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having-a-hyperfixate · 3 years ago

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Secret Reports

Gonna just edit this thing and put line breaks as I get more of them.

I’m also working on the rest of the completion, and will probably wander off in the middle of this to do Another Day, which will probably have its own post. I fully expect that to be sheer madness.

#1 So is it just me or is Mr H writing these reports to channel how extremely stressed he is. Cuz like. Mood. *gestures vaguely at blog* *gestures at this post specifically*

I. Hold up. Skeezy McFuckwad and Joshua did what resulting in which now. Excuse me. EXPLAIN!??! Joshua had a sneaky Game running with Skeezy that directly lead to Hazuki ordering Skeezy to destroy Shinjuku??? Is that what I am reading. Or possibly the order was already in the works, and then there was the Game, which ultimately just pushed that forward?? You can’t just say shit like that and not give details ffffffff.

#2 Mr H having about as much contempt for Shinjuku rules as I do I feel seen haha. Bogus indeed. I can’t remember if I said it in one of my other posts, of if it was in a group chat, but I made a comment somewhere how this ruleset doesn’t seem to work with the stated purpose of the whole Reaper’s Game system. Sweet validation.

#3 Not much to say except that if I had read this entire report when I actually got it, I would have been much more alarmed by all of the Replays Rindo has to do after that. I got it partway through week 3 but decided not to read it until I beat the game and then BAM it has this lovely tidbit about potentially being able to destroy the UG and RG.

#4 So, the business that the fandom refers to as the Long Game is known in universe by the higher-ups and Shibuya’s impurification, because it didn’t get ‘purified’ like Shinjuku (I object to that term but ok).

“The hierarchical freeze presumably stems from opposition to the impurification”

Skeezy wasn’t reprimanded when he arrived in Shibuya “possibly because most Higher Plane denizens still oppose Shibuya’s impurification”

ExcUSE ME. I. WHAT. In one of the secret reports for the first game, Mr H says something about the way things turned out be an ‘ideal parallel world’ according to the Angels. I guess he only meant the ones who didn’t want the city destroyed holy shit. That most of them didn’t want Joshua to change his mind and STILL DON’T is so massively fucked up I can’t. Dear Higher Plane, what the actual, ever loving fuck.

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#5 One hundred and four Games under Shiba. That’s… so. many. teams. Holy shit. And the teams we knew had seen at LEAST 30 teams go. And the three teams we saw weren’t small. So many people…

Also, “Minamimoto seems to be plotting something” is the funnies thing I’ve read in ages OF COURSE HE IS that’s what he DOES. XD That was some mood whiplash.

#6 I was so hung up on the lack of entry fee for so long you don’t even know. Like. Those were so important in the first one it was baffling to me that Shinjuku rules didn’t have anything similar. And then eventually I just decided that the whole Game wasn’t being run correctly and Shiba was clearly after something other than driving the improvement that’s supposed to be the point.

I would like more explanation on this ‘Rindo’s stagnation makes him perfect for time travel thing’. I kind of understand how his reactions being consistent would be helpful in being able to control where the timeline goes (also I just realized this further confirms that Angels remember the other timelines glad I wasn’t imagining that the Prime days are a blur), but what does he mean about being able to maintain abnormally high levels of imagination? (It might tell me later so don’t say anything lol)

“I can only hope I’m not overthinking things.” Oh, you aren’t. If I’m understanding everything correctly, Skeezy actually had two proxies. And poor Rindo managed to end up being proxy for both sides at the same time which is. A mess.

#7 Well, finally we know how Coco managed to get her hands on a taboo sigil. Plagiarism. Lmao. That at least makes sense and I can worry less about her being Something Else. I would like a word with whoever didn’t clean that up from Udagawa long enough for her to copy it though. That’s hilarious. Interesting that Mr H thinks it wasn’t a perfect recreation though, that something in him got changed. Once again, please elaborate. Please. *headdesk* What prompted Coco to just. Copy a taboo sigil though. Cuz that seems. Unusual.

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#8 Ok there’s a lot to unpack in this one. Namely, more Shinjuku rules. I would love to know if these are long standing rules or relatively recent. Cuz like. Did Shinjuku’s Game ever run in a way that would drive the kind of improvement that’s supposed to be the overall goal? Or has it always, or at least for a while now, been basically a meat grinder? The players that don’t clear that minimum bar probably just get erased outright, I would think. Actually, I’m confused. If normally, one team would get to leave and one team would be erased, wouldn’t that normally keep the average pretty level, so the Game would basically go on forever? Otherwise what do you do with all the other teams that are between first and last? I’m confused. It can’t be normal for teams to keep asking for more rounds. And what if the winning team says ‘everyone gets to go home’?

“The Conductor has yet to contact the Composer” and “it is possible he is unaware of the Higher Plane’s purification protocol.” I don’t know why, but I get the feeling these are important.

#9 These secret reports are really driving at the whole ‘Rindo just goes with it’ thing, aren’t they. Like, that was his thing, right? He has trouble making definitive decisions? So his arc culminates in that moment in Udagawa where he tells Hazuki that he’s going to take the risk and go back one more time, where he’s making that decision purely for his own sake. And here Mr H seems to be saying that prodding Rindo down the road to character growth is going to be a lot harder than it was with Neku back in the day. Which makes sense, I think. Confronting someone with the concept that other people have value is a lot less complicated than trying to get them to not only make a firm decision, but to choose something that is purely because it’s what they want and need, not because someone else thinks they should.

It’s a little alarming that this report implies that if the pin wasn’t absorbing the Dissonance caused by the Replays, the UG and RG would already be having a bad time. Yikes. This is the report for day 2 of the second week. We haven’t even gotten into the crazy time travel yet.

Aaaaand #10 is for completing the social network, so I have to actually go do Another Day. I want to read these in order; it is much less confusing that way.

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#10 I really shouldn’t read these late at night with a possible migraine coming on, they’re already confusing enough. The bits that made sense: Uzuki was acting Conductor damn girl. (Did she have to deal with Joshua and was he in Dignified Mode or Being a Shit Mode because that’s possibly an oof.) I had assumed Shiba was Shinjuku’s Conductor and then just kinda took over after they moved in but apparently not? And RIP the actual Conductor, apparently. Weird that so many Reapers made it but the Conductor, who by all rights should have, didn’t.

I am slightly concerned by the fact that there’s standard procedure for obliterating a district. That’s. Alarming.

I don’t think page 4 is continuing the thought on page 3. Fucking. Stop that. Don’t just say a thing and then start talking about something else I would like EXPLANATIONS. UGH. “Almost” he says. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that almost is a big deal, so why don’t you tell me about it.

Four cases where a district got into trouble before a final decision on whether to reset or not was made. And one was the last game. I wonder if that means whatever was wrong that made Joshua want to destroy it, or if the ‘imbalance’ was all the madness that happened after he agreed to one final Game with Kitaniji and the left the UG. Cuz in one of the first set of secret reports, it says that with the Composer absent, the UG is starting to fall apart as the rules are no longer valid, or something like that. I would definitely call that an imbalance.

#11 All I care about in this report is that Mr H wants to have a digital art bonding party with Kaie and that is so random why are you writing this down you absolute goober. The first page of this report is like ‘everyone is getting depressed’ and then just a wild left turn into dork-town. Lmao what.

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#12 I don’t think Mr H knows at this point (you get this report for W2D5’s Boss Noise) that the Ruinbringers are all Reapers. He’s gonna be mad. He does know what Shoka is up to though. He’s worried. Aw.

#13 It didn’t occur to me until this report hit me in the face with it, but they’ve set up a fantastic contrast between the two people Rindo knows from online. One is. not great, let’s say, because I did not take the reveal of Motoi’s true self well. The other is Shoka, and she’s a real friend. I now see what you did there. One relationship that’s a farce and one that really, really isn’t.

#14 Me, out loud, at 1:30 in the damn a.m.: WAIT. HOLD THE FUCK UP.

If getting Tsugumi out of Mr Mew required an Angel, how in the hell did Shiki manage to…? What. I’m very confused.

Also damn, saving Tsugumi was so important that Shinjuku’s Conductor died for it. Did he know what she could do, the whole visions thing? Or maybe that something was wrong with Shiba and it would take someone like her to potentially stop him in the future?

I still would like to now how the hell Tsugumi got her hands on Mr Mew. Especially since its apparently the ORIGINAL Mr Mew and she seems to have had him during the inversion? What.

#15 So… Inversions don’t always happen when a region is purified. I’m trying to wrap my brain around what a ‘complete loss of character’ in and area that’s had an Inversion could mean. Like… I think I get it, but my brain won’t make words, let alone sentences. Like when you go into a hotel room, and it doesn’t feel like a home, as opposed to when you go to a friend or family’s house, and it does? Kinda like that but it’s the whole district that’s just… blank? That’s kinda creepy.

If there are so many who think a ‘regular purification’ isn’t enough, the a) what does that even look like, b) is that what Joshua was going to do to Shibuya and c) is there an intermediate step between ‘normal’ and Inversion? I have been staring at this report for literally 15 minutes now.

#16 “I wonder how [Shiba] will feel about all this after he is allowed to return to his former self.” Yuuuuuup. I still Do Not Like him, but dude was borderline mind controlled so like. Yeah. And I did get to kill him once, so. As long as he minds his business and isn’t a total dick from here on, whatever. It all just sucks.

*facepalm* Well at least we got to being suspicious of Replay eventually. Why did it take you this long Mr H. Though I do wonder what Rindo would have been able to do without the interference. He had to have some kind of latent skill for the pin to react to him, right? I’m now going in circles mentally trying to puzzle out if Replay is like, a leveled up version of whatever Rindo would have naturally had, and regardless, where exactly it came from. Because the only time I can think of when anyone had a chance to mess with the pin was when he didn’t catch it in the prologue. And I’m pretty sure it was Joshua who picked it up. Aaagh I’m giving myself a headache.

I find it hard to believe skeezy would just yeet a random time travel pin out into the world. That seems both dumb as fuck and inefficient.

#17 “Some of them who know what I am occasionally try to contact me.” Lol so Kariya DOES know who Mr H is, I take it. Alright.

I’m having some kind of emotion that Wildkat still exists in a way for the Reapers, and that some of them still go there.

I just imagined Uzuki texting him like ‘plz make the Composer fucking do something kthx’ and I’ve got the giggles now oh dear

#18 HA! I was right! Minamimoto WASN’T in control when he attacked us! ‘Distortions within himself’ though, that’s concerning. Does that have to do with how he’s come back from the dead twice now? And how Coco’s copy of the sigil was apparently imperfect?

#19 I was about to say ‘who would target him for his abilities?’ and then my brain turned back on because duh. Shiba and them were looking hard for Neku, to the point that they flooded the RG with Player Pins in the hopes that he would pick one up and get sucked into the Game. A thing that occurred to me last night at 3:30 in the morning because I am a disaster: Mr H says that Minamimoto ‘seems different’. Neku says much the same thing after he comes back. So… Neku’s ability to Scan all the way down to someone’s Soul is potentially close to as sensitive as Mr H’s long distance ability. Which is a little insane. On top of the fact that he can use basically every psych imaginable no problem, survived a pact with a Composer for a full week, while said Composer was using crazy light beams which probably should have melted Neku from the feedback, and then almost singlehandedly defeated the Conductor while somehow inventing four-way fusion attacks. Kid is mad powerful. And he’s just a human. Like, the OG secret reports say that people always become dramatically stronger when they become Reapers. Reaper!Neku would be unstoppable.

“This would be much simpler if I could sit down and talk with him.” Okay, I laughed out loud. Like, loudly.

So… Shinjuku’s Composer… basically had his Conductor assassinated by skeezy. And because skeezy was messing with Shiba’s head, he could prompt Shiba to take the Reapers to Shibuya afterwards, to start doing it there too? Hazuki ordered Shinjuku’s purification so… Oh dear. I might have a few bones to pick with him.

OH NO. OOOOOH. OH NOOOO. SHINJUKU’S CONDUCTOR. HE WAS TSUGUMI’S BROTHER OH MY GOD. That is fucking tragic what the fuck. What the FUCK. Okay several things make sense now but OH MY GOD FUCKING HELL I WAS NOT READY FOR THAT. Shiki fixing Mr Mew allowed Tsugumi to free herself because her brother had already done part of the work, I take it? Along with us getting the Noise out of there? No wonder the Conductor stayed, he had to go get his sister… Shit, man.

…… Did Coco steal Mr Mew and take him to Shinjuku?????

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#21 isn’t very interesting, just a rehash of stuff we already knew.

#22 Okay Haz IS Shinjuku’s Composer. What. Why? I’m. So confused. Why would he intercede on our behalf, and why NOW? He was happy to throw his own city away, but stepped in to stop skeezy in Shibuya? And then tried to put it back together, and when Rindo was miserable he came to try to understand why. And then cajoled Rindo into having a breakthrough in his Character Development to boot.

Mr H says he has an idea why Haz did all this. And then doesn’t fucking say it because OF COURSE. *headdesk* That gets really old really fast, game.

I’m now running through The Last Day’’ to get the final two reports and this entire section with Haz is somehow even more confusing with context. God damn it Nomura.

#23 Even after he said we were on our on this time, he forced the Soul Pulvis to reform as Pheonix Cantus to make it easier for us to fight? Bro. What. Are all Composers just… walking contradictions? Aiya.

Shoutout to emotional support Joshua at the end there lol. I remember half-hysterically thinking ‘what are you just here for moral support?’ but ok. And I mean, it did work, Neku did manage to do the thing, so. *sigh* Speaking of, it is ABSOLUTELY INSANE that Neku manage to sync with the entire city without his brain melting. Remember at the beginning of the first game when he scans for the first time and has a massive sensory overload? Look at my boy, all grown up.

#24 Holy shit world building on how exactly people come back to life without everyone freaking out. I never thought I would see the day.

I still have so many questions but that was always going to be the case. The first game had so many things it left open as well. Agh. Time to start wearing new holes in my brain overthinking things.

#let's liveblog: neo twewy #neo twewy spoilers #secret reports

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hockeylvr59 · 5 years ago

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Not Just Neighbors || Tyson Jost & Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: It’s Tyson’s birthday and I’ve been swearing that I was going to write a threesome imagine with these two for months so tonight I finally decided to make it happen. Google won’t tell me who this gif belongs to so if it’s yours please let me know so I can credit you.

I picked some prompts from my smut list to help with inspiration...namely:

“Oh god, how can you manage to switch from cute to sexy in under a second?”

“Can you help me with this zipper?”

“Holy shit, you’re so fucking sexy like that.”

Warnings: SMUT, threesome, oral sex

Word Count: 3,388

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Dropping your purse on the entry table of your apartment you sighed as you kicked your heels off. Another night...another unsuccessful date. You were so over men that couldn’t stop talking about themselves for even a split second to let you get a word in edgewise. You honestly could care less about Brad’s investment strategy or Kyle’s high school football championship season.

As you headed to your kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine, you heard a familiar knock on your door before it was pushed open, two of your neighbors sidling through it. You’d met Tyson and Cale in your building’s elevator and somehow the two young hockey players had wormed their way into your daily life. Neither could really cook, though they were both willing to learn, so you often had them down to make dinner with you, sending them each home with leftovers so that they weren’t eating out every night. In return, they’d gotten you tickets to their games on occasion and could frequently be found in your apartment when they had some downtime.

“Y/N!” Tyson greeted, his enthusiasm present like always. Cale was certainly the quieter of the two, though he too became more outspoken as you got to know him.

“Boys…” You responded, sipping from your wine glass as you leaned against the kitchen counters. “I know I didn’t invite you down tonight.” You teased...at least partially. You weren’t sure you had the energy to put up with the two of them tonight, really you’d been banking on setting up a warm bath and just relaxing and drinking until it was time for bed.

“Tys saw your car pull in,” Cale explained offhandedly, moving around your counters to give you a hug. Both these men were the sweetest and you leaned into Cale’s body for a moment, enjoying his touch. “How was your date?” He asked and you groaned audibly making Tyson’s eyebrow raise from across the counter.

“What was wrong with this one?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“How about everything.” You complained. “Wouldn’t shut up about himself like all of the rest. Ordered the most expensive thing on the menu and then suggested we split the check-in half evenly. When he wasn’t talking about himself he was responding to things on his phone and not even paying attention to me. Needless to say, there will not be a second date.” You rambled before quickly finishing off the glass of wine you’d poured.

“Now I need to change out of this damn dress, so excuse me.” You declared. As you turned to head toward your room you missed the lingering looks up and down your form from both Cale and Tyson. Alone in your room you sighed and reached for the zipper of your dress, only to find that it was stuck in place and wouldn’t budge. Sighing you left your bedroom once more, finding Cale and Tyson now chilling on your couch.

“This is awkward but can one of you help me with this zipper...I can’t get it to move.” You requested.

“Of course Y/N.” Tyson declared, immediately motioning you forward to stand between his legs. Even seated he was able to reach the zipper and as you held your hair out of the way you felt him gently tug it down, finally getting it free after a moment to where it would slide freely.

“Thanks.” You whispered softly, holding the dress to your chest with your other hand as Tyson’s fingers brushed over your spine as he released the zipper.

“You’re welcome.” Tyson’s words caught in his throat and came out croaked. Again, you were too caught up on your bad date to feel both men’s eyes on the bare skin of your back before they shared a look. After sliding out of your dress and into a t-shirt and a pair of sweats that one of the boys left behind at some point you headed back out to the living room, plopping down onto the couch between them.

“Those are mine.” Cale whispers, the number 8 present at the top of your thigh.

“They are.” You agreed, sending him a look like ‘so what.’ “If you want them back you just have to ask...but I doubt you even knew they were missing so…”

“You can keep them. They look better on you than me anyway.” Cale whispered, and it was only then that you noticed his eyes grazing over your body. Tyson drew your attention away from Cale, asking what movie you wanted to watch. As Tyson started the movie, you slipped back into the kitchen for another glass of wine before settling yourself back into the couch cushions between the two men. It wasn’t until partway through the movie that you’d shifted, nearly leaning against Cale, with your feet tucked up under Tyson’s legs. As you settled in like that, Cale’s hand pressed into your lower back and Tyson pulled your feet onto his thighs, brushing his own hand over your ankles gently. This was a little abnormal but you just took it as the boys trying to comfort you in whatever way they could.

As the movie continued, you all laughed at certain parts, Cale’s cheeks going red like usual as a sexual innuendo was made about oral sex.

“Oh come on Cale…” You teased. “Don’t act like you haven’t done that before.” At first, he didn’t respond but after a moment his mouth dropped to your ear and you could feel the tickle of his breath against your skin.

“Oh trust me. I’ve done that and then some.” He whispered. “And I enjoy every second of it.” Suddenly the feeling of his thumb rubbing over your spine registered more fully and you shivered against him. From his spot at your feet, you watched Tyson smirk and his fingers teased from your ankle up closer to your knee. Looking between the two of them you felt the pressure in the room rising and suddenly Cale’s lips were back against your ear.

“Tys and I have talked about how you need a man to treat you properly. No more of these assholes. What do you say?” His tone was soft but much deeper than you’d ever heard it before and suddenly it felt like someone had kicked the thermostat up to 100 degrees.

“I...I’m not sure what you mean…” You mumbled, Cale’s hand sliding around from your back to rest just under your breast at your side.

“We wanna fuck you beautiful. Treat you properly.” Cale elaborated and for a moment you had no words. Both of them...and you...at the same time. That was a major proposition and one that had your head spinning.

“Y/N…” Cale whispered once more, attempting to get an answer regarding your interest out of you.

“Oh god, how can you manage to switch from cute to sexy in under a second?” You finally mumbled and from his spot at your feet, Tyson burst into laughter.

“So you think Cale is sexy...what about me?” Tyson inquired, his thumb brushing over the inside of your thigh, sliding higher and higher as he spoke.

“You both are.” You eventually breathed, having been distracted by the way Cale’s fingers were teasing gently over your skin.

“Does that mean you’re in? Because I’m dying to touch you.” Cale mumbled and the fact that he was being so forward about all of this was completely unexpected.

“Yes.” The moment that one word left your mouth, both men shifted around you, Tyson climbing over you to kiss you while Cale’s mouth dropped to the exposed side of your neck, his fingers shifting to brush gently against your breasts. It was all so much and already you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest.

Tyson’s kiss tasted sweet like candy and the wine that he’d stolen a sip of only minutes earlier. Slowly, your body was catching up to the sensation overload you’d been presented with and you whimpered into Tyson’s mouth as you reached one hand back to fist in Cale’s hair while the other wrapped itself around Tyson’s neck.

You were completely unsure of how the two of them had even come up with this idea, how they’d decided that they both wanted you and were willing to share, but you were so glad that they had because tonight certainly wasn’t the first time you’d thought about what sex with each of them would be like. After all, they were professional athletes and you’d seen each of their bodies before. It wasn’t odd for you to fantasize about each of them becoming more than just a friend. You just hadn’t expected those fantasies to ever become real.

Lost in your own musings you’d missed Tyson shifting off of you and reaching a hand out to pull you off of the couch.

“Can we take this back to your room?” He inquired and when you nodded, the three of you made your way down the hall, Tyson’s hands reaching to wrap around your waist this time as he pulled your back into his front at the foot of the bed. “Kiss him y/n...you don’t know how much I’ve heard him talk about wanting to taste you.” Looking up at Cale revealed a sheepish smile before his thumb was brushing over your cheek and his lips were dropping onto your own, urging your mouth to open for him so that he could sweep his tongue into it. Unlike Tyson’s sweet taste, Cale tasted like mint with just a lingering hint of coffee. The difference matched that of their personalities and further served to drive you completely crazy.

As you continued to kiss Cale, Tyson’s hands slid along your stomach, slipping under the edge of your shirt.

“I think Tys wants to see you beautiful.” Cale murmured against your mouth. Nodding you lifted your arms as Tyson pulled the t-shirt over your head leaving you in just a bra and Cale’s too large sweats. The latter item was quick to follow, as this time Cale’s hands slipped under them and pushed them down off your hips. Covered by only a bra and underwear you felt Tyson’s arousal growing in the small of your back.

“Holy shit, you’re so fucking sexy like that.” Tyson groaned, trailing his hands over your nearly nude body once more before pulling away. When your kiss with Cale broke, you glanced over to find that Tyson was now laying nude on your bed and for a split second, you felt like you needed to pinch yourself to make sure that this was real.

“Go see him.” Cale directed you and as you knelt on your bed, Tyson pulled you closer to him, chuckling as you lost your balance and fell in beside him. Though laying beside Tyson your eyes drifted to watch Cale undress from across the room.

“He’s half in love with you you know,” Tyson whispered in your ear. “Won’t shut up about you. Constantly talks about how much he wants you.” Though neither of them had really touched you yet, you could already feel your arousal pooling in your core, soaking through your panties.

“What about you?” You found yourself asking and Tyson kissed you again before brushing his nose against yours.

“You’re way too good for me but I want you so badly as well. Wanna feel you wrapped around me, wanna take you out to dinner and cover the check.” The twinkle behind Tyson’s gaze helped you to relax and you scraped your nails down his chest and abs, feeling the muscles twitch in response. It was only as your hand attempted to drift further south that Tyson stopped you.

“Tonight’s all about you gorgeous. It’s not about me or Cale. Just lay back and let us take care of you. You’ve been so tense lately and we know it’s because you’re not being taken care of properly.” By the time he finished speaking, the bed had shifted under Cale’s weight as well and you looked back and forth between the two of them who were just admiring you.

“Can I taste you?” Cale asked from his spot down near your hips and when you breathed out a ‘yes please’ his fingers slipped under the band of your underwear, tugging them off of you before tossing them to the side so he could settle between your legs. As Cale pressed soft kisses to the inside of your thighs, Tyson reached behind you to undo your bra, the final piece of clothing between the three of you being discarded. Now fully nude, you watched as Cale slipped closer to where you needed him, Tyson’s right hand moving to part your thighs further for his teammate. With Cale’s tongue making it’s first contact with your core, you felt Tyson’s lips wrap around your nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue in a pattern matching Cale’s.

There was no shortage of eagerness between them, Cale diving right into your pussy, keen on bringing you to a quick orgasm, while Tyson switched between both of your breasts ensuring that both remained fully peaked. With Tyson helping to keep you spread out for Cale, Cale was able to focus on keeping your hips from bucking, preventing you from either seeking more contact or avoiding the sensitivity created by his actions. While neither showed much finesse in their actions, the eager chaos had you falling apart just the same and you felt your juices spill onto Cale’s tongue as he worked to elongate your orgasm. It wasn’t until you were shoving his head away, that he pulled back with a smirk, looking up at Tyson.

“She tastes incredible...just like I told you she would.” This claim sparked a fire in Tyson’s eyes and though he didn’t switch spots with Cale, he bent forward to slide his own tongue through your folds before dipping the tip of it inside you. Though you were still overly sensitive, Tyson’s movements were slow and lazy and before you even realized you were close again you found yourself cumming all over his tongue as well.

With all three of you already breathing heavy, both men settled in on either side of you, their fingers tracing patterns over your stomach and up your chest.

“Told you I’d enjoy every second.” Cale murmured in your ear and you let out a low whine in response, your body just basking in the attentive pleasure these men were bringing you. “Should we let Tys fuck you first?” Cale inquired. “That way I can take my time with you when he’s done.” It was a slight dig at his teammate but you barely noticed, your brain processing the fact that you’d already cum twice and neither of them had even fucked you yet.

“Don’t care...just need one of you.” You practically begged. Nodding, Cale tossed Tyson a condom that he’d gotten from somewhere before working to settle you between his own thighs, your back to his chest and his hard cock pressed against your skin.

“Hear that Tys...she needs us.” Cale had repeated, brushing some stray strands of hair out of your face before mirroring Tyson’s earlier actions by helping spread your thighs open wide. “Don’t keep her waiting or she may kick us both out.” He teased and Tyson through back a chirp before lining his dick up with your pussy and pressing the tip inside. It had been a while since you’d had sex so as Tyson gently pressed inside you, your body protested against the stretch. Tyson wasn’t overly long but he was thick and so your walls fluttered as they attempted to relax around him.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Tyson grunted, once he was finally buried inside you. You couldn’t help but whine at the feeling until Cale’s mouth pressed onto yours again, silencing your needy sounds. As Cale kissed you, Tyson began thrusting his hips against your own, starting slow but gradually gaining a steady rhythm. “Fuck Cale. She’s so tight.” He groaned and pivoted his hips even harder against your own making you gasp into Cale’s mouth.

“Do that again Tys,” Cale instructed and when Tys obeyed you felt your toes start to curl. “Are you gonna cum all over Tys?” Cale whispered low in your ear, his fingers twisting your nipples, sending additional sparks straight to your core. “Do it. Cum all over him beautiful. Show him how good he’s making you feel.” You weren’t sure whether you had cried out Tyson’s name or both his and Cale’s as your third orgasm of the night crashed down on you, harder than the last two had been.

“Fucking incredible.” Cale praised as you whimpered and whined as Tyson continued to piston inside of you until he had spilled into the condom. A louder whine slipped out as Tyson pulled out of you and Cale continued to kiss your head as Tyson moved to dispose of the used condom.

Moving carefully, Cale slipped out from behind your back, grabbing a condom for himself. “Can you cum for us one more time so I can feel you?” He requested and though you were already beyond sensitive you really didn’t doubt that Cale would be able to make you cum again. Cale had just slipped the condom on and was stroking himself gently when Tyson returned, laying on his side next to you, his hand falling to your stomach.

As Cale pressed into you, your head fell back against the pillows as a whimpered moan left your throat. Cale wasn’t as thick as Tyson had been but he was at least an inch longer and so he was already hitting different spots inside of you. Cale’s movements were slower than Tyson’s had been, and though you didn’t vocalize it, you were cursing his patience because you were already more sensitive than you could ever recall in your life.

As Cale thrust deep inside of you, Tyson’s hand pressed down more firmly on your stomach and you moaned as Cale hit a spot so deep inside of you that it triggered the mixed pain/pleasure sensation.

“You like that don’t you?” Tyson asked, his breath trailing up from your neck where he’d been pressing soft kisses. “I can feel him hitting deep inside you. I bet it feels so good.” You moaned in agreement, your response causing Cale’s hips to stutter for a moment. “We’re going to have you so stretched out you feel us for days.” If there was one thing that was certain, it was that statement made by Tyson. You’d had sex before, but it was never like this. Never had you felt so wanton and used but cared about at the same time. As Cale continued to thrust inside you slowly, he and Tyson took turns kissing you. You were so oversensitive, but you knew that it was only a matter of time before Cale pushed you to orgasm again. When Cale grunted out that he was close before you’d gotten there, Tyson slipped his fingers down between the two of you to rub frantically over your clit. The combination of that and Cale’s next in thrust hitting particularly deep was not one but two intense orgasms crashing down on you back to back, leaving you screaming and shaking between them.

By the time you came down from the high, Cale had already slipped out of you and was disposing of his condom before taking his spot on the bed beside you and opposite Tyson.

“Holy shit you were so good for us.” Tyson praised.

“Absolutely perfect.” Cale agreed.

Needless to say, you had certainly forgotten about your bad date and all you could think about was whether the three of you could do this again. Not realizing that you’d voiced that question aloud you were surprised when both Cale and Tyson murmured that you could absolutely do this again and that they were both looking forward to it. Unable to keep your eyes open any longer, you drifted off to sleep sore and sated, Cale wrapped around you on one side while Tyson cuddled close on the other neither of them just your neighbor any longer.

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #cale makar #cale makar imagine #nhl smut #hockey smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #tyson jost nws #cale makar nws #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche nws #cavalanche #lemon #025 #nws

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bates--boy · 3 years ago

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Well, at least it wasn’t performing in a mall, but the gap between doing a public performance at a mall and performing for the opening of a boutique wasn’t that wide, and it certainly wasn’t doing an opening for a bigger band that they can wiggle into the limelight with. (Peter couldn’t wait until a bigger label signed them on.)

He finished helping their DJ set up the table and let Adel take over going through the setlist with her so he could scan the place. The boutique was urban, heavy on the hip-hop money aesthetic. The racks were few and bare, probably some of the cheaper stuff so that should anyone start feeling their fingers get sticky during the party, the boutique wouldn’t be at such a huge loss. Black velvet walls with velvet chairs like the VIP section of a club, with epoxy floor tiles through which rainbow neon LED lights glowed like a portal to a land of sin.

(It made Peter miss the nightclub, and Van. And the Mad Hatta.)

(It made Peter miss Wonderland.)

(Shit, he was completely out of Wonderland at home.)

He hurried to Naseem to help set up the huge speakers, and Tarsha to plug in and test the mics, and he scurried over to help set up the stacks of flyers when Mike looked him right in the eye and said, “Peter, sit your ass somewhere and calm down.”

So Peter perched himself on one of the loudspeakers, watching the mingling in the crowd. Everyone appeared in black clothing or as dark as their closet had, and Peter, with his all black hoodie, jeans, and Just a hint of a smile appeared on his face, as if it’s cautious to fully form until Peter decided with full conviction that the knot in his stomach that traveled as prickly static to his fingers and toes all came from either mind-blowing excitement or world-ending anxiety. He noticed movement from the corner of his eye, and the smile shone fully as Naseem ambled back up the lit platform, a flute of bubbling champagne in each hand.

“Don’t drink too much,” Naseem said, holding a glass out to Peter. He shrugged, raising his own to his mouth. “Or do. This stuff’s pretty cheap.”

Peter took the glass with a nod and took a sip, managing to stifle a disappointed sneer as he resigned to twirling the flute in his fingers. “Thanks.”

“Whatcha doin’ up here, all Batman and shit?” Naseem said.

“Scoping out how high our chances are of getting somewhere with this performance.” Peter angled a bit to give Naseem some room to sit, and he prayed the speakers were sturdy enough to hold their weight without caving in.

“Whattaya mean?”

“You know, like...” Peter gestured to the air. “This is a first step to our dream, but it’s such a small step. This place isn’t even big enough to pack a hundred people. I’ve seen birthday parties bigger than this. And how are we gonna get these people to visit our website or listen to our music? No one’s taking the flyers! Would they even remember us once our show’s over? That guy’s on his fourth glass!”

And when Naseem’s hand patted Peter’s back, Peter suddenly felt deflated. Silly. Embarrassed, even, his cheeks gaining something past their usual color as he rewound through his thoughts like a cringeworthy cassette.

Despite his soothing back rub, Naseem spoke with a scolding baritone as he said, “You know, most first-time artists would kill for even an opportunity like this. Have you ever thought about keeping a gratitude journal?”

Peter only gave a low, throaty “Hmmm...” and Naseem went on, “Anyways, we’ll figure something out. Mike’s thinking of hitting up those writers of... what the hell was that podcast called? The one with the weird town and the music as weather?”

“Welcome to Night Vale,” Peter replied.

“Yeah, that weird shit Adel’s crazy about.” Naseem said. “We’re advertising and putting our music out there. Shit, maybe we’ll get lucky and one of our songs become TikTok-able.”

Peter made a face, and turned partway to Naseem so Naseem would see that face. “That’s lucky to you?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t it be?” Naseem snickered. “Don’t act like you don’t use it, TikTok user shuggaondarimm.” At the mortification that suddenly paled Peter’s face, Naseem threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, I know about your account, dude. By the way, nice twerk videos, but really stupid of you to hop on that nutmeg craze.”

Naseem didn’t even seem to notice Peter’s lips pulled tight and his eyes boring into the floor when he asked, “So, about your scoping... what’s the verdict?”

Peter passed his tongue over his lips and cast his gaze back over the crowd. “Well... everyone’s drunk, so they might be hyped up enough to like our music--”

“Or be so brutally honest about hating our stuff that they’ll throw things at us.” Peter raised a brow at him. “What? Weren’t you trying to be realistic?”

“And weren’t you trying to be uplifting?” Peter shook his head. “Anyways, we already have some hip-hop fans here, judging by their dress and their decision to show up for our show first thing instead of arriving fashionably late, so that could be to our advantage. Though the boutique’s closed off for a private opening, our music can maybe carry out to the other mall shoppers, and there has to be at least a handful of people who are into the obscure, underground hip hop scene who can then share this new collective with their friends--”

Peter checked over his shoulder, finding that Naseem’s eyes were indeed burning into the back of his head, and sighed. “Basically, we have a 30% chance of getting anywhere with this.”

“Wow, all those factors, and we still come up short?” Naseem snorted. He shook his head. “You’re too sprightly to be a pessimist.”

“That’s not pessimism. Besides, it’s not exactly a bad thing.” He shrugged and raised his glass to his lips. “God likes underdogs.”

“I thought you don’t believe in God?”

Peter cleared his throat mid-sip. “Can’t you let me be fake deep for a moment, please? I’m nervous, you know!”

Naseem started to reply (probably something witty, judging by the return of that smooth and disarming smile) when Tarsha came up behind them and tapped Naseem on the shoulder. “We’re set up. Let’s get this started!”

Naseem and Peter got off the speaker and drained the rest of their drinks. “Well, Attrossity, looks like we get to gamble.”

The background music, an unidentifiable trap-hop bass, died slowly, and the glow from the platform grew brighter. Mike stepped up front and center, the professional, the veteran, the man who carried this dream for years on his shoulders.

“Ay yo yo, what is up, my peopleeeeee?!”

“WHOOOOOOOO!” cried the half-drunk and fully-drunk crowd, sloshing alcohol as they raised their cups in the air.

“We gotta little treat for ya tonight, hosted graciously by BoomBox Boutiques.” Mike turned halfway to the crew behind them, heads bowed and one hand clasped around the other wrist, a pose they all agreed on. “Nefertiti!”

Tarsha raised her microphone.

“Cassius!”

Adel’s mic shot in the air.

“Bet Chaker!”

Naseem raised his mic.

“Attrossity!”

Peter, fighting the giggles bubbles up from his stomach (yes, it was excitement. It was definitely excitement) as his fist-clenched microphone shot in the air.

Mike slapped his chest, an audible thump so close to his microphone. “And yours truly, Mickey V, just like the boxer. MizFists. Remember our name, because we are gonna tear the fucking! Roof! Dooooown!”

Oh, shit, these people really liked the idea of the ceiling collasping on their heads, because they were already throwing their arms out and screaming before Mike even signaled with his chin for the DJ to start the music.

A shift in the air. Bass in his blood. The house was gonna jump and they were gonna tell them how high. There should be a camera to document this moment, a slowmo pan-out of shots of Karlstad’s newest and greatest. Peter, even in this small space and this go-nowhere event, felt like a god among his people as Mike led them in with the first verse.

Comin’ in like hawks, now, ta pick ya bones Swoop ya up, send ya crashin’ to da stones Get to the meat of the matter, but not with cherrypickers Can’t live a life off their knees, these fucking bootlickers! Try to copy what’s fly, think they can land on their feet And endin’ their lives as outlines on the streets Can’t even say it’s a shame They heard the sirens, they knew about the game.

#The MizFists #life thus far ( story )#droid noodles ( writing )#BABY'S FIRST LIVE SHOW BABY'S FIRST LIVE SHOW #although i still can't be assed to write whole songs lol #maybe someday

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bronanlynch · 4 years ago

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weekly-ish media roundup (I’ve really gotta pick a consistent day for these but unfortunately the days of the week have kind of lost meaning for me, the only time passing I’m aware of is when it’s my turn to cook dinner. it’s been that kind of whatever length of time, y’know?)

listening: since sea shanties are apparently the hot new trend, please appreciate my two favorite variations on Drunken Sailor: Drunken Whaler (from the Dishonored soundtrack), which I love for how incredibly creepy it is, both in sound and lyrics, and Drunk Space Pirate by The Mechanisms, which just absolutely fucking slaps, wow I love The Mechs (sidenote: this recording is from their last-ever liveshow, and I am personally very sad I got into them just too late to ever see them live). whenever I have Drunken Sailor stuck in my head it’s usually some awful mashup of all three versions like. what do we do with a drunk space pirate? feed him to the hungry rats for dinner!

youtube

reading: Drowned God by R.F. Kuang (short story about one of the characters of the Poppy War series, which is extremely good like. political intrigue military fantasy, except I know when I say that most people probably imagine some grimdark white dude bullshit but no! this is not that! this is really fucking good and everything the genre can and should be!) it’s a very good short story and it did make me very sad, and also gave me lots of feelings about, specifically, one of the best m/f ships I’ve ever been convinced to care about. love a school rivals to reluctant allies to battle couple to enemies to reluctant allies again to maybe lovers to enemies again. it’s very tasty.

also, The City Unbreachable by Yoon Ha Lee (from the f/f anthology Silk and Steel) which has some incredibly intriguing sci-fi worldbuilding about sentient spaceship-cities and the societies on them and the people who are bonded with them

watching: Rowan Ellis, a video essayist I vaguely follow, made a video about Black Sails, specifically comparing the endings of Black Sails and Game of Thrones to explain like. why the Game of Thrones ending didn’t work, which is a niche that appeals to my personal interests, because when the whole self-congratulatory “storytellers are the most important people ever actually please give us awards” speech in the GoT finale started I was like. you’re not Black Sails you didn’t earn this shut the fuck up. so it’s satisfying to see someone else with an actual platform make those same points.

I don’t agree with everything she says, obviously, because I am opinionated and contrary but I like the way she analyzes things and I do think she makes lots of good points and uses lots of good examples. however, I do find it kinda disappointing that literally everyone who talks about Black Sails in any kind of serious journalistic way talks down the first season. she doesn’t do it as much as most people but I think that season 1 is good and everyone is just unfairly comparing it to season 2, the best season of television ever created, so of course anything else isn’t gonna look great by comparison. like, I do dislike the sexual assault plotline but aside from that, it’s really good?? literally the first episode has the “civilization (derogatory) needs gossip because it reinforces shame” speech. the “and they called me a monster” Moment and Flint’s Odysseus monologue are both season 1! the Max/Eleanor relationship and breakup that underscore the main themes of the show is season 1! season 1 is really good!

youtube

playing: more Knife of Dunwall, to the surprise of absolutely no one. I think last time I did one of these I was still stuck in the first mission because turns out sabotaging a factory is hard if you don’t pay for the favor that turns off the alarms, which I didn’t because I spent all my money on sleepdarts and elixirs. I changed my mind about doing the sabotage because I kept getting spotted, but when I went back to find the capitalist who owned the factory so that I could uh. torture the information out of him because that’s the low chaos option apparently, the labor organizer who I’d rescued had killed him. thanks Abigale. you’re so valid but you made my life so much harder. my expert strategy for getting through that level is that you knock everyone out before you fuck with any of the valves, so that when the alarms go off there’s hardly anyone left awake to come after you. also, move all the bodies away from the valves so they don’t die in the explosion. if you still care about getting low chaos despite picking the incredibly high chaos option. which I do lol. but it paid off, I barely killed anyone, I’m still at low chaos, everything is fine except that Billie made fun of me for setting off the alarms because Knife of Dunwall is a game about being disrespected by your own daughter.

anyway. I’m partway through the second mission now so. we’ll see how that goes

making: one of my roommates and I made pierogi from scratch last night which Imo is a little too labor-intensive to be worth it considering that you can also just buy pre-made ones and all you have to do is fry them. but it’s a cool thing to have done.

the thing I actually want to talk about is the lasagna we made today, or like. more generally the red sauce I make from scratch whenever we do pasta with red sauce, because I do not care for store-bought marinara on account of chunks of tomato are not a good texture for me. all of the sauce recipes including the lasagna recipe say to add crushed and/or diced tomato, and one of my favorite things about adulthood is that if you don’t like something, you don’t have to cook with it! so I can ignore those parts of the recipes! I do not actually have a recipe for the sauce the way I make it because I strongly believe that herbs and spices and garlic are measured with the heart, but trust me when I say it fucking slaps.

there’s spinach in there so that we, as a household, eat our vegetables, and the meat is ground turkey because I can’t eat beef

writing: mostly, cover letters. also a few fics with deadlines that I can’t talk about much yet because they’re for events, and then I posted a fic for an exchange centered around women in various MXTX works, which is about soft domesticity and I thought turned out pretty well

#dreaming.txt #contains pictures of food #i am. way more of a stereotypical housewife than i ever expected to be tbh #why does my life revolve around cooking and dishes

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unfolded73 · 4 years ago

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My Heartbeat Shows the Fear (1/4) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: A canon divergent story: Patrick gets into a car accident and it brings the Brewers to town sooner.

Notes: This fic will be posted in 4 chapters, every other day. There is some description of injuries, but nothing too graphic or life-threatening.

The title is from "Overkill" by Colin Hay, which thanks to the show Scrubs puts me in mind of hospitals.

Thank you to Amanita_Fierce for putting so much time and thought into betaing this fic - you made it so, so much better. And thanks also to @high-seas-swan for some helpful suggestions, particularly on that one scene that I tore apart and rewrote.

Rated Teen, this chapter 5278 words. (ao3)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1

Patrick drifted into wakefulness like rising from a deep dive to the surface of the water. He became aware first, before even opening his eyes, of David’s arm over his chest and his hand curled protectively around the side of his ribcage. The sheets were soft against his skin and the duvet was a comforting weight over his body and he never wanted to move from this spot. Patrick lifted his own hand and dropped it clumsily over David’s, calloused fingertips tracing gently over David’s knuckles.

“Good morning,” David said in a surprisingly coherent voice for first thing in the morning.

Opening his eyes to see David watching him was an unusual experience. As he blinked sleep out of his eyes, Patrick tried to remember if David had ever woken up before him, and the only occasion he could summon to mind was New Year’s Day, after a night when Patrick had gotten much drunker than David had.

“Why are you awake so early?” Patrick yawned.

David shrugged. “It’s almost eight o’clock; you’re just sleeping later than usual.”

Groaning, Patrick started to sit up. The very energetic sex they’d indulged in last night must’ve really worn him out. “We’ve gotta get up and get started on those vendor pickups.” It was Monday and the store was closed, but they had so many pickups to do this week that they’d grudgingly agreed to do them on their day off, splitting the list in half.

“Mmm, five more minutes,” David said, holding Patrick down with the arm across his chest and shifting closer, their naked bodies coming into closer contact. Patrick closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate that David hadn’t gotten up to put on pajamas last night, his usual routine even now that Patrick had his own apartment. Patrick was starting to suspect that he could read David’s lack of clothes the next morning as a particularly positive review on his performance in bed the night before.

“What are you smiling about?” David asked.

“Last night,” Patrick responded without opening his eyes. They really needed to get up, he thought, but lazing around in bed with David was very tempting.

David made a pleased sound in the back of his throat. “Yeah, that was, um…” He nuzzled against Patrick’s shoulder. “If that’s what happens after you go on a date with someone else, I’m almost inclined to tell you to do it again.”

Patrick bristled at that. “That’s not funny.”

“Sorry,” David whispered, pressing a supplicating kiss against Patrick’s arm.

“Besides, I bailed partway through the date,” Patrick said.

“Mm. Poor Ken,” David said. “He has no idea what he’s missing out on.”

Patrick frowned, turning onto his side and dislodging David from his chest. “You didn’t expect me to sleep with Ken, did you?”

David opened and closed his mouth. “Not sleep with, no.”

The same queasiness that Patrick had felt last night as he drove to meet Ken rose up in his stomach. “Then, what? A quick handjob in my car?”

David shot him a guilty look. “No,” he said, but then bit his lip. “Or, I don’t know. Maybe something like that. Something that you’ve only experienced with me that you might be… curious about experiencing with another man.”

Patrick sighed. “Okay, first of all, I’m not particularly curious about experiencing stuff like that with other men.”

“Yeah, you said—”

“And if I do become curious, or… or want to … explore with another guy in the future, you and I are going to have to be a lot clearer with each other about what is and isn’t going to happen.”

“Ground rules,” David grumbled.

“Yeah, I guess.” Patrick leaned over and kissed him. “But, David.” He kissed him again. “It’s so good with you. I sort of can’t imagine anyone else not being a huge step down in quality.”

He watched David’s face go on a journey before settling on pleased. “That’s very flattering. But sometimes the point is that it’s a stranger. Or at least, someone you aren’t going to see again.”

Patrick pulled back. “Is that something you want?”

David rolled his eyes, dismissing that idea with a flap of his hand as he looked up at the ceiling. “God no. I had a lifetime’s worth of casual sex.”

Reaching out, Patrick put his hand on David’s cheek, turning his head so that they were looking at each other again. David’s face softened, his eyes gazing into Patrick’s in the way that always made his stomach swoop. Made Patrick want to sink into David’s arms and never let go. “And if that ever changes, will you tell me?”

There was a pause, and then David nodded. “Of course. Will you tell me? If you change your mind?”

Patrick nodded. “I promise.” And then he pulled David closer, kissing him deeper and with more tongue than was probably warranted given their morning breath. For once, David didn’t complain.

After a minute, Patrick had to wrench his mouth away and force himself to sit up. “Okay, if we don’t get up now, I’m going to end up fucking you again.”

David smirked. “What’s so wrong with that?” And then he wiggled his hips and his expression became more thoughtful. “Although I’m still feeling what you did to me last night.”

Patrick winced. They had gone at it pretty hard, he remembered with a mixture of desire and guilt. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” David said. “It was perfect and don’t you dare apologize. Just not sure if I can get fucked again right at this precise moment.”

Patrick whipped the covers off and stood up, ignoring his own visible arousal. “You aren’t going to be. You’re gonna get ready to do the pickups west of town.”

David whined and stuck his bottom lip out. Patrick turned away from him and padded barefoot across the hardwood floor before he was tempted to bite David’s lip, because that way did not lead toward getting their vendor pickups done. “Can you make us some breakfast while I shower?” Patrick called over his shoulder. David’s “ugh fine” reached his ears just as he was closing the bathroom door.

Once he had showered and shaved, Patrick emerged back into the apartment, a towel around his waist. David had pulled on a sweatshirt and drawstring shorts and was in the kitchen making Patrick’s tea. The domesticity of it made something tender and fragile swell in his chest. He loved having David here in his apartment, and he felt a wild desire to just ask David to move in, his resolution to take his time with that step in their relationship be damned. In moments like this, his original idea that he wanted to spend some time living on his own seemed silly. As he pulled on underwear and jeans (glancing over his shoulder to catch David checking out his ass), a t-shirt and a v-neck sweater, he imagined it — David’s clothes in his closet (well, some of them), David’s shoes by the door, his journal on the nightstand, his products finding a permanent home in Patrick’s bathroom rather than lugged back and forth between the motel and the apartment in David’s bag.

“Your mom is texting.”

Startled, Patrick looked over to David, who was pointing at Patrick’s phone on the kitchen counter. “I’m gonna shower,” David continued, unaware of the track of Patrick’s thoughts. “Here’s your tea and some toast.”

Patrick walked over and picked up his phone in one hand and a piece of toast in the other.

Mom: Can you call when you get a chance?

Oh yeah, the other reason he wasn’t ready to ask David to move in yet, he thought with a surge of shame. His parents.

Figuring David would be in the bathroom for a while yet, Patrick unlocked his phone and placed the requested call.

“Hi, sweetheart!” his mother said in a chipper voice.

“Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, we were just having breakfast and realizing that we hadn’t heard from you in a while. How are things with you?”

Patrick looked at the closed bathroom door, and then moved over to the other side of the apartment. “Things are good. I’ve got vendor pickups to do today.”

“You work so hard, dear. I hope you are taking some time for yourself too.”

“I am.” He thought about dates with David, or curling up on the bed and watching movies with David, none of which he was ready to talk to his mother about. He knew it was time. It was way past time, but he could never get the words to come out when he was on the phone with his parents. “I went two for four in my last game,” he said. Baseball was always a safe topic.

“That’s great!” his mother said, the enthusiasm she’d always shown for his athletic activities obvious in her voice. “I bet they’re glad to have you on the team.”

“Uh huh. It’s a fun team.” He thought about how easy it was to be out of the closet around them — mentioning his boyfriend as the team drank beers together at the Wobbly Elm after practice, or kissing David after games when he came to watch. It was nice. He wanted that same ease with his family, to be able to mention David in passing as more than just his business partner. He ran a finger along the top of the framed picture on his desk, of him and David on Christmas Eve last year, arms around each other at the Roses’ party. Patrick had a hard time taking his eyes off of David in that photo sometimes, radiant in a silver sweater under the warm Christmas lights.

“Well,” she said, like she was hoping for him to say something else. After a pause in which he didn’t, his mother continued, “I should let you get on with your day.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, guilt churning in his stomach yet again at the fact that he couldn’t just be fucking honest with this mother. That the life he shared with his parents was more gaps than substance. “I’ll call again when I have more time to talk.”

“Okay,” she said, the happiness gone from her voice. He’d done that with his evasiveness, Patrick thought. He’d made his mother sad. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

~*~

David pulled up in front of the store in the Lincoln and pushed on the heavy driver’s door with a grunt. He stood up, his sweatshirt sticking to the small of his back with sweat. The vinyl seats were one of things he hated most about that car, and he hated a lot of things about it. He wasn’t that fond of Patrick’s car either, but at least it had slightly more comfortable seats. In any case, their divided errands had made borrowing Patrick’s car impossible, so he was stuck with the Lincoln.

He unlocked the door to the store and ducked his head in. “Patrick?” he called. Patrick’s car wasn’t out front, but it was possible he’d pulled around to the back to unload. When no one answered, David pulled out his phone and sent off a text: How close are you to getting back? There was no answer, so David assumed Patrick was driving. He opened his text chain with Stevie and texted, Can you come help me at the store for a minute?

Stevie: I’m busy working.

David: You’re not that busy if you’re texting me back.

She didn’t answer. “Fuck,” David whined to no one, resigning himself to having to unload the entire car by himself. This was why splitting up the vendor pickups had been a terrible idea, he thought as he muscled a crate of honey out of the trunk. Now here he was, all alone with very heavy things to carry.

By the time he had all of the new merchandise stacked in the back room, he was drenched with sweat and there was still no sign of Patrick. Well, just for that, he wasn’t going to wait around, David thought churlishly as he locked up and got back in the car. He was going to go take a shower at the motel and Patrick could unload by himself too.

He briefly considered going to Patrick’s apartment to shower; his water pressure was better and David had a couple of changes of clothes there. Plus, he had a key, and Patrick had said that he was welcome to come and go as he pleased. But he also knew that living alone was something that Patrick wanted — it was something he’d never had before, he’d admitted to David on the day he’d signed the lease. He’d gone from his parents’ house to a dorm to apartments with a series of roommates to living with Rachel to rooming with Ray. He’d never had his own place. David understood that and he wanted Patrick to have what he needed, not have David unexpectedly underfoot when he perhaps wasn’t welcome. Still, it didn’t stop his heart from aching a little bit. He wanted to live with Patrick, he’d realized. He had been ready to take that step and Patrick hadn’t been. It stung.

Alexis was doing something on the laptop computer at her little desk when David walked into their shared room, and she looked up at him and wrinkled her nose.

“Ugh, David, what happened to you?” she asked.

Narrowing his eyes, he dropped his bag on the bed. “I was working. What are you talking about?”

“You’re all gross and sweaty,” she replied.

“It’s hot out today, and I had to do a bunch of vendor pickups in that boat of a car and then unload everything into the store by myself because Patrick’s not back yet,” he complained. He collected a change of clothes and marched into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him to punctuate how tough his day had been. Okay, he’d been able to sample some of the new butter cookies that Mrs. Franklin sold through their store, and maybe she’d also given him a glass of lemonade, but still.

After a shower, David felt worlds better, although there was still no reply from Patrick to his text.

“What is taking him so long to get back?” David muttered as he dug through his cedar chest. The sweater he was looking for didn’t appear to be in there, another annoyance in a day of annoyances.

“What’s the matter?” Alexis asked.

David waved at her, his hand flapping at the end of his wrist. “Patrick’s just taking forever to finish his vendor pickups,” he said, trying to ignore the worry beginning to gnaw in his stomach. “It’s fine.”

“I hope you had a talk last night, David,” Alexis said, her eyes not coming up from her laptop. “No more fooling around with anyone outside the relationship until you’ve established some ground rules.”

David whipped around and glared at her. “Can you let that go, please? We’re fine.”

“No thanks to you,” she said.

He suppressed a squawk. “We had a healthy talk about it this morning. We’re fine.”

“Good,” Alexis said.

“Also the sex last night was very hot—”

“David, ew.” She stuck her tongue out. “Don’t tell me that.” But then she sort of half-smiled at him. “I’m glad you guys are okay.”

David smiled back. He was glad too. “He makes me…” David started to say, then thought better of being so vulnerable in front of his sister. But what the hell; she’d been there for him last night when he needed someone. He moved over to his bed and sat down to put on his shoes. “He makes me feel safe. No one’s ever… I’ve never dated anyone who made me feel safe before.”

Alexis, to her credit, didn’t make fun of him, although the squinty smile she gave him made him recoil, grimacing.

“Kids!” his dad called as he barged into the room. “We’re headed over to the café for dinner. Do you want to join us?”

Alexis shook her head. “I’m going over to Ted’s for dinner.”

David picked up his phone and sent another text to Patrick. Are you still not back yet? And then he stared at the screen, waiting to see dots to indicate Patrick was texting back, or at least to see a read receipt. The ball of worry in his stomach grew a little bit bigger.

“David, do you want to come with your mother and me?” Johnny asked.

“I was supposed to eat at Patrick’s,” he said. “But maybe. I don’t know.” He switched apps and called Patrick’s phone, holding it to his ear and listening to it ring and ring and ring. With every ring, he felt his breathing rate tick up.

“Well, we’re going now, so I need you to decide,” Johnny said irritably.

David slapped his phone down on the bedspread and threw his hands up. “Then go without me; it’s fine!”

“David, I’m not going to wait around for a second evening that I’m supposed to spend with Ted while you have another meltdown about—”

“No one’s having a meltdown!” David shouted. “I just don’t know where my boyfriend is!” He looked at the time, feeling queasy. His previous annoyance was gone and now he was just worried. Patrick really should have been back hours ago. He tried calling again.

“David, you need to be a little bit less clingy—” Alexis said.

“Okay, well, we’re going to go,” Johnny said. “You can join us later, if…”

David’s phone vibrated in his hand, and he saw he had a call from an unknown number coming in as he tried to call Patrick. Maybe Patrick’s phone had died and he was calling from someone else’s phone, he thought as he clicked to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this David Rose?” asked a woman in a sharp, business-like tone of voice.

“Yes, who is this?” he snapped.

“This is Cheryl calling from Elmdale Hospital. We’ve got a Patrick Brewer here and he gave us your number as his emergency contact.”

“Oh, God.” There was a rushing noise in his ears and his mouth tasted like bile as he tried to shape it into making useful words. “What happened to him? Is he okay?” David clutched the edge of his bed, feeling dizzy, heart racing.

“There was a car accident and he was brought in by ambulance a little while ago. He’s having some tests done, but I can’t disclose any information about his health to you over the phone. If you come to the hospital—”

David hung up. He imagined Patrick’s car, the car he’d ridden in countless times on their way to movie dates or dinner, speeding through the countryside as Mariah Carey or one of Patrick’s alt-folk bands blasted out of the shitty speakers. Patrick’s car, mangled on a deserted road somewhere, no one around for miles. How long did it take before an ambulance came? How long was he lying there alone, broken and injured by the side of the road?

“David, you’ve gone very pale,” Alexis said.

“Is Patrick all right?” Johnny asked as Moira wandered in.

“John, I’m a bit peckish,” she said. “Are we leaving soon?”

“Patrick was in a car accident,” David said. Everyone’s voices sounded muffled to his ears, even his own. “I need to go to the hospital.” He stood up and looked around for the keys. He didn’t think he’d returned them to his father’s stupid little hook in the other room. Where were they?

There was a flurry of activity and then Alexis was at his side. “I’ll drive.”

David ignored her. He didn’t have time to think about Alexis right now. Where were the fucking keys?

Alexis held up her hand. “I have the keys and I’m driving,” she said, and David spared a moment to be confused about what he’d just thought to himself and what he’d said out loud. “You’re shaking,” she said pointedly. “Put your shoes on and let’s go.”

“Is he all right, David?” his mother asked as David sat back down on the bed and reached for his shoes. His fingers felt numb and clumsy.

“I don’t know.”

He looked up to see his parents exchange a nervous glance.

“I mean, they said they were doing tests. They wouldn’t say that if he was, like…” Dead, his brain supplied, but the word wouldn’t come out of his mouth.

“Shall we accompany you to the hospital, my darling?” Moira asked, grimacing, clearly regretting making the offer even as she did so.

“Nope,” Alexis said, shooing them back into their room. “No need for that. We’ll call you as soon as we know something,” she said firmly. When Alexis used that voice, people often had a hard time arguing, and their parents were no exception this time.

David tied his shoes awkwardly, the bows kind of a mess. Patrick had made fun of him one time about the precise way he tied his shoes. Patrick, who was lying in a hospital bed, injured, alone…

“Come on, David,” Alexis said, taking his arm firmly but kindly. “Have you got your wallet and phone?” He patted his pockets and nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

It was normally a forty minute drive to Elmdale, lots of time for David to imagine every possible horrible scenario. Maybe Patrick was in a coma, and would wake up having forgotten who David was, or even that he liked men. Maybe he would be paralyzed. Maybe his face would be horribly scarred. David would love him anyway, he thought, even if he’d been disfigured. All that mattered was that he came through this alive.

“I’m sure he’s okay, David,” Alexis said as if she could hear what was going on inside his head. She needed to stop doing that. It was creepy.

“You don’t know that.”

“His car is boring and probably has airbags and, like, crumple zones or whatever,” she said. “I bet he’s just got a little bonk on the head. The tests are probably just a precaution.”

He sighed, playing out that much more comforting fantasy in his head instead of his dark ones. Patrick would just stroll out of an examining room and David would hug him tight and take him home and everything would be fine.

They arrived at the hospital in only thirty-two minutes, thanks to Alexis’s speedy driving.

He identified himself at the front desk, and the receptionist or whatever she was told him to wait. David inhaled a breath, ready to argue, but Alexis was thanking the woman and dragging him over to the rows of chairs before he could get another word out. His sister perched on one of the plastic chairs and pulled out her phone while David paced back and forth in front of her. Now that they were here, he really just wanted to tear the place apart until he could see Patrick for himself. And hold his hand; he was sure that whatever had happened, Patrick would feel better if David could hold his hand.

“David Rose?” A woman in a white coat stood next to the door that led to the rest of the hospital. He rushed over.

“I’m David Rose,” he said, breathless.

“You’re Patrick Brewer’s…” She consulted the chart she was holding.

“Partner. Can you please tell me what happened? Is he okay?” He could sense Alexis behind him, hovering.

“Well, he got banged up pretty good. Compound fracture of the radius and fracture of the ulna, two cracked ribs, and a concussion. The police said a truck ran a stoplight and hit his car broadside.”

David thought it was wildly inappropriate that she would expect him to remember what bones were named at a time like this. “The radius is…?”

She gestured to her forearm. “Arm bones. As is often the case with this sort of impact injury, both bones in the forearm were broken.”

Wincing, David asked, “Can I see him, please?”

“Not yet; he was taken into surgery a little while ago to stabilize the arm. It has to be operated on right away because there’s a risk of infection when the bone is exposed.”

The next thing David was aware of was Alexis guiding him down into a chair. “Okay, just lean over and put your head between your knees,” she said while David tried to figure out why his vision was narrowing. He felt sweaty. Alexis disappeared for a minute, but he could hear her voice, off to the left somewhere. Also that doctor, the one who said Patrick’s arm was…

David fought the urge to throw up. It would be embarrassing to hurl all over the floor in the waiting room of Elmdale Hospital.

Finally Alexis was back. “Are you gonna pass out?”

“No. I don’t think so.” He lifted his head. “What did she say after the thing about his…”

“Bone sticking out?” Alexis asked unhelpfully. David put his head in his hands. “That they did a CT scan prior to surgery and that he was alert but concussed. You’ll be able to see him once he wakes up from the anesthesia. And they’ll have a better idea tomorrow how long he’ll need to be in the hospital.” She rubbed his back. “Do you want me to get you a cup of tea?”

David nodded. “I can’t believe this happened. Just like that.”

“Yeah, I’d like to get my hands on the driver of that truck,” Alexis said fiercely, and David couldn’t help but agree. He wasn’t a violent person, as a rule, but he’d make an exception just this once. Or he’d let Alexis have at him.

“He’s gonna be okay, though, right?” David asked, not liking the pleading edge in his voice.

Alexis was still rubbing his back, and she pressed her cheek against his arm for a second. “He’s gonna be okay, David.”

He startled, a thought occurring to him suddenly, and he fumbled for his phone. “I need to call his parents.”

“You have his parents’ phone number?” Alexis asked with a grin.

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, I’ve never called them, but I was starting to think about…” He sighed. He hadn’t wanted to tell Alexis about this until much closer to the event. “Patrick’s birthday is coming up in a few months and I was thinking about inviting his parents to a surprise party,” he said as he pulled out his phone.

“David, that’s so cute,” she said with a pout.

“So I managed to use Patrick’s thumbprint to unlock his phone when he was dead asleep one night and I put their numbers into my phone in preparation for inviting them,” he said as he scrolled through his contacts. “Please don’t tell Mom and Dad; they can’t keep a secret,” he said as he pressed the button to call Marcy Brewer.

He’d only spoken to Patrick’s mother a couple of times, when she’d called the store after being unable to reach Patrick on his mobile phone. He’d handed the phone over to Patrick quickly after some brief pleasantries, but he’d gotten the impression of a friendly woman. Just the sort of person he’d expect to have raised Patrick Brewer.

“Hello,” came the maternal voice down the phone line as Alexis stood up, flopping her wrists towards her mouth. When he shook his head in confusion at her, she stuck out her pinky, miming sipping, before walking away. Right, she was going to get tea.

“Hi, Mrs. Brewer, this is David Rose calling.”

“Oh, David! How are you?”

“Um, well, not great. I’m sorry to have to call you like this, and let me start by saying Patrick is going to be fine…”

“Oh, dear. This is like the phone calls I used to get from his coaches,” she said, sounding surprisingly calm. “What happened?”

“He was in a car accident this afternoon and he’s in the hospital.” David felt tears pressing behind his eyes, and he ruthlessly swallowed them down. “I haven’t been able to see him yet, but they said his arm is broken. Also some ribs.” He decided to stop there, if for no other reason than he didn’t think he could go into more detail without needing to put his head between his knees again.

“Oh, my sweet Patrick,” Marcy gasped, sounding much less calm. “Why haven’t you been able to see him?”

“They’re… um… operating on his arm.” He braced his elbows on his knees. “It was a bad fracture.”

“Okay,” she said, back to sounding calm. “Clint and I will come there. We’ll be there in the morning.”

David wasn’t sure exactly where the Brewers lived, but he thought it was pretty far, and it sounded like she was implying that they would drive all night. “Maybe you should get some rest and leave in the morning?”

“As if I’d be able to sleep tonight, worrying about my boy,” she said. “He’s all alone there,” she said.

Frowning, David said, “I’ll be here. And my sister Alexis is here.” He wondered why she’d put it that way. Surely she didn’t think David would leave the hospital tonight, did she?

“That’s very sweet of you, David,” Marcy said. “I’ll let you know when we get into town, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” David said, off-kilter from the conversation. His eyes fixed on a stack of pamphlets on the table next to him, where a smiling woman was entirely too happy about routine colonoscopies. “It’s Elmdale Hospital,” he told Marcy.

“Thanks, David. If you see Patrick tonight, please let him know we’re on our way.”

When a nurse finally came to tell them that Patrick was out of recovery, Alexis had fallen asleep across his lap and David had read the entire pamphlet about colonoscopies (and all of the other pamphlets within reach) front to back. He shook Alexis awake and bolted up from the uncomfortable chair, not looking back to see if Alexis was following.

The first thing he noticed were the cuts on Patrick’s face. They weren’t large; probably not worth mentioning in the context of his other injuries. Just tiny knicks in his forehead and left cheek from bits of glass, David assumed. But tears still welled up in David’s eyes when he saw those angry little cuts. Patrick looked like he was sleeping, his arm bandaged and immobilized within a plastic splint contraption.

“Why don’t they put a cast on his arm?” Alexis asked as David went to sit next to the bed.

The nurse who was fiddling with one of the machines in the room looked up. “They will once they’ve made certain there’s no infection.”

Patrick opened his eyes and his face cracked into a sloppy smile. “It’s David!” he slurred, then he turned to the nurse. “David is my very handsome boyfriend who’s very handsome. See, I told you.”

Alexis snorted, covering her mouth, her eyes dancing with mirth.

“What’s wrong with him?” David asked.

The nurse smiled. “He just came out from under general anesthesia. He’s been talking about you a lot.”

“Flying pretty high, Patrick?” Alexis asked with a smirk. She pulled out her phone and held it up.

“Put that away,” David snapped.

Patrick squinted at her like he couldn’t quite focus on someone that far away. “Hi, Alexis,” he said. “Thanks for coming to visit me in the hospital.” Then his head swung around to David again. “I love you. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here too,” David said around a lump in his throat. “I was worried about you.”

Patrick’s smile fell. “David?”

“Yes, honey?”

“I think I’m gonna puke.”

Chapter 2

#schitt's creek #david x patrick #schitt's creek ff #schitt's creek fic #david x patrick fic #david x patrick ff #my fic

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msbarrows · 4 years ago

Text

Never Again, Newegg

So today I splurged and bought a new gaming laptop, my first computer purchase since I got my old Dell Vostro 400 desktop back in 2007 (which amazingly still works as of the last time I booted it up, it’s just a complete dinosaur and I don’t even have it plugged in or connected to anything since I last rearranged my desk back in November). Shiny New Laptop (which was new in 2013) was a gift. So this was a very exciting day for me.

Purchased an HP Omen 17″ direct from HP Canada, and am very happy about the purchase (also got a new monitor on sale, with full HD resolution - current monitor tops out at 1600x900), and even popped for a 3 year extended warranty, because HP is having a thing where if you don’t actually use it, you have 90 days after it eventually expires to request a refund. First time I’ve actually said yes to an extended warranty; kudos on whomever decided that was a good policy to have, I entirely agree.

Anyway, with those on the way, there were also some odds and ends of additional items I wanted to purchase. Like they only had the 17″ available with a 256GB PCIe SSD boot drive paired with a 1TB secondary HDD - and I’d rather have that second drive also be an SSD. HP lets you do things like change/add drives or RAM without it invalidating your warranty (they even tout how easy the case is to open as a feature), yet another thing I’m really liking about this purchase, so I decided to pop for a 2TB SSD to replace that with. I plan to stick the HDD in an external 3.0 drive enclosure; removing it should increase the battery life of the laptop, and I have a nice powered 3.0 USB hub I can plug it into for use (yay past me for planning ahead and getting a 3.0 hub rather than 2.0). Figure it can hold things like big media files where playback speed is not a real issue, ie, movies and music and photos.

So anyway, I’d never used Newegg before, but I didn’t want to throw money at Amazon, and Best Buy didn’t have everything I wanted, so I decided to try them out. Website is fairly nicely designed, their filtering is awesome (best I’ve found yet) so it was very disappointing when I went to submit the order and things immediately started going seriously wrong.

First off, it apparently timed out partway through submitting the payment. It landed me on a screen saying that the order hadn’t been processed, I hadn’t been charged, and to please try again. I stupidly believed that, and didn’t double-check (my bad, but still their site’s fault). So I redid the submission. It went through. Checked my email - yup, there was the order emails. Yes, multiple, they process every item ordered as a separate order and order # rather than as one set of multiple items, so I had 5 emails in total - received your order, charged payment for items 1-4. Ugh, stupid design, but whatever.

Go to make supper. A bit later my brother (who was kindly letting me use his CC for all this) came to check with me, very concerned - he’s received 10 emails. The order had gone through twice. So I leave off making supper, go upstairs to cancel the duplicate order... only the Newegg site says the items are invalid to cancel. What. The. FUCK.

Double check my emails - I have the second set of emails too, arriving a good 20 minutes after the first. I immediately get on with their online customer support, explain the situation, list all 8 order numbers divided into their two sets.

Customer rep can only cancel 2 of the 4 on first order, because apparently once they start packaging an order, you can’t cancel it any more, and despite it having been only around a half hour since I placed the order, some of it’s already being packed. Okay, so can we cancel the duplicates on the second order? She goes to look that up, I tell her exactly which two order numbers that would be, as I have the order screen open in front of me. Nope, she can’t do that one, lists one of the numbers she’d already cancelled. We go back and forth doublechecking, I again tell her what two specific order numbers still need to be cancelled. Nope, still can’t do it. Another run of double checking, list the two specific numbers a third time - and ffs, it turns out the problem is she hasn’t noticed the difference between a duplicate order ending in 79703 and the one ending in 80703 that she’d previously cancelled, which is why her attempts to cancel it have repeatedly failed. GAH!

By now we’ve been in chat for almost 40 minutes, and I have progressed from being merely annoyed to flat out frustrated RAGE. She finally tries to cancel the right numbers, and NOPE, those are now also in packaging. Supposedly my only option is to wait until they arrive, and either refuse the delivery (assuming I can identify which package(s) are those two specific duplicate items) or process a return. And while she says that a return wouldn’t involve a restocking fee, I can’t help but notice she’s not saying anything about shipping costs. Just WTF kind of poorly designed ordering system is this!? And who the hell doesn’t have a built-in buying remorse period of at least an hour before they start on actually shipping stuff?

Argh. Ugh ugh UGH. End chat, go to finish making supper, talk it back and forth with brother about what we should do (while feeling horrible that I ended up putting doubled charges on his card). So distracted I ended up burning the rolls for what was going to be meatball subs, and had to do noodles instead. Supper was very late, good thing this is not a day where he’s working nights.

Thankfully, someone somewhere successfully fixes it; after supper I found three emails saying they were “out of stock” on the duplicate items, and when I checked their site again, I’m now showing as having 3 of the 4 items remaining (and all with the button for me to manually cancel them enabled), and everything else cancelled (thankfully the one item they cancelled both of is just a 16gb USB key I wanted for recovery media, and I can get one of those just about anywhere). So, at least they made it right in the end, but that doesn’t at all help with the earlier frustration, and being so full of rage I was both nauseous and on the verge of tears, which is not a feeling I at all enjoy. Crying because of a heartbreaking scene in a book = good, crying because of a crappy customer experience = bad.

Never buying from them again, no matter how nice their filtering is. Never recommending them to anyone. Just, never ever again.

#WTFery #Newegg.ca #The most venting vent to ever vent #Long Rant #I am just so pissed off #Never buying from them again #Never recommending them to anyone #In fact they get anti-recommendation forever

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a-charm-of-witches · 4 years ago

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Andromeda, Aries and Lupus, please.

Andromeda - Describe your main characters

HMMMMMmmm well. I wanna save the big descriptions for the RO profiles, so let’s go with short descriptions this time.

RIVER: A punk rocker with a heart of gold who’s done a lot of work on their anger management issues.

VALENTINE: A cheerleader who tries really hard to pretend that nothing matters to make themselves feel better about the fact that they don’t matter.

NATSUKI: A garden punk who learned a long time ago to stab first, question never, and always, always shield their heart.

HENRY: A older sibling (of way too damn many) who wears their heart on their sleeve because maybe then someone will acknowledge that there’s more to them than being their parents’ enforcer, or their siblings keeper.

Aries - Share a line that you’re proud of!

This is already in the demo, but honestly, this moment:

"Werewolves?" I yelp, jerking backward and looking around immediately. "Don't worry, Kiddo," Alice says as she scoops up my bag and drags it inside for me. "They only bite if you ask real nice."

Lupus - Have you abandoned other WIPs? Tell us about some and why you abandoned them?

Oh lord. Well... that depends? Or maybe I’m just trying to make myself feel better by pulling hairs. So here’s the thing.

Do I have any abandoned IF WIPs? No. This is my first solo game attempt. I actually have a pretty decent track record for games, though part of that was writing for an actual game studio. Deadlines, producers, and paycheques make finishing a thing a lot easier. You aren’t allowed to “baby” the story as much as you might otherwise.

That said... My WIP list is long when it comes to fanfiction, including more than a few abandoned WIPs, and I technically have two novels I keep pulling on and off the backburner. There was also one spectacularly failed web graphic novel from... holy crap, was that a decade ago? Maybe. So let’s talk about them.

(And I’m going to put everything past here under a cut because it’s long)

The graphic novel is probably the one I regret the most, and also the hardest to talk about so it’ll go first. It was called Wind Spirits, and if you google it (and actually manage to find it) be prepared for blood and nudity. While nothing in the comic itself was sexualized, it was a fantasy world based in a climate similar to African savannahs and the majority of the cast didn’t really do clothing. This turned out to be a mistake, to some degree.

I briefly mentioned this in another ask, but along with the whole “I don’t know what attraction means to most people” thing, I also don’t and have never understood the concept of nudity as something that’s inherently sexual. People’s bodies don’t bother me one way or the other, and my training as an artist only emphasized this. So it never occurred to me that simply depicting characters in the nude, in a way that was clearly meant as naturalistic and non-sexualized, would garner a fair amount of “omg this is adult!!” reactions, as well as a LOT of unwanted sexual comments from viewers. Not until I started receiving intimate details of my viewers, uh, fantasy lives that I was in no way comfortable with. It wasn’t just comments, either, but seeing people sort the pages of my comic into “spank bank” folders on DeviantArt, submitting them to fetish groups, etc.

Now, if I had been choosing to write something erotic, this wouldn’t have bothered me. I have since written soft core porn for a living, and have seen comments made about said writing without taking it in the same way. But context matters, right?

And for a little more context, it especially made me feel A Way because, well, the larger reason why I ultimately walked myself back from the project: 99.9% of the cast were black. Which isn’t a problem, in and of itself of course. It’s just that...

I’m a white woman from the Southern USA. And while I deeply enjoy and love the world that I built for Wind Spirits (one that I’d been designing since I was about fourteen), well, mistakes were made. It wasn’t just the weird optics of being a white woman drawing a bunch of naked black characters, which I only really became aware of during the process, but also some deeply rooted racist beliefs I’d been holding onto that I hadn’t worked through, and hadn’t begun to even recognize as a problem until I was partway into the thing.

It was when I started learning about and unpacking these things that I realized I couldn’t keep moving forward with Wind Spirits as it was. Keep in mind, this was around ten years ago. I didn’t know about, and hadn’t worked through, even half as much as I have now, and couldn’t begin to fathom how to fix the problem. So while I don’t believe I publicly posted anything that was terribly racist on the face of things (at least, no one has ever called me out on it, if I did,) I knew the direction the project was heading at the time, and that it was a message I no longer agreed with, or felt comfortable putting out into the world.

There’s a tiny possibility that I could salvage it one day, rework it into something better. In fact, I’ve toyed with quite a few outlines of story directions that would do that, but I’m not sure it’s actually going to happen. There’s just too much history there, for me.

...

OK, so on a less heavy note, the other big issue with abandoned WIPs are fanfiction stuff. Those are my biggest downfall by far, but a lot of it has to do with... I tend to write really heavy AUs that don’t get a lot of traction in the fandoms they’re for, probably because they’re heavy AUs. (or just not that good.) I might hyperfixate on a fic for months, but ultimately drop the ball because life threw too much at me at once and, hell, it’s not like there was anyone engaging with the fic, anyway.

Or, in the incredibly rare instance there were people commenting regularly, it just has to do with time and with the feeling that I’d rather be making this into something that’s mine, and mine alone. That I’m wasting really great original fic ideas by making them AUs of a property they don’t resemble in the least anymore (another reason why they don’t get much traction.)

So yeah. If y’all’d like to hear more about the two original novels I have on the burner I can also go into that. This just seems like it’s really long already, and I kind of feel like I just wrote a callout post for myself, so. Yeah.

#asks answered #tw: mentions of racism #not sure if that's really necessary here but just in case #meme response

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secret-engima · 5 years ago

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Can I ask for some of the dire warnings bb!nox gives people that make people think he's a seer? And other peoples reactions to said dire warnings, and the results/consequences that may or may not have resulted from potentially ignoring them?

Hmmm I’m TERRIBLE at the dire warning/foreshadowing stuff when I try to do it intentionally but like, I’ll give it a try?

-It happens to Cor at first.

-Honestly it happens to him a LOT.

-He’ll prepping for a mission when Nox sneaks away from his keepers and comes to find him with big teary eyes and says something dire. The first time Nox did it, he tugged on Cor’s sleeve and said, “Don’t go left.” And Cor stops and blinks at him and everyone else who happens to be in the area (because of course Nox finds him while he’s in the Crownsguard HQ grabbing extra gear and leaving last minute orders, of course he does), “Don’t go left,” Nox repeats solemnly and Cor crouches down and gently asks what Nox means and if he needs anything before Cor goes and Nox gets even more distressed.

-“Don’t go left,” Nox repeats desperately, “It’s a trap and you’ll get hurt and Dad will yell at you and you’ll have to use crutches for a month and you can’t go left.”

-Without a clue why Nox is so insistent, Cor promises not to go left and leaves and forgets all about it. He does his mission, but his mission goes south and in a split second choice down two routes of escape he veers left.

-It isn’t until he’s escaped and dragged himself home on a badly broken leg that he’d had no potions to heal that he remembers. It isn’t until after Regis has come and yelled at him for being reckless only to be interrupted partway through by an inconsolable Nox, who runs in and flops on the bed and grabs his shoulders and wails at him “You promised! You promised! You promised you wouldn’t go left!”

-And Regis sees Cor still, sees his friend’s eyes go wide with realization and knows something just happened.

-After that, Cor starts tentatively taking Nox’s warnings more seriously, and on days he forgets, he learns the hard way that they always come true (of course they do, Nox has Regis’s memories, Nox REMEMBERS those missions and how they ended, read Cor’s reports on what choice made it all go wrong).

-The Crownsguard start talking, and after Nox gets more comfortable with the residents of the Citadel he starts doing it to them too.

-It can be little things like telling the elderly butler to take his umbrella because it will rain and he’ll get sick even though the sun is shining outside the window when Nox says it. Little things like Nox staring vacantly at one of the Crownsguard and then smiling and saying “congratulations!” two days before his wife tells him that she’s pregnant with that child they’ve been wanting for years.

-It can be big things, like Nox throwing an utter tantrum over a maidservant about to go leave early for her son’s game, a tantrum that rattles windows and tips furniture and won’t stop until she bites back her anger and agrees to stay just to make the prince stop sobbing about tires and twisted metal and never seeing her again.

-Her son calls her in a panic later, and when she checks the news she sees the same thing he is telling her over the phone. A massive four lane traffic accident that happened right around the time she would have been crossing that very same street to get to her son’s game.

-She thinks of Nox’s tantrum, his hiccuping sobs about tires and twisted metal and feels sick.

-Nox doesn’t predict everything of course, but he has a good memory, and a tendency to remember things when connected to people he favors, so he warns them without realizing that the things he sees are things he shouldn’t know.

-Other times his warnings are vaguer, based off of a hundred generations of experience rather than a single lifetime already lived. He warns softly against trusting certain people, because he has seen their kind a thousand times over, he follows servants that he knows are sad and tells them it will be okay, because in a hundred and fourteen lifetimes he has learned that things usually DO, somehow, turn out alright in the end, even if they aren’t the “alright” that person wants specifically.

-A few times he grab a Crownsguard by the sleeve and tell them X person doesn’t belong. Upon investigation or happenstance, the person Nox told them about always turns out to be a Nif plant.

-So really, it’s not always dire warnings, and not to everyone, but its just enough specific warnings at specific people mixed with vaguer things that prove true because they have always proved true throughout history that make people believe Nox is a seer.

-And so if Nox tracks down Monica and solemnly tells her to pack extra rope even when she’s only going on a three day camping vacation, Monica pats her little prince on the head, thanks him profusely, and packs a truly ridiculous amount of rope that will later prove incredibly useful.

-Just like Nox remembered Monica ruefully saying it would have while recounting her disastrous vacation an entire lifetime ago.

#SE asks #shadowdragongem asks #Nox verse #Little Nox verse #Secret Engima Rambles

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philosopherking1887 · 5 years ago

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Letter to Tom Hiddleston

As I posted before I saw Tom in Betrayal in London, I wrote a letter (composed on the computer then transcribed by hand on nice stationery, which caused some flare-up of my tennis elbow...) to give to him after the show. I didn’t get into the stage door line fast enough to be able to see Tom; he only went partway down the line before going back in. (I’m not sure if that was his idea or his handler’s. Charlie Cox, meanwhile, did go all the way down the line; I got his autograph on my program and a couple of photos of him, though not with him.) But some house manager/handler person was collecting letters, cards, and gifts, and when I asked skeptically whether he would actually give them to Tom, he said, “100%”. So in theory, Tom actually received this and might read it. Maybe it was dumb, or presumptuous, or outright rude, but I expressed my condolences for what the MCU did to his character. If Tom isn’t actually as depressed about it as he seems, it won’t matter -- he’ll ignore it like the rest of the nonsense fans probably write to him -- but if he is, maybe it’ll help a little to know he has allies.

Anyway, here’s what I wrote.

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

Dear Mr. Hiddleston (or Tom, if I may),

I’m a philosophy postdoc at [redacted], in London for an on-campus interview for a lectureship at [redacted]… which actually isn’t until next week; I extended my trip a few days on the front end so that I could catch one of the last shows of Betrayal before the run ended. It’s more than a little silly, but I’ll admit that a large part of the reason I was hoping [redacted] would invite me for a visit no later than mid-June was so that I’d have an opportunity (or excuse) to come see you act in person.

Like many people you’ve heard from, I’m sure, I became a fan of yours through your portrayal of Loki. I was blissfully ignorant of the MCU until 2015, when a friend invited me to see Avengers: Age of Ultron. My interest was piqued when I learned that Joss Whedon wrote and directed it, since I greatly admire his work. So of course, because I wasn’t raised by wolves, I had to go back and watch all the previous MCU films in chronological order. I wasn’t really hooked until I watched Thor, but not because of the title character.

Loki’s story was deeper, more tragic, more Shakespearean than I expected from a comic book movie, even in this golden age (though perhaps not from one directed by Kenneth Branagh). It was striking that the villain (seemingly) died not as a direct result of his wicked actions, in the Wile E. Coyote-like fashion favored by Marvel and Disney movies, but by suicide, prompted by his father’s rejection. He was three-dimensional, flesh and blood, and never lost the audience’s sympathy even in his cruelest moments—like Shylock, Cassius, or Macbeth. Then, when Loki turned up again in The Avengers, more desperate and ruthless but fundamentally the same proud, wounded spirit, I was fully drawn in. (Whedon’s incisive writing certainly didn’t hurt.)

I needed to know who played Loki with such poise, charm, and pathos. After getting caught up on the MCU (including another nuanced, twisty, show-stealing appearance from Loki in The Dark World), I needed to find more of your work. I watched Unrelated, Archipelago (ouch), The Deep Blue Sea, and the Henry installments of The Hollow Crown. I went to see Coriolanus when it was shown in a local movie theater; I watched Crimson Peak, The Night Manager, and I Saw the Light when they came out.

And the amazing thing all of these performances had in common is that you disappear into each role, inhabiting each character completely. You make the most diverse characters equally believable, from the selfish frivolity, with an undercurrent of sadness, of Freddie Page or Prince Hal to the grim inflexibility of Caius Marcius to the inscrutable chameleon Jonathan Pine and, of course, the mercurial, self-destructive Loki. When you speak Shakespeare, the words flow as naturally as if you grew up in Elizabethan England, and the meaning comes across so lucidly that I feel like I did, too. I had no idea what Coriolanus was about when I went to see it (generally not recommended with Shakespeare), but I found myself as effortlessly caught up in it as if it were an episode of Game of Thrones. Nonetheless—and this is what drew me to your work in the first place—you put the same kind of thoughtfulness and conviction into the most (apparently) frivolous roles that you do into Shakespeare.

I haven’t heard anyone say this or ask you about it in interviews, maybe because they know you wouldn’t be able to say anything publicly if you agree or maybe because there are so few people who feel this way, but I want to express how sorry I am about what was done to your character, how thoughtlessly all your masterful work and dedication were thrown away—in Infinity War, yes, but even more insultingly in Thor: Ragnarok. Maybe I was just imagining it, but I sensed from your comportment during the press for Ragnarok, however gamely you talked up the humorous new tone (you are, after all, a professional), that you weren’t entirely happy with the way Loki and (to an even greater extent) Thor were “reinvented”—or, more accurately, bowdlerized, made into caricatures rather than characters: Loki was turned into an effete, hedonistic cartoon cut-out “trickster” who betrays people for shits and giggles because it’s “in his nature”—completely disregarding, or rather attempting (successfully, for most audiences) to erase, his complicated, compelling motives for his misdeeds in previous films; and Thor was turned into a compassionless, narcissistic bully (however much the movie tried to make out that Loki was the narcissist) and, to use some technical terminology, a fratty douchebro. This mean-spirited retcon, which gleefully mocked its predecessors and the people who liked them (especially with the parody of Loki’s death scene in The Dark World), was not the conclusion to the trilogy that Thor, Loki, or their fans deserved. It was not the conclusion you deserved, after the heart and soul you put into the character.

All that is to say: even if Marvel didn’t understand or appreciate what they had in your Loki, some of us do, and we are grateful for the dignity and compassion with which you incarnated a character who suffered from emotional abuse, social ostracism, and mental illness (Ragnarok cannot make us believe that all of these problems are mere “childish fixations,” to quote the director, or a lazy failure to “grow and change”). I hope the Loki TV show turns out to be worthy of the character as you, Branagh, and Whedon shaped him, not another cynical effort to cash in on Loki’s fans while making no secret of the contempt in which we are held, especially because most of us are female, and bowing to the dislike of the Reddit crowd that can’t understand why a cerebral, slightly androgynous, morally ambiguous character is more appealing to women than the standard self-certain male power fantasies (must be because women always go for assholes, right?). I haven’t decided yet whether I want to subscribe to Disney+ so that Marvel knows exactly how many people care about Loki, or boycott it in protest of how the MCU has treated Loki and his fans. Maybe I’ll compromise by using someone else’s login…

To conclude (finally; we academics tend to wax long-winded): Thank you for all your magnificent work, which clearly demonstrates your respect for both your craft and your audience. You’re a true artist, and you manage to elevate everything you act in (your eyebrow movements furnished most of the sincere pathos in Ragnarok). I hope you will continue to act both in the theater, which is obviously your true passion, and in film and TV so that your work is accessible to a larger audience. Or do more of those National Theatre Live things; best of both worlds.

Sincerely, etc.

#letter to tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston as loki #tom hiddleston's acting #anti thor ragnarok

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astrodances · 5 years ago

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Power Couple

I’m baaaaaaaack! And I come bearing words AND a drawing based on a fluffy little idea I’ve had for a while! 💜

––––––

The click of a metal door opening, followed by another of its closing.

“Well well well. I was told I would find you here, but this isn’t quite what I was expecting to find.”

Goldie has to shout her greeting a little above the melody of big band jazz music playing from a nearby radio. It’s lively, but not obnoxiously so. Scrooge’s current appearance, on the other hand...

He gives her a sheepish half-wave after having been caught in the act, with the photographer’s wave coming a bit more hesitantly over his shoulder, unsure of who she is or why she’s here. Scrooge stands against a green canvas backdrop, a handful of dollar bills stuffed into the band of his top hat, with more in each hand and a mess of them scattered at his feet. Beneath the harsh glare of the lights surrounding him, and with a perpetual grin still playing across his face, he looks as every bit the overconfident trillionaire that he is.

Goldie smirks while wishing she had a camera of her own to capture the scene as potential blackmail. But she knows how these things are and asks, “Magazine cover?”

Loosening up, Scrooge shakes his head. “Try board game cover.”

That gets a rise of genuine surprise out of her, and she waddles over to the card table holding the photographer’s computer and more stacks of money at the ready, picking up a clipboard with a list of needed camera shots. “$CROOGEOPOLY: The thrilling game of finance and property acquisition” is written across the top, and she can’t help but snort as she looks up at him. “Was this your idea?”

“Well, not exactly. Glomgold...inspired it, you could say,” Scrooge recalls, eyes traveling over the room, before landing on her again. “Long story. But enough of that. Something I can help you with?” He’s happy to see her, but last he heard, she was in Australia on personal business.

The photographer clears his throat, reminding them of his presence and, for Scrooge, his still-in-progress photo shoot.

“Oh, right. Uhh...”

Goldie looks between them and an idea strikes her. She gathers up a stack of money from the table, causing Scrooge to flinch and instinctively reach out, before pointing at the photographer. “You, camera boy. Keep shooting,” she instructs, walking over to the edge of the backdrop.

He glances towards his model in question of whether he should actually proceed or call security to escort this intruder out, and the latter shrugs in amused resignation, gesturing towards the camera.

“You heard the lady, Tuomas,” Scrooge agrees, eyes sliding over to Goldie with an adoring, mischievous smirk. “After all, she is the inspiration for ‘Dawson Drive’ on the board. You can bill me for the extra shots.”

Tuomas perks up at that and immediately gets into stance behind the tripod to adjust some settings, calling out, “Whatever you say, Mr. McDuck!”

That settled, Scrooge steps closer to Goldie, who’s still blushing over being incorporated into the game, and takes her hands to guide her through the surrounding lighting fixtures and over the slippery surface of greenbacks underfoot. Despite their earlier banter, he leans in to give her a brief peck as a true greeting before they turn partway towards the camera.

“Ready to make it rain?” he asks, hands poised to toss money into the air.

“Hang on.” Goldie takes a few bills and slides them deep within her neckline, with a few more folded-up ones in the rolls of her sleeves for good measure, making Scrooge lose all rational thought momentarily. When she looks back up to nod, urging him on with an eager “let’s do this,” he snaps his gaze back to her own.

“You’re a minx, ye know that?”

Her eyes glitter with devious intention. “I know.”

The cadence of saxophones and drums permeates their senses once more, and on three, they toss thousands of dollars into the air, prompting Tuomas to capture their magic. This time, Goldie takes Scrooge’s hands and they shuffle back and forth in a delightful dance of laughter and cheers, letting the music guide them into various poses.

During one shot that has them standing back-to-back with arms crossed, a king and queen ready to rule the world, Scrooge relays over his shoulder, so only she can hear, “So, what brings you into town?” He’s certain he knows the answer already, but he’s curious to see if she’ll be honest with him.

“Business meeting,” she responds simply, innocently. At this point the camera flashes no longer faze her.

“Uh huh.” He rolls his eyes. “And so this ‘meeting’ has nothing to do with the Eye of Vishnu that was just brought in for display at the Duckburg Museum?”

Goldie‘s voice drips smoothly like sweet honey, and she spares him an assessing glance. “Oh, is that what all those billboards are for? Huh, I’ll have to go buy a ticket.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, and bends down for a second to collect some dollar bills to shower over them again. “How about I buy you that ticket instead, and take you out to dinner afterwards?” So I can keep an eye on you, he can’t help but add in his head.

“It’s gonna take more than that to keep me in check, Scroogie,” she says, picking up the implication. “But why not? I could use the challenge.”

A thrill runs through him as they turn towards each other again, and her playful yet ever-so-dangerous grin reminds him of why he loves her. The photo shoot might be for a pastime based on his likeness, but not even that can overpower the truth that Goldie, and all the excitement that she brings, is his favorite game. She’s the wildcard that he never wants to lose.

The tune switches to something steadier, sensual yet still zestful. The camera’s already filled with dozens of images of them together, but neither of them are in any rush to have it end, so Tuomas keeps snapping away.

Scrooge lifts Goldie up bridal-style and twirls her around, eliciting a shriek of breathless joy from her before he leans in to chase her into a kiss. She pulls him in deeper by the collar, and with what little coherency he has left, he makes a mental note that this shot is definitely a keeper for his wallet.

Minds properly left in a euphoric tizzy, he sets her down and they continue to dance around with each other for a bit.

They make quite a charming duo, their lone audience member notices. Every step, every dip, is a testament to their chemistry. Every shared laugh and every teasing quip make him both want to give the lovebirds the privacy they so clearly deserve and yet set up another photo shoot dedicated exclusively to them. He briefly wonders if he should mention his rates for engagement announcement shoots, judging by the lack of rings adorning their fingers.

At some point, Scrooge grabs Goldie’s hands and crosses an arm over her head to flip her around so her back is to him. He pulls her in, willing himself to stay strong as she gladly takes the opportunity to wriggle her tail feathers against him before relaxing into his embrace. The scent of tropical flowers and adventure tickles his senses, leaving him with a heady feeling of desire as he breathes it in.

As one arm crosses over her chest to hold her closer, the other rests over hers on her waist. Fingers overlay and intertwine, squeezing together in some unspoken promise.

A perfect fit. The Yukon’s greatest power couple, together once more.

“I’ve missed you,” Scrooge rumbles into her ear, pressing a kiss to her golden locks.

Goldie cranes her neck towards him to nuzzle his beak in return. “Mmm, I’ve missed you, too, Moneybags.”

His eyes fall closed with hers, and as their foreheads touch, his hat gets displaced ever so. They sway as one with the music, hips rocking together.

It’s only when she lets out a dreamy hum, the reverberation traveling through him down to his core, that Scrooge dares to peek an eye open, and his heart nearly bursts at what he sees.

Goldie looks utterly lovely, with a blissful grin quirking at the corners of her beak. A strand of hair untucked and brushing against her face just so, her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic peace under his arm, the warmth of her body sending him to cloud nine...

He’s holding a paragon of enrapturing beauty and splendid wonder in his arms, one that he never wants to let go. It’s enough to make him want to believe in luck so he can thank his stars.

Scrooge settles his eyes shut again, but not before Tuomas manages to capture the tender sparkle in his gaze.

Another keeper.

#DuckTales #scroldie #Scrooge McDuck #Goldie O'Gilt #my fanfics

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thescreamsleuths · 5 years ago

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Sleuthing the Sleuths: Vanishing Act

Check out our brief chat below as we unpack the thoughts and feelings in our last session, Vanishing Act! Please note, since Baelsar has exited the game, a new character has joined...

Always-be-Theivin’: Two things (one thing to share, one question) before I sleep and forget them:

1) Scrapped backup character idea (was designed purely to antagonize Brinne): a Fighter with the Gunslinger archetype originally from Samar. Was going to be a defector who specialized in long-range combat and tried to hide his gun from the party for as long as possible, and

2) When talking to Baelsar, Brinne said something like, "you die your final death when nobody remembers who you were." This is an interesting concept about life and figurative immortality that Brinne has never really mentioned before, as far as I can remember. Was this a value that was taught to Brinne as she grew up, was it something that developed in her mind as she lived through a war, or something else entirely?

Raging and Confused: Brinne is sad that Baelsar felt like he had to leave. She trusted him to take care of everyone’s emotional well-being and see what needed to be fixed before it became a problem... she’s in super protective mode now as well and paranoid about losing more people... like I said before we finished the session, Brinne was preparing herself for Kathra being the last one alive to tell Baelsar what happened to them... we’re going to fight a war and Brinne know’s people don’t always survive that. As for your other backup character, omg, you monster! I would have enjoyed that, not gonna lie... as for the concept of dying the final death, I’ve been thinking about that in association with Brinne for a long time... I feel like she feels she has to carry on the burden of memory, of knowing she survived... it’s part of the reason I even said anything when we ran in to Vanity and why I finally revealed backstory elements when I did. Brinne’s family and her town were people devoted to a god of war, so they have fighting in their blood... I just thought it would make sense to have memory associated with all of that since honor and combat are so important... if no one remembers your deeds and actions in life, what did it even mean?

Carp A DM: That is incredibly wise of Brinne. With her training for action her whole life only to be defeated in the battles she’d trained so much for... it makes sense for her to be very aware of her own mortality and knowledgeable of the legacy one could create with their deeds on and off the battlefield. It’s just a matter of putting faith in the right person or people to give your memory justice. It’s a heavy weight to bear, but I think it’s one any of the Scream Sleuths (current or past) would do for one another. From Faylen’s “I loved you” to Kathra’s “you’re my hero”, there were a lot of really powerful things said during Baelsar’s last farewell. What stuck with you as a player and a character the most? Was there anything you regret saying or wished you had said?

Dog Mom: As a player I wanted to give Baelsar a heartfelt goodbye, but I knew through Faylen it needed to be more of a short farewell focused more on closure between the two characters after everything that’s happened between them. I’m happy with how it went down in that regard.

Hi, it’s Kathra: Reaction thoughts- Both Kathy and I were really thrown by Baelsar’s exit. Kathy is no longer feeling optimistic to start lol. That’s definitely gone. She’s really upset right now, she’s kinda just emotionally overwhelmed. Even though Baelsar wasn’t big on sharing his feelings. She’s disappointed with herself that she didn’t see this coming and therefore couldn’t prevent it. She’s also more convinced than ever to find everything on her list. If she can learn how to prolong life /cheat death, maybe she can convince Baelsar that she can protect him and he can come back. She’s also a little worried about Fay. What’s to stop her from staying in Di’Sow once we “stop” the war? In terms of our goodbyes, Kathy echoed Fay’s sentiment to Baelsar that he is so much more than what he thinks of himself. She wished she could’ve convinced him to stay but she really just wants him to be happy. I also wish she could’ve conveyed to him that she didn’t blame him for leaving.

Carp A DM: I think Kathra gave the sense that she didn’t blame him for leaving, especially since she had told him that all she wants is for him to be happy. She would support him in whatever he needed to do to ensure that happiness takes form. Hearing everyone’s goodbyes, was there a time when Baelsar thought he was making the wrong choice?

Always-be-Thievin’: Yeah, actually. Partway through talking to Kathra, he started reconsidering. But he actually had a brief thought back to Maqa and how the party turned back on their decision and he ended up regretting that, so, much as it hurt, he wanted to follow this new decision through

Raging and Confused: You know, that makes me respect the decision even more... I’m not going to lie, I’m going to miss Baelsar a lot, but this insight is going to help bridge that gap

Always-be-Thievin’: I'mma miss my big red naïve goofball, too, but I think he needs some time, and I think I need some time from him, too. Weirdly enough, I think Baeslar was a reflection of a part of me that I didn't know I didn't like

Hi, it’s Kathra: Oh My Goodness!! No!! I love him and I hope that the space you give Baelsar helps you to learn to love those parts of you!!!

Carp A DM: I’ve always thought that when creating a character, no matter what personality you choose or background you design, there’s always a piece of you that goes into the character. You get amplified through your character’s actions and words. It’s interesting to see what comes out in the end, but the realization doesn’t have to be negative. I agree with Hi, it’s Kathra, hopefully the space will be enough for both Always-be-Thievin’ and Baelsar. And speaking of realizations, Faylen was the first to find Baelsar’s belongings and letter while Brinne and Kathra were learning some interesting information about past adventurers. For Faylen: Do you think being the first to read Baelsar’s letter alone fed into her reaction? What was she thinking while reading it through the first time? For Brinne: Having the outlook on immortality through legacy that Brinne has, how was it for her to learn about an adventurer from approximately 1k years ago who’s actions were being preserved in memory and mediums? For Kathra: Kathra has had her ups and downs with meeting and trusting historians throughout the campaign, has speaking with Lady Evangelina Barmitelli bolstered or deflated her opinion of these scholars? Was there anything Kathra is itching to ask her?

Always-be-Thievin’: Yes Kathra should be itching to ask her out on a date!!

Dog Mom: Reading it was emotional. While she and Baelsar hadn’t been on the best terms lately she was always holding out hope that he would realize she was asking him in her own passive aggressive way. The letter felt like the thing snuffing our that hope. I think that’s the reason she wanted to find him. She did love Baelsar. She was forced to confront him about it. I think being able to process that alone helped facilitate her getting there and also have a moment of weakness not in front of her party.

Hi, it’s Kathra: I liked Lady Evangelina. Though at the time, they just seemed like stories. Kathy liked hearing about her passion for history but didn’t really think that the scream sleuths would be interesting in researching an old adventuring party. She figured if the found anything then she’d pass it along and that would be the end of her commitment. but now that Baelsar has left, she is more interested in helping her. She doesn’t want anyone to be forgotten. And she will be more actively looking for clues from the old adventuring party.

Always-be-Thievin’: Oh, thinking towards the future for the Sleuths: what is their next step? Their next goal as a group? Are they decided on this war in Di'Sow?

Hi, it’s Kathra: Kathy still is

Dog Mom: Faylen still stands where she did before. She doesn’t feel fully ready to go home but will for the purposes of checking on her family who she is very concerned about. She is wondering if what is happening in Relltic is a more immediate threat, however.

Carp A DM: Yeah, that’s a good point. What will the Scream Sleuths do now? And what are their first impressions of this mysterious and magical new friend/foe?

Filia-Well what do we have here: Magical? Who said anything about magical? She's just a really quick stonemason

Dog Mom: Faylen is skeptical (and her insight check enhanced that) but Faylen is also a softy so I think if cards are played right she’ll come around.

#dungeon master #dnd dice #homebrew #critical role #dnd homebrew #dnd character #dnd5e #new character #who dis #dungeons and dragons #dungeons and dragons campaign #dungeon crawling #dnd 5e campaign #dnd 5e rp #dnd 5e homebrew

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realityhelixcreates · 5 years ago

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Lasabrjotr Chapter 30: The Winding Road

Chapters: 30/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Someday) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Reader, Brunnhilde, Thor Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), On The Road, Horse With A Side Of Extra Horse, Bills Bills Bills, Let’s See If You Can Guess Based On Descriptions Exactly Where New Asgard Is, Summary: Who’s ready for a road trip?

This was only the second time you'd gotten out of the city, and the countryside was just as beautiful as the first time. So very different from the tall, orderly cornfields of home, that went on and on for untold miles of green, or even from the wild roadside margins, with their riot of luscious weeds. The plants here formed a dense carpet, confettied with colorful wildflowers, which climbed up the nearby mountainsides. Here and there, patches of tall lupines towered over their shorter brethren like miniature forests.

Endless ranges of mountains rose on either side, the river running sluggishly through the wide valley they created. Heading north from the city, you quickly came into contact with evidence of human habitation in the form of small farms, and a paved road that followed the river off into the distance.

The party had been forced to ford the river in order to reach that road, as it did not cross the water, but Loki had spared you with what you considered a tremendous feat of magic, teleporting both you, and sweet Acorn across the slow river, safe and dry. He didn't even break a sweat, and if you had wondered before about the upper reaches of his strength and speed, you were now in deep wonder about the limits of his magic.

You wondered briefly if any of those mountains were volcanic before Thor began to sing.

“When the sun shines through the summer

I find my thoughts turn to another

To a shining city

Writ in poetry witty

Whom I miss like an absent lover.”

You stared at him. Where had that all come from?

Loki seemed to be contemplating something.

“Is it the ocean?” Saldis asked. Thor shook his head.

“A reflection?” Borgliot ventured.

Oh, it was a guessing game! This was another thing right out of the fantasy stories; the proud and poetic warrior king.

“It's the moon.” Loki said.

“Yes! That makes it your turn.”

Loki thought a moment.

“O' sing of the Sapphire Brand

Living as Loki's right hand

Our two links we clasp

Like Jormagand grasps

it's tail, to encircle the land.”

Heat crept up your neck to wash across your face. That was really obvious.

“So...I'm guessing that's me?” You asked.

“Very good, my dear. You know what that means, don't you?”

“M-me? My turn?” Oh heck, you hadn't signed up for this. What did you say? How did you rhyme? What subject did you pick?

This was Loki's revenge for your teasing about the cinnamon rolls, you just knew it. Wracking your brain for a rhyme, you were only able to blurt out the first idea that came to your mind.

“Stories told before bed

It's supposed to be all in my head

But myth became real

Now I'm left to deal

With the path my saviors have tread.”

You lost the tune partway through, but got some applause anyway. Loki looked especially pleased, and you felt a spark of pride in yourself for having kept up.

“Could it be me?” He asked.

“Well, not exactly...”

“She said 'saviors' plural, you smarmy boy.” Brunnhilde interrupted. “She means us. The gods, the myths and stories we represent.”

You nodded. “Yeah, that's where I was going.”

“Oh.” Loki said with some indignation. “Well then, I suppose it must be the General's turn now.”

“Sure is! So, let's see...

Viewed with envy, but never with scorn

Shining long before I was born

But something eternal

Can still be burned all

to dust; even gods have to mourn.”

Nobody ventured a guess, but even you knew what she was talking about.

Asgard.

How did they stay alive and sane through all this? Even though you'd lost your home, you were still on the same planet, at least. There were still other humans all over the place. You'd been taken in, and given what you needed, accommodated, and even fawned over a little bit.

They had nothing. If things didn't work out, there was no old country to go back to. There was no other nation of Asgardians to emigrate to. They had to do whatever it was they did to survive.

What did they do? You hadn't asked how they afforded the materials for the city they were building, or for the food, or the electricity. Just how were they making their money? Loki had said they had enough for day to day affairs, but how?

That familiar feeling of money-anxiety weaseled it's way back into your mind. How much was this costing? How much were you costing? These dresses? This serpent brooch? Loki's promise to take you around and get you some toiletries and things for yourself; whose sacrifice was paying for that?

How did you pay it back?

Eventually, the riddle song game started up again, but you didn't venture any more guesses. Just listening to their voices was enough; their rhymes and subjects giving some greater insight into the things they liked and valued. For Saldis it was mostly objects, for Bogliot, places. For Thor, nature and traveling, and for Brunnhilde, the comforts of home and civilization. For Loki, most surprisingly, it was people. The people closest to him, the people he had known in his life, friends and family. He went through every member of the party, in more or less impertinent rhymes. You couldn't help but focus on how he had started with you.

It was very sweet of him to make sure you were involved.

******

Hours down the road, Thor turned Sleipnir down a short detour. All of the other horses followed him without the slightest command, reinforcing your guess that Sleipnir might be a god among horses. You'd have to ask later.

The group clattered up to a small complex, away from the road. You could just barely make out the sound of braying sheep before a few excited people rushed out of the nearest building, and began making a great fuss.

They seemed to know Thor, who dismounted, and greeted them, letting one take Sleipnir's reigns. The great horse graciously allowed himself to be led away, and the rest of the party began to dismount.

“-avail themselves of some of your feed, we would greatly appreciate it.” Thor said. “We have many hours to go, and mountains to cross, and we will need every bit of their strength. We also would eat, at your lovely cafe.”

The people agreed readily, though they viewed Loki with some concern. All of his earlier playfulness bled out of him, leaving him a pale, grim presence among the grinning and grateful Asgardians.

You stepped forward, legs wobbling from the hours spent riding, and allowed yourself to fall against him. He glanced down at you in mild concern.

“I'm not used to being on horseback for such a long time.” You said. “'Fraid my legs are a bit weak.”

He offered his arm without further explanation, and you took it with appreciation. As you had hoped, the chivalrous display of tender helpfulness towards another human being seemed to change the way the owners of this place looked at him.

It was a petting zoo, about the last thing you expected to find nestled into the lofty mountains. But Iceland, though a land full of tourist-attracting beauty, didn't necessarily have too many stops that would appeal to children. Looking out the window of the little cafe, watching the little lambs and goat kids frolicking together, you could imagine that this was a welcome respite for excitable children from the waterfalls and valleys that so captured their parents imaginations.

You found the animals compelling as well, envying their innocence and boundless energy. You were handed a menu, finding the offerings to have been helpfully translated into several languages, English among them.

You ordered a mocha and a hot lamb sandwich in a slightly hushed voice, trying hard not to side-eye the animals outside. It wasn't as if they could hear you, and it was very unlikely that any of their animals ended up on the menu, but it still seemed a little insensitive.

Loki also opted for a coffee, while Thor and Brunnhilde naturally ordered whatever alcohol was strongest. If the 'weak' crystal mead was any indication, the most powerful libations of man wouldn't so much as give the Asgardians a buzz, but maybe they'd like the taste.

Saldis and Borljot however, dared to try something new to them; Soda pop. They simply couldn't stop giggling about the bubbly sensation of the carbonation, though Borgliot declared it “Too sweet by far!”

Watching the others eat, it occurred to you that Asgardians all seemed to have huge appetites. Perhaps it had something to do with their different physical attributes. The denseness of their skin and muscle, the heaviness of their bones, it all probably required a great deal of nutrition. But if they were going to be eating like this the whole week...

“Where does the money come from?” You wondered aloud.

Thor paused in eating, never quite expecting your questions.

“Well...” He began. “Multiple avenues, actually. First of all, though the less than adoring crowds outside the city today might attest otherwise, there are a great many people in this world who look upon us charitably. We receive many donations of useful things; clothes and cloth, dishes, kitchen utensils, books, pencils and paper, and a great many other things, which lessen our daily costs. Otherwise, some of our scholars have been offering Asgardian language and history courses at the local schools, and our weavers, clothiers, and artists are facing a growing demand for their works. When the city is closer to being finished, we will open for tours. And, of course, I am a member of Earth's primary defense force, which pays well on it's own, not even taking into account the merchandise.”

“Oh, you mean the calendars?” You asked.

“What do you know about the calendars?” Loki asked, mildly scandalized. “Oh, you own one, don't you?”

“Uh...well...I did.” You admitted. “I doubt Dad would have saved it, even if he did manage to get some of my stuff.”

“What calendars are you talking about?” Saldis asked.

“Uh, well...They're sorta like...Do you know what a pin-up is?”

She shook her head.

“Well, they're...pictures that are kinda risque, but not outright...you know...pornographic.”

“Oh my.” Saldis said, and you ducked your head in embarrassment. “And you owned one of these?”

“I, uh, I owned the whole set. What?” You griped defensively. “I like the Avengers, and the calendars are kind of a hot commodity.”

Thor snorted with laughter.

“Well, I don't own them anymore! I hope they didn't just get thrown away.” It would be a shame if no one else was enjoying shirtless Iron Man, with his mysterious glowing heart, working on his suit. Or Shirtless Captain America, grease smeared artfully on his hands and face, fixing an airplane. Or any of the other shirtless pictures of various heroes, in teasing poses. Even the king...

Should you be bashful about that? Having seen the king like that?

“What picture did you leave on?” Loki asked suspiciously.

“It was May...Yeah, that Was Captain America, and some puppies.”

“Of course...” He said sourly.

“Why do you care? Were you in it?”

“Of course not! Do you really think I would debase myself so, as to participate in such a..a burlesque?”

“He's in next years.” Thor said conspiratorially. “We put him in a jail cell and handcuffed him to the bars.”

Loki went bright red in the face at Saldis' gasp, and Brunnhilde's bray of laughter.

“I-it's for Asgard...” He stammered. “All the proceeds come to us...I only did it for the sake of the people. It's not like I enjoyed it.”

“It's true.” Thor teased. “He complained the whole time.”

“I've got to get one of these calendars!” You declared.

“You'll do no such thing!”

“You can't stop me.”

“I very well can!”

“I'm going to get two.” Brunnhilde said. “And if you won't allow her to get her own, I'll give her one of mine.”

“Why must you torment me so?” Loki adopted a put-upon pout.

The rest of the meal passed in companionable jokes and conversation, though Loki continued to pout a little. No doubt he disliked being embarrassed in front of the likes of Saldis and Borgliot, but you figured nobody could be purely dignified all the time.

Never mind that this all could be considered your fault for bringing up the calendars, or even asking about finances in the first place.

*****

Soon enough, you were on the road again, all stomachs pleasantly filled.

“How many illicit photos do you think they took?” Brunnhilde asked. “You gonna charge them?”

“No, we ate most of their food, after all.” Thor said. “And besides, how would we even prove it? Confiscate and search their phones? Asgard is not a police state, and neither is Iceland.”

“Did they take pictures of us?” You wondered. “I didn't notice.”

“Not us, though they might have.” Brunnhilde answered back. “Sleipnir.”

“We tried to take him to a few horse shows, to drum up some quick cash.” Thor explained. “Of course, he was disqualified immediately. However, many people were eager to pay for pictures, so we didn't go away empty handed. There were even a few offers to put him to stud. If those offspring are found viable, we may have a very lucrative source of income indeed.”

“Oh wow, I'll bet!” A whole new breed of multilegged horses running around...The horse world would be turned upside down and shaken about!

Then again, hadn't Loki said that his Leynarodd was related to Sleipnir? She did look like a paragon of horse-kind, large and beautiful, but she had the normal number of legs. Perhaps functional polymelia was not a dominant trait.

A few hours later found you deep within a terrain that was unusual to both Iceland and Iowa: Forest. A lovely forest of pale, slender birches and furry-looking spruces, the understory a magical blanket of flowers. It was straight out of a fairytale; you half-expected to spot an elf peeking out from a particularly lush patch of blossoms.

But that was silly. Elves didn't exist.

Just gods. And aliens. And killer robots. And green rage giants. And century old, cryogenically preserved super soldiers. And wizards. And ghosts. And magic stones that could reshape the universe.

You continued looking for elves.

Leaving the forest behind, the road took a rather sharp turn, as a series of lazy switchbacks took you suddenly up the mountainside. As the air grew thinner and colder, you drew your cloak closer and leaned over Acorns neck. Even in summertime, you found the air a bit chilly. Back home, you would be sweltering, seeking the refuge of an air-conditioned indoor environment. Here, there hadn't been a single day where the sun had caused you to sweat, even though it graced the sky day in, day out.

The higher you rose, the more pronounced the chill became, wind cutting through all your layers of clothing, burning your ears. At your first tooth-rattling shivers, a thick, velvety, leaf-green cape was dumped over your head. You wrapped it tight around you, peeking out from the makeshift hood, to give Loki a grateful smile.

He remained as regal as ever, though now bared to the wind, which teased his sable hair.

“If you begin to feel faint, say so immediately.” He urged. “The air is thinner up here, and it may affect you. We will need to see to you as soon as possible, if you begin to grow weak.”

You agreed without any argument. You and Tara had once gone on a hiking vacation in the Rockies once, and you knew exactly what altitude sickness felt like.

These mountains didn't rise quite high enough to truly take your breath away, but the altitude did cause a painful pressure in your ears, Loki noticed you gritting your teeth and tried to stop the whole expedition to fuss over you, but you flatly refused.

“It'll go away once we get lower.” You said, deflecting his insistence that you stop. Maybe the discomfort was making you irritable, but you found his fretting to be annoying. You were already well aware that you were the weak link here, but you would not be responsible for slowing the group down over something as simple as temporary, manageable pain.

But on the other hand, maybe he was as worried about putting you back in that murderer's presence as you were. This man wanted to kill you! If any of a number of things had gone differently, he might have succeeded.

How many times might he have replayed the scenario in his mind? If you had died in his arms that day, what would he have done? Would he have returned your body home, or buried you here? Would he have hunted your killer down? Did he care enough back then? Would he have mourned? And what would the magical bond between you have done to him if you had died? He didn't even seem to know.

But you were going to die long before Loki did, so there was no way to avoid it: He would find out eventually.

You shook your head, trying to clear the morbid thoughts as well as the painful pressure. This was no time! That was the future, and you couldn't know what would happen. Besides, you were nearly at the top.

As you crested the mountaintops, and began down the other side, you were overtaken by the glorious view of the glittering fjord, sprinkled with ships and bordered by a thick band of green farmlands. In the distance you could barely make out the city. It seemed so small from here. It didn't even fully cover the inward edge of the fjord, lying clustered all on an outcrop on one side, surrounded by even more verdant farms.

A killer lay in its midst. You were headed right for him.

#loki x reader #loki (marvel)#thor (marvel)#brunnhilde (marvel)#valkyrie (marvel)#marvel fanfiction

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goldenworldsabound · 6 years ago

Text

Modern AU: Car Confession

Directly following the events of the flight home. Wendy and Viren finally have some time in private to talk and sort some things out...

The drive back from the airport was quiet, but not awkward. They were each thinking about the upcoming conversation, with their owns worries and things they wanted to be sure to say. Viren resisted the urge to drive quickly to get there sooner.

Partway through the drive, Wendy put her hand on his leg again. She smiled at him shyly, and then returned to gazing out the window, hand still in place. He smiled, more than happy with that. He suspected this conversation would go better than he'd guessed when he'd considered it this morning. But even so…

As he occasionally stole glances at her, he still felt butterflies in his stomach. Even if they both agreed, there were so many things to think about. He shook himself of those thoughts. If she wanted it to work… they'd figure out anything. He knew he would, at least.

They pulled up to Wendy's apartment. Viren turned the car off, and pulled out his phone. “Let me just...message the kids that the flight was delayed.” He nodded to himself, finding that a clever plan. “That'll give us about an hour.” He put his phone down, turning his body as best as he could to face her in the car.

She took her hand off his leg as he did so, putting her hands in her lap. She turned a little bit to face him, but kept her eyes downcast. They sat in silence for a minute.

Viren couldn’t stand it. He spoke up, preferring to sound awkward than to continue the silence.

“Look, um, this is harder than I thought it would be…” He admitted, psyching himself up to speak more seriously. “What happened last night was...nice. What happened on the plane was also really nice. I, um…” He blushed, trying to find the right words.

“I was worried that all you wanted from me was...what happened last night…” Wendy mumbled, when Viren’s silence had stretched for too long. “Maybe worried is the wrong word. I was scared.”

Viren’s face fell. “No! Of course not. To be wholly honest I just...want to be with you. In whatever form you’ll have me. I, uh, I…” He stared into her eyes for a moment, before the words finally slipped out. “I think I’m in love with you.” He felt his face go crimson and he darted his gaze away. That was TOO MUCH OF A CONFESSION you aren’t supposed to say that before you even DATE someone!

Wendy felt stunned. But then, why should she? She’d harbored a crush on him for a year, and she’d always suspected he felt the same, though she couldn’t be sure with her own bias. In fact now that she knew for sure, she found it to be blindingly obvious.

“I think so, too. Er, I mean, I think I also feel that way!” Wendy fumbled over her words in a panic, equally flushed. “I think I love you too.”

“Really?! I, I mean...I’m really happy.” Viren looked like an excited puppy before he reeled it back, smiling sheepishly. He held out his hand to her, and she took it, resting their hands on the console between them. “I’m so happy, I was, I was so worried.”

“Me too. I, um, I am a little embarrassed by how forward I was when I was drunk though, I’m...I’m sorry about that.” Wendy admitted, laughing nervously. “I can’t believe I- I don’t want you to think I’m, uh, easy or anything!”

Viren laughed too. “It’s alright, I mean, I was surprised but I...I really enjoyed it, too. And of course I don’t think any less of you for it.” He paused, debating his next comment. “I mean, this,” he gestured to himself with an eyebrow waggle, “is pretty hard to resist.”

Wendy laughed, a real, hearty laugh. “That’s true, I’m impressed I managed it up until now.” She replied, winking despite her blush. She leaned over, putting her free hand on his chest. He put his free hand over hers, looking into her eyes with a softness that surprised her. The mood seemed to have changed.

“But Wendy I...there are things we should talk about. You and I, are...coworkers. I think that was one of the things that kept me from seriously considering the possibility of...us.” He paused, frowning a little. “And I’m...I’m old, and tied down, and you’re so young, still. I don’t want you to feel like-”

She took the hand from his chest and put a finger to his lips, stopping him.

“It’s not that what you’re saying isn’t important to me.” She said immediately. “I just...I...I care about you a lot and I’m willing to work through...anything.” She moved her hand to caress the side of his face, even as she blushed further. “I mean, yeah, it’s a little scary to me to think about the fact that you have kids and how old that makes you, but I mean I also like your kids, and more importantly I like you so much that I can’t see that getting in the way.”

He turned his face to kiss her palm, to her delight. “I’m so...it means a lot to me that you feel that way.” He smiled softly. “I feel that way too. I’m willing to work through anything for you.”

With more grace than she thought possible, Wendy climbed over the console to sit across Viren’s lap, wrapping her arms around him as he pulled her close to him. Movement was awkward all around in the car, and cramped, but they made do. They stayed like that for some time, Viren stroking her hair gently while she nuzzled his chest.

Viren’s phone chimed. Reluctantly, he picked it up, noticing it was a text from Claudia.

Oh no! That’s too bad. Guess we’ll see you soon then. 🖤

He sighed, knowing that he really ought to head home to his kids soon. Wendy gazed up at him curiously, and then in the direction of his phone.

“It’s nothing serious. I just...should really go home to Claudia and Soren. They’ll be missing me.” Viren explained, slipping the phone into his pocket. “As much as I want to stay here, with you…”

“I understand. I don’t want this moment to end but...it must.” She stretched her leg out awkwardly, wincing. “Think this cramped position isn’t great for either of us, anyway.” She teased, meeting his gaze. She found herself frozen in it, heart pounding. Their lips were so close together…

Viren closed the gap gently with a soft kiss, pulling away slowly, reluctantly. They gazed at each for a moment, before Viren smiled at her and her heart skipped a beat. “You’re right though, I think one of my legs went numb a bit ago.” He grinned.

“Ah! I’m sorry! I do weigh more than zero pounds.” She grasped at the car door handle, and then pushed it open with her feet. She hopped off of Viren, wincing at her own tingling limbs. He stood up, closing the car door behind him, leaning against it, as he shook out one of his legs.

“Um, but, if you aren’t doing anything this weekend, maybe we could...do something?” He said hesitantly, smiling.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Wendy replied with a wide grin.

“I’ll be in touch.” He hesitated for a moment, but pulled her in for a hug, which she reciprocated, squeezing him tightly. They moved in for another slow, gently kiss-

Viren’s phone chimed. And it chimed again. And again.

Sighing heavily and with a murmured, “...I should check that,” Viren pulled out his phone. He groaned at the messages he saw.

Dad! Soren won’t let me use the Switch!

He’s been playing for over an hour and it’s my turn!

And from Soren,

Don’t listen to her!

I only got to play for like 30 minutes!

She kept distracting me and blocking the screen

Viren put the phone on mute as the messages continued to come in. “Alright now, I really should go, the kids are bickering.” He put a hand on his forehead, gripping his hair with annoyance. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about me.” She smiled at him, and leaned up to give him a quick peck on the lips. He smiled back at her. “I’ll see you this weekend?”

“Definitely.”

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

BONUS SCENE:

“Did you see Dad’s text?” Claudia asked, sitting on the arm of the couch next to where Soren was, eyes on her phone. Soren had his eyes glued to the TV, controller in hand as he played a game.

“What? No. What’d he say?” Soren asked, raising a brow, mildly intrigued.

“He said his flight was delayed and he just landed.”

Soren shrugged. “So?”

“We-e-ell, his flight definitely landed an hour ago, unless flight tracker is wrong. And the airline’s website too.” Claudia said in a sing song voice.

Soren paused his game, turning to look at Claudia with a curious expression. “Huh. What do you make of that?”

“I find it very suspicious, since he and Wendy carpooled.” Claudia tapped her phone to her lips a few times thoughtful.

“...do you think they’re getting it on or something?” Soren asked, making a disgusted face.

“What?! No! Well...hm...maybe?” Claudia wrinkled her nose, also not enjoying that thought.

“I guess we could ask him.”

“We CANNOT ask Dad if he screwed Wendy, Soren!!!” Claudia yelled back, looking horrified.

Soren blushed. “THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT! I just meant we could ask him why he needed an extra hour to come home!”

“And you think THAT’S gonna go over well, if he already decided not to tell us?!” Claudia looked at her brother incredulously, sighing. “Maybe if we’re subtle.”

“Maybe. Whatever.” Soren unpaused his game with a noncommittal shrug. Claudia shrugged as well, going back to sit at the table and draw more.

#softness in the dark #modern au #goofball family #fic #self ship #self shipping #self insert #this is so self indulgent I'm really happy about it still #business time

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 6 years ago

Note

Idea: What if, partway through the war, all the yeerks (on Earth) died? Not killed by the Animorphs-- maybe the Andalites got their act together, maybe they were wiped out by an unexpected plague, whatever. But suddenly, the teen soldiers find their enemies just... gone.

Embarrassingly enough, it takes them almost two weeks to notice. Well, that’s not quite true. They notice the suspicious lack of yeerk activity in less than a week, but mostly in the form of Marco declaring it to be “quiet… too quiet” and Jake wondering what has the yeerk inside Tom acting so morose all of a sudden. It takes almost two weeks of Tobias lurking over known Yeerk Pool entrances wondering where the heck the controllers are, two weeks of Ax mentioning that the internet chatter is more full of yeerk talk than usual, two weeks of Erek reporting no Sharing meetings anywhere in the country, and two weeks of Cassie telling them to appreciate the break for a change… and then Rachel snaps.

Specifically, she gets fed up with the tension, marches up to Tom in the middle of a school hallway, and (poking him in the chest every so often for emphasis) demands to know whether the entire Yeerk Empire has suddenly gone into hibernation or— or what.

Tom’s response is to grab her by the arm and drag her into Chapman’s office.

Rachel fights him with literal teeth and literal nails, of course — right up until the moment Tom turns to Chapman and goes “See? She remembers that there were brain-stealing aliens too. That proves I’m not crazy.”

Rachel stares at Tom in shock. Chapman heaves a put-upon sigh and says, “I never said you were crazy. I said that we should all probably forget it ever happened and move on, because if we told anyone then we’d appear to be crazy.”

“But…” Tom frowns, petulant. “But if we, like, got a reporter to talk about the yeerks, and enough of us agreed about what happened…”

“Then no doubt the school district would send gas inspectors out to determine why so many people in this town are hallucinating,” Chapman drawls. “The yeerks are all dead, their bodies entirely decomposed in the Earth atmosphere by now. The nonhuman hosts were last seen wandering off in search of that mystical colony of free hork-bajir somewhere in the mountains. I don’t have a way to contact the andalites. All of which means that the only proof you have is a rapidly-evaporating puddle of kandrona under the school.” He sighs. “Any reporter with an ounce of sense will blame the fumes from that for the gas leak, and we’re back to square one.”

“The yeerks… are dead?” Rachel asks.

“How did you not already know this, if you were a controller?” Tom says.

She should probably wait and confirm this with Jake and the others. Probably. But then, she’s never been very good at waiting. “Because I’m one of the morphers who’s been fighting them.”

After all that, Rachel doesn’t even get to tell the others the news. Because she bursts into their meeting only to find that Toby is already standing there looking grave, and Cassie’s mouth is hanging open. By the time Toby is done telling her story — and answering all 500 of Marco’s suspicious questions — most of the details come out.

A few days ago, close to a thousand hork-bajir and taxxons had simply wandered into the free hork-bajir valley. Toby had assumed an attack, until one of the taxxons, who gave the unusual-for-a-taxxon name of Arbron, had explained that none of them were controllers. Because, to the best of anyone’s knowledge, all the yeerks simply dropped dead a few days back.

Toby, not being born yesterday, had forced the entire cavalcade to wait three days under constant guard before letting them into the valley. They passed. All signs point to the conclusion that they’re telling the truth: the yeerks inside them all have died without warning.

Marco, being Marco, maintains that this is all some elaborate yeerk conspiracy. Until Rachel shamefacedly mentions that she blurted the whole thing out to Tom. Until Tom, muttering about their questionable taste in tourism destinations, takes them through a Yeerk Pool entrance under the car wash and shows them the cavern: empty, echoing, deserted. Filled with detritus and congealing kandrona and abandoned junk.

Cassie becomes the one to voice the question that’s been on all their minds, later that afternoon as they sit around her barn. “So…” she says slowly. “Now what?”

“We’ve gotta tell someone, right?” Rachel looks around at them. “Just pick any adult, show them that we can morph, and then…”

«And then come the conspiracy theorists,» Tobias points out. «Then come the social workers. Then come the paparazzi. Is that really what we want?»

«Prince Jake? What do you recommend?»

Jake runs his hands through his hair. “Honestly? I want to go home. I want to finish my stupid English essay, since I guess I’ve got time for it now. I want to go to the UCSB game on Saturday. I want to…” He takes a breath. “To catch up with my brother. Maybe even get some sleep for once, while I’m at it.”

They vote on it, for lack of a better solution. Rachel and Marco are all for telling the world. Cassie thinks they should wait on a decision until they talk to Toby and some of the ex-hosts about what everyone else wants. Tobias and Jake seem exhausted even by the thought of the media circus that would ensue. Ax, as always, abstains.

“Okay,” Jake says. “I guess that’s two votes in favor of sharing our story, three against. We’ll go with Cassie’s suggestion: hold off for now, revisit the idea after talking to the others.”

Things get back to normal. Kind of. Sure.

Rachel punches a girl she doesn’t even know in the face after said girl rudely ignores Marco. And then, when Marco makes a breathy comment about Rachel defending his honor, she punches him too. Detention is a relief; it’s high time someone punished her.

Cassie breaks down crying in the middle of dinner for, really, no reason at all, and finds herself crying harder when her parents hover and worry and offer explanations: it’s about a boy, it’s about the goose last week they couldn’t save, it’s about hormones.

Tobias wavers. He practices, a little bit at a time. Pretends to be human long enough to walk downtown. Grows fingers and dull eyes to see what happens when he rings Rachel’s doorbell like any other boy on the planet. Each time he goes back. Each time giving up human shape feels more like disappointment, more like relief.

Jake wanders the house in restless circles for six or more hours a night, trying to wear himself out so that the nightmares won’t wake him yet again. Sometimes he hears the crisp pock-pock-pock of a basketball on concrete outside, and feels less alone.

Marco’s dad comments on how many evenings they’ve spent together with a reheated pizza and the latest Madden. Marco brushes it off with a comment about earning enough brownie points to get a car.

Ax, with a little help from some commandeered yeerk tech, calls home again. He tries to tell his parents everything that happened, and finds he doesn’t have the words. They assure him they’re coming for him the moment they get permission from the Electorate, and he tries to believe that that time is coming soon.

Ten days later, when it seems that every single trace of yeerk activity really has disappeared for good, a kid with messy blond hair and soft grey eyes walks into their high school to enroll. There are some inconsistencies in his paperwork, of course — he lists his uncle as his legal guardian in spite of said uncle being less than a year older than him, he gives his home address as a P.O. box downtown, he has no transcripts from previous schools — but the vice principal proves willing to overlook all of those issues in light of everything that this kid has done to keep the planet safe. Chapman even signs off on the form claiming that Tobias requires access to a private bathroom once every two hours all day long for unspecified medical needs. It feels, in some ways, like the first true commitment to the idea that this peace might just last.

Which is why Marco corners Tom the next day in school. “So,” Marco says, “I had a question. And you probably don’t know the answer, but you’re like, my second-to-last resort before Chapman, so let’s go with you’re kinda my last hope. Anyway, I was just wondering, in case you happened to know—”

“Supervising the invasion of the Anati system,” Tom says over him, “as of the day all the yeerks on Earth kicked it. No one’s heard from Visser One or her forces since.”

“Anati. That’s far away, isn’t it.” Marco doesn’t wait for confirmation. “And if I wanted to, say, send a message to Anati…?”

Tom considers for a minute. “Find Alloran. He’ll know how.”

So Marco goes to Ax. Just to Ax. He’s getting closer and closer to the others all finding out about this, but… it’s his mom. His problem. He doesn’t want to trouble the others, who all deserve their rest.

Ax, however, seems to be bored out of his mind. He seizes on Marco’s “mission” with enthusiasm, hacking every open-circuit camera he can get his hands on in about two hours flat.

Between Tobias being at school for several hours a day and Jake having essentially ordered them all to take a break, Ax has a lot of time on his hands. It takes him less than three days to catch sight of a very familiar human morph — tall, balding, with a commanding smile — and figure out where Alloran has been hiding. The paper trail takes a little more tracing from there, but eventually he gets a hit on a four-star hotel whose penthouse is currently being paid for by a Yeerk Empire shell corporation… and whose penthouse guest has already been reprimanded twice for stealing too many tiny Danishes from the breakfast bar.

Alloran listens to Marco, and even seems sympathetic, but insists that, as long as they don’t know what killed the yeerks on Earth, he’s not going to contact the yeerks elsewhere to let them know so that they can start invading Earth all over again. Which is when Marco reluctantly gets the others involved, on the assumption that one of them will know how so many yeerks ended up kicking the bucket all at once.

Chapman, when asked, immediately blames the oatmeal crisis that was underway at the time when the yeerks died. However, he has no proof to back up this theory, so he’s not much use.

Tom blames the whole thing on inbreeding. He does not listen to Ax when Ax points out there’s no way a lack of genetic diversity could kill a whole species that quickly.

Jake comes up with an elaborate explanation about them having all died of the common cold. Rachel pokes fun at him for plagiarizing War of the Worlds, until Cassie points out that technically a lack of genetic diversity could in theory leave them open to all being affected by the same disease.

Marco and Tobias, it might be said, get a little too far into tinfoil-hat territory around the time they connect an experimental weapons test out of Zone 91 with a fractional shift in the pH of the surrounding atmosphere, which might have something to do with the acid rain out of Nevada… which probably has nothing to do with the yeerks dying.

Alloran makes a single, muttered comment about quantum viruses. He refuses to explain himself, or even to tell anyone what a quantum virus is.

Marco writes the whole thing off as a colossal waste of time. He goes home that night frustrated, defeated, and wondering if Ax is quite bored enough to steal an unused Bug fighter so that they can go on a kamikaze run for Anati.

He wakes up tied to a chair in the middle of an abandoned warehouse.

“Listen to me, parasite,” a very familiar voice says. “We can do this the easy way, where you worm yourself out of him right now and no one has to get hurt… or we can do it the very, very hard way.”

Which is right around the time that Marco remembers that he pretended to be a controller the last time he saw his mom. “Oh crap,” he says out loud, and then, “I’m guessing you’re not a controller anymore.”

“Edriss dropped dead out of the blue, don’t know why. I stole a Bug fighter and came straight here.”

“Huh,” Marco mumbles. Must be genetic.

Eva raises the dracon beam in her hands until it’s pointed at his head. “Surrender or don’t. Either way, I’ve got no plans for the next three days.”

Marco blinks several times. Judging by the fuzziness of his vision and the cloying taste in the back of his throat, his mom friggin’ drugged him. There’s no telling how long he’s been gone. “I should probably warn you. Jake and a couple of my other very dangerous friends are gonna be looking for me, and I can pretty much guarantee that when they find us—”

“Your threats don’t mean anything to me.” Eva smiles bitterly. “After all, I’m already dead. So I suggest you be quiet, or I might be forced to gag you.”

Marco does as he’s told. Staying quiet and staying put until his mom figures out he’s not a controller seems preferable to fighting her, at any rate.

By his extremely crappy system of internal timekeeping, it is either two hours or two days later that there’s a scraping sound on the roof of the warehouse… almost like a bird of prey landing on the corrugated iron. Eva stands up, tilting her head to listen. In the process, she lets the dracon beam drop to her side — which is when the grizzly bear hits her like a freight train. Her body goes skidding across the floor, a small mountain of brown fur and claws following.

“Stop!” Marco bellows. “Rachel, STOP!”

«I’m not gonna kill her, jeez.» Rachel pins Eva to the ground, leaning just enough weight on the arm that holds the dracon beam that the weapon clatters out of her hand.

“She’s not a controller!” Marco says. “Visser One is dead.”

«She has you tied to a chair—»

“Yeah, exactly!” Marco really wishes he could hold up his hands in a placating gesture right now. “Which we both know I could get out of in about two seconds. So if she knew I could morph, why bother trying to capture me alone? If she didn’t know I could morph, why capture me at all?”

Rachel pauses for a second, looking between him and Eva. «I don’t get it. Why did she kidnap you, then?»

“Because she thinks I’m a controller.” Marco raises his eyebrows. “Which means she isn’t.”

«Marco’s logic does appear to be sound.» Ax steps delicately forward. «In that case, we apologize for inconveniencing you, Mrs. Marco’s Mom.»

Rachel sits back on her rump with a whuff of indignation.

Eva climbs slowly to her feet. She looks over at where Marco is awkwardly shifting out of the way so that Ax can cut him loose. “Mijo,” she whispers, “who the hell told you that you were allowed to fight in a war?”

Marco stands up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Does this mean I’m grounded?”

“Oh yes,” Eva says, pulling him into the tightest hug he’s had in his life. “For the rest of existence.”

It finally happens less with a bang than with a whimper. The mall downtown is expanding to a new wing, and the construction equipment encounters a sinkhole larger than any California has yet seen. After a trackhoe breaks through to an underground cavern the size of a football stadium, the county immediately halts all activity and sends a team of archaeologists down to excavate what everyone is clearly expecting to be ancient ruins… and instead proves to be stranger than anyone imagined.

It is with no small sense of surreality that Cassie finds herself sitting on her couch with her parents to her left and Rachel to her right, watching on TV as scientists dissect a dracon beam while a Discovery Channel personality narrates the debate about lost civilizations and secret underground cities.

“I think it’s high time we gave them some answers,” Rachel says. “Don’t you?” Her tone is casual in a way that Cassie recognizes as an act, covering for some of the same nerves she’s feeling herself.

Cassie thinks of Toby, struggling to keep her colony alive and hidden. Thinks of Tom, too-casual just like Rachel when saying “I’m not crazy, right?” five or six times. Thinks of Ax swinging by twice a day, just to see if there’s anything she needs. Thinks of Aftran, who — she hopes — would’ve wanted this.

And then she picks up the remote and turns off the TV. “Mom. Dad.” She smiles in a way she hopes is reassuring. “There’s something we have to tell you.”

#au #animorphs au #animorphs #implied character death #long post #visser mom #sol cares too much about the meatsuits #Anonymous #asks

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