Kassandra appears at the door, impatient to get back home. With a final farewell to her bike and friends, Lisa skips out the door, dragging her suitcase behind her. “Here, let me,” Kassandra lifts the full case into the car boot with ease, her muscles barely straining at such a task, “Nice bike you got there, I’ve got one similar back home. You can borrow the spare one when we get there if you’d like,” Squeezing herself into the seat between the siblings, Lisa’s face lights up at that thought. “I’d like that very much,” she hums, feeling horribly inadequate between the muscled Greeks.

As the taxi rolls into action, the trio natter away like old friends, even chatting with the sweet taxi driver in the front. Once in the airport, their checkin is swift, and soon enough an air host is ushering them into a posh departure lounge, to where a few other Assassin agents linger. Eventually, they are given clearance, and are again ushered out onto the runway, where the Assassin’s private jet awaits them all. Brows raised at the internal refurb in the jet, Lisa harks back to her last trip in the plane, all the way from London to New York, with only herself for company. Chucking her hand luggage in the storage box - her suitcase having been bundled into the hold - Lisa plops down of the first free chair she spots, marvelling at its plushness. The air hosts do their thing of point exits and whatnot, then their pilot comes over the intercom.

“Welcome all to this private flight, the time is currently 10:17, and in a few minutes we will taxi out to commence our flight,” the smooth voice greets them all, “This flight is approximately 10 hours 30 minutes, and we should arrive in Naples at around 06:40, their time,”

Craning her neck to find Kassandra, Lisa breathes a sigh of relief when she spots the Spartan sat behind her.

“Hey Kass, if we’re landing in Naples, how’re we getting to Greece?” she asks, furrowing her brows. “First we will drive East to Bari, then we’ll get on my ship and sail there,” the response comes, “Normally we’d land straight in Greece, but since others are coming with us, it seemed easier to go straight to Italy,”

Nodding, Lisa looks around the plane, taking proper looks at the faces of the others’ for the first time since arrival. Alexios sits somewhere at the back, near Bayek. Across the jet, she sees the devilishly handsome Ezio Auditore snoring gently already, and behind him, the ever silent Arno Dorian - Mentor of the Frenchies. A jolt shudders through the plane, warning the Assassins of the imminent take off. Leaning back in her seat, Lisa watches the receding land fade away beneath the clouds as the jet soars into the sky. Once the seat belt light flashes off, the unanimous click of almost all belts rattles around the fuselage, and immediately half of the Assassins are crowded around the built in bar.

Retrieving her bag, Lisa plops back down on her seat, and begins to rummage through for her headphones. 10 hours to kill, and strictly speaking, Lisa isn’t big on the whole drinking stuff. As her fingers brush the soft velvet covered box at the bottom of her bag, Lisa starts in her seat: she’d forgotten she’d put that in there. With the aim to forget it, Lisa frowns as her fingers betray her and retrieve that damned box instead of her headphones. Her fingers tremble a little as she flips it open once more, the intricate pattern shining in the incandescent lighting. For a moment, her mind wanders back to that happy time. A candlelit dinner, a pair of smiling brown eyes, calloused hands clasping hers, this very necklace resting in its box - these images flit through her mind, spaced out by flashes of the angst upon discovering her love’s disappearance.

“What’s that you got?” Alexios appears seemingly out of nowhere, leaning over her shoulder to look at the necklace.

“Hmm, nothing,” she hums, “Just something I got ages ago,”

Upon seeing the tree of life sigil, Alexios pauses, his brows flickering together for a moment before he remembers himself.

“It’s lovely” he squeezes onto the chair beside her, “Am I right in saying it’s a Celtic symbol?” “The Yggdrasil is Norse I think, but the whole tree of life thing is probably used in Celtic mythology too,” Lisa hums, repeating the same words her lover had told her long ago upon giving her the gift, “He...the one who gave it to me, I mean, he was into all his mythology and stuff - he was Irish,”

Lips pursed, Alexios nods again, his thick finger gently stroking the edge of the delicate pewter pendant. “Was?” he queries, the golden rings of his eyes meeting hers, “What happened?” Slamming the lid shut, Lisa stuffs the damned thing back into her bag - it’s no use getting caught up on the past, she needs to look to the future. “I’m not sure,” she whispers, “He went on a mission and never returned, Achilles and the others told me nothing - so I presume him to be dead,”

What she doesn’t add is that the Yggdrasil necklace disappeared at the same time, only to return again after her encounter with the masked man who knew her name at the warehouse.

“Ouch, sorry to hear that...you can talk to me and Kass about it anytime, you know,” he ruffles her hair out its bun, “If we’re to work together we should all get to know each other and be friends - no secrets,”

Standing back up, Alexios flashes Lisa a knee weakening smile, and points to where the other Assassin’s are gathered. “Now if you don’t mind,” he adjusts the strings of his red hoodie, “I promised Monsieur Dorian a drinking contest,”

Watching the muscled Spartan disappear into the bar area, Lisa curls up on her chair and inserts her headphones, pulling up her favourite playlist. Eyes gazing out the window, Lisa leans back and lets the soothing beats of Ghost’s Nocturnal Me take her to the land of bliss slumber.

The rest of the flight passes without incident, with them landing in Naples International at the precisely the predicted time. The car park outside if full of various goodbyes as the Assassin’s set off on their various journeys. Alexios, Kassandra, and Lisa are the last left waiting, until a smooth, black Jaguar car glides up next to them, and the window rolls down.

“Get in losers, we’re going to Bari,” the woman inside laughs, looking at the trio over her wide brimmed sunglasses.

Immediately Kassandra has the door open and is practically sat on the lady’s lap, pressing firm kisses to her lips. “Kyra babe, I’ve missed you,” she hums, gesturing for Alexios to put the cases in the boot.

As the two lovers take up the front seats, Lisa and Alexios end up in the back again - not that they mind, as they both get to control the various snacks Kyra brought with them for the 3 hour drive.

It’s mid morning when they finally arrive in Bari, having come to a stop in the car park by the port. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Lisa takes in the bright, sun soaked port, and smiles at the rows of yachts that greet her.

“Last leg now,” Kassandra rolls from the car, stretching her stiff legs in the morning breeze.

Goraning to himself, Alexios pulls the rest of the cases from the boot, as Kyra hands over the car’s keys to the car rental guy, who immediately inspects the vehicle for damage. Bag of crisps clutched in her hands, Lisa falls into step behind the others as they stroll along the port side.

“You’re going to love the Adrestia,” Kyra twists around to smile widely at Lisa, “It’s so spacious and luxurious - you wouldn’t think it’s a boat once you’re inside!”

Kyra’s words prove to be true, as the moment Lisa lays eyes on the luxurious yacht she simply falls in love with it. From the detailed artwork on the hull, that likens the ship to an Ancient Greek Warship, to the cornflower blue sails tied to its trio of masts - the Adrestia is truly a sight to behold.

As they board, they are greeted with a huge bear hug from a smallish man.

“Welcome back! Who’s this new face Barnabas sees here? Welcome to the Adrestia new lady,” the man waves, introduces himself as Barnabas. “I’m Lisa,” the ‘new lady’ speaks, “Nice to meet you Barnabas,”

In the middle of taking their cases into the yacht, Barnabas nearly jumps out of his skin when a panel in the cabin beeps loudly: “That’s never good”, he huffs, dropping their cases down.

All five of them jog into the cabin, where the radar panel in the centre beeps again, more urgently this time. Together, they crowd around it. A flashing white dot sits at the far edge of the screen, telling them that another ship is approaching.

Storming over to the window, Alexios peers out in the general direction of the dot - spotting his target instantly.

“Templars,” he hisses, stepping aside to point at the distant yacht.

“We are all too worn out to fight, and Ezio will have our guts for garters if we start a fight on his soil...we’d better get out of here before they find us,” Kassandra suggests, turning back from the crimson sailed yacht to face the others, who all nod in agreement.

“Yeah, we’ll all be dead on our feet if we try to fight now, not to mention the long journey ahead,” Lisa twirls around on the chair she has found herself on, “Speaking of which, how long is it until we reach….wherever we’re going?”

“Athens,” Barnabas clarifies, consulting his GPS screen, “It should take only 15 hours,” Only? Gods help them all.

Sighing at the prospect of more long journeys, Lisa consoles herself with the idea of being in goddamned Athens by the end of the night. As the silent engines of the Adrestia whirr into life, she grabs a cool can of lemonade from the fridge, and joins the others on the deck of the ship.

They pass the scarlet sailed ship in silence, all of them barely daring to breathe lest the Templars on board clock their presence. Tilting her head to the side, Lisa pauses when she spots who exactly is disembarking from that ship.

A tall man walks off first, coming to a stop on the stone dock wall, his black shirt sticks to his broad shoulders with perspiration, and his dark hair is slicked to his head with it too.

The balmy air around Lisa turns frigid as she looks upon the man, reluctantly spotting how similar he looks to her old lover...no, Shay Cormac died two years ago, there is no way he is stood in goddamned Bari right now.

Suddenly deciding the lemonade is too sweet for her, Lisa hands it over to Alexios and enters the yacht once more. Maybe, maybe it’s just her travel tired eyes playing tricks on her. Yes, maybe she’s just too jet lagged, and her chat with Alexios on the plane...hmm, she needs some good sleep, then she’ll be fine.

Collapsing onto the soft bed of her private cabin, Lisa barely has the time to shuck off her shoes before the welcome embrace of sleep claims her.

#assassin's creed: renegades #renegades

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