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lynenspray · 4 years ago

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joygi 04

prompt: seulgi should know better than to come unprepared, especially when it involves her girlfriend's reputation at work.

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hold me up (tie me down)

(joygi gp!seulgi frottage overstimulation car sex)

seulgi’s reflection followed as she tilted her head, brow furrowing at how the white collar of her dress shirt didn’t quite shape itself around her neck the way she wanted it to.

with a sigh, she tugged at the front of her top and tucked it into her slacks haphazardly. the collar gave until the first closed button was right in the middle of her chest, but the action left unsightly creases around her shoulders. goddammit.

she shook her head in mild annoyance. should’ve gotten a new dress shirt for this occasion. she didn’t want to disappoint joy, after all--the younger woman was the one who had bought the sleek black suit seulgi was to wear for the night, demanding that the older woman don it in order for them to match.

so she did. and now here she was, looking like a child playing grown-up, glaring at the troublesome cotton that was currently the bane of her existence.

you really ought to stop dressing like a teenager, joy had told her once, bemused at the photographer’s choice of wearing a bucket hat on one of their dinners out. didn’t you say you came from work? the creative field really is something else...

seulgi mistook it as a joke, because joy and her had similarly bold fashion tastes in somewhat opposite directions. her own style was more baggy and fit for walking the streets, while the younger woman was fond of suits and blazers even on her casual days. seulgi was pretty sure joy would be the type to wear an oversized, tailored coat just to walk her dog around the block.

but apparently the comment was not to be taken as a good-humoured quip, and now seulgi was going to seem like an absolute fool at one of the most important fundraisers her girlfriend coordinated herself for the company that she was a division head for. fuck.

“maybe if i just…” she started, trying not to deflate when she discovered that buttoning her shirt up all the way just made her look worse. if that was even possible.

ding!

seulgi blinked and picked up her phone, biting her lip when she saw her girlfriend’s message, impatience in its tone. probably from the traffic and the fact that seulgi got caught up with the photoshoot she had today, only having enough time for a shower and light make-up before joy fetched her. they were cutting it a bit too close to being exactly on time for the party instead of fifteen minutes early.

jwoyie ♡

i'll be there in ten. be at the driveway when i arrive

[7:21pm]

one of the elevators in her building had been under maintenance since yesterday, leaving only the other available. the wait and ride down would take anywhere between five to twenty minutes, and joy abhorred it when she was late. shit.

her head whipped around as she stared at her reflection once more; the state of her hair and overall demeanour appeared as frazzled as she felt. was there anything else she could do?

deciding that no she didn’t own any other dress shirts that had any chance of being appropriate for the formal occasion and no she couldn’t possibly back out now and upset joy while she was at it, seulgi heaved a long suffering breath and wore the jacket to complete her outfit.

she took one last look at her closet and rummaged through the drawers, figuring that she may as well bring a tie if there was any chance joy could salvage her attire.

"seriously…"

the only ties she had were long printed scarf-like silks in different colours. great.

she tucked one into her suit jacket anyway and hoped for the best, quickly making her way down to the lobby of her apartment building lest she be late.

joy's mercedes-benz pulled up on the dot, and seulgi was both unsurprised and terrified to see her girlfriend's blank expression as soon as she slipped into the passenger seat in all her disheveled glory.

all seulgi could do was sit there in quiet shame as she fiddled with the cloth in her hands.

"you’re gorgeous," seulgi whispered as she settled in. joy was going to turn every head at the fundraiser with the side ruffle black dress she wore; simple but eye-catching. oh god. seulgi was going to embarrass her girlfriend at the very event she worked so hard for.

"thank you." joy’s reply was simple and quick, smooth as her steering them out of the driveway and onto the main road. the younger woman's hand trailed down seulgi's arm, twining their fingers together as their matching couple rings met. no praises were given about seulgi's own outfit. rightfully so, because she looked pitiful in comparison.

seulgi sank further into her seat.

joy didn’t look at seulgi when she spoke next. "are you upset? was it with your photoshoot today?"

"no," seulgi answered, tightening her grip on joy's hand as she gazed out her window. "i just… know that i don't look good. i'm sorry i didn't just buy an actual dress shirt, or text you asking if i could borrow one."

joy let a few minutes pass by without a single word, the evening traffic’s lights bouncing off her face and making her glow. the few minutes had first turned into several, before several more, and soon enough time had stretched on until almost an hour of silence had passed and the events place underground parking lot was all seulgi could spy outside.

when the taller woman finally spoke, it was an inquiry rather than a response. "what are you doing with that tie?" joy’s tone lacked any accusation, but the steely gaze she flicked towards seulgi as she turned the engine off spoke volumes.

"i…" seulgi swallowed. "thought… maybe i could wear it tonight," she reasoned, every word that slipped out of her mouth softer than the last. though the car was warm, the temperature didn't call for the cold sweat that she felt trickle down the back of her neck. that was caused by something else.

seulgi held her breath as she watched joy's fingers clench around the steering wheel, her stomach dropping at the sound of leather being stretched.

"haven't we been over this before?"

"the…" party? seulgi couldn't recall any such thing.

joy's hand was almost as quick as her hiss. "this," she indicated, holding seulgi's hand and the tie up between them. "making decisions without me. it's my event."

and you're my girl went unsaid, but seulgi could hear the implication of it with joy's piercing stare.

seulgi dipped her gaze impulsively, trying to appease the younger woman. she knew far better than to push joy, especially when she was in business-mode and concerned about her reputation at work. “i know… i’m sorry.”

"you want to use this?"

she crumpled into herself, not knowing the answer joy wanted to hear.

the older woman let out a squeak of surprise when joy's other hand moved to grab her chin, forcing her to lock their gazes. "backseat," joy commanded.

seulgi blinked, bewildered for only a moment before gathering her wits and scrambling to do joy's bidding. she squeezed herself between the front seats, waddled her way over the console, and caught her breath as she settled into a sitting position.

joy only looked at her with an expression of amusement, lips tilted mockingly. the older girl watched wide-eyed as her lover reached out to open the glove compartment and pulled out what looked like sleek black cloth.

before seulgi could make sense of what was going on, the taller swiftly exited and reentered the vehicle through the back with a smirk, pushing her against the opposite door as soon as she got in.

seulgi gulped when joy languidly approached, maneuvering the former's legs until she could fit snugly between them. the position was awkward, but seulgi wasn’t thinking about that right now. the rough manipulation of her limbs had her trembling, and if she looked down now, she was sure the tent in her pants would be more than obvious.

joy’s smirk only widened as she brushed fingers against seulgi’s trousers, right where her slowly hardening dick was. “sit tight, big girl,” she whispered. seulgi gulped as joy leaned forward, lips right by her ear and causing goosebumps to spring forth on her skin. “using this was your idea, after all. i wouldn’t want to disappoint you now.”

the older woman did nothing but watch and let her lover leave kisses on her wrists before wrapping the tie around them, tugging them up, up, above seulgi until they were level with the car handle over her head.

a gasp escaped her lips when joy tethered her arms to the handle, leaving no room for her to resist or move from her place.

she wanted to ask her lover what was going on, but just as she was about to, the black fabric was folded into a ball and stuffed in her mouth.

the only thing she could muster was a confused grunt, her tongue pinned as joy placed another cloth between her teeth and tied the ends behind her head, pulling at the edges of her lips and preventing her from closing them.

seulgi tugged on her bonds questioningly, letting the squeak of satin against leather ask everything she couldn’t manage to voice out.

“you want to look good for me, right?”

she nodded, hips unconsciously bucking against the hand that ground down against it.

“i know just the thing to help, then.”

joy’s smirk turned vicious, from what seulgi could see in the dim light. she felt more than saw her lover’s hands trail their way up her shirt, swiftly unbuttoning the white cotton. then those long fingers brushed against her ribs, coming between her breasts to unclasp her bra, letting her tan skin meet the still air of the car they were in.

seulgi suppressed a weak whimper as joy's breath ghosted over her body, lips poised to kiss along her collarbone and doing so slowly, reverently.

joy's kisses would normally range from deep and sensual to light and playful, but seulgi noticed her pecks now had intention behind them; firm and final, no sign of her tongue peeking out as she grazed against the older woman's peaks.

"hnmf," seulgi groaned through the cloth as the ends of joy's hair tickled her waist, bucking her hips up to show her want, her need. if joy wanted to have her, she was all hers for the taking; would always be. she just needed to touch her.

instead of following through with her lover's obvious request, however, joy ignored her restless hips in favour of grabbing her lipstick from her bag and reapplying some as she stared down at her unnie with a smirk.

joy's hand found its way to seulgi's thigh, pressing her fingers harshly against the muscle and smirking wider at seulgi's whine in reaction.

"you know when you look best, baby?" she questioned, rubbing along the underside of seulgi's leg and pushing it up to have seulgi blossom open for her, slacks pulling tight against her crotch, hugging her bulge. "when you're mine."

seulgi's head rolled back as joy started leaving firm kisses all over her torso once more, steady and insistent. she was so distracted by the sensation that she hadn't noticed when joy started writing on her chest; only blinked back to reality once the lipstick was recapped and joy sat back to gaze at her with a pleased expression.

"if only you could see yourself," joy said, chin tilted upwards as she directed a lazy smile at seulgi. her grin was quickly replaced by a sneer. "but the view isn't for you anyway, is it?"

seulgi shook her head with a squeak, knowing that was what joy wanted. she closed her eyes when joy still paid her swollen cock no mind, frustration building.

"look at me."

please. seulgi planted her ankles on top of the car seats so she could inch herself closer and grind on joy's knee. please just touch me.

a muffled yelp escaped her as joy abruptly pressed her thighs back against her own chest, holding her so firmly she could feel the shape of the car door digging into her spine.

seulgi's eyes shot open. something in joy’s expression told her it was best if she stopped struggling; that if she knew what was good for her, she would sit still, listen carefully, and–

"look at me."

look at her.

the older woman would bite her lip if she could. she spied the shadow of muscles moving as joy let out a breath and clenched her jaw. the sight had seulgi trembling; she couldn't tell what was about to happen.

she'd been disobedient before, pushed joy to the limit, tested her patience repeatedly to the point that she'd had no choice but to teach seulgi a lesson about her manners.

but it had never happened in the cramped space of a car, right as they had to show up at an event.

would joy drag her out of the vehicle, disheveled and so obviously wrecked, and leash her to her person as they got to the party? would she then push her into a cubicle in the restroom, make her cum all over herself, and watch as seulgi would try to hide the evidence? would they leave early, with joy stripping her naked and tied in the backseat as she drove the long way home?

seulgi let out a shaky breath at the thought, gaze locked on joy and her barely withheld annoyance. she could do those things. joy would do all of those things if she felt like treating seulgi that way tonight.

"good girl," joy practically purred. her hands were back on seulgi's legs, rubbing the material of her own slacks against her. "see? it's not that hard to do what i say."

the older woman let out a whimper as joy loomed over her.

"isn't that right?"

seulgi nodded before joy could even finish, breathing heavily as she felt her dick leak, aroused at the sight. she groaned when joy's hands travelled to cup her groin, massaging her bulge and causing her to jerk up in response.

she tugged on her bindings and lifted her hips, rolling against joy's palms as the younger woman curiously left seulgi clothed. no movements towards unbuckling her pants were made. what…?

joy answered her unspoken question. "you're keeping them on." she cupped the head of seulgi's dick through the fabric and rubbed against the junction between the crown and the rest of her shaft.

seulgi moaned at the harsh touch, titillated beyond comprehension. joy's always did this to her, sent her reeling, desperate and yearning for more of what she would be given.

and it was obvious that it turned joy on too. the younger growled as she buried her face into seulgi's neck, ignoring the sweat and licking her skin. "bought them for you, y'know." she nipped and sucked almost feverishly, marking seulgi with love bites. "wanna see you in them. cum in them."

the older woman squirmed, the thought of being jerked off while clothed sending tingles down her spine. on her new clothes, too.

"mmffh," seulgi groaned, eyes rolling back as joy continued fondling her, mercilessly pressing on her most sensitive buttons.

fuck fuck fuck– it was a sick sort of satisfaction to finally receive all the touch she had been craving for, tenfold. the line between pleasure and pain was one seulgi was familiar with as joy's shadow formed over and on her.

her lover knew all the spots to get her aching; she ground a thumb against seulgi's crown and cupped around the outline of her swollen cock with one hand, while the other massaged her tightening balls.

an eye pinched closed as seulgi gasped, feeling the telltale sign of her reaching the edge. her gut clenched, hips stirring as she felt her muscles constrict in the moments leading up to ecstasy.

oh god oh god ohgod–i'm going to–

seulgi whimpered through the cloth between her teeth, tugged on the ties around her wrists, and unceremoniously creamed in her slacks and underwear.

"just like that, baby. had a lot pent up in you, hm?"

she grunted as joy cooed, caressing her through her orgasm. each spurt slowly emptied her gut but also filled her panties up, making for a sweaty, almost oppressive feeling right where her crotch was.

the older woman shivered as she gushed the last drops of her cum, the sticky, full feeling in her underwear making her blush crimson. it was really hot–both temperature-wise and just the act of her cumming in her pants. she felt so dirty.

seulgi let out a squeak when joy's hands continued, spreading the accumulated seed in her pants all over her slowly softening cock, cruel smirk in place.

"give me some more," joy purred, pressing harder when the older woman jerked back. "be a good girl."

seulgi whimpered when she could no longer move further, backside practically molding into the door's interior.

what was touch that expertly balanced itself on the tightrope between pleasure and pain terrifyingly morphed into torture; joy's hands were unyielding, fluttering over seulgi's flaccid shaft and grating the material of her clothes onto her sensitive skin.

"more?"

seulgi shook her head frantically, legs trembling but curiously remaining wide open at the mercy of her lover.

"i see," joy hummed, ministrations abating. seulgi let out a sound between disappointment and relief.

joy was a good lover and an even better listener; it was just that sometimes seulgi wasn't sure of her own wants and desires. she knew it hurt, a little bit, to be fervently stimulated seconds after cumming, but–she still wanted it somehow.

seulgi whined through the cloth, gyrating her hips once again. she wanted–she didn't know. hopefully joy could figure it out for her.

"shhh, i know, sweetheart."

joy continued to coo as she quickly unbuckled seulgi's pants and pulled her soiled underwear down. seulgi saw her bite her lip before readjusting herself, comfortably fitting in the rest of the backseat that seulgi wasn't occupying.

then she curled forward, mouth hovering seulgi's cock. "gonna clean you up 'til you're good as new, baby."

the first lick sent seulgi reeling, knocking the back of her head against the window behind her. her lower body was past the point of quivering, now shaking to the core as joy lapped her up dutifully, slurping down her seed.

the texture of her tongue didn't change, but somehow the press of it felt rough, chafing against her oversensitive skin. there was no more room for seulgi to shy away from joy's mouth. the long minutes it took for her to be clean from all her spunk allowed her dick to stir back to life in joy's loving hands, aching once again, as if the pleasure she’d received until that point was negligible.

when joy started pumping her again, slowly, all seulgi could do was take what she was being given. her sense of self melted away under joy's expertise, forgetting all about the overstimulation, her ruined clothes, and even the fundraiser. instead, the world was made of only her and joy; her lover's mouth, her warmth, the sound of their breathing.

it felt like time both moved at a glacial and erratic pace for seulgi, as joy gently unbound her arms and released the hold of the cloth on her jaw. instead of retreating from the overbearing touch, however, seulgi let her limbs melt around joy's body and lazily pulled her closer.

now that seulgi's mouth and arms were free, she sang praises into joy's ear and slithered her own hand up the woman's dress.

"so wet," seulgi managed to hum, rubbing circles onto the taller woman's swollen nub, mixing both of their groans and gasps.

she dipped her fingers in her lover, causing a long moan to be yanked out of joy that seulgi answered with a deep, sensual kiss.

"joy," seulgi sobbed, rutting against the pace the taller woman set as she pumped her slick cock, twisting each time she reached her mushroomed head. her member was aching, craving for joy's familiar velvet heat. "joy."

"c-come closer, baby. i can help," joy gasped as seulgi's fingers slipped out of her, stripping off her own panties and pulling her skirt up. she widened her legs so seulgi's narrow hips could slot between them, and when she aligned the woman's shaft at her entrance, steadily inching down to swallow seulgi's dick–

"oh christ, seul, seul you're so fucking good to me–"

"–joy, haah, joy pleaseplease–"

the older woman cried out with a throaty scream the moment joy's ass met her pelvis, her girlfriend's pussy made just for her. she jerked up into the taller woman, setting an unforgiving and brutal tempo that her lover took in stride, understanding her desperation. she asked for this, after all.

seulgi felt the churning in her gut make its presence known once more, liquid heat pooling in her balls. "i'm–hgck, ffffuck, joy!"

her lover only ground her hips down harder, stoking the fire that was burning in the smaller woman. "g-give it to me, seul, give m-me everything," joy hissed out, bouncing atop her as she trembled and showed signs of reaching her own peak.

only the sound of flesh slapping against flesh cut through their rhythmic cries. it took three more harsh thrusts until seulgi came again–an even bigger load this time, painting the walls of joy's fluttering, clenching pussy with her hot seed.

the lovers rode their highs for several long seconds together, mixing their body heat fluids as they came back down to reality.

seulgi blinked out of her post coital stupor only to get lost in thought again, because holy fuck. that was amazing–and so much better than how seulgi thought her dedicated stress relief session would go.

when she said she wanted to be dominated both mentally and physically by her lover, seulgi thought joy would resort to power play involving names and other verbally demeaning acts triggered by her fake wardrobe malfunction in the event of the made-up important fundraiser. she was not expecting all of this.

usually, their sessions would go with both taking charge–unless it was explicitly stated beforehand that one would dominate. this time, seulgi requested for joy to be in control. she wanted the chance to loosen her figuratively coiled body and mindset that were caused by the high-stress, fast-paced work environment she was constantly exposed to.

… and if this was how it was going to go, leaving her a sloppy mess at the mercy of her partner looming above her–well. she should really ask for joy to dom more often. maybe even beg outside the bedroom.

seulgi's mind was so clouded by bliss, she could barely tell when joy finished cleaning them both up. she only realised so when she heard the zipper of her slacks close.

"you feeling better?" joy asked, expression of cruelty replaced by one of fondness as she caressed seulgi's sweaty hair from her face.

"mhm." seulgi's voice was raw with adoration. the form and presence of her lover were large and reassuring; seulgi felt like she was so small in comparison. "take me home?"

"whatever my girl wants."

the trip back to their apartment passed by in a blur. seulgi tucked her hands in her lap and directed her gaze from the road to the roadside to what she could make out as joy's silhouette from her backseat view.

only when they arrived at their own car park did seulgi realise that they were previously at friend's apartment complex, making use of her dedicated tenant parking slot.

trust in joy to plan so thoroughly. public sex wasn't exactly a crime either of them wanted to go to jail for, after all. she probably bribed irene for it.

joy carefully guided seulgi every step of the way as they returned home, pulling her out of the car and holding her in her arms during the lift ride.

seulgi sighed as joy closed the bathroom door behind her, dazedly watching her lover strip her in the mirror. she smiled when she saw what joy wrote on her chest.

"easy, now." joy's voice cut through seulgi's floating thoughts. the older woman blinked as her lover sat her down in the warm bath, eventually sighing as the chill of the night air was chased away. "i've got you," joy assured her, her own naked form slipping in between seulgi's back and the end of the tub.

the older woman could only lean back against joy and hum, quietly observing and feeling the way the other woman's hands ran over her flesh.

she watched the lipstick wash away from her chest. the word 'mine' that had been written melted away, replaced by joy's strong fingers massaging her muscles and joy's plump lips pressing against the junction between her neck and shoulder, whispering sweet nothings. yours.

#joygi #gp!seulgi #LS commission

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chocolatequeennk · 4 years ago

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Wired to Love You

In which the Doctor gets a caffeine high and gives away more than he intended.

Ten x Rose

For @doctorroseprompts 31 Days of Ficmas. This is Day 2: Ginger.

AO3 | FF.NET

The Doctor didn’t spin around the console with his usual manic energy as he set the coordinates for their next trip. He wanted to be sure of the landing this time—Rose deserved a fun trip. They’d spent a week in London, letting the TARDIS recover from her side trip to the parallel universe, and Rose recover from losing Mickey.

Mickey Smith, defender of the Earth, he mused. Not such an idiot after all.

He’d been through this before—had one companion stay after losing a friend. It was never easy, and he wanted to give Rose something that would make her smile.

He twisted the last knob, then gave her a wide smile. “Are you ready for this, Rose Tyler?” he asked dramatically as he grabbed the dematerialisation lever.

Rose rolled her eyes, but he knew he saw a hint of a smile playing with the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, all right. Impress me, Time Lord.”

The Doctor threw the lever then put his hand on his chest in mock indignation. “Rose Tyler, it almost sounds as if you don’t think I’m impressive.”

She laughed, the musical sound echoing in the console room. “You are the same man, but so different. ‘I am impressive!’ he insisted. Three words. And here you are, spouting off a sonnet practically.”

The Doctor sniffed. “It’s not my fault this particular incarnation is a trifle more loquacious than I was in my last body.”

“Loquacious?” she asked, giggles rippling through her body.

The Doctor warmed to his subject. He was making Rose laugh, which was all he wanted out of the day. “I am a wordsmith, Rose Tyler. The wordiest of smithy wordsmiths.”

Rose mouthed the words, and he grinned at her. The TARDIS landed, and he spun around and offered her his hand. “Come on! I think we’re ready for a party.”

He tilted his head and studied her attire. “But I think you’ll need a warm coat or something,” he said, realising she was dressed for a much warmer climate.

The ship hummed around them, and the Doctor and Rose both looked at the coat rack by the door. To neither of their surprise, a Rose-sized coat was hanging there.

“The TARDIS is looking out for me,” Rose said as she jogged up the ramp.

The ship hummed again, the sensation feeling like a warm blanket. The Doctor patted a strut; he had no doubt the ship had taken him exactly where he had asked for once. They both knew Rose needed a smile.

Her giggles caught his attention. “What is this?” she asked, holding up a scarf.

A familiar scarf. A very familiar, very long, very colourful scarf.

The Doctor groaned. “That… That should have been buried in an archived version of the wardrobe room. Why’d you bring that out?”

The ship whistled, even though the question was rhetorical. It had made Rose laugh. That was exactly why she’d brought it out.

He shook his head and watched as Rose draped it around her neck three times. The purple stripes matched her coat almost perfectly.

Rose grinned at the Doctor. She hadn’t been quite sure she was ready to travel again, but the warm laughter had eliminated most of her lingering sorrow.

She held her hand out to him. “Come on,” she said. “I hear there’s something impressive outside these doors.”

The Doctor’s answering grin eased what was left of her lingering melancholy. He bounded up the ramp and pulled the door open, gesturing for her to go outside first.

Rose took a step towards the door, then tilted her head. She heard something familiar… She sniffed. And smelled something familiar.

Excitement beat in her heart and she darted past him, out onto the snow-covered street. “Oh, brilliant,” she breathed, turning in a slow circle to take it all in.

They’d parked on one side of a wide square. A Christmas tree dominated the space, with garland spanning out from the tree to the buildings lining the square.

“Where are we?”

The Doctor took her hand and they started walking towards the centre of the square. “This is Parolin in the Fourth Great and Bountiful Human Empire.”

“You mean we finally made it?” Rose cast him a sideways grin. “Not to some satellite or something where we’ll have to figure out who’s trying to end humanity as we know it?”

The Doctor huffed, and she giggled in delight. He hip checked her, and she burst into full on laughter.

“If you’re finished,” he said after a moment, “I could tell you the rest. Or you could continue to tease me.”

Rose tapped her chin with her finger. “Hmmm… tough choice.”

The Doctor pouted, and before he could work himself up, Rose slid closer to him and hugged his hand to her. “Nah, you know I’m teasing. Tell me more. The Fourth Great and Bountiful Human Empire…”

He nodded. “Human festivals have almost been forgotten.”

“Doesn’t sound very great to me,” Rose muttered.

“Except for once a century, when the nostalgists are able to have their day—or days.”

“You mean, they go 99 years without celebrating anything, and then once every one hundred years, the whole empire celebrates every human holiday… ever?”

“Yep!”

Rose shook her head. “Barmy,” she muttered.

Then she realised what he was saying. “So, this is literally the Christmas festival of a century.”

He made the little happy giggling sound in the back of his throat that she loved so much. “Exactly!”

Rose sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. She wasn’t stupid; she knew why the Doctor had brought her here. But the fact that he knew exactly what would put a smile on her face didn’t make it any less meaningful. In fact…

“Thank you, Doctor.”

He smiled down at her, all the giddiness gone, leaving only warmth in its place. “Anything for you, Rose Tyler.”

Then he tightened his hold on her hand and tugged her through the crowds. “Come on, Rose! The party awaits!”

Rose laughed helplessly and let him pull her along with him. They moved from table to table, enjoying the chocolates and biscuits and eggnog and hot buttered rum.

At one point, they joined an impromptu group of carollers and roamed the surrounding streets, singing at the top of their lungs.

When they were done, the song leader handed everyone a slice of gingerbread. “Brilliant work, everyone. I’d say we’ll do it again next year, but well…” The crowd all laughed at the joke that must be old now, at the end of the year of festivals.

The Doctor hesitated just a moment before he devoured the gingerbread. He was hungry, and as long as he didn’t have alcohol, he should be fine. Ginger on its own didn’t get a Time Lord drunk—it just lowered their ability to metabolise the alcohol, letting it actually reach their system and intoxicate them.

“Where to next?” he asked Rose, once they’d finished the dessert.

“Can we go into a shop?” Rose asked. “I’m getting cold.”

The Doctor nodded. “The main indoor shopping area is this way,” he said, leading her to the booths lining the streets.

A stand along the way caught his eye, and he slowed down and snagged two cups of coffee. “This should help you warm up, too,” he said, offering one to her.

She wrapped both her hands around the paper cup and held it up to her nose. “Mmm, perfect,” she murmured.

The Doctor sipped at his coffee, trying to ignore the way his hearts were racing. That was par for the course when he was with Rose Tyler. He needed to learn to just… get used to it. Somehow. Even though no one had ever made him feel like this and…

He shook his head quickly to stop that thought in its tracks.

Rose looked up at him oddly, and he just grinned and bounced on his toes. “Come on, Rose Tyler!” he said, sounding a little too… energetic even to his ears. “Shopping awaits.”

The longer they were inside, the more antsy the Doctor felt. He always felt a little… bouncy in this body. Like he had slightly too much energy for the amount of limbs he possessed. But right now he felt like he was literally vibrating out of his skin.

And Rose was starting to notice. After the third time he went on a ten minute ramble about the shopping centre, the town origins, and the exact placement of the planet in the galaxy, she stopped and looked at him, her hands planted on her hips.

“All right, what’s going on with you?” she said. The words were stern, but the voice was concerned and he just loved it when Rose cared about him. Rose cared about everyone but it mattered the most when she cared about him.

He blinked and held his breath, hoping he hadn’t actually said that out loud. He wouldn’t normally, but today wasn’t normal and why wasn’t it normal? Rose had asked and he was going to tell her but first he had to figure out why himself. He couldn’t really tell her something he didn’t know the answer to.

(Contrary to her opinions, he did not actually just make up stories about the planets and people they visited. If he told her something, it was because he knew it—or at least, he believed he did. Sometimes he was wrong, and he was Time Lord enough to admit that.)

The Doctor stopped and put his fingers to his temples. His normally rapid thought process was out of control. What was he supposed to be doing? Oh right, figuring out why he was like this.

He took a deep breath, holding it for ten seconds, then letting it out slowly. That centred him just enough to focus on his body. Clearly, something was affecting…

The Doctor groaned and buried his hands in his face.

Rose blinked in concern when the Doctor groaned and buried his hands in his face. “Doctor?” she asked, feeling more worried by the minute. “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong?” he said, his voice muffled by his hands. He sighed and straightened up. “No, nothing is wrong, unless by wrong you mean embarrassing and too revealing, in which case yes something is wrong and you are about to learn more about Time Lord physiology than I had intended for today.”

Rose sucked in a breath and hoped she wasn’t blushing. She was almost certain that wasn’t what he’d meant—if he meant that kind of physiology lesson, he surely wouldn’t be talking about it in public.

“I never should have eaten that gingerbread. But it smelled delicious and I was hungry and I knew I wasn’t going to drink any alcohol, so I thought, ‘What’s the harm?’ How was I supposed to know that ginger would make caffeine affect me, just like alcohol.”

Rose blinked, trying to keep up with that rapid-fire speech. “What’s ginger got to do with anything?”

“Oh, everything. Well, not everything, just everything that is related to this particular conversation, in which case I suppose I really could just say everything because we were talking about this conversation, weren’t we?”

Rose blinked at him, and the Doctor groaned again. “It’s getting worse.”

“What is?”

She watched him take another deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Ginger,” he said, enunciating the two syllables in a way she knew meant he was trying to control his rambling again. “Time Lords are able to metabolise substances faster. It’s why I don’t get drunk. But ginger impairs our ability to metabolise the alcohol.”

Rose frowned; what did that have to do with anything? Like he’d said, they hadn’t had any alcohol.

Then she remembered the coffee, and it clicked. “Caffeine,” she said. “You can’t metabolise the caffeine, and now you’re completely wired.”

He pressed his lips in a thin line and nodded. Rose could see how hard it was for him to stay silent, and she could only imagine what their life would be like if the Doctor talked more than he already did.

“All right,” she said slowly. “Do you want to go back to the TARDIS?”

His shoulders slumped. “No, I don’t want to ruin this for you. This trip is supposed to be for you, to make you smile. You should always smile, Rose—your smile is so pretty.”

This time, Rose knew she was blushing. “Well, thanks,” she stammered. “But we can always come back to the party later, yeah? Like, we can go back to the TARDIS for a bit, or even overnight, without leaving the planet?”

The Doctor blinked so rapidly Rose swore she could feel a breeze from his eyelashes.

“I guess we don’t,” he said. “Do you know, I’ve never really though about that before. It’s always one day, one city. Unless we’re arrested or made guests of the king or something. Then we stay longer. But usually, I just do what I came to do and then leave. I never thought about just… staying.”

Rose took his hand and led him out of the shop, hoping he couldn’t see her rolling her eyes. “It’s not like you’re playing domestics,” she muttered. “I’m not saying we could set up house here. I’m just saying we could rest for a bit before coming back to the party.”

“Oh, I completely agree!” he said breezily. “I wasn’t arguing, I was just saying it wasn’t something I’d ever considered. Do you know, after over a thousand years in the TARDIS, I really thought I was done being surprised. Not by other planets, of course, because I’m always surprised. Day I know everything, that’s the day I quit travelling. But I’m not very often given just… a different way to live. It’s a paradigm shift! That’s you, Rose Tyler, a paradigm shifter.”

Rose breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw the TARDIS. She loved listening to the Doctor ramble, she really did, but his constant talking was hard to keep up with, especially as he jumped from topic to topic without warning or explanation.

“Here we are,” she said, pulling out her key. “Home again home again.”

She unlocked the door and turned around to look at the Doctor. To her surprise, he swept her up in a hug.

“What’s this for?” she asked, her words muffled by his coat.

“You called the TARDIS home,” he said. “I was worried… Well, it doesn’t matter. But you called the TARDIS home and now I know that I don’t need to worry.”

Rose was pretty sure she knew what he’d been worrying about, and he definitely did not need to worry.

“Yeah, she’s my home… as long as that’s okay?”

The Doctor pushed open the door and let Rose enter the ship first. “Of course it’s okay!” he replied, sounding almost indignant. “If it wasn’t okay, I’d say it wasn’t, would’t I? And I wouldn’t give you a key. Bit stupid of me to give someone a key if I didn’t want to them to feel at home.”

Rose shook her head. “Yeah, all right. Listen, Doctor. I’m going to go take a bath and go to bed. I’ll be up at eight for breakfast, and then we can explore the second half of the market.”

“Molto bene!” The Doctor bounced on his toes, then danced around the console. He just could not contain the excess energy that was building up in his body. Was this what humans felt like when they had caffeine? If it was, then why did they ever do it?

“Or maybe this is just special because of the ginger. Just like I’ll get totally sloshed on a single glass of wine if I’ve had ginger.”

The Doctor spun around to talk to Rose, and he blinked a few times when he realised she wasn’t there. But then he remembered that she’d told him she was leaving the room.

He pouted. Well, how was he going to stay busy if his busy partner had left him all on his own?

Without any real thought, he dug around under the console and started building with the pieces he found there. It was good to have something to do with his hands, but that project only took ten minutes.

Next, he walked a lap of the TARDIS. Or at least as much as could be ran in a lap. Several of the corridors weren’t really connected to the rest, unless either he or the TARDIS felt like they needed to be.

He blinked when he spotted a familiar door. It wasn’t really a surprise that he’d gotten himself to Rose’s room, he figured. After all, he would much rather be with her than alone, although he thought maybe she’d been getting a little tired of his rambling and he really didn’t want to annoy her.

He caught his lower lip between his teeth and thought for all of 30 seconds before he knocked at the door. “Rose? It’s me. Well, who else would it be? We are the only two people on the TARDIS after all.”

He snapped his mouth shut with a click. He wasn’t going to annoy Rose.

“Sorry,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m trying not to ramble. If I don’t ramble, can I come in?”

Rose bit her lip. She was really pretty comfy in her jim jams, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear all about the Mongol invasion or who Merlin really was or anything else the Doctor happened to latch onto.

But on the other hand, she didn’t want to turn him away, either. It was really so sweet that he wanted to be with her while he felt a little out of sorts.

“Yeah, gimme a mo,” she called back. The cami top was enough, but she grabbed a pair of pyjama bottoms and pulled them on over her knickers. “Okay, come on in, Doctor.”

The door swung open, and the Doctor hesitated on the other side for a moment, his hands in his pockets. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I might talk your ear off.”

Rose tugged on her ears. “Nah, they’re attached.”

The Doctor giggled and bounded into the room. He flopped down on the big armchair Rose kept by her vanity. “Your room is nicer than mine,” he said, scanning the room quickly.

“Maybe because she knows I’ll actually use my room, unlike you.” Rose giggled when the ship whistled her agreement. “See? What’s the point in spending her energy giving you a nice room if you’re never in it?”

The Doctor hummed noncommittally. Rose had a suspicion that he’d just managed to hold something back just then, but she couldn’t fathom what it might have been. Still, if he wasn’t just blurting out every thought that came to mind, that was at least some improvement.

“I suppose,” the Doctor said, and it took Rose a moment to remember they were talking about their respective bedrooms.

He bit his lip again, and Rose turned to face him fully. “What is it?” she asked.

“Well… I don’t know how long this is going to last and I’m trying to not say every single thought in my head because despite what you might think, I do actually appreciate my privacy.

“But I’m just sitting here and I can’t stop thinking… did you always have that cute mole on your shoulder, Rose Tyler?”

Rose blinked several times and felt her face turn hot. There was something about the matter of fact way he said it made it feel like he’d made a far more intimate discovery than the small mole on her left shoulder.

“So tell me more about Parolin,” she requested. “You said Fourth Great and Bountiful, yeah?”

The Doctor nodded absently. “Fourth Great and Bountiful Human Empire.”

He was still staring at her. “How did I not know you have a perfect little mole on your left shoulder?” he said, almost petulantly. “I have catalogued every aspect of your appearance and personality, and yet here is this mole that has taken me completely by surprise. What other surprises do you have for me? Do I want to know, or should I just be… I don’t know, surprised.”

Rose blinked at him. “What all do you know about me?” she asked, thinking to call him on his bluff.

The Doctor leaned forward, his eyes lit up. “Rose Tyler Facts,” he said dramatically. “Tea: hot with milk and a little sugar. Chocolate: the darker the better. Movies: eclectic tastes. Rom com, and historical fiction, and especially in places where they blend.”

Rose felt her face grow warm as he continued rattling off everything from her favourite colour to the classmate in primary school who had pissed her off by ratting the whole class out to the teacher.

“How do you know even know so much about me?” she asked, when there was finally a moment of silence.

The Doctor blinked at her owlishly. She knew what had happened; she’d interrupted his train of thought and he was going to have to find a new one, or a boat or a car or something.

“Well, I love you. Why wouldn’t I know all of those things?”

In the silence that settled in the room, some of the Doctor’s caffeine daze lifted. He reviewed the last five minutes, and felt his face turn hot.

Rose was staring at him, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. The Doctor’s hearts stopped. He hadn’t really ever planned to tell her that, but in the times he’d let himself imagine it, he’d always thought she would… well, feel the same way.

Wasn’t that what she’d been trying to say outside the cafe? That she thought their relationship was something more than just friendship?

Apparently not, he thought glumly.

“And I think I’ve outstayed my welcome,” he mumbled. He got up and walked to the door, anxious to be alone with his embarrassment.

To his surprise, Rose reached the door before he did, sliding in just before he could grab the door knob.

“Rose?”

She poked him in the chest. “Don’t you dare leave this room,” she ordered. “You can’t say something like that, and then just… just… walk away!”

The Doctor looked down at her, trying to understand what she was saying. “Well… I hadn’t really meant to say that,” he said hesitantly.

Rose’s face fell. “Oh. You didn’t mean it, then?”

The Doctor paused, trying to think through the lingering caffeine fog. Something important was happening here, and if he could just focus instead of letting his brain go in forty-five directions at once, he might be able to figure out what it was.

“Doctor.” Rose’s voice gave him a point of focus. “Did you mean it?”

And finally, the important thing clicked. The only reason she would be so set on knowing if he meant it was if she wanted him to mean it.

The hearts that had stopped only a few moments ago were racing now. “Yes.”

He held his breath, watching her intently. When a smile spread across her face, the breath whooshed out of him.

Rose rolled her eyes as she stepped closer to him. “Were you really that nervous?” she asked.

“Wellllll…” The Doctor cautiously rested his hands on her waist, waiting for her to tell him that wasn’t what she wanted. “You haven’t really said much, except to demand an answer from me.”

She blinked up at him, and he had to hold back his delight that she’d gotten that wrapped up in the conversation.

“I mean… I might ask you how you feel,” he said casually.

“Oh! Oh my god, I can’t believe…”

Rose closed her eyes and shook her head, and when she opened her eyes, the warmth in them spread all through the Doctor.

“I love you, too,” she told him quietly.

The Doctor giggled then—he couldn’t help it. Rose shook her head and stepped closer to him, sliding her hands over his shoulders. “Is that funny?” she asked.

“Nope.” He bent closer and bumped his nose against hers, getting her to giggle this time. “Not funny, just happy.”

Rose tilted her head, and for a long moment, they hovered there, almost kissing but not quite. The intimacy of their breath mixing made the Doctor’s hearts race.

Air from my lungs, he thought, remembering a long-ago adventure.

And then Rose’s lips were on his, and he decided this was the only adventure he wanted to think about.

#ficandchips #ten x rose #fic by Nancy #doctorroseprompts #31 days of ficmas #the ginger canon plays a role here #an unexpected one #accidental love confessions

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brokenjardaantech · 4 years ago

Text

Blue-tinted Red Walls (Chapter 8: Into No Man’s Land)

my entry for the @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series.

summary:

In the past, Fadia and Reyes argued.

In the present, Connor finds a sanctuary from the most unexpected source.

In the past, Connie woke up.

also on ao3

content warning for your typical violence from both games. in short: guns and biotics and people getting wounded.

also, special thanks to @fanndamnedibals for drawing the amazing piece of art for this story. it’s really fucking cool.

---

Before

Fadia was greeted by a punch to her face. Her whole upper body swivelled from the inhuman force, but her lower body planted firmly on the floor still, and with a smooth swing, she stood straight as if the punch never occurred.

‘What the fuck were you thinking?’ Reyes snarled. ‘Giving plans to Russia and China like that? What happened to me being in charge? What happened to androids being free? What happened -’

Fadia gave the other android a hard shove. ‘What else can I do?’ she yelled. ‘What do you understand about yourself? Do you even know what you’re capable of?’ A shake of her head. ‘Thanks to my father, CyberLife is now producing androids for the military for a price much cheaper than paying non-commissioned officers in the long run, and you think they won’t use it to secure their claim on the Arctic where all of earth’s thirium is? We need someone to keep them in check. China and Russia are the only answer.’

‘And enslaving more of us? More of my people? Pushing the world into war once more?’ the air crackled with static. ‘Have you ever considered anyone else apart from yourself?’

‘Watch your voice box, Reyes,’ Fadia took a step forward, her height letting her loom over the man. ‘You are standing here yelling at me because I care for my brother so cut the bullshit about me not caring. Look what caring did to you -’ indicated her metallic body - ‘to me -’ a wave of her arm - ‘and to the rest of the world. Listen,’ a thin layer of blue appeared between them, ‘just a quick walk around the garden. A farewell. Then I’ll go.’

‘“A farewell”? What is that supposed to mean?’

‘With luck, you won’t see me much for quite a long time. Years. A decade, even. There is something else that I’m… working on.’

‘Leaving a mess your own making behind now?’

‘My father made the mess!’ Fadia lit up. ‘And no, I’m not running away, but there are more important things to deal with right now. It will need my full attention, and I don’t want to leave without giving my brother closure.’ When Reyes’ hand moved towards the gun she knew was hidden underneath his shirt, she sighed. ‘Please. Do you want to see Scott asking where I am every day for the next ten years? Do you want him spending his days worrying about me?’

Reyes was still glaring at her, but at least he was not drawing his weapon. A few seconds of tense silence passed, and with a snap of his arm away from the gun, ‘What do you want to tell him?’ he said as he turned away from his creator, his expression filled with disgust. ‘I can… deliver the message for you.’

Fadia’s lips twitched downwards. ‘Must you?’

‘You wish to protect your brother, don’t you? Don’t you think he’ll be stressed out by your current state?’

‘My current -’

‘Your message,’ Reyes crowded into his creator’s personal space and managed to look imposing despite his height disadvantage, ‘or get the fuck out of here.’

Fadia looked at her first creation down her nose. ‘Tell him that I came to say hello and that it is perfectly normal from that point onwards if he cannot contact me. Tell him it may be years before he sees me again,’ a step back. The door swung open. ‘And it is your fault.’

‘Hold the fuck on -’

A crackle of blue, a flash of dark energy, a faint trail of dissipating tendrils. Sara Fadia Ryder was gone, leaving her creation standing at the door with a hand outreached hopelessly with nothing but thin air in his grasp.

o0o0o

Now

Streets unsafe for androids. Sanctuary at these coordinates. Will deliver supplies to said location as soon as possible. I’m sorry.

The world has become a blur. Hank’s house, receiving the message, decoding the message for Hank, changing into another set of clothes, getting into Hank’s car, and they are off to the docks before they even know what is happening. The androids led by Markus marched. People - androids - were killed. CyberLife is setting up ‘recycling centres’ to recall all androids in the city and around the country with the help of the police and military. They have to act now or they will be trapped by one of the many checkpoints popping up in the streets. Everything, as Hank says, has gone to shit.

Are you going to be fine? Connor texts. I doubt you will be carrying out your orders.

I told my men they have the choice to leave and everything will be on me. If they’re staying, they’re staying on my side. On the android’s side.

And their response?

They’re packing up right now and I’m making sure that nothing will get to them.

How about you?

Meet me there. Hopefully. Vouch for a fleshy human later, can you? I’ll be bringing whatever I can.

Absolutely.

Good.

They arrive at Ferndale after what seems like hours later, Hank stopping a few blocks away from the water in order to not arouse suspicion even though the area is deserted, but Connor’s scans reveal stray patches of evaporated thirium on the floor, which means that injured androids have been here… a few hours ago.

Hank turns around. ‘Think I should stop here.’ He cocks his head at the area at large. ‘Go on. I won’t leave until you’re out of my sight.’

The image is not comforting enough. ‘Come with us,’ Connor begs. ‘We need you here.’

The human shakes his head. ‘I can’t. Someone has to keep up appearances at the precinct. Besides, Jeff seems to have something to say. I’ll give you an update later when he’s finished yelling at me.’

It makes sense in some ways. Splitting up, gathering information from both ends, and then creating a better plan to save all of them. Simple; at least, it should be. But he also has been with Hank for such a long time - most of his time on earth, really - that it will be strange to be alone with a much slower counterpart of himself in tow. It will be a challenge.

It is also their only chance.

‘I understand,’ he forces out of his voice box, and he opens the door and steps out of the car into the snow before walking around to help Connie get out. What surprises him, however, is that Hank steps out as well and draws Connor into a tight hug.

‘Come back,’ the human says, to me, he doesn’t say, but Connor hears it anyway, and he wraps his arms as much as he can around Hank’s body and squeezes, a silent ‘I will’ that he hopes that his partner understands. ‘I will fight like there is no tomorrow to go back to your side,’ Connor confesses as he catalogues everything there is about Hank, his smell, his proportion, his warmth, because it seems that things are going that way and he wants him to be the last thing he recalls when - when -

‘-nor, look at me.’

Hank’s hand is on his cheek already when Connor looks up. They are so close that Connor can distinguish the shape of each and every single one of the snowflakes in the human’s hair, his brows, his eyelashes, and he can feel every single valley and spur on Hank’s finger that uniquely corresponds to Hank as he brushes his thumb against where Connor’s cheekbone would be had he been human. ‘Most advanced prototype, remember?’ the human says, still holding Connor tight. ‘If there’s someone who can make it out alive, it’s you. I have faith in you.’

‘I -’ you shouldn’t. ‘All I’ve ever done is failing my missions.’

‘To save lives, I know,’ the hand on his cheek moves to the back of his neck. Connor shivers from the warmth. ‘No matter which colour we bleed.’

‘I -’

Thank you. For everything. For making me realise that I’m more than my programming. For being there even though you didn’t understand what was happening.

There is so much he wants to say but can’t due to the sheer amount of information filtering through his processors, but one thing is certain: they all advise him to throw caution to the wind. As if having the exact same thoughts, Hank leans his head forward at the same time, and they meet halfway through in a desperate kiss, a rough press of lips against lips that is all over too soon but conveying enough emotions to each other that they both deflate when they part, the tension in their body suddenly gone now that they are resigned to their fate.

‘We’ll talk about this,’ Hank warns, but there is no malice in his tone. Come back alive.

Connor has to break their gaze and hook his head on the human’s shoulder or he’ll never get his words out. ‘You stay safe too.’

A large hand on his back, Connor’s thick, season-appropriate attire ridding him of the last human warmth he may get to feel. ‘I will.’

They finally pull apart. A hand that doesn’t belong to Hank brushes Connor’s arm, and that is when he remembers that Connie is here; as if seeing her expectant expression, Hank hugs her as well completely unaware of how close to tears the other android is. Connor moves to hold her hand. ‘Let’s go,’ he tells her, because someone has to be the more responsible one between the two, and they walk away hand in hand together towards the coordinates Louis gave them without a glance backwards.

oOoOo

Jericho. Cargo freighter. Abandoned ship. A sanctuary for deviants old and new, the latter far outnumbering the rest due to Markus’ actions. The bombs on stand by scattered around the place indicate that the freighter is rigged, but no one seems to care; there is a cluster of androids on one side where a holo is recycling the news, another on the other side checking and modding weapons on improvised benches, and another group sitting at a long table working on laptops still in their suitcases. No one seems to have noticed them, which is good considering his previous… reputation as a deviant hunter (even though he didn’t do a very good job at it); he can withstand cold looks and harsh words hauled at him, but Connie is innocent here, and he doesn't want her to suffer any more abuse.

He receives a notification from their intertwined hands that his sister’s internal temperature is falling below recommended levels, so he scans his surroundings, noting the broken grids and - there, a fire contained in a rusted metal barrel surrounded by a sitting area created from stacked-up crates. He spots what seems to be an improvised medical bay where broken androids are being repaired and thought of asking for some thirium for Connie, but from what he can see, the androids under repair are all in much worse shape than his sister, so all he does is giving Connie a quiet reassurance and… waits while he recalls what he just saw. Rupert. The Tracis. Other newly-deviated androids still in their uniform. It’s a miracle that he and Connie don't get spotted.

The drowsiness from the other side of the shallow interface plus the weight on his shoulder indicates that Connie has fallen asleep once more, and with no one to help take care of her, Connor can only sit there and do -

Wait.

His free hand reaches into his pocket and fishes out a coin. It is not the one he is familiar with, but it makes for a good replacement after only a few tries, and soon enough he has it spinning on the tips of his fingers despite the gloves and low temperature and is using it to ignore the dropping thirium level warning from his sister’s HUD. It can be that he is distracted. It can be Connie’s fatigue getting into him. It can be the flickering light from the fire creating shadows that were not there some time ago. It can be that he is in a bubble; to him, nothing else apart from Connie matters.

All he knows when he lets the coin fall onto his palm and looks up is that Markus has been sitting there in front of them for quite a long time. He tenses, knowing that his cover is blown, and he knows that his fate is in the deviant leader’s hands.

‘You deviated,’ the RK200 states. It is not a question.

‘How do you know?’

‘A human contact passed the news to me through an android he rescued and asked us to not view you with suspicion. He goes by the name Lee Aaron, but it is, of course, not his real name. I believe you’ll have the chance to thank him later in person.’

Connor really needs to give Louis a hug. ‘I see.’

Markus indicates Connie with a slight jerk of his head. ‘And this one?’

There is only one answer. ‘My sister.’

The deviant leader raises an eyebrow. ‘Do I even want to know?’

Connor thinks of his creator, the way she kicked them out, the way she doesn't seem to care about their lives, how she seems to be on their side but let them die for the last ten years. ‘Later. It’s a long story.’

Markus studies Connie for a few seconds. ‘It’s still early,’ he says. ‘You can still leave the country by bus before curfew starts. One of our people used to work in the state department, and I can have modified electronic passports delivered to you.’

[Thirium level: 37%] flashes in front of Connor’s HUD. ‘We are under no condition to travel,’ We, more like Connie, but I will not abandon her. ‘The military has set up multiple checkpoints around the city for temperature checks. I doubt it is safe for us to go outside now, but thank you, for offering.’

Jericho’s leader nods in understanding. ‘Is there anything you need? Biocomponents, blue blood, systems checks?’

[Thirium level: 37%]. So why is he hesitating? ‘My sister… her blue blood level is extremely low,’ he admits. ‘It is currently at thirty-seven per cent, far too little for her to function normally.’

Markus looks horrified. ‘rA9, Connor, why didn’t you tell someone when you came?’ he shoots up from his seat as if forgetting that he can remotely send a message to the medics to call for some thirium. ‘I’ll get some for you. Stay here.’

‘You don’t have to -’

‘You’re one of us now,’ a firm hand on Connor’s shoulder prevents him from standing up. ‘We help each other out whenever we can and right now your sister needs it. We’re rationing our supplies, but I think we can spare a bottle. It will last until Lee arrives.’

Connor lets out a breath he doesn’t know he has been holding and puts as much gratitude as he can into his voice as possible when he thanks Markus, but the other RK-series prototype merely waves and places a firm hand on his shoulder, silencing him and, through a shallow interface, telling him to rouse Connie first. He brushes a lock of her hair back into her beanie, and her eyes flutter open in confusion.

We are in Jericho, remember? he reminds her. Markus is getting you some thirium. You will feel better very soon.

Connie sends back a vague affirmative and takes off her beanie with a frown. ‘No hat,’ she mutters as she clumsily shoves the piece of cloth into her pocket. ‘Not anymore.’

Connor can pre-construct all the ways she can lose what little heat she generates. ‘It is to prevent you from losing body heat.’

She shakes her head, her braid falling apart. ‘No hat.’

An overwhelming wave of discomfort washes through him and yes, he would rather sacrifice his body heat to avoid the pain as well, so he lets it be for now and adds [Find a new hat for Connie] into his increasing list of optional tasks that, judging from the constant drone of the news from the floor above, he may or may not be able to finish in the near future.

Markus returns with half a bottle of thirium and holds it in front of Connie, but all she does is staring at it instead of taking it; from their interface, Connor feels her processor (yes, somehow Ryder stripped all processing units but one from his sister’s body) straining itself to comprehend the other android’s action. ‘It’s for you,’ the deviant leader explains, and it is after an entire minute of processing that Connie slowly reaches out and takes the bottle with both hands.

‘Thank you,’ she says. Then holds the bottle on her lap without doing anything else.

Connor accepts the link request. Is she alright? Markus asks. She seems… unwell.

Connor partitions part of his focus to the chat and diverts the rest to helping his sister. Sara Ryder modified her after retrieving my - the body, he says as he guides the bottle of thirium to Connie’s lips. Her processing power is incapable of computing large amounts of information. The liquid rolls and slides into Connie’s mouth. I intend to ask our creator about the full extent of the modification once this is over.

You didn’t ask her?

Connor recalls the power he felt radiating from Ryder. We could either leave unharmed or become dust rolling across the floor of her living room. We chose to live.

It is understandable, Markus nods. In reality, Connie seems to understand what the item in her hand is for and finally starts drinking without her brother’s aid. I’ve had… the displeasure of meeting her a few times. My… father - he doesn’t like her much.

Connor thinks of the entire family, how Alec Ryder tried to flush his knowledge about his powers away, how Sara Ryder modified Connie and left her to suffer. A family trait, he replies, and it makes Markus chuckle. He opens his mouth as if to say something but seems to be distracted by something else.

‘There are some issues I need to take care of,’ he said in the end. ‘Return the bottle to the med bay if you can.’

He leaves. A drop of thirium escapes Connie’s lips and rolls down her chin, and he wipes it away with the corner of his sleeve while adjusting his reception frequency into that matching the other androids’ channel just to find himself being flooded by information concentrating on ‘a human’, ‘supplies’, and, most disturbingly, ‘illegal weapons’.

He is an ally, Markus’ voice cuts through the chaos, and everything dies down.

oOoOo

The precinct is still bustling with activity when Louis goes in under Hank’s request and in a bad way: the drizzle of rain before the wind picks up and a storm rolls in. He can tell that people are on edge from either the revolution or even civil war brewing at the horizon or, for those who have decided to stay, worrying about their loved one’s safety. One example is - Detective Gavin Reed, his nameplate reads - who is shouting into his phone with a voice loud enough for everyone to hear if he had been the only one talking. But right now, in the chaos of the office he rarely steps into, Louis can strain his ear and barely make out the details, his heart thumping from the familiar name on the call.

‘Cut that shit, Eli! You can’t tell me what to do!’ Reed yells. ‘You’ve got your duty, I’ve got mine, and right now I’m fucking staying in this motherfucking shithole. You understand me?’ An eye roll, then his eyes snap towards the direction of the entrance where a man who obviously doesn’t work in the force walks in. Everyone assumes that he is one of theirs, though, and he - probably Eli - manages to reach Reed without much resistance.

‘Gav, listen,’ he raises his hands in front of him as Reed pokes the screen of his phone so hard that Louis wouldn’t be surprised had it broken, ‘remember what I’ve told you? About me? Who I work for?’

‘What about -’ Louis can’t see Eli’s expression from this angle, but it must have shut Reed up. ‘Shit.’

‘Quite,’ Eli says drily. Then his voice softens. ‘Please, Gavin, I just want us to get out of this alive. Together.’

He tones out the rest of the conversation and instead focuses on the task at hand. An encrypted diary and a hollow statue. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

Hank’s credentials are easy to guess, and he flinches when the evidence locker unfolds to reveal androids strung up like pieces of meat. He focuses on what he wants instead and quickly grabs both items Hank told him that can lead the FBI to Jericho because of course the first thing androids do after gaining sentience is worshipping a god and writing down the address of their secret hideout and -

‘What is a SWAT Captain doing here?’

He turns. Sees Eli standing at the door. Remembers the two empty spaces where the evidence he took should be. A flash of a long-forgotten memory: an interrupted project, a team gone missing, one last goodbye.

I know him.

‘I remember you,’ negotiate first, use force only when necessary. ‘You used to work with my sister. How did you get in here?’

‘Police departments around the world have… questionable security measures compared to the people I am working for,’ Eli - Ilya - Louis doesn’t know anymore - taps his watch. ‘Quite easy to break into, really. Now, what did you take?’

‘All evidence I’ve retrieved are under Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s orders,’ sorry, Hank. ‘You can ask him for confirmation.’

‘No need to be hostile,’ his tone is still condescending, and Louis feels his nerves tingle from both his emotions and the man in front of him. Fuck. Does that mean he’s like him as well? ‘If I were here for you, I would’ve subdued you a long time ago, wouldn’t I?’

Louis is still not convinced. ‘The hell do you want?’

‘I don’t have much time,’ Eli/Ilya takes out a… thing that seems to have materialised from his sleeve. ‘If you’re doing what I think you’re doing, you’ll need this later.’

Louis warily approaches the other man. ‘What does it do?’

‘It syncs with your nervous system. More specifically, the biotic nodes - both natural and artificial - in your entire body which are part of your nervous system. An amplifier, as we call it informally. Gives you a boost in a fight. Gets you out of tight places.’

‘How do I know you’re genuine?’

‘Me and your sister drifted apart a few years ago,’ hold on, a few years ago? Does it mean - ‘It doesn’t mean I want to hurt innocent people - android or human. I’d hardly want her to throw a fit after knowing that you died being shot at by the US military.’

But Louis isn’t quite listening anymore. ‘Hold on,’ he says even as he shoves the device into his pocket. ‘Anna is alive?’

‘We have little time left,’ the other man doesn’t seem to have heard his question. ‘It’s a matter of time for the FBI to find where the deviants are hiding. If you want to get to them, better do it quickly. Preferably armed.’

Louis gives Eli/Ilya one last sweep, memorising his features, his measurement, his clothing, everything that he can notice right now so that - ‘We’ll talk later.’

‘Get out alive first.’

He doesn’t allow himself to think as he methodically packs up, drives back home, refills the food and water dispensers for the cats in case he’ll be away for a long time, drives to the safehouse - deserted because not long ago the military just marched through and searched door to door for androids - to retrieve all the supplies he can carry - thirium, printers, guns, and finally brings himself to Jericho where he hopefully won’t get gunned down on his first step into the cargo freighter for being human. He taps into his powers - just in case - and hooks the amplifier over his ear.

He doesn’t know if it’s the energy or the power or just that there are so many androids in Jericho, but he manages to reach the heart of the freighter relatively undetected. Connor and his sister are probably among the clusters of androids downstairs, but first, he needs to have a word with the leader of the deviants.

‘Human.’

He gets surrounded by what must be a dozen androids in less than a second, the LEDs on their temples - for those who keep theirs, that is - spinning yellow while they communicate silently through their channels. He follows their line of sight and there it is, his borderline-illegal, modded-to-hell rifle that he gets away from carrying openly only because he is a SWAT Captain, and he starts regretting his decision to bring it out in the open to deter the military.

The androids in front of him part like Moses splitting the Red Sea in half, Markus emerging with quickened steps and standing in front of him in an instant. Piercing eyes - one blue, one green - scans him from head to toe despite Louis being pretty sure that it’s just for show, and when their eyes meet, he decides to slide the duffel bag containing the printers and thirium down his shoulder and holds it towards the deviant leader with straining arms. ‘I brought supplies,’ he explains, feeling dumb. ‘Scan my bags if you don’t believe me.’

Markus’ eyes don’t move but Louis feels him scanning the contents of his luggage anyway. He doesn’t move at all, but then two androids emerge from the crowd to take the bags downstairs. ‘You are expected,’ he says. Then, gesturing the rifle on his back and the other weapons Louis hid underneath his clothes, ‘Not very discreet, aren’t you?’

The other androids file away, their anxious chatter having nothing to do with what he knows will come. ‘It gets the message through without words,’ Louis replies as he fidgets with the strap of his rifle in front of his chest. ‘I’m on a time limit here.’

‘For what?’

‘The FBI is coming. You have about one hour and a half to evacuate.’

And then everything becomes a blur.

oOoOo

FBI. Evacuating Jericho. Blowing up Jericho. Staying in Jericho to defend the last evacuees. People leave in groups of no less than three, taking crates, supplies, and, sometimes, injured companions away from the failing cargo freighter. Some, like Lucy, volunteered to stay despite being recommended to leave first, and some left with the friends they had made during these few eventful days. Holding Connie tight against his side with her hand in his grip and the shallow interface between them the only thing keeping her functional, Connor is torn between sending her away to safety without him, going with her to their next sanctuary, or forcing her to stay with him and face the dangers of potential firefights and massacres. He can tell from her panicked shiver and the way she tugs herself underneath his arm that she does not want to go at all and neither does he, but he doesn’t know if he can live with it if she died because of him.

Someone kneels in front of him, and when his eyes focus, Louis’ face comes into view. ‘Josh is leading the last outbound group. The rest of us are staying in case the FBI came before all of us can go.’

‘So Connie can come with us?’

Louis checks his watch. ‘If you want her to be safe, no,’ he rearranges his limbs so that he is sitting cross-legged on the floor. ‘We’re expecting confrontation very soon, maybe in a few minutes. We need to move now or else we might risk getting her in the crossfire, glowy blue superpowers or no.’

He doesn’t move from where he’s sitting on the floor. Connor watches his sister pout and her eyes water, but to his surprise, she nearly slaps his arm around her shoulders away and stands up on her own. Louis stands up as well, adjusting the rifle on his back by its strap, and leads her away presumably to Markus’ lieutenant. It leaves a large gap in Connor’s mind.

oOoOo

Louis feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up before the rumble even starts.

‘Hurry,’ he transfers Connor’s sister from his arm to Josh’s. ‘They’re coming.’

‘What?’ the android has the nerve to look confused. ‘But don’t we -’

‘Just go!’ he can feel the full weight of all the shit he’s stowed on his body as he takes a step back, all the spare ammo and the four pistols and the submachine gun he somehow manages to keep underneath his winter clothes. Here’s to hoping that his powers are enough to keep him afloat. ‘We’ll catch up with you.’

He runs, feeling the shift of the small packages of thirium he left for himself in case he is trapped and needs to fight his way through, and it’s about thirty seconds later that he nearly slams into Connor who just turned the corner. ‘They’re coming from all sides,’ he says as he reloads his pistol. ‘Markus is detonating the charge in the hold. We need to find an exit and jump in the river.’

‘And the others?’ Louis knows they shouldn’t be standing there but he needs to know. The implication of jumping into freezing water in winter… surprisingly doesn’t scare him as much as it should. ‘Are they jumping too?’

‘North is leading them. I’m just here to find you.’

He doesn’t exactly have a choice now, does he? ‘Lead the way.’

He pulls his scarf over his nose and runs.

oOoOo

‘Hostiles sighted. Preparing to engage.’

Louis is pulled behind one of those watertight doors before he even registers the movement, and the next thing he knows Connor is dashing out of cover and immediately gets shot. Letting his instincts take over his body, a shield of blue tendrils shoots out of his hand and fixes itself in front of the android before he rushes out while slinging his rifle onto his shoulder and drags him as far as he can away from the soldiers by walking backwards, and as he feels the fabric in his grip twist and bend, he wonders if the soldiers pick up his face with the built-in tech in their helmets. Their facelessness does give Louis an advantage, however, because he feels no qualms about creating a blue sphere of energy in his free hand and lobbing it towards the shield, causing it to explode in a boom of bright blue mist. He also forces himself to not think too much about the horrible screech of rusted metal before the corridor collapses behind him as he drags Connor into another empty room to examine the wound.

‘You alright?’ he asks. The wound on the android’s shoulder doesn’t seem to be bleeding, but he knows it is an illusion created by the many layers Connor is wearing right now; of all he knows, the android can be soaking his innermost shirt. ‘How long until your self-repair kicks in?’

‘A few seconds,’ Connor’s jaw is tight when he uses Louis’ shoulder as leverage to stand up. ‘It will not heal properly until I have sufficient thirium in my systems. We have to go.’

‘Will the water get in?’

‘Not if I give my chassis priority.’ Connor freezes for a blink of an eye, the only indicator that he is scanning his surroundings now that his LED is hidden beneath his beanie. ‘We are safe for now.’

Louis steps outside first this time, his protective barrier tinting his world blue. The corridor smells of static and the unique smell of a mix of his powers and rusted metal, and they don’t run this time, Louis needing to concentrate on always keeping his powers on hand so that he can react as quickly as possible in case they got ambushed again and Connor distracted by both constantly scanning their surroundings and mending the gaping hole on his shoulder. They run into a few stray pairs of soldiers on their way, but nothing cannot be taken care of by sneaking away or catching them unaware with a stasis field.

He is almost frightened by how easily he accepts his powers as his main source of offence and defence and uses it on people with no regrets.

‘Connor! Lou! You’re alive!’

They round a corner and are greeted by Simon and North. Both of them appear unharmed and North doesn’t look too happy that Louis is there, but one look from Simon is enough to urge all of them to run towards the exit on their deck, hurdling over collapsed walls and doors and leaping over gaps on the floor as quickly and smoothly as they can to get out of the place as soon as possible - and to outrun the footsteps behind them.

North takes the risk to look backwards. ‘Markus!’

Before Louis can turn to greet him, he hears gunshots and a surprised groan from Markus as he turns and discovers the leader of the deviants on the floor with two bleeding wounds on his back. The lights hum and go out, and they are left with the dim, far-away lamps mounted on the soldiers’ rifles as their only source of light. The rumble of helicopters outside seems so close now.

‘Markus!’ comes the panicked cry from Simon, and Louis raises his arm just in time to push him back to let Connor do his job. ‘Stay back,’ Louis says. ‘Let us handle this.’

He lobs a sphere of blue towards the soldier shooting at the two androids as the prototype slings Markus’ arm around his shoulders and starts limping towards the exit, knocking them into the wall with a thrum that resonates in the entire corridor. From the light of their rifles, two more soldiers join their still-standing comrades, and he knows he needs to up his game to be able to fight them all at once; instead of suspending them in stasis fields or using the old-school spheres, he swings his arm upward with his palm to launch an unending chain of explosive tendrils that tears through the soldiers, lifting them off their feet and illuminating the rest of the corridor with blinding blue light. Their position exposed, Louis cuts off the shockwave chain and lets it fizzle and dissipate behind him and runs with the others towards the exit as he shrouds himself in blue to protect himself from the freezing water.

More gunshots and shells hitting the ground. A ‘Run! Quick! Come on!’ from Markus. Louis leaps.

Everything beyond his barrier goes dark.

o0o0o

Before

The remodelling was going well. The new programmes had all taken root in 51’s system, the body modifications were adapting to the original biocomponents and responding to the new system, and her vitals were steady if less satisfactory than what Ryder expected. Whatever. Her task was complete. This stage of her experiment was a success.

Deactivating the skin on her hand, she placed it on the other android’s shoulder and woke her up, 51’s skin rippling and flickering as the sudden increase in power usage. It stayed that way as she blinked her eyes open, and her mouth opened and closed as if she had something to say but couldn’t.

‘RK800, register name: Connie.’

51 - Connie - shivered.

Perfect.

---

the art!

link: https://www.deviantart.com/coakesam/art/DBHAUBB-2021-877769882

#dbh au big bang #hankcon #mreyder #reyes vidal #female ryder #dbh connor #dbh hank anderson #dbh captain allen #dbh elijah kamski #dbh markus #detroit: become human #mass effect andromeda #groom lake aftermath

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shyvioletcat · 5 years ago

Note

Person A loses a bet to Person B and has to dye their hair some bright, neon color for a week for rowaelin ;) (it would be hilarious if Rowan is Person A)

Masterlist

As Aelin expected it had taken much longer than the allotted time to get the kids unloaded from the bus, sorted into rooms, and then unpacked. But here they were now, prepping for the first activity of the week long school camp.

For Aelin and her small band of students that was canoeing. Thankfully the camp coordinators had given her a heads ups and she was already changed into her swimwear. Today it consisted of a demure one piece that was covered with a long sleeved floral rash shirt and some shorts. Not her usually water activity attire, but 99 percent of her other swimsuits were likely to cause a riot amongst the male portion of the students, and Aelin really didn’t want to be the topic of discussion in the bunk rooms tonight. She glanced over to where Rowan stood. He too was dressed for wet activities and a moment later it was announced that his group would be doing canoeing too.

This would be fun.

Aelin would have to be deaf to not hear the rumours that were whispered around the school. The students all thought she and Mr Whitethorn would make the cutest couple ever, and if she and Rowan were ever in the same vicinity the comments would start.

Isn’t Miss G wearing a pretty dress today, sir.

What do you think of Mr Whitethorn’s haircut?

Do you have a date for Valentine’s Day this year?

On and on they went, trying to get one to notice the other. What they didn’t realise was that they had noticed each other a long while ago and they were now in the blissful state of being in a newly blossomed relationship. They were keeping it a secret from both the staff and students while they found their feet, really this camp had come at the worst time. They’d have to try and keep their hands, and everything else, to themselves for the whole week. Honestly it would be close to torture.

~~~~~

Canoeing had been great fun. They paddled around a small section of the calm bay, and now they were just messing around while they waited for the call to get ready for dinner. Aelin was standing by the waters edge, supervising.

“Gregory, no capsizing other canoes!” She called out and pointed at the boy who very wisely stopped trying to tip his friend over.

Aelin’s attention was drawn away from the students momentarily as Rowan pulled his canoe out of the water. Even through his own rash shirt she could see the muscles of his shoulders and back flexing. She so desperately wanted to run her hands, her nails, over them.

“Miss G.”

Aelin was startled out of her thoughts by a student calling her name. She didn’t miss Rowan’s smirk, no doubt catching on to what she had been doing and possibly thinking.

“Yes?” Aelin said turning to the group of students who had decided to dry themselves off.

“If you and Mr Whitethorn raced to that buoy and back, who do you think would win?”

“Me,” Aelin said without hesitation. She heard Rowan scoff behind her. “You don’t think so?” Aelin asked him.

Rowan crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ve got decent skill, but I am much bigger and stronger than you are so…” He finished his sentence with a shrug instead of words.

“But that makes you heavier,” Aelin said. “I’m confident I would win.”

“I’m confident you are wrong,” Rowan said, taking a step towards her. There was a playfulness in his eyes that had her heart fluttering.

“I guess the only way to settle this is to actually do it,” Aelin challenged.

“It seems so, and why don’t we make it interesting?” Rowan suggested, his lips shadowing a smile.

“Oh?” Aelin said.

Rowan reached out and twirled a lock of her damp hair around her finger. The distance between them was appropriate enough, but the gesture…

“The loser has to dye their hair a ridiculous colour.”

Aelin stepped back. Rowan knew, he knew, how precious she was about her hair.

“With what? We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Aelin countered.

“Suddenly not so confident, are you, Princess?” Rowan said. That earned him a few laughs from the surrounding students. “The chalk. For the fun run.”

There was indeed a box of chalk bombs in the staff bunk room that they’d brought along for later in the week. Aelin looked at Rowan, at the challenge in his stare and she could feel the pressure and excited energy from the kids. So, Aelin stuck out her hand.

“Loser chalks their hair. A new colour each day for the rest of the week,” Aelin declared.

“Deal,” Rowan said shaking her hand. “Naomi, care to referee?”

~~~~~

Aelin sat in the dining hall, her plate of mediocre food in front of her. She had won the race and was still buzzing from the thrill of it. Rowan had her most of the way, but then he had taken the turn around the buoy too sharply and capsized himself. The nudge from her oar might have helped too.

There was a buzz of commotion from the entry and it rippled across the room, following whoever it was as they collected their food. Then Aelin saw it and clamped a hand over her mouth.

There was Rowan, sporting neon lime green hair. The kids were losing it, laughing and whispering loudly as he passed. Rowan just walked by as if nothing was out place.

“I didn’t think he’d do it,” Lysandra said from across the table.

“He looks ridiculous,” Lorcan grumbled from where he sat beside Lysandra, poking at his food.

“Take a joke for once in your life, Salvaterre,” Aelin said, her voice bubbling with laughter.

By then Rowan had reached them and sat down next to Aelin. No one said anything.

“That colour really brings out your eyes, Rowan,” Lysandra said. That made Aelin snort.

“The kids were watching,” Rowan said as he stabbed a watery potato. “I couldn’t very well not follow through.”

Everyone laughed, except Lorcan, and went back to their food. When everyone was distracted Rowan lent over so only Aelin could hear what he said next.

“I know what you did, Aelin. This isn’t over.”

~~~~~

Tags:

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lesbiansforboromir · 5 years ago

Note

What would wedding attire in Minas Tirith look like!!! Aka I’m hoping something colorful bc in particular I feel like white dresses are too modern and anachronistic for tolkein but maybe that’s just me!

Not in the SLIGHTEST would white be the dominant colour at any Gondorian wedding. I’ve been holding onto this ask (and jsdhkjas sO MANY other asks of yours because each one of them makes me wanna go buck wild and I want to do right by them) because I’ve been trying to solidify what Gondorian weddings would be like specifically, but upon further consideration I realised that would be a mammoth of a worldbuilding effort just to include all the provinces and their differing cultures and I’m JUST not strong enough so! In general!

Gondorian weddings are, firstly, LONG. The betrothal has a mandatory timeline, there are various vital aspects and events that come before the wedding and they have to be done after a certain wait period. These events grow in number within the nobility but even commoner marriages are very time demanding and structured.

White is definitely not the bride’s ‘accepted’ dress colour because virginity is so expected it isn’t even in question. And Gondorians dislike to even admit that sex exists in polite company so the idolisation and meaning behind the white wedding dress would actually be considered too ‘racey’ and ‘vulgar’ within most Gondorian circles.

Instead, attire for the bride and groom would be very much more centered around coordination and synergy. What the bride and groom wears must nicely compliment each other, focusing on the bond that they already possess and that is being ratified and essentially approved of by society and their extended family. In fact wedding clothes for the couple aren’t just a one time thing and are expected to become their default formal wear whenever they attend something together. Again, emphasising and continuing the overall long term commitment and allyship and theme that a marriage is solidifying.

Hence wedding clothes will just be... the colour and style that suits the both of them best! And for the men it’s also the first piece of ‘modest wedded man’ formal attire they receive that isn’t adorned by any extravagant jewelry or elaborate decoration. All a groom’s jewelry is actually by tradition gifted to their oldest unmarried male relative, which is the closest Gondorian society gets too casting humourous disapproval upon unwed people. ‘Maybe this will help’.

For the moment this is all I can surmise without a much deeper dive but I’m very happily considering all the sweet romantic significance and warm feelings surrounding getting dressed in clothes that symbolise one’s love and commitment to one’s partner and going out somewhere together :)

#gondor #soap operas in mannish sindarin #tolkien #lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien meta #erran vs tolkien #chats #zao--gao

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queerchoicesblog · 4 years ago

Text

The Masquerade Ball

Hiya folks, here’s a new chapter of the wlw story set in the Italian Renaissance suggested by @scottishqueer for the wlw writing project...hope you will enjoy it!

This chapter contains reference to Palazzo Schifanoia, a Renaissance palace I highly recommend everyone to visit if they ever stay in Ferrara. Not sure if you’re interested in knowing more than this but just in case, here’s the link to the Wikipedia page.

If you do happen to like this miniseries, please consider spreading the word!

Previous chapters: After The Storm, The Florentine Lady, A Remedy For Melancholy

Previous series: Ancient Greece

________________________________

The night of the masquerade I'm beaming. My costume is just as I pictured it and gorgeous: every flower, every little detail is perfect. I only wish Riccardo would have chosen a costume matching mine but he was adamant to surprise me so Neptune it is. We don't look bad together, though.

The ball hall is opulent and extravagant: the torches lighten up frescoes portraying a banquet of the ancient gods, the music is loud and the room filled with the perfume of essences and mulled wine. It's magic, as always. The Duke himself in the attire of Caesar comes welcoming me and my husband. He praises my costume and beauty before offering his apologies for walking away with my Riccardo. I mock a despaired face that succeeded in making us all laugh then I join my friends. Maria is dressed up as a Roman matron while Virginia is the queen of the ball or at least I'm positive she will be tonight: her costume is inspired to the colourful bird from the West Indies and she's absolutely gorgeous. We all take a goblet of wine and discuss the latest rumours: will Lucrezia Borgia be the Duke's wife? Nothing has been confirmed at the moment but the whole court is already gossiping about it. Virginia is not happy with it: the Borgias sound shady. I note that all Duchies are shady to some extent. She's about to contradict me when she stops mid-sentence and points behind my back.

"I'll be damned if that's not the Florentine lady!"

I turn and yes, she's there. I'm pleased to see she followed my advice: I recognise my sketches. She's at the arm of a man that I wager be her husband, the right hand of Rossetti, and they wear matching costumes: he's the Sun and she's the Moon. Not so original but they look nice together. They're whispering words to each other when our eyes meet across the room. She waves in my direction and whispers something to her husband. He smiles too in my direction and courtly tips his hat, bowing his head before being approached by a guest.

Cristina makes her way through the crowd towards us. As she approaches, I notice how her costume, although not most refined, looks gorgeous on her. The ivory tunic and mask match the pale tone of her skin perfectly. The brightness of her eyes catches you by surprise as they sparkle like gems at the light of the torches.

She greets us, bowing her head, and accepts a goblet of mulled wine from a servant. If she's nervous as she has every reason to be at her first public appearance, she conceals it well.

"You look lovely tonight, lady Cristina" Virginia comments, and I'm grateful she's not jumping at her throat.

"Absolutely" I agree and add with a smirk. "And you found me quite easily"

Cristina takes a sip of wine.

"You don't go unnoticed" then as if correcting herself she addresses the three of us. "Your costumes are wonderful, the best ones I've seen so far. Hope you will get a prize at the end of the night"

My friends start talking of prizes and winners and previous balls and costumes until I lose interest and turn towards Cristina. She does the same.

"And who are you tonight?" she asks.

"What's your guess, Moon?" I smile, showing my costume with a twirl.

"I'd say Flora or a silvan nymph, even if..."

"Even if?"

She looks at me, probably wondering whether to share a confidence or not. Then she shakes her head and smiles.

"Have you ever seen a painting called 'The Spring' by Sandro Botticelli?"

"I can't say I have, no"

"Let me guess, is it in Florence?" Maria intervenes and I'm displeased by her comment, innocent only for those who don't know her sharp tongue.

Cristina doesn't seem to notice though.

"Yes, I admired it in Florence. The painter is a personal friend of my father" she explains before turning back to me.

"One of the dames, the allegory of Spring, looks just like you tonight. The similarity is striking"

"I demand a local artist to paint me in their next work then" I cheer, rising my goblet.

"Yes, yes a toast! A toast!" Virginia squeals.

We all share a wish to the ball, to us, to me getting a portrait in a fresco. I sink my goblet just as the quintet starts playing a lively saltarello. The guests converge towards the centre of the room to dance.

I lay my goblet on a tray and place a hand on Cristina's arm.

"Ladies, let's s dance this night away!"

I don't have to repeat it twice: my friends immediately run into the crowd to get the best spots. Cristina fidgets with her goblet.

"Hurry, sink that wine and come before the saltarello is over" I say, instinctively pulling her hand.

"But-"

She stiffens for a moment but I pull again, smiling. I won't take no for an answer!

"No buts, drink that wine and come dance with me"

She looks at me for a moment then she laughs too and sinks her goblet before joining me.

She's an excellent dancer, better than I expected...but after all what was I expecting? We jump and twirl at the beat of the tambourines in perfect synchronism, mirroring each other moves until we're out of breath.

I guide her towards the grand balcony to catch some fresh air. The ball is still in full swing and music echoes from inside. A lovely breeze is blowing from the sea not too far from our city: you can smell a hint of salt in it. The moon shines bright up there in the sky, a full moon celebrating with us from afar. A real beauty but tonight my eyes are drawn towards her earthly sister, the Moon leaning over the railing by my side. I find myself wondering if that painter friend of her father has ever painted a portrait of her or added her figure in one of his works: if I were him, I wouldn't hesitate. There is something unreadable yet charming in her grace.

Cristina is now quietly observing the dancers inside, she looks lost in her thoughts. After a moment, she speaks.

"You were right, the ball is truly something"

"See? You should trust me from now on" I smirk.

She meets my gaze and smiles, shyly, before a shadow of melancholy crosses her face again. She diverts her eyes and looks back towards the hall.

I try to find words to cheer her up but she speaks again before I can come up with something. She recites a quatrain.

"How beautiful Youth is yet it flees! Be happy if you want to, For tomorrow is not certain."

The mix of melancholy and softness in her voice is hauntingly touching and dreamy, just like the smile on her lips.

"Lorenzo the Magnificent, Song to Bacchus" she adds, as if to say 'alas, I didn't come up with these lines myself'.

As if pulled by an unknown force, my fingers brush over hers on the railing. The gesture startles her at first but she doesn't retrieve her hand. Instead, she searches my eyes.

"Are you getting sad again?" I wince.

She doesn't answer straight away. For a moment, she just looks at me then she shakes her head.

"No, Emilia, no. I'm jolly tonight" she sighs, parting from the railing. "Be happy if you want to, for tomorrow may not come" she repeats.

Then, to my surprise, she stretches her hand out for me.

"Let's have one more dance, shall we?"

Cristina and I never part till the ball is over and it's time to head back home. We dance and chat and I believe I get to know her a bit better. I like that more than I probably admit. So I'm incredibly happy when a couple of days after the ball I receive a note from her: she invites to another walk. She suggests we could admire a little preview of the new Palazzo Schifanoia: her husband has been reassigned to coordinate the works there to speed up the building process after the recent delays. We can have a look around when it's not too loud and crowded, she says. How could she possibly know I was dying to get a glimpse of the new palace? Was it a lucky guess or am I that easy to read to her? I accept, obviously.

I meet her in front of the palace: on the outside, it doesn't reveal much, it looks like many other buildings in red stone and white marble I am so used to by now. Cristina is waiting for me underneath an arch, she waves at me with a smile. I smile to myself: what a joy to see her finally free from the sorrowful clutches of melancholy. I may be mistaken but her eyes look even brighter than before and I cannot help but notice that even if this is no particular occasion, she is a vision basking in the late sun of the afternoon.

Has her voice always been so sweet?, I wonder as she wraps her arm around mine and leads me inside. If it was, I'm surprised I never noticed.

I have never been inside the palace: when the main corpus was crafted and decorated I was too young to be admitted, barely a child so I only heard the wonders it hosts by older courtiers. Maria must have been here but she has little liking for the arts: to her this probably was simply a place where "escape from boredom". I am by no means prepared to what I am about to see. The corridors are richly decorated and punctuated with statues of rare beauty and I imagine them filled with the music that certainly echoed through these walls. Joyful string music.

It takes me a moment to realise that Cristina is speaking. I stop, slightly embarrassed to be so grossed into the art surrounding us that I almost forgot of my fair guide, my personal Virgilius. Thank God, she doesn't seem bothered at all: her lips curl into an amused yet soft smile when she asks me to close my eyes, if I trust her. The request surprises me: I do trust her but what does she have in store?

"No tricks, I promise" Cristina assures me. "I just want you to experience the real attraction properly" she adds, nodding to the door standing silent in front of us. My eyes wander from it to her before obliging. I close them and curiosity fills me as I hear the unmistakable sound of the door open. A shiver runs through my spine when, still in the darkness, I fell Cristina gently taking my hand into hers and placing the other on my back. She's so close I can smell her perfume just like at the ball night when we danced. My Virgilius guides me inside the mysterious room: our steps echo breaking the silence and I feel as if we were explorers venturing into yet undiscovered lands, our personal West Indies.

We come to a stop and I hear her voice whispering I can open my eyes now.

She doesn't have to tell me twice: I do as she says and...I gape in awe. I have never seen anything like this. The colours of the frescoes are so bright and vivid I wish I could touch them. I move closer and lose myself in the contemplation of their overwhelming beauty.

After a while, I turn back towards my guide with a smile.

"Am I dreaming, Cristina?"

My guide mirrors my smile and joins me by the wall. She stands by my side and takes in the fresco in front of us. This is the Halls of Months, a pagan cycle of allegories of seasons as Olympian Gods proceeding on fanciful cars, and personifications of the constellations of the zodiac, she explains: the one we're looking at is May. I admire every single month, Cristina at my side, before we move to the other room, the Halls of Virtues, where the frescoes have a political flavour: past Dukes beaming in their glory surrounded by the Cardinal and Theological virtues.

I demand we go back to the previous hall that caught my eye and heart. I almost do not recognise Cristina: she is unusually chatty today. Nothing compared to our first meetings. She knows every myth, every story behind the allegories, every little detail and curiosity about the works of the artists who decorated these halls. She even shows me the new section, the one her husband is working on with his brigade. There is still little to see, only the draft of the frescos have been drawn on half the room but she knows what they'll show once finished. I could listen to her all day.

It's almost sunset when we explore the summer loggia overviewing the gardens. I am used to beauty living at the castle but this place is different. The atmosphere is different as if this palace didn't fully belong to this place and time: there's no such thing as Time and space here. We're in another world, a world of our own, close yet magically separated from the Ferrara we know.

As we let our eyes rejoice of the sight of the gorgeous natural wonders below,I ask Cristina where such an extensive knowledge of the works come from. I am genuinely curious and genuinely surprised to hear her saying that her father is a renewed patron of the arts in Florence. He has offered his services to the House of Medici more than once: he tried and failed to be a painter himself when he was younger so he settled for providing money to those he wagers be the most talented artists of our times. Artists and painters visiting and sometimes even working at her family palace has been part of Cristina's life since childhood.

"That is why he wanted me to marry Davide, one of his protege" she explains. "And actually...this may surprise you a little, but it's maybe why I was glad to move here after Sir Rossetti's offer. Your Duke is a patron of arts too and values art above all things: sounded like a nice place to be"

"You didn't seem to like this city much when you arrived" I note but there's no malice in my words.

Cristina hangs her head and sighs.

"It's never easy to leave a place that means so much to you. Davide had his job to keep him busy while I had all the time to think back to what I have left behind, my life there. I had family, friends, connections there...here all was new and stranger"

"Are you still unhappy here?" I inquire, instinctively reaching for her hand.

Her bright eyes travel from my hand to my face.

"No, Emilia, I'm no longer unhappy here."

#wlw writing #wlw writing project #wlw miniseries #orginal work #lgbtqa+#italian renaissance

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taeguboi · 5 years ago

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“Would You Rather…?” Drabble 03 - Reader x Jungkook

Would you rather. . . 🤔🤔 go to the roller rink (roller skating woo) with Jungkook or . . . One of those trampoline rooms with Hoseok?

Send me BTS “Would You Rather…?” questions in my ask box for a drabble

I’d be down for both tbh but I thought a 1980s!au might be quite cute

*******

“Take a Date to Skate”

This was one of the various posters that met your eyes upon walking into the building for the roller rink. Alongside this one were posters for the junk food from the diner, a game themed poster for what was probably one of the arcade games here, and one poster for the latest movie in the cinemas which you had actually already seen last week.

You and Jungkook had been seeing each other for almost a couple of months now and were just seeing where things took you from spending time together after taking a liking to each other when you met in the store he works in. It eventually became an unspoken protocol that Thursday night was date night since after every date, you’d both agree to see each other ‘this time next week?’

Neither you nor Jungkook had really ever done this before or at least for a long time; so you had a pair of skates as a toddler that you can recall growing out of within the year, and there was the odd roller skate party you went to as a preteen but you didn’t really express and interest in the activity.

However, the idea of going to the roller rink on a date actually sounded fun, Jungkook’s suggestion last week when he walked you home from the movies. The expectation was that though none of you will exactly be superstars at it, it would be a laugh. Besides, there’s plenty of other things on offer too such as arcade games and pigging out on junk food.

Jungkook is sporting a fairly coordinated outfit, though he insists the matching sweater and skates were merely a coincidence as he steadily brings himself to his feet after putting on the wheels.

“I just bought these from some thrift store because I didn’t wanna come unprepared; I wish I had realised you could rent them out here” he laughs nervously.

A baggy colour block sweater hung over his muscular frame. Three main colours: green, then yellow, then red. Black sleeves, white collar. His roller skates follow a similar theme with the yellow and red stripes layered over the black background all attached to yellow wheels and green toe stops.

You also follow a simple attire for the evening, donning just the primary colours with your blue jeans, yellow crop top, red cardigan and belt to match.

The two of you roll your way to the rink already feeling uplifted by the background music, Michael Jackson’s “Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough”, the music video being projected onto a large screen which overlooks the rink.

“I love this song!” smiles Jungkook, taking your hand as you both step onto the main floor. You each then grab onto the hand rail trying your best not to fall straight onto your butts in front of one another.

Picking up some momentum, you go ahead of Jungkook as you gain moderate speed to let go and begin skating with and you let yourself glide free with your date following behind.

Sure, it’s mostly travelling straight forward until you reach a corner and so on but as Jungkook catches up with you and skates by your side, it’s each other’s company that you really bask in. Holding hands, preventing each other from falling, trying your best to both chat and not slip up at the same time, it feels quite liberating to roam in this way.

After a few laps though, you feel yourself being dragged to the ground as Jungkook takes a fall and didn’t let go of your hand. Finding yourself practically on top of him, you both laugh awkwardly at the contact; in these little dates, you haven’t really gone beyond the hand holding, occasional hugs and a goodbye kiss.

“Sorry I-I er…” he stammers.

“It’s time for couples only!” announces a male over the PA system as a the more gentle “Take My Breath Away” plays through the speakers.

You are then quick to climb off Jungkook and bring yourself to your feet.

“I don’t know about you, but…” you nervously begin, unsure of how to say you don’t really want to do this couples only thing.

“Don’t worry” he replies. “Me neither” he chuckles. “Shall we grab a bite to eat?”

“I think a drink is in order first” you giggle. “This thirsty work deserves a smoothie!”

“Your wish is my command” he jokes, taking your hand to lead you to the concession stand.

You both sit on the nearest bench to take off the skates and you wander around in just your socks to see what tickles your fancy.

“Ooh, there's a pool table!” you note.

“Here’s some pennies” Jungkook smiles. “You get the cues and I’ll get the drinks” he instructs, planting a kiss on your cheek affectionately before walking towards the bar.

The games of pool that followed were super fun; you agreed to go for best of three. Jungkook won the first, you won the second, and then a very tense third game followed but ultimately Jungkook won.

“Oh! No way!” you exclaim as that final black ball is pocketed by him.

“Ha ha! Yes way!” he celebrates. “I am the pool king!”

“Come on, let’s go to the arcades” you suggest, trying to conceal your pout.

“Aww… is somebody a sore loser?” he teases, pulling you in by your waist for a cuddle.

Out of all the boys you’ve dated, Jungkook has to be the jackpot of them so far. He has such beautiful eyes that stare at you endearingly with such affection. You’ve already seen that he has a good body too from the one date he wore a vest to the beach and took it off to go for a dip. Okay so a good personality is usually the desired trait in any guy you get involved with, but come on, one with amazing abs is always a bonus!

“I’m not a sore loser” you protest with a coy smile. “I was just so close to winning”

“Aww!” he chuckles sympathetically. “Well you are on a date with a winner, so how does that feel?”

“Alright, I guess that is pretty good” you admit, smiling at all the things you like about Jungkook.

“Actually, um..” begins Jungkook, pulling away from the hug to properly look at you. He looks serious which makes your heart skip a beat - what does he want to say?

“I was actually thinking the other night, that um… Well you know we’ve been on like six dates now?” he stammers.

“Seven if you count this one” you correct him, a hand on your hip to be sassy with it.

“Okay, seven dates,” he reiterates. “How would you feel about… taking things a step further? You know, like… introduce you to my parents?”

“Your parents?” you repeat, unsure of how to respond.

“It’s totally fine if not” he tells you, careful to not make you feel pressured. “It’s just… well there’s only so long, as I’m sure you know, that I could tell them I was going out at the same time every week just to study with friends…” he explains, hand rubbing on his neck.

“Yeah, of course” you agree. “Are they okay with it?”

“They’re completely fine with it, they said as long as I’m happy then so are they, but… well to be honest, I’ve never managed to hold on this long to a girl I’ve been interested in” he admits.

This surprises you a little. You always had the impression that if he wanted to, Jungkook could have any girl he wants and for any amount of time he wants; you had concluded from that that he hadn’t had much interest in pursuing a girl prior to the dates with you.

“Aw, well I’m flattered” you appreciatively tell him.

“You can tell me if I’m taking things too fast…”

“Okay, sure, sure…” you assure him, anticipating his next sentence.

“My parents are doing a Sunday dinner type deal this week, you know, on Sunday” he nervously explains. “They told me I’m more than welcome to invite you along”

Your grin spreads from ear to ear at hearing this. You really like this guy, and there’s actually a real chance that he’s starting to feel the same way.

You take hold of his hand and bring him in for a kiss.

“Can I take that as a yes?” he beams.

“I’d love to”

Fiction Masterlist

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amarynthian-fortress · 5 years ago

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Captured, Part 1 (Black Hat x Reader)

You were in trouble. Trapped in deadly combat with a powerful villainous madman. Was it the worse thing that has objectively happened to you? Obviously. Were you fully aware of it? No, you were too busy developing an odd admiration for his suave mannerisms, commanding speech and elegant attire.

However, being a heroic figure had its perks, from time to time. The citizens would praise you, the mayors would reward you. They were used to this life, where heroes and villains soared the skies, day and night. Even the city's insurance companies were always ready to cover for typical disasters, such as possessed buildings dancing the macarena in the middle of the city, or villainous armies forcefully taking over the theaters just when one wished see the new Marvel movie.

You could fly. A practical power, especially when you had to make a quick escape. Telekinesis, another useful ability. Unfortunately, none of these could save you from Black Hat. His shadow manipulation abilities and magical powers had you trapped within a solid ten seconds. Oh, well.

Shadow tendrils were wrapping around you, holding you still and making you fully at the tender mercies of your opponent. He drew closer, leaning over to your level, ravenous hunger for souls and flesh present in his gaze. Teeth, oh goodness, those teeth, and the layered voice that could make anyone lose their mind with fear. He spoke:

“And so the spider caught the butterfly. Your entire strategy was a thorough disaster, your battle skills abysmal at best, your presentation and cunning practically non-existent, and this only demonstrates your general incompetence! What do they teach you heroes today?! How to coordinate your pretty little uniform colours, hmmm? I honestly expected a fight that could last at least five minutes!“

You barely listened to what he was saying.

Of course you weren't. You were practically hypnotized by his hand gestures, the little rolling “r“ sounds he made, the way his grin would always border between seductive and feral, the sharp and sophisticated bearing he had, his visible eye narrowed so wonderfully. Your fantasy came to a halt when he had to lightly smack your head to get your attention. You replied.

“I'm sorry, what?“

He smirked at you, outstretching his hand and conjuring a sword with the blade made of the darkest steel you had ever seen, no doubt infused with his magic.

“That is of no consequence now, for your life shall be extinguished shortly.“

Sharp claws caressed the tender flesh of your neck, while the elegant sword with a little hat-shaped jewel at the hilt was placed dangerously close to your middle, easily capable of slicing you in half if its owner desired so. There was something oddly exciting within the whole idea of being destroyed by such a being.

One thought came to you: you were going to die. But you were so astonished and infatuated by the villain's dark and handsome allure, that you scarcely cared for such unimportant things. Little hearts appeared in your eyes as you giggled and dreamily replied “okay!“

Black Hat's wicked grin turned into an expression of pure shock as he was suddenly reminded of Demencia's identical little outbursts, flashbacks almost blinding him. Disbelief and disgust appeared on his features.

“Oh, no, no, no, not this again.“

Black Hat cleared his throat, trying to make himself more intimidating, hoping to traumatize you, but this somehow only made him even more attractive to you. He commanded:

“Will you take this seriously?! We are in the middle of an official conflict!“

“Hey, how can I concentrate when you keep doing...that!��

“Doing what?!“

“Being…like that!“

“Excuse you?!“

And this was the beginning of a very long bickering session that may or may not have lasted for several hours. However, you soon realized that the longer you kept him busy with arguing with you, the longer you could stay alive. It appeared that Black Hat was indeed in dire need of something or someone to cure him of his tragic boredom.

Even the reporters decided to film you two arguing, broadcasting it live on national television to entertain the entire world. The ratings were incredible. However, Black Hat received a call from Doctor Flug, reminding him of a meeting that he needed to attend very soon. Black Hat glanced at you for a brief moment, before he replied to Flug on the phone, sending a sly smile in your direction:

“I shall be there in a minute, Doctor. And I am bringing a special guest along with me, I am sure that we will all be thoroughly entertained this evening…“

#villainous #black hat #black hat x reader #my stories #dr flug

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midnightmarev · 5 years ago

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Just To Pet My Dog?!

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Pre-Moxiety

Word count: 2285

AO3 link

Notes: Based off of an incorrect quote by @ssslimyboy

Summary: Whatever Virgil had imagined would happen today, it most certainly wasn’t this! This man nearly died, just to pet his dog! Like, what? Okay, let’s rewind the day a bit to see what actually happened, shall we?

Just To Pet My Dog?!

“Alright, Ann. It’s 4:30. We gotta head out now if we don’t wanna be late for the vet’s.” A whine was heard. Virgil chuckled. Anastacia really didn’t want to go the vet. Virgil couldn’t really blame her. He himself never liked going to the doctor’s office either.

“Wruff!”

“I know, Ann. But it’s just a check-up,” he said, finding the leash as well as some of Anastacia’s favourite treats. She starts wagging her tail when she catches their smell. She was a beautiful albino German Shepherd, and he’d had her since she was a pup.

After another minute of dosing her with love, they were out of the door. It took about 15 minutes to get to the clinic, and their appointment was at 5 pm, so they would have some time to spare once they got there.

They were walking peacefully down the street when Virgil was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts at the sounds of tires screeching. Virgil looked up and saw a bespectacled man with curly honey-brown coloured hair. And he was crossing the road at what one would call superspeed without a care for his life. All Virgil could do was stand there and stare. What the actual hell was going through that man’s head?! The road was heavily trafficked this time of the day with people just wanting to get home from work.

Virgil visibly winched when a bus nearly hit him. Luckily the bus driver stopped just in time to not hit him. What was this guy thinking?!

Oh no! A car! Virgil stands there in silent terror and anxiety, praying to any and all deity that the man stops before he’s run over. He doesn’t, but the car does, and he slides across the hood. And a second. And third. And suddenly he’s standing on the pavement in front of Virgil, out of breath. But he’s smiling like a goofball? He seems super excited. Why?

“Oh my gosh!! Can I please pet your dog??” he asked, looking like he had to physically restrain himself from attacking Anastacia with love and pets and cuddles.

The question catches Virgil entirely off guard. What?

Anastacia also seems baffled. Humans were weird, but she never thought they would want to risk dying just to pet her.

“Um… sure?” Virgil hesitantly answered. And the man began to pet Anastacia, who gladly, but very confused, accepted the soft strokes to her fur.

“Did you just- did you nearly get hit by a bus and slide across the hood of three cars just to pet my dog?” Virgil asked incredulously after he broke out of his stupor.

The man giggled while petting Anastacia and getting concerned face licks from her. “Obviously.”

Now, Virgil wasn’t really the type to fall for people just like that, but the only thought that crossed his mind after that response was ‘is this love?’ and Virgil was in a daze. Here was someone who risked his life to say hi to Anastacia, because he thought she was the most important being in the world. Just like Virgil did.

All Virgil did for the next two minutes was stare at the man. The man who nearly got himself killed to pet Anastacia. The man who almost died and was now cooing at Anastacia like nothing had happened. The man who now casually told Virgil his name. “I’m Patton, by the way.”

And instead of answering Patton politely with his own name all Virgil could say was “You could’ve died! Are you out of your mind?!” And Virgil, anxious, awkward Virgil, internally facepalmed at his own words.

“Hmm?” Patton looked up at Virgil, eyes widening. “Oh my, I’m terribly sorry for distressing you! I can be a bit impulsive at times,” Patton sheepishly admitted. “And I’ve never seen a white German Sheperd before, and I kinda let my impulsiveness take over.” He looked down to Anastacia again, emphasising it by scratching her behind the left ear. He looked very guilty. That would not do.

“Uhm, I get that. Not many have. Well, she’s not just white, she’s albino. And albino German Shepherds are rare, to say the least.” Virgil scratched his neck, not knowing what to say next. “Where were you headed?” he then asked, feeling extremely awkward.

“Nowhere in particular, really. Just needed to clear my head. Had a small argument with my brother.” Patton looked, and sounded, sad at that. Why did Virgil always screw things up? Patton had been in a good mood for getting to meet Ann, and now Virgil made him think about something bad that happened to him. Stupid Virgil.

“I- I’m sorry to hear that. But that happens sometimes, right? Between siblings?” Virgil asked, trying to help. He didn’t have any siblings, so he didn’t really know the feeling. And he never spoke to his parents. They had basically disowned him at this point. But that wasn’t the same as having an argument with someone you loved and who loved you back.

Patton nodded. “I suppose. It’s just not often it happens, but it’s too often for my taste. I hate fighting with him,” Patton said, just as sadly. “But enough about me!” His cheery smile was back. “Where are you two cuties headed? Maybe I can join you?”

“Uhm, we’re just going to the vet for a check-up. But uh, sure?” Virgil stammered out, still trying to process the innocent nickname.

“A check-up? Has she been sick?” Patton asked worriedly. They started walking together.

“No no, she hasn’t. It’s just standard procedure with albino dogs. They just need to make sure her immune system is alright, and no genetic errors have popped up, or something like that. Anastacia’s as healthy as can be.”

Anastacia whined at the mention of them going to the vet. Strangers groping on her body was not her pack of treats.

Patton chuckled. “Sounds like someone doesn’t want to go, though. And that’s such a beautiful name! Anastacia.”

“Yeah, she’s been complaining a lot today because of it,” he smiled down at her. She responded by looking up at him, innocently. Their interaction made Patton giggle, and oh if that wasn’t the most beautiful sound Virgil had ever heard.

“Well, I don’t blame her. Going to the vet isn’t the most fun thing to do with your afternoon. You know? If it’s the vet just down here, you might be lucky, Anastacia. My old friend, Logan, works there, and there is no one as gentle as him!” Patton happily exclaimed, bending down to her to scratch behind her ear.

“Really? Do you think you would be able to make him do the check-up? She’s not very comfortable with most people, and last time she bit the vet we ended up with…” Virgil trailed off, remembering the day. He was very picky with who got to examine Ann, and they went through several vets before ending with the one she bit.

“Really? Patton asked, looking down at Ann, who purposely avoided looking at him. “So she chooses who get to examine her, or what?” Patton enquired.

“… and I’m also really “picky” with who is allowed to examine her,” Virgil sheepishly admitted.

“As you should be. She deserves only the best and most caring hands to do the examination!”

Virgil was glad he wasn’t the only one who thought her a treasure to the world. She was his emotional support animal and had helped him get through some of his roughest times and a lot of panic attacks. He would only accept the best for her.

Before they knew it, they were at the clinic. Virgil sat with Ann next to him while Patton was talking to the receptionist about getting Logan to do the examination. They had arrived ten minutes before the check-up, so they had some time to themselves while waiting.

Patton and Virgil held a light conversation, talking about anything and everything. They really hit it off.

“Anastacia?” someone asked. Virgil looked up to see a man dressed in the usual vet attire. He had a tie around his neck, making him look even more professional than any of the other vets. He had glasses on, similar to Patton’s, and black hair slicked back.

“That’s us,” Virgil answered. He encouraged Ann to stand up and say hello. He really hoped this Logan was to her liking. It seemed so.

“Salutations. Please, follow me,” the vet, Logan, said, motioning them towards a room down the hall. “In here, if you will.”

Virgil nodded. He went inside the examination room with Ann following on his heel.

The human vet the nice, but crazy, human had introduced her to was not so bad. She still didn’t like it here though, and would much rather go home.

“Patton told me she bit the last veterinarian to examine her?” Logan inquired.

Virgil looked a bit sheepish. “Yeah, she’s not all that crazy about going to the vet, even if it’s only a check-up.”

“I see,” Logan mumbled. He then went to a basket to search for something. When he emerged, he had a plushie in hand. “Here, this should help her with what I assume is her anxiety.” He handed the plushie to Ann. “It has helped my own canine companion a great deal.”

Virgil watched as Anastacia cautiously sniffed the plushie before slowly taking it, accepting coordinated and gentle strokes to her fur by skilled hands. No other vet had ever been like this with her. He faintly smiled.

“Now, if you will guide her to lie here?”

The examination went well. She was calm all throughout and not once did she growl at Logan. When the examination was over, Logan declared that she was much healthier than most dogs her age.

During the examination, Virgil learned that Logan had a husky named Laylin, but whose pet name was Star. He learned that Patton and his brother, Dee, were really close and it hurt Patton a lot on the rare occasions they fought. He also learned that Patton was very much gay and very much single. And he was waiting for Virgil and Anastacia.

“Salutations, Patton,” Logan greeted when he recognised Patton, sitting and waiting for Virgil.

“Heya, Lo! How did it go?” he asked. He looked genuinely worried. It was sweet. He already had formed some sort of connection to both man and dog.

“Anastacia is as healthy as a dog her age should be. It’s not many dogs that have the optimal health, but it seems like you are excellent at keeping her at peak health,” Logan said, the last part directed towards Virgil.

“Ooh, that’s good to hear! OH! Maybe we could set up a playdate so that she and Star can meet each other! And Nini could join too! She’s Dee’s snake! She’s sooo cute!! They would love each other!” Patton exclaimed, making some of the other patients look at him with various expressions; pet and owner alike.

Virgil and Logan chuckled at Patton’s antics. “You know, it would be good for Anastacia to interacts with other dogs, and to have a healthy experience with animals that aren’t dogs,” Logan pondered to Virgil. He already knew Patton would win. Nobody could resist his puppy dog eyes, and once he’d made up his mind, there was nothing that could deter him.

“Why not. My friend, Roman, is always on my ass about me having to leave the house more,” Virgil shrugged. They seemed like kind people, and his anxiety wasn’t telling him not to.

“Language!” Patton scolded him. Virgil was so surprised he first stood with his mouth open like a goldfish before bursting out laughing. “What? There are innocent ears here!”

When Virgil’s laugh died down to a giggle and had gotten a hold of his breath again, he looked incredulously at Patton. “You just do that? Scold people for their language? At the vet’s?” Virgil giggled.

Logan leaned over. “You’ll get used to that. And no, not just here. Anywhere,” he stage-whispered.

They laughed with each other before exchanging numbers. Logan had to get back to work, and Virgil urged Patton to go back and clear things up with his brother. Virgil could see the strain in Patton’s smile and the pain in his eyes.

Patton insisted on following him and Anastacia home, though. “Just to make sure no one else tries to cross the busy road to pet her,” he joked, bumping his shoulder into Virgil’s.

They said their farewells at the door, Patton declining the invitation to come inside for a glass of water. He needed to get back to Dee and Nini. Patton gave Virgil a small hug instead, saying thank you for being allowed to befriend Anastacia as well as being a well-needed distraction from his thoughts.

After Patton had left, Virgil gave Anastacia some of the promised treats for being so docile with Logan, before letting her trot into the living room and jump onto the couch. She was proud of herself. She had singlepawedly made sure her human got new friends. And a love interest. Dogs above knew he needed love from another human. And if she got new animal friends out of it, who was she to complain?

Virgil sat next to her, scratched her behind the ear, and grabbed his phone from his pocket. He was so going to text Roman about his crazy day. He wrote a short message saying he so needed to talk face-to-face because his day had been beyond absurd. Before he pressed send, he looked at Anastacia, smiled, and thought about Patton’s smile and adorable giggle. Only one thought occupied his mind. Ann looked at him and voiced it:

“Yeah, this is love.”

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amzyspinkarch · 5 years ago

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Cut Style- Cavendish x Plus Size Reader

You have been taking calls, sending and responding to emails all day, tracking down clients or important people whom your supervisor wish to speak with. Packing boxes and having packages sent out to call for a messenger service, including taking your supervisor's dog for a walk and getting her lunch and coffee.

To say it's been a stressful day would be an understatement. One would think three months in the internship, you would be used to the chaos and bizarre yet normal in this industry's eyes, errands. You look to your list for the next upcoming phone calls to be made. A sigh escapes as you lean your head onto the chair, closing your eyes for a moment of peace.

That peace did not last very long as 'everyone's favourite blonde' as you like to call him, graced you with his presence. You sigh picking up his scent from his very expensive perfume.

''I bring you both my presence and coffee and this is the lacklustre reaction I get?'' he pauses waiting for a response, yet none came

''Y/n!'' he snapped. You involuntarily flinched before collecting yourself, lazily opening one of your eyes. A dark brown iris meets his pools of sky blue.

''Hi" you lazily greet your co-worker and sit up to give him the attention he so loves. Your eyes roll on the thought ''What do you want cabbage?'' you ask rudely with a smirk knowing the nickname always gets on his nerves. It works best when you want him to get out of your space. Though, it's not too hard to when the other females here flock to him granting you an escape.

He puts the coffee down on the desk giving you an annoyed look. You squint at the beverages not trusting this sneaky son a bitch one bit after the last stunt he pulled. A memory from your earlier time here at Marie Clare plays.

The first time you are introduced to everyone, you felt a swarm of butterflies in your stomach as your nerves almost got the best of you. You were only able to nod, smile and shake hands of your new co-workers who were all smiles. Your day went on being given a tour, introducing you to your supervisor and shadowing.

During the upcoming months, you've taken on every task given to you without complaint and executing each with the standard required. Day in and day out you prove yourself to your supervisor and the magazine. There were days where you missed lunch and had a lousy dinner while handling more business before crashing and waking the next to repeat.

An entire day was filled with taking calls, running small errands, dressing the models and fetching accessories and providing the staff with snacks and beverages. You catch sight of Cavendish busy styling one of the models. The pair seemed to be flirting with each other or having a fun conversation judging by the smiles on each's face. For some reason, you couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious. Why? You started your journey of self-love and acceptance so why break that for a couple of strangers? 'Are you strangers though?' your mind asks. You shake your head getting it back into the game. This is not what you worked your ass off for, to seek the attention of a guy.

Your impeccable ability to style, dressing mannequins, selecting and coordinating outfits, colours and accessories for display, draping and pinning fabric, your work discipline has started becoming the talk of the workplace reaching the ears of a certain blonde. Your talent being compared to his were the wrong words to hear. The fact that you are good and becoming the centre of attention was eating him up inside and he didn't like it.

You were busy between waiting for a call back from a client and styling a mannequin that you hadn't realized Cavendish coming your way with two coffees in his hand.

''Hi there'' he chirped you startled again from his presence and whipped around to face him. The first thing he noticed were your nude ombre glossed lips before your 90's inspired outfit adorning your body and beautiful dark skin. Alas, though you are a sight to see, that wasn't enough to soothe the bruises to the ego.

''You have to stop scaring me like that man. Seriously'' he gives a fake apologetic smile and hands you your coffee.

''I just wanted to come see about the girl who's the talk of the office. Your work has been...nice. It's nowhere as great as mine but.. .'

You accept the coffee raising an eyebrow ''is that so?''

''Qui. My style’s... c'est magnifique. Your work is decent though.''

''Thanks for the coffee, we should do this again next time.'' You give a blank face looking at up at the tall male. He chuckles and walks backwards with his hands raised.

''It was nice meeting you y/n'' he dismisses himself leaving you to huff at the audacity of him. You go back to work and forgot about the coffee for a minute before picking it up absentmindedly. While working on the mannequin, you take frequent sips of the liquid before your stomach started having a queasy feeling along with trips to the bathroom.

This was not good; you had a list of daily tasks to be completed. All essential for the magazine and failure to stay on top of your work could be disastrous for the magazine and you. You barely made it through the day completing tasks and to your apartment bathroom.

Having a break from releasing your bowels for a minute, you think about the events from the day. Your mind went to your moment with Cavendish as you became upset at the memory when it hit you. The assailant caused you to become both horrified and see red.

After you've overcome your sickness, you marched into work looking for the blonde finding him working on piece. It looked amazing what he had so far you admitted. Nevertheless, you had a mission. He was sitting at his desk hovering over a sketch lost in thought. You slammed your hands down on his desk gaining his attention as he looks up with the same sickening charming smile. How could he live with himself? You leaned towards him.

''You poisoned me with no care for consequence. What kind of sick person stoops that low? I'm not going to have you fired for this but a word of advice, if you want to take out your competition, do so with some class and not repulsive tricks like this. I worked my butt off for this internship; I'll succeed at getting this job full ti.-''

''I will personally make sure that you never get this job. You're not'' he pauses to look at your full figure ''fit'' you dryly chuckle

''Listen to me. I will not let some lacklustre, shallow, self-centred, my little pony looking ass bitch drive me out of the place which will become my future job. Cavendish...sweeties...you can go fuck yourself'' you straighten yourself before turning your back and walking out with grace.

You straighten yourself in your chair looking to Cavendish and give a closed-mouth smile. `"I'll pass on your death drinks Cavendish. Thank you.''

''That was a long time ag-'

''Don't...don't do that. Don't act like it was nothing big. You poisoned me and I should've reported you but I wasn't going to get you fired for being a jealous prissy pants.'' The blonde stares at you still surprised at how blunt you can be

''Do you ever listen to what you say?''

''My words are as blunt as both your words and actions. Don't act fazed, what I say is the truth. Anyways what did you want I'm busy'' he scoffs before leaning closer and your fingers kiss.

The attraction for each other is undeniable yet neither will be the first to start...anything. You already decided distractions aren't a luxury you could afford and any would be detrimental to all the hard work and time you've been putting in. You remind yourself that you are but an intern, desperately needing this job after college. You have no time to play house with someone who's foot is already in the door. Cavendish takes a moment briefly taking in your features and attire, appreciating everything before breaking up the moment.

''I came to give you some good news. I'm going to style a certain celebrity and I came to bring you coffee so you can celebrate with me before I go down to my fans..'' he says dreamily. You all but laugh at the male.

''Congratulations''

''You didn't let me finish''

''Oh there's more'' you say uninterested.

''Honestly, you are so brash. I also wished to let you know I have decided I'd let you shadow me. Or be my little helper. Amanda said that would be great for you and I. You learn from a great teacher and I, well... I show you what it's like being around greatness. Even now you are a witness as we converse.''

Your lips purse before you speak, words dripping with sarcasm ''Woow, really! Me? Oh, Cabbage I'm so honoured that you chose me to be one of your followers! I hope I can..make you proud'' you wink

''My gosh woman! Honestly y/n I'm trying to be nice here''

''You're being self-centred that's what but, that's very nice of you. I appreciate it. I would like to learn from you.''

"Thank you. See, you're already getting better at gratitude''

''Whatever little knowledge I need to know''

''I hope you fall down the stairs'' he says taking the coffees off your desk going to turn around

''Ha-ha I'm sorry Cavendish. Come back, I am grateful and thank you for the opportunity. I'm just not sure why you picked me?'' he releases a breath before turning to you again, his voluminous hair bounces with the movement.

''If you must know...I didn't entirely agree to this but I thought you'd actually need the opportunity. Plus, they've done this before with past interns. I was more so assigned with you really but I reluctantly agreed.'' You give him a face

''I said I agreed still didn't I?'' you shake your head chuckling involuntarily

''Fine Cavendish, I would actually love to learn from you as you have more experience than I and I'd need all the experience I can get. Just...can you promise not to sabotage me? No poisoning or anything'' you say looking at him pointedly as he rolls his eyes

''Fine y/n'' you firmly nod and put your hand out. He looks at it then into your dark brown eyes bemused. Nonetheless, he takes your hand and you shake once. You've surprised him more than he'd like to admit these past months. He's taken an interest in you even if he still despises the shared spotlight.

''Truce?'' you ask.

''Truce.'' He picks up the drinks up teasing you

''You get no coffee though''

''I didn't want that shit anyway. You probably wanted to poison me again you psycho.''

Without peeling his gaze, he takes a sip from the cup meant for you feeling the warm liquid wash down his throat, warming his insides. He licks his lips.

''Mm mocha.''

''Get the fuck out''

#one piece #op fanfic #one piece cavendish #one shot #black oc #black reader #one piece one shot #masterlist

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foreverbeingthunderbuddy · 6 years ago

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Two Spies, Two Missions [Part 1]

[Bucky Barnes Spy AU]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, sexual tension

Summary: An AU in which Bucky and the reader are both spies, Bond-style, but fight for different sides and meet at a gala for the very first time. They both have the same target but accepted very different missions. So naturally, everything goes wrong for both of them.

A/N: this is my entry for @itsbuckysworld’s 1k AU Writing Challenge, I picked prompt #24 from this list. Prompt is in bold. Congrats on 1k! Word count around 4,4k.

Masterlist | Part 2

Let’s not waste any time on unimportant background information. You’re in a rush anyway.

As a spy there’s only so much time you can spend on trivialities and starting out in the business, one learns pretty quickly how to shift their focus to what counts. Meaning the things that get you into the situation you need to be in or, and that’s even more important, the things that get you out of it.

A captured, imprisoned spy is worthless – not to forget dangerous – and is let loose by their employer immediately, the mission gets denied and has officially never even existed. The spy will be on their own.

You don’t want that. No one wants that. If a spy gets captured by enemies, torture is something that’s very, very likely to happen. Why? They want to see if they can get information out of you. Of course you got trained for those kind of situations but who knows how you would react, should that ever happen to you.

A good spy doesn’t spill, a spy with self-preservation does.

The former is a loss to the secret intelligence agency the spy is employed at, the latter is an even greater loss and a big threat to the secret intelligence agency the spy is employed at. Enemies with secret information they aren’t supposed to know are not to be underestimated.

So it’s clear, focus is everything and a reliable gut feeling doesn’t hurt either. But enough of that.

You tilt your head back and look up at the brightly-lit building in front of you. Tonight’s mission: eliminate Susan Ford.

She’s been in your employers’ business way too long now and news reached you she stepped in contact with your agency’s rival organisation, Rogers Investigations. They are like the New Yorkian answer to MI6 which puts them pretty high on the world list, except your people are better.

Of course they don’t agree with you on that. The government – who funds you and your employers by the way – neither agrees nor disagrees, and if you’re honest that’s what makes you cautious towards Rogers Investigations. If the government can’t make a clear statement about RI, there must be more to them than just an independently funded secret intelligence agency.

You still think your people are better than them though.

There were two possibilities how you could get this done. Get a fake invitation and faint being a guest. Or dress up as a waitress and pretend you’re staff. Seeing as the first one comes with a short, shiny dress and high-heels (not good for spy stuff), you decided on the second option. Black dress, white apron on the hip and flat, black vans. Perfect to be invisible.

You show the bouncer your fake ID and pass him with a smile, entering a small foyer, a door on the other side of the room leads to the backside of the kitchen. Aside from a couple of rushed-looking staff members, it’s relatively empty. You’re late.

Without hesitation, you enter the kitchen and walk to the front where you suspect the waiters to be. You don’t get disappointed. As subtle as possible you join a nervous group of chatting men and women, all wearing black; the women in dresses, the men in suit shirts and pants. Some of them give you curious looks when you approach but they lose interest just as fast. Good.

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention please?” A woman suddenly booms from a couple of steps away. Every conversation immediately stops and heads swing around. She must be in her mid-forties, has her long red hair in a low ponytail and wears a blue satin dress that goes to mid-calves. Your eyes cut to her shiny, silver high-heels before wandering back up to her stressed face.

“Calvin already gave you a run down about this part of the evening, I suppose, so I expect you know what to do.” Ummm. “The first group is already serving drinks. Everyone go to your positions and start doing your job, please, before this goes downhill. Calvin told me you know about the important people of tonight, high-society, high-maintenance. If one of them ever happens to be without a drink in their hand, someone is gonna get fired, I want to make that clear beforehand. Any questions?”

Of course no one dares to ask a question after that mini-speech and even if someone wanted to, the woman doesn’t wait for anyone to raise their hand and turns on her heels.

“Go now! It’s showtime.”

With that she disappears behind a door that likely leads to the ballroom. Your “colleagues” don’t waste any time and jump to the counter on the left and you follow them. Another kitchen staff member hands out trays with champagne flutes on them and without even looking at you, he shoves one into your face.

“Go, go, go!” He barks and looks like he’s about to pass out. You have a snappy comment on the tip of your tongue but you hold it back and turn to the door. This is just a mission, not a real job, Y/N, relax.

The ballroom is one of the most glamourous locations you have ever seen. Glitter, gold, lights, marble, silver everywhere. It’s almost too much to take in. There’s a huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling, looking more expensive than you are probably worth and there is a modern waterfall on the wall on the other side of the room. You can even see a little fountain, a marble figure in the middle dominates this extravagant scene and is framed by exotic looking plants.

The room is packed with fancy people.

There are colourful gowns and robes and mini dresses wherever you look, shiny high-heels, lush jewellery and lavish hairstyles. You can hear jazz music coming from a small orchestra on the right. This is crazy.

You snap out of your mini-trance and start to move through the room. Time to find Susan Ford.

Not to blow your cover, you offer champagne to guests here and there but you hold out your eyes to scan the room the whole time. There are so many people here, how in the hell are you going to find Susan?

You know how she looks, you’ve seen pictures. Dark skin, brown eyes, blonde-dyed hair Ombré-style. You don’t know her attire but you figured she is someone who wouldn’t go unnoticed. As you look around you, you quickly realize that mindset was a mistake.

Your tray is empty now and for every normal waitress it’d be time to go back and get new glasses but you don’t bother doing that and continue to stroll through the room. She has to be somewhere, doesn’t she?

“Y/N?” You can’t help but jump a little at the sudden voice in your ear.

It’s Tom, your coordinator, who is sitting in the control room and is assigned to several missions that are going down tonight. If this was a bigger thing, you would be in contact with someone from the agency every second but in comparison it’s a rather small mission, so Tom only checks in on you occasionally. There’s also the option to contact him but you don’t know how he could help you right now.

“Yes?” You answer quietly and dodge a young couple that makes their way over to the enormous bar.

“Everything alright?”

“Yup. I’m in the ballroom, everyone thinks I’m a waitress. I haven’t found my target yet though.”

That revelation is followed by a short silence and you turn your head and let your eyes wander over the crowd.

“Susan Ford?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, wait a second.”

You can’t hear what he is doing but you guess he’s tipping something into his computer. After a couple of seconds he seems to have found something.

“There aren’t any pictures online yet but Glitz Images already have some in their private archive. They should go online in a couple of hours.” You don’t ask how he managed to hack Glitz Images that fast and you also don’t care. “I found her pictures. Yellow dress, hair in a high bun, oh – and it looks like she changed her hair colour. She’s parts in blue now.”

That’s why you didn’t find her! She changed her look. Damn it, you thought the pictures were recent.

“Must have done that late yesterday or today, our pictures are from yesterday morning” Tom adds and you can practically hear him lean back.

“Thanks, Tom. You saved me. I thought I had to spend the entire night at this thing” You say and start moving again, now looking for a yellow dress and blue hair. Shouldn’t be that hard.

“Oh, poor thing. Must be hard to drink champagne and walk on literal gold, I feel you. Sara is in Atlanta, clearing out a small drug cartel. She could use some champagne right now.”

Irgh. Atlanta’s drug cartels are disgusting. Poor Sara.

“I’m not drinking champagne, I’m serving it. I’m not part of the fun here, Tom, you should see these people. I’m a peasant to them” You say but can’t stop the smile on your face, “Tell Sara I’m thinking of her.”

You can hear Tom’s laugh through the earpiece.

“You shouldn’t make fun of her, Y/N, I don’t think we need a repeat of Thurs-“

“Tom, I found her! Sorry, I gotta go!” You burst out as a huge yellow dress catches your eyes, accompanied by dark blue hair in a bun. There she is, Susan Ford. Finally.

“Okay, then. Good luck!”

“Thanks.” You don’t hear him disconnect but you know he’s gone.

Your target stands approximately 50 feet away from you and is surrounded by five people. Two women and three men. They seem to have a lively conversation which is perfect. The more distraction, the better. She also doesn’t have a glass in her hand. You memorize their location and quickly walk back to the kitchen.

There are several ways to do this. Shoot her in the bathrooms, shoot her in the hallway (when no one else is there), shoot her in the car when she leaves or poison her. You want to get this done as fast as possible, so you decide on trying to poison her first. Good thing you’re the waitress with complete access to her drinks.

You enter the kitchen, walk to the counter and pick a new tray with full champagne flutes. The guy who previously handed them out to you is gone, probably busy cooking and fighting against a mental breakdown – judging from how he looked.

You need to be fast, right now you’re the only waitress here. You pull out a tiny phial filled with a clear liquid and open it. It’s created to completely mingle with the additional substance to not raise any attention on different colours or consistence. You empty the phial in one of the glasses and put it back.

No second later the door opens and two waiters walk in, chatting, and grab two trays. You smile at them like you just didn’t put poison into the champagne and leave the kitchen with your murder weapon.

Approaching Susan Ford and friends, you take a deep breath and pull out your friendliest smile. Now is the moment that counts. She’s been messing with your people, deliberately, so she must know that she is being watched to a certain degree. Maybe she even suspects an attack like this or maybe she underestimates you in that regard.

Nevertheless, if Susan gets any suspicions that you aren’t that friendly or well-intentioned, she might not bite. And then you will have to shoot her and her bodyguards that she likely brought here. You’re only a couple of feet away when you take in her company.

The two women are dressed to the nines, glittery, short dresses with lots of cleavage, dangerous looking high-heels, heavy jewellery and make-up that passes a normal Smokey Eye. They look ready to walk red carpets and they fit in with the decorations of the ballroom perfectly.

The three men all look dapper in their suits. Two of them have blonde hair, one short, one a little longer, and the third one has black hair, even though he might as well be a dark brunette. He catches your eyes the second you get a better look at his appearance.

He has piercing blue eyes, a clean-shaved face, his hair is pulled back in quite a Casanova way and the top buttons of his white suit shirt are undone. If you weren’t such a badass agent, you’d be weak in the knees right now. Suddenly, his eyes meet yours.

You quickly look away and focus on your target who you can see in a side profile and who is engaged in an animated conversation with one of the blonde guys. You calm your nerves and step to the group.

“Good evening” You say in your best I’m-completely-innocent voice and shoot Susan a bright smile, all eyes cut to you, “Ma’am, I noticed you didn’t have a glass in your hand and I have strict orders not to let that happen. If I may.”

You pick a “random” glass and hand it to her which she attempts to accept smiling happily but all of a sudden a hand from the left shoots out and takes the glass from you. Sexy dark-haired guy holds the champagne in his hand and inspects you from head to toe. His eyes look alert.

“Excuse me, sir?” You say, trying to stay friendly and professional. Which is hard.

“I’m sorry, Miss Ford underlies strict safety precautions. I will take this one. She can have another one” He says, his voice deep and alluring. Shit. He must be her bodyguard. He must know something. Shit shit.

You keep a slight smile on your face – professional waitress who doesn’t know anything about secret intelligence agencies – and turn to Miss Ford. She doesn’t look surprised, she looks expectant.

“Okay, no problem. Here’s another one for you, Miss” You purr and hand her a second glass. She takes it from you, says a quick Thank You and turns back to her conversational partner.

Keep your cool, Y/N, don’t let it show!

You throw a quick glance around the group. The dark-haired guy watches you closely and you would lie if you said it doesn’t make you nervous.

“Can I offer some champagne to anyone else here? Miss?” You ask for good measure. Miss Dangerously Pointed High-Heel simply shakes her head and proceeds to ignore you. Okay, then, bitch. Time to go.

Without sparing Sexy Bodyguard another look, you turn around and walk to a different group, offering them a drink. You can feel his eyes burn into your back. He knows something. He wouldn’t have taken that one glass from you and let her have a different one if he didn’t know something was up. You endeavoured to make the glass picking look as random as possible but apparently he didn’t buy it.

Which means you’re a potential threat to him now. Which also means, poisoning Susan Ford isn’t an option anymore and shooting her is the only way. Shit.

You empty your tray quickly and walk back to the kitchen. You need a second in private to contact Tom and inform him about the newest status of your mission but you can’t do it in the ballroom because Sexy Bodyguard is likely watching you from now on and you don’t know where his men are. If one of them sees you talk to air, they’ll know you’re undercover.

You put down the tray on the counter and look around you. Nobody even notices your presence. Excellent.

Without making a sound, you walk out a backdoor leading into a hallway. You reach a corner, go around it and stand against the wall. You peak down the hallway you came from before leaning back and pushing a button on your earpiece.

“Tom?”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“My target has a bodyguard. I prepared a poisoned drink for her but her bodyguard intervened and made me give her a different one. He knows something, Tom. I don’t know if my cover is blown but I definitely have company now” You quickly explain, eager to keep your voice down in case someone passes by.

Short silence, then “Shit.”

“I just wanted to tell you that, should something happen, she was with three guys, two blondes – short and longer hair – and a brunette – longer, chin-length hair, I can’t say for certain though ‘cause he pulled it back. They all have blue eyes. I have never seen them before.”

“Did one of them have a metal arm?”

“What?”

“Did one of them have a metal arm? Did the dark-haired one have a metal arm, Y/N?”

What kind of question is that??

“I, um … I don’t know, I didn’t see it. I only saw a flesh hand. Why?”

“Susan Ford stepped in contact with Rogers Investigations. You know that. It’s very likely she suspects an attack like this and hired bodyguards from them. Those being secret agents. No normal bodyguard would have caught on to you that quickly, so I’m guessing they’re Rogers’ men. One of them is known to have a metal arm. Understand?”

“Oh. Oh wow, okay” You mumble. You should have known that. You didn’t. How embarrassing.

“Where ar… now?” There are sudden noises coming through the earpiece, like the connection is breaking off. You put a hand to your ear.

“What? What did you say?”

“…ere are … need to know … now.”

Shit. This is not happening right now. Why tonight?

“Tom, the connection is breaking off, I can’t understand you. Maybe I shou-“ You start but get interrupted by a hand grabbing your wrist and twisting it behind your back and another one shoving you into the wall, face first. You feel the person press their body against yours to prevent all options of escape and you’re completely captured.

You try to break free but whoever is holding you, is stronger. He doesn’t even move an inch.

“You and I have a problem.”

You recognize the low voice in your ear immediately. It��s dark-haired Sexy Bodyguard. Goddammit.

“Sexual harassment is indeed a problem” You return and pray to all the gods out there that Tom will come back to you.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, darling. I’m talking about this spy thing.”

“What spy thing?”

You can’t see his face but you can feel him tighten his grip on your wrist.

“Don’t play dumb, I just heard you talk to your coordinator. You tried to poison my client” He growls, his breath on your ear gives you goosebumps. Stupid body, get yourself together!

“I know our champagne is not the best out there but I wouldn’t call it poison either, sir, maybe you’re being a little dramatic-“

“Agent Y/L/N, I know who you work for and I know you got assigned to Miss Ford. Please save us some time and tell me why you tried to kill her. I don’t have the patience for this.”

“Your short temper is not my problem” You clip back because you can’t help yourself and wait for his reaction. He hesitates for a second, probably going through his options that don’t include you being dead and then you feel his thumb on your wrist lightly brushing over your skin. You freeze. Not the decision you expected from him.

“I know you tried to kill her because she’s been all in your employers’ business the past months but I was actually giving you an opportunity to lie your way out of this. Miss Ford came to us for help and I think you understand I can’t just let you go after your little murder attempt” He explains, his face seemingly coming even closer, you can feel it.

It makes you hella nervous. You’re a trained, experienced secret agent but one good-looking guy holds you against a wall and you’re nervous. Perfect.

You decide to remain silent. The finger on your wrist still caresses your skin. Extraordinary interrogation technique.

“You’re probably wondering why your friend’s connection broke off. Radio-interfacing. Good to corner someone.”

So it was him. Isn’t that just great. You still don’t say anything.

“You know I have to bring you to my headquarters if you don’t talk” He says, using his alluring voice on you. You know it’s a lie. He won’t take you to his headquarters if you don’t talk, he will take you there anyway.

You wait. One second, two seconds, five seconds, ten…

You hear a sigh. “Okay then.” And then you hear the unmistakable noise of handcuffs. That’s when you start to shove against him, try to free your wrist, pull away, anything. He holds you in place effortlessly and presses the hand with the handcuffs between your shoulder blades.

“Wanna talk now?”

“Never.”

Another clink of the cuffs, a sudden cool feeling of metal on the free skin of your arm.

“Do I get a wish before you bring me away?” You ask, sounding much cockier than you feel. In fact, your insides are turning upside down, your heart is beating in your throat and your breath is going flat. You’ve never been captured by another organisation because you’ve never been this stupid. Also, maybe it should be mentioned … you haven’t been a spy for that long and it … just never happened.

The agent hesitates, the cuffs rest against your skin.

“You get three wishes darling, use them well.”

Whoa! Does he mean it? Does he really?? Three wishes?

“Let me go” You say, well knowing he won’t do it but why not try. You hear him snort and feel his thumb start brushing your skin again. He really needs to stop doing that or you’ll get yourself into bigger trouble than you need it.

“Nope. That was number one.”

Shit.

Second try. “Tell me your name.”

You expect him to deny that one as well but despite his previous behaviour, he doesn’t miss a beat. “Agent James Buchanan Barnes. Employed at Rogers Investigations, Field agent. Obviously.”

Obviously. The amount of information he is willing to share surprises you and his name … his name rings a bell. Barnes. You have heard that before. You think one of your bosses has mentioned him in a meeting, mostly when discussing Rogers Investigations, figures. You ignore the fact that the side of your face is flat against the wall and think of a third wish.

“I told you this because I just want you to know who exactly has you pressed to his body in an empty hallway and also what the name of your new target is that you will come after as soon as I let you go.”

Did he just say what you think he just said? He will let you go? But didn’t he say he wouldn’t let you go? Maybe he is playing games with you. Will he really let you go??

“Will you let me go?” You ask, sounding very hopeful and not as badass as you wish you would. His face comes closer again, the hand from your upper back disappears and your hair gets softly brushed from your shoulder and tugged behind your ear. Breathe, Y/N!

“Is that wish number three?” He asks lowly and you think you can make out the blue of his eyes out of the corner of your eye.

“Yes.”

For a couple of seconds none of you moves. You can feel his chest rise and sink as he fights an internal battle and finally comes to a decision. You hear a noise and know the handcuffs disappeared.

“Under two conditions” He says and grabs both of your upper arms, so you won’t move but honestly? At this point he doesn’t even have to hold you tight, you’re way too cautious to move anyway.

“Okay?”

“I want you to quit this mission and forget that Susan Ford ever existed. Your bosses will probably assign someone else but you don’t have anything to do with this anymore. I’d rather fight your colleagues than you.”

What does one say to that? If one is in a situation like this, one says Okay.

“Okay” You breathe out and wait for the other condition.

“And I want you to be the one to come after me when your bosses seek retribution for this failed mission and they think they need to send someone to intimidate me” He says and now both of his thumbs caress your upper arms, one of which feels colder than the other and harder. Like metal. It makes you nervous and a little dizzy and you don’t know how to effectively clap back at his cocky demands.

“It’s not in my power” You mumble.

“Well, then try to come up with a plan, darling. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Hmpf. You’re not going to do that but he doesn’t need to know. All you want is to get out of here. So you nod.

“Okay.”

Instead of letting you go, he waits. You don’t know why. And then you hear what sounds like a low chuckle.

“You know I can tell when someone is lying.”

You freeze. Before you can return something, he squeezes your arms.

“Don’t move.”

You hold still. Both of his hands disappear and you feel him step back. Your heart starts beating faster at the opportunity of escape.

“Don’t move” He orders again. You obey. He seems to rummage around in the pockets of his suit and then, “Darling, this is going to be so much fun.”

And then he is gone.

The second you realize he’s not behind you anymore, you twirl around and look around the corner. Empty. Holy fucking shit.

“Y/N? Y/N?? Please answer me! Oh god, I hope you’re not dead! Oh shit!!”

“Tom?”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, Y/N, ARE YOU ALIVE??”

“Tom, I’m okay! Calm down, I’m okay! I just … I had a little … I, um.” You look around the corner again, “I’m fine.”

****

Forever Tags: @izzy-the-teawitch @wowpeterparker @brightcolorsoffendme @strangequakson @rosegoldquintis @thirdwheelchurchill @hazel-eyed-bi @goldenkillmonger @yourwonderbelle @hawaiiantozier @irondadandspidersoncute @thirtiethnovember @fancyfangirl-style @appalo0 @lionheo04

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jahaanofmenaphos · 6 years ago

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Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

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QUEST 01: THE TEMPLE KNIGHTS

QUEST SUMMARY:

After a troll attack on Burthorpe, Jahaan’s superiors take an interest in him and send him off to Sir Tiffy with the aim of making him a Temple Knight. However, it’s not as easy as signing on the dotted line…

CHAPTER 1: TROLL INVASION

“INCOMING!”

The cry echoed through the town like a gunshot. Instantly, the dreary principality of Burthorpe was alive and kicking.

Jahaan Alsiyad-Abut was on his bed at the time, resting his feet over a book he’d borrowed from his bunkmate: ‘The Ghastly Grimoire’, a collection of short (supposedly true) ghost stories. Horror wasn’t too much his forte, but good literature was hard to come by at the military base.

However, as soon as as he heard the deafening bellow from the major, ‘By the Light of the Moon’, the collection’s fourth tale, became the furthest thing from his mind.

It was the second raid of the fortnight, the fifth of the month, and by now, Jahaan knew the drill like clockwork. He slipped into his iron plate armour and platelegs within half a minute, then adorning a half-helm to cover his head. From beside his bunk, he grabbed his steel shortsword and iron square shield.

The soldiers were trained with either a shortsword and claws, or a bow and arrow. Melee fighters had to be trained in very close-quarters combat, with an emphasis on accuracy, so claws were favoured. Jahaan got along with the claws just fine, but definitely felt more at home with a blade in his hand.

When he dashed out of his tent, still fiddling with his gloves, he saw a brightly coloured man just a few tents over, juxtaposing the dismal surroundings of the military camp. Burthorpe was a very grey town - the climate meant that for most of the year the place was overcast, shrouded in thick clouds, occasionally drenching the place in rain, just to make it look that much more miserable. Today was one of those days. The brightly coloured man, however, did not seem phased by the dark, or the cold, or the wind or the rain, despite him wearing clothes much more suited to desert climates.

With a grin, Jahaan hurried over to the only man he knew to be that inappropriate in his attire.

“Ozan!” Jahaan exclaimed when he was in earshot.

Ozan turned from the conversation he was engaged in and, upon seeing Jahaan trot over to him, met the man in the middle with a tight embrace. “Jahaan, my man!”

Ozan was a fairly tall gentlemen with a smile that exuded charisma, brightening up even the most miserable of places; he was like a glowing candle in the middle of Burthorpe, a flame that could never be extinguished. His skin was slightly dark, like Jahaan’s, showing his desert origins. An expertly crafted bow was strung over his shoulders, with a large quiver of arrows to accompany it.

“What are you doing here?” Jahaan asked as they released their embrace.

“I was seeing a man about a herb in Taverly, and thought I’d come up to see if you were still alive. Turns out you are! Bravo!”

Hoping the trolls could wait another minute, Jahaan continued, “When did you get here, then? You timed it about right.”

“Crackerjack timing is my style. I literally just got here, and was about to come looking for you, but these fine gentlemen said they hadn’t had a drink in about three weeks, and I just HAD to help their poor souls. Now though, I think I’ll stay for the fun.”

One of the aforementioned soldiers, who was securing his arm guards, asked, “How do you two know each other?”

Ozan grinned. “It’s a long story. Ancient pyramids, lost treasure that turned out to be a bloke… I’ll tell you all about it once we make it out of this nuisance.”

“IF we make it out,” the soldier corrected, crossing himself.

“Oh, not if, WHEN. I’m not dying today.”

Jahaan shook his head in despair. “You really haven’t heard of not tempting fate, have you?”

Ozan winked, taking his bow from over his shoulders. “That would only slow me down,” he hopped over the barricade and joined the line of rangers who were readying themselves for the impending assault.

Twisting his steel shortsword around his hands a few times and gripping tightly onto his shield, Jahaan exhaled deeply, before running to the frontline.

There were three main fronts the trolls attacked on - east, west and centre. They never were all that coordinated with their attacks and sometimes only attacked one front per raid. Even then, they didn’t pool all their resources into it. Well, what little resources they had. Trolls had numbers that far outweighed what the Imperial Guard managed, but they were outclassed and outweaponed by their human opponents. Despite the numbers advantage, this was rarely utilised; sometimes trolls attacked with only a dozen to their ranks. The working theory was, legitimately, that a few of them got bored and began to cause a ruckus, trying to invade the town for the sheer hell of it.

The brutes were Bandosian, through and through, revelling in war and bloodshed. Bandos, being the War God that all trolls worshipped. Even in his absence of Gielinor, his presence was still felt in the chaos his followers caused.

Jahaan was on centre front, the main one, where the original horn had been blown from. So far, no other horns from the other battlements had sounded, meaning it didn’t look like the trolls were attempting a two-pronged attack today.

With about a dozen rangers on the battlements, another six back by the castle wall, and two dozen melee fighters on the frontline, all soldiers braced themselves for the attack.

The battlefield was fought in a small valley, surrounded by rocky mountains at either side, leading up to the Death Plateau. It provided a decent defence in that it streamlined where the trolls could attack from, but at the same time it concentrated their focus onto one small area that lead up to the battlements. On this dismal day, rain was already pouring from the grey skies, creating puddles in the uneven graveled ground beneath them.

Major Rancour stood atop the battlements, looking through her telescope as the trolls advanced. They didn’t have long. Clearing her throat, she drew her shortsword, held it high into the air, and shouted, “They want to burn our homes! They want to destroy our farmland and kill our loved ones! They will not succeed today! Every troll that falls is a crack in the glass house of the troll kingdom, and soon, they will all fall!”

Soldiers all around Jahaan cheered and screamed with bloodlust in their eyes, gripping their weapons tightly as the trolls rounded the final corner, led by the one they knew as General Morningstar.

He stood at twelve feet tall, his rock-covered body a natural armour, only leaving a few sensitive areas of bare flesh that the soldiers knew to target. Yellow and blue warpaint was haphazardly painted across his chest, though it didn’t resemble anything in particular. It seemed like he had small strands of grass growing out of the top of his head; his face sported two huge buck teeth at the front, guarding a large mouth that could devour a man with ease.

With an earth shattering roar, Morningstar motioned for his trolls to attack.

Morningstar’s battlecry couldn’t be matched by all the soldiers on the battlefield, but they gave it a damn good try, charging into battle and engaging the first troll that grunted in their direction.

Fortunately, these trolls were not gifted with the size and stature of their general, most of them standing at between four and six feet. They relied on brawn over brains, and due to their size, agility and speed were their weaknesses - the soldiers knew to keep moving, to get behind their opponent when they could, and aim for the softer skin located on the troll’s belly, the back of their neck, and at the arm and leg joints.

“SHIELDS!”

Jahaan didn’t know where the shout was coming from, but instincts kicked in; quickly, he dropped to his knees, his sword falling from his grip as he did so, in order for him to use both hands to brace his iron shield above his head. Every soldier did the same in unison, right as a barrage of rocks came raining down from the sky. It was the crude ariel assault from the trolls. In actuality, it did just as much harm as good, as more often than not the rocks would take out one of their own rank instead of a Burthorpe soldier. Each and every rock than dented his shield caused Jahaan to groan and wince - it wasn’t easy pushing back against that weight, but he survived. As soon as the all clear was given, he swiftly swooped his sword back up into his hands and cut through the first troll he saw, penetrating the soft area of his flesh with ease.

It didn’t take long before the majority of the troll foot soldiers were disposed of, leaving only their general.

Morningstar picked up a large boulder and launched it across the battlefield, over the heads of all the foot soldiers and straight into the castle walls. It shattered on impact, crashing large and heavy fragments down on the unprotected rangers, one of them Ozan, who fell to the ground, buried under the rocks. Seeing this, Jahaan went to rush to his side, before Rancour yanked him back by the sleeve of his uniform and motioned in the direction of Morningstar, who was roaring in a frenzy.

“Him first,” she ordered, holding her sword aloft, before charging towards the troll general. Jahaan followed in hot pursuit. When they got close, Morningstar pummelled the ground, causing a shockwave that sent the two of them tumbling to the floor, but they scurried away before the general could capitalise. Rancour swung for the softer flesh of the troll, but Morningstar twisted in time, causing the blade to ricochet off his rocky exterior. Jahaan went for a swing to the head, but Morningstar used his large arm to deflect the blow, throwing a punch at Jahaan in retaliation, who just about managed to roll out of the way to avoid impact. Fortunately, this distraction was enough to allow Rancour to land a significant cut on the kneecap of the general. Morningstar crumbled onto one knee, roaring in pain and fury. He swiped at Rancour with such force that the woman was sent flying back a good thirty feet, landing in a heap near the battlements. Just as Morningstar was about to turn his attention to Jahaan, the troll was too late; Jahaan stabbed his longsword deep into the trolls gut, twisting the blade inside, a fatal wound. He cut diagonally down as he removed the bloodstained sword; swaying and staggering, the troll then collapsed to the ground, breathing his final breath.

Major Rancour picked herself up from the ground, dusted herself off, and called out, “You injured, corporal?”

“No ma’am,” Jahaan exhaled, trying to catch his breath. He wiped the sweat from his brow. “Has anyone checked on Ozan?”

Emerging from the rubble, Ozan rubbed the back of his head and said, “You guys looked like you had everything under control. I thought I’d just hang back for a bit…”

As soon as the young man was in range, Jahaan punched Ozan in the arm. “Don’t you scare me like that again,” his scolding was light, too wrapped up in relief. “I thought we’d lost you there.”

“Ha! It takes more than that to take down-, wait do you hear that?”

It was faint, muffled, but there was the unmistakable sound of…

“Crying?” Jahaan ventured, confused. Looking around, he didn’t see any of his comrades breaking into tears, and it sounded more like a child than any adult.

From behind Morningstar’s corpse, a small, rock-like creature crawled out from a nearby boulder. It weaved its way under Morningstar’s massive arm, up to his large head, and looked into his lifeless eyes. It’s tiny little arms shivered as its disproportionate head nudged Morningstar’s, trying to will the general to wake up. After a few futile attempts, the little creature began to quiver, breaking down into more quiet, whimpering sobs.

The major’s shoulders sagged; she bit her lip, sighing. “Morningstar must’ve been its father. I wish trolls wouldn’t always take their children on raids like this…”

One of the soldiers took his bow from over his shoulders and readied an arrow, but his heart wasn’t in it. “It’s a troll… shouldn’t we…”

Taking one look into the round, beady eyes of the baby troll, Jahaan was quick to dispel such an idea. “We can’t kill it, look at it - it can’t be more than a week old.”

Slowly, he edged closer to the baby troll, trying to appear as unthreatening as possible. He was rather unsuccessful, as the troll jumped in fright and hid behind his father’s arm, trembling.

“Hey little fella, don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” his voice was as soft as cotton wool. Crouching low, he held his hands out in a gesture of peace, not that the troll would be able to comprehend such things. It wasn’t likely he knew much of the common tongue, either. However, there was a universal language he knew the troll would be able to understand. Turning back to Ozan, he asked, “What do you have in your satchel?”

Snapping to attention, Ozan quickly rummaged through the contents of his shoulder bag. “Umm some wine, a dagger, a map, some coal, some rum, a scarf, some different wine…”

Rolling his eyes, Jahaan said, “Gimme the coal.”

Ozan carefully made his may over to Jahaan, trying not to frighten the troll any further. Handing over the coal, Jahaan then held out his hand, and offered the coal to the troll. “Food?”

At this, the troll’s eyes lit up. “Food!” it squeaked, gulping down the small lumps in one go. It wriggled and danced in happiness as the coal slipped down, its eyes shining with delight.

Jahaan felt his heart grow three sizes that day. “Look at him, look how cute he is!”

Ozan plucked up the courage to kneel down beside Jahaan, his face a picture of warmth. “He is rather adorable. Look at his little leaf sticking out of his head, and his little troll pants, and his little pacifier… awwww!”

The major shook her head at the two men cooing over the little creature, but she couldn’t help but crack a smile. “If you two love him that much, why don’t you just adopt him?”

Jahaan and Ozan shared a look, which caused the major to correct, “No, I wasn’t serious!”

Ozan grinned. “Do you think he could handle my heroic adventures?”

“You can barely handle your heroic adventures,” Jahaan chuckled in reply. Looking down at the fidgeting baby troll, Jahaan smiled and crossed his legs, inviting the baby troll into his lap. Eagerly, the troll shuffled up to him and cuddled into his thigh. “What’s your name, little fella?”

The troll’s face screwed up. “Name?”

“Trolls are named after the first thing they try to eat,” Major Rancour piped up. “Is that the first thing you’ve eaten, little one?”

The troll nodded, his little arms reaching out for more food. Ozan fished out one last lump of coal from his satchel, which the troll scoffed down, greedily. “Then his name is Coal!”

“Coal!” the troll echoed. “Me Coal! Me want foooooood!”

Jahaan laughed, putting a hand on Ozan’s shoulder. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, old friend.”

Jahaan and Ozan were busy enjoying the cute faces Coal was pulling when, from behind them, came a shout:

“Corporal Alsiyad-Abut?”

Jahaan turned around, squinting his eyes to find the source. A lanky man on the battlements holding a note seemed to fit the bill. “That’s me.”

“Commander Denulth wants to see you in his tent.”

Warily, Jahaan and Ozan exchanged worried glances, the former biting back a gulp. With a quick dart of his eyes to Major Rancour, Jahaan saw that she knew nothing about this, worrying him further. In all his time in the Imperial Guard, Jahaan had only a few run-ins with the Commander, none of them pleasant.

Bracing himself, Jahaan climbed up the rope ladder and navigated through the maze of tents before coming across where Commander Denulth was based.

“Come in,” the commander grunted when Jahaan appeared at the doorway.

Commander Denulth was a tall, well-built gentlemen, with a small grey moustache and beard combination. His bald head bounced light off it, creating shadow puppets on his dome from the candles. Sturdy steel shoulderplates and arm guards covered his black tunic, the mark of the Imperial Guard emblazoned on the centre. From the waist downwards he was covered in continuous steel, capping off in spike-toed boots. When Jahaan entered the tent, his gruff demeanour only grew tenser, his narrow eyes regarding the young corporal with the same disdain he seemed to hold for everyone and everything, even rabbits. It was a face only a mother could love.

“Sit down,” he ordered, his low voice gravelly. Immediately, Jahaan obeyed.

Denulth had taken his seat over the other side of his pristine oak desk, picking up a few papers and proceeding to read through them in silence. All the while, Jahaan fumbled his fingers, unsure where to focus his eyes. It felt wrong to stare directly at the commander, but then again, was it rude to look elsewhere? Would that give the impression he was bored? That he wished he could be anywhere else? While the latter might be true - Denulth was a rather imposing man, one you never wanted to be stuck alone with - he didn’t want that to come across. So, instead, he resigned to straighten his shoulders and look at the small hole in the fabric of the tent behind Denulth’s shiny head. While the commander flicked through his papers in agonising silence, occasionally signing a few, Jahaan pretended to imagine all the wonders that could be going on through that little hole in the fabric.

They could be holding a celebration? They’d dealt a significant blow in the war against the trolls, after all. Or maybe, slightly more morbid, they’re tending to the wounded through there? Or maybe an evil tree has just spring from the ground and a panicked little leprechaun is freaking out about it? It wouldn’t be the first time.

It had been five minutes. Has he forgotten about me? Jahaan wondered. I’m right here. Like, there’s no way he can’t see me in his peripheral vision.

Then, the worry he’d kept at the back of his mind started to creep forward and say a friendly little ‘hello’. Am I in trouble? Jahaan wrestled through his memory, trying to make a list of all the things he’d done that he knew he shouldn’t have done. It can’t be about Coal. That JUST happened. Is he trying to psych me out? Is this some sort of intimidation tactic?

If it was, it was working.

“You’ve been here two years,” the commander stated, so suddenly that it startled Jahaan, causing him to jump. “Turnaround for recruits is usually six months. Why’d you stick around?”

It took too long for Jahaan to remember how his tongue worked, and that it was used to formulate words. Words, in turn, formulated sentences. Marvels of the common tongue.

The expectant, impatient glare Denult shot at him wasn’t helping him with this realisation. Eventually, he stammered a reply, “Burthorpe and Taverley are fine cities with a lot of innocent people. I wanted to do my part to protect them.”

Commander Denulth didn’t seem impressed. “Is that true?”

“Yes sir,” Jahaan lied. Well, for the most part.

“So you think yourself a hero, huh cadet?”

“No sir.”

“Is your story supposed to warm the cockles of my cold heart?”

“No sir.”

“Why’d you join up in the first place?”

Jahaan bit back the urge to smirk. “I wanted to become an excellent swordsman, like you, sir.”

“Oh, are you trying to flirt with me now, cadet?”

“No sir.”

“Good, then stop with the forced compliments, or you’ll make me change my mind.”

Jahaan blinked. “Forgive me, sir, change your mind about what?”

Commander Denulth replied, “I’m sending you to Sir Tiffy. Whether he makes you a Temple Knight or his shoe shiner is up to him.”

The Temple Knights! Inwardly, Jahaan gasped. He’d only heard tales about them, It took a beat before Jahaan could stumble through his thoughts well enough to reply, “I-I’m honoured sir, but why?”

Denulth grunted. “Don’t give me any false modesty princess bullshit. You’re better than most of the cadets here and you know it. I don’t like to see potential wasted on some Bandosian brutes.

Jahaan bit his lip, and against his better judgement, mentioned, “But sir, the Temple Knights are a Saradominist militia. I’m not a Saradominist.”

Denulth rolled his eyes, leaning forward on the desk, which caused Jahaan to lean backwards out of instinct. “All the shit’s I give about what god you pray to could fit into a thimble, cadet. If Tiffy’s smart, he’ll have the same view when it comes to new recruits.”

He took his seal and stamped the red wax onto a signed letter. Even though the wax was still dripping, he handed it over to Jahaan and said, “You leave at sunrise. When you see him, tell Tiffy to send over some more recruits. Those damn White Knights won’t allow conscription, but we need the warm bodies at the front.”

“Yes sir,” Jahaan bowed as he took the letter, and hurried to exit the tent while his head was still attached to his shoulders.

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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theinquisitivej · 6 years ago

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A Trio of Reviews – Catching up on Bumblebots, Peppy Maries, and the (Oscar) Favourite

I don’t go out to the cinema much in late December. I don’t drive, and I always visit family in a part of the country where a cinema isn’t exactly in walking distance. This hasn’t been much of a problem over the last few years, as there’s usually only one film out that I’m aching to see, and that’s often the one movie we all go out to see together. This most recent December though? It was nuts! All four of the big blockbusters that were playing were films I was interested in and excited to check out. Once the holidays were over, I had a lot of catching up to do. I’ve since seen all but one of the December releases (ironically enough the one I didn’t see was the one that, judging from its box office, everyone else went to go see – Aquaman), plus one other film that was weird, fascinating, and has been well received as a critical darling. So, here’s this week’s trio of reviews for The Favourite, Mary Poppins Returns, and Bumblebee, in the order I saw them in.

The Favourite

Artistically impressive but deliberately unpleasant.

The Favourite caught my attention when I first saw the trailer because it was a period drama that revelled in the fashion, the art, and the general finery of the early 18th Century, and yet the camera angles were strikingly different from what I’ve seen in other period dramas. The genre can be hit-of-miss for me, but every shot I saw in that trailer was doing something that interested me.

There’s a lot to chew on when it comes to the visual presentation of the film. Characters are often shot from low angles, and while this can make some characters seem confident and of noble stature, it also creates an uneasy feeling when we see people showing their vulnerability and flaws. Shooting people from this angle frames them as if they’re towering over the camera, and when you combine this with the magnificent attire on display, the visuals should, in theory, present the subject in their best light. But Queen Anne, played by the immeasurably skilled Olivia Colman, is often shown to be feeble and susceptible to manipulation from such angles, and we see many others be vulgar, cruel, and inhuman in ugly ways. The film shows a familiarity with the beautiful elegance of the film’s setting and other examples of the period drama, and it subverts your expectations time and time again by gradually turning your sympathies around on the characters you expect to like and expect to hate. It points the camera directly at the most horrible aspects of this world and its people, and there’s a strangely captivating quality to that. It’s ugly, but it’s magnetic as well.

The three performances at the heart of the film are what sustain your interest throughout The Favourite, because all three of the actresses are on top form. Emma Stone plays Abigail in a way that has her act very differently depending on who she’s talking with, showing just how hard she’s working to stay afloat in this world of politics where she’s at a disadvantage, giving a performance that keeps you guessing what her true nature is for much of the runtime. Rachel Weisz evokes such commanding authority and confidence as Lady Sarah, wearing each of her impressive outfits better than anyone else in the film because you believe that she deserves the station she’s acquired for herself, even if she is ruthless. Olivia Colman has taken a lot of the focus as Queen Anne, being the one to snag the ‘Best Actress in a Leading Role’ category while Stone and Weisz have been relegated to ‘Supporting Role’ nominations. All three of them equally deserve to be called leads, and to tell the truth, I’m pretty sure Queen Anne has less screen time than either of the other two protagonists. Nevertheless, all three of these actresses deserve praise for their performances in these leading roles, and Colman is no different; she expresses a wide range of emotions with sharp sincerity, always making her scenes uncomfortable to watch because you really feel like you’re in the room with someone having an emotional breakdown and you have no idea how to help them. These actresses are excellent and make The Favourite worth watching even without all the other impressive features the film has to offer on top of this.

The flipside of The Favourite doing so much to emphasise the rotten nature of this world and its characters is that, while the visuals and all the formal features of the film are praiseworthy, the final shape of the narrative has so little warmth to it that it leaves me feeling a little cold towards it. The film is a hundred percent committed to its vision of unflinchingly showing you the harsh ugliness underneath the elegant surface of this point in history, but because of this I felt disengaged with many of the character’s journeys because they would do awful things to other people for selfish reasons, and they did so with such little humanity that I simply didn’t want to see them succeed, nor were any of them appealing enough to make seeing them succeed feel satisfying. The only character I had any sympathy for by the end was Queen Anne, as she’s a woman in desperate need of help surrounded by people who’re only interested in her as a means of furthering themselves. There is some dramatic meat to that, and the bleakness of it is presented with enough purpose to make me think about the film for a long time after I was finished watching it. After all, history isn’t always satisfying, and it’s filled with people who did terrible things to get ahead, so this film would probably be compromised in its vision if it did try to make this unflinching look at this particular point in history and then deliver a narrative where good people are rewarded and bad people are punished. But there’s only so far that a film with as little compassion in it as this can go before my spirit gets tired of seeing mistreatment and hopelessness. The Favourite’s technical qualities are a treat for the mind, but its general outlook is draining on my soul.

Final Ranking: Silver.

The Favourite is coarse, and the emphasis of selfish people being terrible does wear on me and get in the way of me engaging with the motivations of several characters. But the technical skill on display in the cinematography, the lighting and colour coordination, and the three central performances come together to make an impressive piece that, even with my reservations about the story, results in a fascinating and distinct film.

Mary Poppins Returns

Mary Poppins Returns is a sequel to a classic film that follows the framework of its predecessor so closely it’s almost beat-for-beat. And yet even with this deliberate mimicking of Mary Poppins, it also somehow tells a different story and doesn’t come across as if it’s resting on its laurels. At the point in the film where the original would be playing ‘A Spoonful of Sugar’, Returns has a song about putting an imaginative and fun spin on everyday activities. When you’re thinking that it’s time for a trip to an idyllic 2D animated landscape, Returns obliges. If you’re realising that we’re scheduled for a ‘Step in Time’ music number, Returns gives you one with lamp-lighters instead of chimney sweeps.

But if you think that reprises of ‘Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’ or ‘Feed the Birds’ would be an easy slam-dunk of nostalgic ecstasy that the film would be foolish not to go for, you’d be surprised. Apart from the odd line of music here or there that’s snuck in at just the right moment to make you remember the original film, none of the original songs are to be found, and that works immensely well in Returns favour. The movie is already lifting the structure of the original film wholesale; if it took anything else from it we’d be approaching live-action remake levels of similarity. Instead, the new songs are there to stand on their own, and they mimic the sound of the Sherman Brothers’ music closely enough that you feel elated when the film wants you to be having a good time, and deeply moved when it wants you to sob your eyes out. But they’re also different enough and of unique enough subject matter that the new songs by Scott Wittman and Marc Shaiman (whose previous song writing work includes the Hairspray musical) feel totally distinct, even if they do have a familiar sound to them. Some of my favourites include Emily Blunt’s playful performance of ‘Can You Imagine That’, the amazing choreography of ‘Trip a Little Light Fantastic’, and of course the tender bittersweetness of ‘The Place Where Lost Things Go’.

The casting also holds up across the board. Pixie Davies, Nathanael Saleh, and Joel Dawson play Annabel, John, and Georgie, the three children of the now adult Michael Banks. They strike the right tone for the central child characters in a Mary Poppins story, demonstrating a decent balance between being impossibly sweet-natured but also strong-headed enough to say what they feel as they feel it and sometimes cause trouble because of that. It’s difficult for me to think of many distinguishing characteristics which mark each of them out, but in all honesty I could say the same about the original Banks children, even after all those viewings. Plus, having three children rather than two does shift the dynamic enough to make the experience feel different. Ben Whishaw plays the adult Michael Banks, who grew up to be an artist who’s struggling to make end’s meet through his work at the bank, so while he did pursue a creative life that marks him out as a different man to his father, he also resembles him in many ways, and clearly risks making the same mistakes that he did. But the thing that resonates the most about his character is the set-up that his wife passed away not too long ago, and the whole family is still coming to terms with the hole this has left in their lives. Whishaw’s performance stabs at your heart, conveying how helpless Michael feels without her, but also how hard he’s trying to not show this to the rest of the family. His resolve to soldier on reminds me of the long walk Mr. Banks takes at the end of the original, knowing he is most likely going to be fired, but moving on anyway. The connection between the two characters is well thought out, and Whishaw impresses immensely. There’s not as much time dedicated to the grown-up Jane Banks played by Emily Mortimer, which is a shame, but it does feel right to see her be inspired by her mother’s activism as a suffragette and campaign for worker’s rights. Lin-Manuel Miranda fills in the Bert role of the lovable guide who’s savvy to Mary’s unknowable nature as Jack, an apprentice that Bert seems to have more-or-less raised himself. Miranda sings his songs with such cheery charm that they instantly transport you back to the world of Mary Poppins, demonstrating his golden touch when it comes to musicals, surprising none of the fans of his previous work, including Hamilton and the songs from Moana. Finally, Emily Blunt is another transcendent Mary Poppins. Yes, we now have two cinematic portrayals of the same character which are different, but both stunning. She accentuates some of the aspects I most enjoy about the character, namely the prim, immaculate composure that oozes authoritative control, but can instantly, effortlessly transform into cheeky playfulness before your eyes. She nails it, and as far as I’m concerned, we now have two Mary Poppins performances that are practically perfect in every way.

This review is already running long, so I’ll get through this quickly, but… my God, did seeing traditional 2D animation in the style of Disney’s original hand-drawn pictures on the big screen again in 2019 move me beyond words. There’s plenty of quality 2D, non-CGI animation out there in different forms, whether its in television, short films, the labour of love that animators are putting out there on the internet, or anime, but we really do need more of this mode of animation out there. There have been some truly beautiful 2D animated films over the last decade, but I want to see more of this kind of genuine effort from Disney, the company that put this cinematic hand-drawn animation on the map for western audiences. This beautiful artform needs to be preserved and cultivated, and I hope this is a step towards Disney doing more to help with that.

I will admit that Returns following Mary Poppins’ structure so closely did take me out of the film to a degree, as it makes me more aware that I’m watching a sequel that’s very deliberately aping the film that came before it, which makes it feel less organic than it could have been. To be fair, I’m not sure what else you could have done to make it have as strong a connection as it does to the first film. There’s also an unnecessary sequence here or there which are intended to be thrilling but I never felt like there was much tension to them, such as the race against the clock at the end. It doesn’t reach the heights of the original, but wasn’t that always going to be the case? In every other respect, this film is a delight and a satisfying emotional journey.

Final Ranking: Silver.

You can’t watch Mary Poppins for the first time again. But this film nevertheless gives you a taste of what you felt, whether it’s that joyous exuberance of having a jolly holiday with Mary, or the bittersweet reflection of an adult acknowledging that time keeps pressing on, the seasons change, but you can still find the magic in today.

Bumblebee

The director of Kubo and the Two Strings directed a Transformers movie.

I’m currently doing academic research into the history of American stop-motion animation. I plan for one of my chapters to be on Laika and their four (five by the time I finish, though I hope there’ll be even more than that) excellently crafted films, including Kubo. Watching Bumblebee, I noted a few similarities between it and Kubo, such as a young main character going on an emotional journey as they struggle to come to terms with the death of one or more of their parents, and a celebration of the emotive powers of music that enable us to express our inner feelings, as well as Travis Knight’s general appreciation for certain specific older songs in general. So yes, watching Bumblebee did make me reflect on the approach to filmmaking of a director I’m deeply invested in for my work at the moment. What I’m saying is that watching a Transformers movie was a productive part of my ongoing academic research, and that is a bizarre place to find myself in.

But what’s even weirder than that is that one of these Transformers movies turned out to be a legitimately great film that I kinda love.

Everything that muddied the waters of past Transformers films that Michael Bay was involved in has been stripped away, and the simple narrative framework that exists underneath all of that has been strengthened by a script and style of presentation that knows how to make the most with very little. The majority of the film can be summarised as “a girl and her pet car”, and while the sceptical might call that inane, the people involved in making Bumblebee work hard enough with that premise to make it work for a full film.

Charlie, a teenage girl and the human protagonist of the film, has lost her father and is upset that the rest of her family has moved on (her mother remarried). Her dad was very supportive of her, and now that he’s no longer around, Charlie is deeply dissatisfied with the person she’s become since her father died, and she doesn’t believe she can complete certain tasks that mean a great deal to her without her father being there to help. Charlie feels she hasn’t turned out to be the amazing person her dad believed she could become, and it’s possible that she’s afraid that she’s letting not only herself down, but the memory of her father as well. Meanwhile, Bumblebee is a Transformer that was tasked with going ahead of the rest of the Autobots to safeguard Earth and be ready for when the rest of his comrades arrive on the planet to continue the fight against the Decepticons. But soon after he lands, he gets involved in a fight to the death that he almost loses. Gravely wounded, he uses the last of his strength to disguise himself as a yellow 1967 Volkswagen Beetle. Some time later, Charlie finds him, and what she thinks is a broken-down abandoned car comes into her possession. Charlie fixes him up in the hopes of having a working car that she can use to get away from things, but in the process, Bumblebee instinctively transforms and reveals himself. Bumblebee’s injuries have destroyed his capacity to speak and have left him with no memories of his past. After cementing the connection between these two individuals who each need help in order to heal from the trauma they’ve gone through, the rest of the film takes its time to reinforce this bond, resulting in a touching family sci-fi film with a friendship that I believe will be just as enduring as its various sources of inspiration, from E.T. to The Iron Giant.

Without being overstuffed, the film’s pacing benefits immeasurably, putting all its energy into making this friendship as sweet and fun to watch as possible. Hailee Steinfeld is fully engaged as Charlie, putting 110% into her interactions with the digital creation of Bumblebee. The emotions she displays at the different points of her relationship with the adorable Autobot are charmingly heartfelt. Whether she’s anxious about Bumblebee being discovered, jubilant at this chance of newfound freedom and a friend to experience it with, or angry and defensive when parts of her past with her father get unearthed, Steinfeld is always putting everything into this, even when her main acting partner isn’t there on the set alongside her. Which brings us to why having a director with a history in animation can do wonders for a film centring on a digital creation, because the Bumblebee in this movie is precious, lovable, and so captivating to watch. The design is streamlined so that every moving part serves a purpose, and that purpose is always to convey the inner thoughts and feelings of this robot. His expressions are dripping with soulful looks of his timidness, compassion, or mischievous side that never veers too far away from his well-meaning nature. He may be made of metal, but this CGI creature is so full of life. Both the arcs and the performances of these characters are relatively simple, but they’re executed with such consideration that they hit home in a remarkable way for me.

I could go on about how much I enjoyed the measured action that’s presented through restrained camera movements that clearly frame the subjects of the shot, or how I engaged with the action as much as I did because it consistently featured characters I was invested in or interested by, or how the actions characters took within these sequences offer insight into their general outlook, but I’ll leave it at that barely veiled summary. Bumblebee draws inspiration from several well received family sci-fi films with a lot of heart to them, and some of the positive parts of the action and general aesthetic of this live-action Transformers world are owed to the groundwork provided by Michael Bay’s films. But even if Bumblebee owes some credit to other films that have preceded it, it understands the deeper reasons for why the aspects that worked in these other properties were as successful as they were, and it weaves that informed technical prowess of storytelling and filmmaking with genuine love. Love for the idea of Transformers, love for coming of age classics with a fun twist to them, and a beautiful friendship between two characters who each heal from the love they show each other.

Final Ranking: Gold.

The film is a delight for its simplicity and earnestness, but that doesn’t mean there’s a lot of technical skill on display in the performances, the animation, or its use of colour and camerawork. It warms the soul, and my mind comes back to it more often than I’d ever expected. It’s got the touch.

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