#after I’m done with this show I’m going on a hunt for good fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

talenlee · 4 months ago

Text

Pillow-Stitchin' and Soul-Snitchin'

There’s a phrase I hear in labor organisation circles that is every regulation is written in blood. Typically speaking, any given rule about how things are to be done more safely are in place after a time when they weren’t in place and someone got hurt — or worse — in the process of doing their job. This is sad but also somewhat reasonable; people aren’t psychic, they don’t have perfect foresight and can’t predict necessarily every way a thing is going to be used. Even people who make something new and set in place rules for how to treat it, based on understanding its dangers, will wind up being ignored as people become more and more casual with the machinery of their everyday. Familiarity breeds contempt and we live in a world of devices that will happily remind you that you are made of meat and they do not care about what you cannot handle.

The Bible is full of regulations.

Normally when this conversation gets broached, it’s talking about some rules in the Bible that were put in place because people were doing that thing and then they needed laws to keep them from doing them. Famously, in the Pentateuch (the collective term for the five first books of the Bible), there is a restriction on boiling a young goat in its mother’s milk (Exodus 23:19, Exodus 24:26, Deuteronomy 14:21). It’s an odd thing to show up in the same context as rules about roadkill and sacrificing goods to the Lord, but it sure is there and it’s an oddly specific thing.

Now, if you see this as a commandment from God, you need some reason to work out why he thought this was important enough to do and not cover things like how to make vaccines or how slavery was bad (a fact that deeply annoys apologists when you bring it up). Let’s set aside arguments about how the Bible is a factually true document with unique divine insights because that’s fucking stupid, and instead look at the books as if they are the results of people doing things and those records being preserved because of their utility. You know, material realities (ew, gross, I know).

One of the things you find when you start looking at the Bible as this text of things people made, you get to see all sorts of fun trends like where they’d discover a ‘new’ section of ‘prophecy’ that just so happened to be claimed as very old, back-dating its origin, even though it was commenting on things that were entirely true to the right now. The best example of this is the book of Daniel, where the bulk of the book is supposedly written by Daniel, centuries in the past, where Daniel accurately predicts everything that happened right up to the point of the book’s discovery, and then his prophecy of what happens next is completely bloody wrong.

There are other situations where this happens in the Bible, Daniel’s is just the most fun. Especially because Christians have since wound up working a whole fanfiction account of how it actually is about now and instead we’re in the period of the Kingdom of Show Feet.

Anyway, this underscores that when you see a weird rule in the Bible, chances are it was actually written about something current to the writing, that some people were doing and the authorities presenting holy texts or prophecy were instead trying to back-date a new law and act as if it had always been true so you should definitely knock it off right now.

With that in mind check out Ezekiel 13:18. I’m gunna show a few versions of it because it’s a bit of a weird one:

And say, Thus saith the Lord GOD; Woe to the women that sew pillows to all armholes, and make kerchiefs upon the head of every stature to hunt souls! Will ye hunt the souls of my people, and will ye save the souls alive that come unto you?

Ezekiel 13:18, King James Version

and say, ‘This is what the Sovereign LORD says: Woe to the women who sew magic charms on all their wrists and make veils of various lengths for their heads in order to ensnare people. Will you ensnare the lives of my people but preserve your own?

Ezekiel 13:18, New International Version

and say, Thus saith the Lord Jehovah: Woe to the women that sew pillows upon all elbows, and make kerchiefs for the head of persons of every stature to hunt souls! Will ye hunt the souls of my people, and save souls alive for yourselves?

Ezekiel 13:18, American Standard Version

Now you might be looking at these verses and going: What the fuck is with the pillows.

This is an example of a place where translation can struggle with specific contextual meaning. What they’re describing here is a specific practice in terms of what’s being done, without elucidating what that process is actually meant to do. This is a great example of how you can see the Bible as a book made by people with a specific agenda and context. After all, if this book is timeless and perfect, there might be some explanation for what the hell a pillow is doing in this conversation, instead of it falling to confuse translators about whether they’re being sewed to armholes or elbows.

As I understand it the practice being described here is a scam. The idea is that people, usually women, were sewing up pillows and telling people they had stolen a soul and stuck it inside the pillow, but what that meant is a lot more of the time and contextual than now. Aside from the iconic Biblical text Bart’s Soul, there’s not really a strong modern conception of a singular vision of what losing your soul means, but it meant something back then.

Anyway, they were sewing souls into pillows and then making people pay to get their souls back. Me, I love this. I find this an adorable example of a kind of scam that only works because of nonsense. It’s like convincing someone you’ve got a better class of sugar pill they can take that will scare off more bears, rather than the much more odious scam of convincing someone you’ve got a better class of sugar pills to treat their cancer. But no! No here, there were women who were making a living — a good enough one to get the attention of the authorities, I assume — by swindling people who had money through the careful process of ransoming their ghosts back to them.

And note the law doesn’t even necessarily ban the practice! It just condemns the practice being done on God’s chosen people! So you know, the King who rolls out this new holy book of definitely real prophecies, just trust me bro, he’s saying look there’s some woe going on here, definitely woe, but you can keep doing this stuff to other people, I don’t care about them. It’s not like the practice is inherently bad it’s just bad to do it to my people, because as with so many things in the Bible, God’s an arsehole who doesn’t actually have any principles.

This is a beautiful example of the illumination offered when you can dispense with the idea of infallibility and univocality. When you stop thinking the Bible is a single book made by a single mind who is the divine author of all of reality, you don’t have to concern yourself with the manifold contradictions or bad explanations, you don’t have to care about what’s missing, and you can instead approach it as a thing people made. Following that thread presents this story, the story of a time when flim-flammers and hucksters were stealing souls and jamming them in pillows.

Core to this article is the second half of the July 1, 2024 episode of the Data/Dogma podcast with Dr. Dan McClellan and Dan Beecher, available here.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Fundie Stuff

0 notes

afroblogs · 8 months ago

Text

Flirting and meeting new people

Hey y’all I didn’t really want this to be my first post on this blog but I just think it’s a good thing to talk about. When you find the courage to talk to someone you don’t know just because they are cute and not only do you get a reply back but you even start talking is an amazing feat. It takes a lot of work to get there, and I would know. Because when it comes to how I feel about myself it really took some guts. So yesterday I was proud of myself for going up to someone who I thought was cute (Although in hindsight that was a bad idea because he kinda looked like my ex but I mean it’s ok to have a type).

I put on my best perfume and I had on one of my cutest outfits and I went up and asked him if he had a snap (so juvenile I know) He gave me his insta instead and I followed him. We started a lil convo and he was so slick with that “What’s the name of your perfume I can’t get it out of my head,” stuff. Then we started talking again the next day and stuff. We talked about our hobbies and workouts and stuff.

Now of course my dumb behind was not paying attention to some red flags like the fact that he likes hunting or the more obvious thing was, HE STARTED TALKING TO ME ABOUT HIS FOOT FETISH. (Which honestly is not shaming anyone just like we met a day ago. Why are you telling me this but I digress). Honestly I felt a little bad after that tho because when I met him the day before I had not only done a foot peel but I put those cute toe tips on and had on a cute pair of wedges so my feet looked really good, and I mean if this was to become a relationship then that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

But this ladies and gents is not a love story. So we keep talking, I have no indication that anything is going south until I ask “Can I ask you a question.” Next thing I know is instagram telling me this user page has been deleted, So in my head I’m trying to figure out what I did wrong, even consulting my counsel of friends for advice on that situation. Only for my friend to show me that I’ve been blocked.

For what reason I don’t know. And honestly before I get ahead of myself I forgot to tell y’all the reason I said that was because he had some girl's profile tagged in his bio, (again another ignored red flag) I was just trying to figure out if I was some other woman before we even got to that stage. So to be for real with y’all even if he seems sweet off the jump a dude can still be weird.

I mean after all the sweet dude you can end up talking to a dude who’s only attracted to your feet and butt. But don’t take this as me saying don’t put yourself, please if you feel like you're ready for love or you just want to meet people then by all means do it. Just remember to stay safe when doing that because you never know who you're gonna find, take it from me.

(Now I'm gonna go write fanfictions about my favorite men to make myself feel better so check that out on afrowrites)

Your Best Black Girlfriend,

Afro~

XOXO

1 note · View note

capt-spooki3 · 4 years ago

Text

By The Witch's Grace

Chapter One

A Sbi "choose your own story" fanfiction

It seems Y/n, a known and hated magic user in their small town, has a lot to deal with after the rowdy bunch that is Philza, Wilbur, Technoblade, and Tommy, show up at their door step in the midst of a giant snow storm...

Warning: Cursing, talk of hate/discrimination

2.6k words

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Alright, we need flour, milk, apples... Uh no no stop meowing, please. Shit okay, flour, milk, apples, and what? Oh god, was it- oh! Bottles! Of course, geez.” Y/n laughs at themself before kneeling down, and pets the head of their cat who was demanding their attention. The little feline, who looked like a little toasted marshmallow, purred and meowed as she was happy with the much-needed attention.

“Alright Poppy, I’ll be back. Be a good little girl for me, okay? I’ll be back in time to give you supper I promise.” They baby talked to the cat with little forehead kisses before getting back up to their feet and reaching toward the wall where a large cloak was hung on a large nail next to the door. They threw on the heavy fabric and clasped the small glass button to keep it on their shoulders, their hand lingering as it passed over the glassy eye that permanently stayed on a chain around their neck. The result of a curse placed, not too long ago, that bound it to their person until death. Just the luck of someone who often plays with magic that they can barely comprehend.

The piece would pass as a decoration to any untrained eye, but to those who delved into the arts of magic, any one of them could tell you what this object was. With the deep and light greens with accents of blue and a cat-eye pupil that was forever staring, there was no mistaking an eye of ender. The object was rich in stored-up mana, but it was no joke. Even with the most skilled of mages, they had to be most cautious and limit their time interacting with the eye. The sooner they distanced themself from it the better as the eye has been heavily rumored to take possession of people who use its magic for too long. Mages long past wrote notes in books, Y/n as read countless times, on how the eye has influenced beings to cause great harm and destruction. Its motives are still unknown.

With the object on their person 24/7, they take caution every moment in case the eye decides it's time to take control. They hope it isn't any time soon.

Tucking the eye of ender under the latch of the cloak, they peeked outside to be met with chilled air kissing their cheeks. The bitter promise of snow.

More the reason to get their errands done as soon as they could to get back home. As if their life being in danger wasn’t the biggest reason to rush so they could hide again. They carefully pulled on their hood and hid as much of their features as they could within the cloak before stashing a satchel that jingled with coins and setting off through the door.

Being able to leave their distant home was always a treat, but also a constant threat to their life. They were never positive if they would return home after each venture. As a magic user, thoughtfully given the nickname of ‘Witch’ from the townsfolk, they weren’t liked much. They made the mistake of trying to show off their powers once before learning quickly that magic was despised among these people. It was only associated with the rich who treated people lower than them like they were dirt under their shiny boots. Luckily they still had a vendor in the town that sold to them, it was the only thing keeping them going.

After about a hour walk down a few winding forest paths that they carved out by themself after years of taking the same route, the port town was in view. Snow littered the ground to the sides of the dirt roads that they walked along and the small breeze that was present ran cold, the overcast sky promised a harsh amount of snow. That is bound to make next week fun. They sure were lucky to bring extra coins so they can stock up.

Once reaching the main town, they made sure to keep their head down and slip through the hundreds of bodies at the markets. It was all routine now, sadly. They took a turn down an alley that harbored a few stray cats and even a dog that scattered when they pressed on down the alley. Softly, they knocked a code to the shopkeep on the old wooden door.

The door just barely creaked open and an old green eye peered out. Y/n looked down to meet the weary eye peeking out at them and couldn't fight a smile. An old cackle rang out and the door opened up wide to an older woman. She was small and had all gray and white hair that was long and braided over her shoulder, but her eyes were alive and she was brimming with joy.

“Oh my little bird, how are you doing?” She said fondly with a slight German accent and Y/n knelt for the woman when she reached to hold their cheeks and look them over.

“I’m well Oma, thank you. You look as young as ever.” The kind words made the woman laugh and she put her hands on her hips and let out a sigh of contentment.

“So what do you need today? I just got in a big order of sugar if you want some.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful actually. I need flour, milk, and is Opa at his shop today? I need apples and he always has those bottles that I need.”

“Actually, he is home sick today,” She started and she walked into the shop to retrieve what Y/n needed. “He caught a small cold but he’ll be better soon. Wait just a moment and I’ll go grab everything.”

The lady went off on her way and Y/n sat on the doorstep, waiting and watching the people walk past the end of the alley. They cringed to themselves whenever they caught the word witch in some distant conversations, they seemed to be a tall tale at this point. At least they weren’t being actively hunted down anymore.

A few long minutes passed and there was a small thump that caught their attention in the shop, when they looked back there were two large sacks and no sign of the woman. Rest assured, after a few moments, the old lady was just barely managing to carry two more large sacks filled to the brim with the few things they had asked for plus much more as they usually only bring one sack home each trip.

“Oma! Oh no, I don’t have enough for all of this! Besides, I can’t possibly carry this all back home.”

“I know, I know. You’ll need it with the weather we have coming on tonight, as payment you can show me that magic you talked about last time. You know that… carrying magic..” She gestured wildly, trying her hardest to remember the word as Y/n stood back up.

“Oh, my spatial magic? I’m not too good at it, but I am sure I can manage this. Alright, are you ready?” They checked the alley for possible watching eyes before holding their hands out with their palms toward the bags.

The old woman stepped back and watched with excitement, her eyes practically sparkling already. Y/n closed their eyes and sucked in a deep breath, their hand flexing a bit and opening wider. A soft purple light began to emit from their hands and two thin, long arms that seemed to be made from the night sky itself stretched out and each hand touched the sack and engulfed it in darkness before retreating back within Y/n’s hands. They let out their held and concentrated breath with a deep sigh, their muscles and bones feeling heavy as they held some of the weight of the sacks within their being.

“That was amazing! Oh, you are so talented, I am so proud of you.” The woman said happily and walked forward, pulling Y/n down and kissing the head of the young mage she seemed to love. “Please hurry home now, stay safe. Opa and I love you and I hope to see you again soon.”

She waved them off and Y/n waved back, pulling their hood down more for precaution, and slipped into the crowd toward the road they took back home. They felt rather blessed they were able to make it home without even a scare.

They walked along the road, waiting to see their well-worn path as the heaviness of their body grew with walking uphill. Using magic like this weighed on the body and the soul with however much the individual was carrying. They reached up, pulling down the clasp to their cloak to reveal the eye of ender to the world. As much as they didn't want to rely on its power, it was the only way they would confidently make it home. Grasping the warm object tight, it pulsed with magic beneath their fingers as if it were alive, they sent their mana into the eye to mix and grant them a magic boost. They knew quite well the item was evil and no good to toy with, what else should one do when it's bound to them for life? With a soft purple glow to their eyes now, their body felt lighter and the strain to keep their goodies in a personal pocket in the dimension lifted almost completely. They shook off their bits of anxiety with the gain of power and picked up the pace to get home as small flurries were filling the air around them.

The walk back home was fast and they were beyond relieved upon opening the door and feeling the hug of the warm cottage and a string of excited meows when their familiar raced to greet them.

“Hey Poppy, miss me?” They stroked the cat before kneeling on the ground to perform the same technique of magic for consuming the sacks to spit them back out onto the ground in front of them and hummed a soft tune while they went through the goodies and put them in their respected places around the three stories of the home. Before they noticed it, the world outside had grown dark and they lit the lanterns around the house and peered through a window to see the snow blowing strongly and the wind howling, they hadn’t even gotten a chance to see the sunset. This was turning out to be a real blizzard, they did a silent prayer that it wouldn’t last long.

Just as Y/n was trying to put the last of the sugar away there was a heavy thump on the door followed by a hurried couple of knocks of which were all inconsistent but did the job of grabbing their attention. They fumbled with the sugar but safely put it down before hurrying to the door, their fast movements spooked the cat and caused her to scramble away to go hide.

Once getting the locks undone they opened up the door to see four individuals standing there, waiting. Two of the larger individuals there stood on the sides to frame the group in a way. The one on the left most who had shoulder-length pink hair and noticeable tusks sticking out from his bottom lip and inhuman down pointed ears, was using his large, red cloak to hold a blond boy who was about to his shoulder, against him and shield him from the snow. The two both had on heavy armor, though, the blond’s armor was a bit more leather than metal. On the other end stood a taller man with brown hair who also was in armor and was hunched over to be able to get covered by a large dark grey wing that held him. Said wings belonging to a man who was shorter than the brunette and had on expensive-looking mage robes and messy blond hair. The winged man looked to Y/n in desperation as he began to speak.

“Please let us stay for the night. We will leave as the sun rises, please just-”

“Stop talking- just come in. Hurry! It’s got to be below zero out there.” Y/n hurriedly ushered the bunch inside as they held the door open for them.

The burly pink-haired man was the first to make a move as he pushed the blond boy off of him and through the doorway and was already reaching over to push the brown-haired man next. He made sure the winged individual made his way in before going in. He looked at Y/n who was still holding the door and adjusted his jaw, a nervous habit it seemed, eyes darting around a bit before he returned his eyes to them and gave a nod of appreciation.

Y/n barley was able to get the door closed after him before they turned around and was assaulted with a hug from the winged man, he was incredibly cold. They hugged the man back, rubbing his back a little as he said many soft thank yous to them, though they watched the other three who stood close and looked around at the bottom portion of their home. The blond boy hugged himself close, shivering and the brunette rubbed his back as he looked around.

They hope they wouldn’t regret not thinking it through before letting a bunch of strange people into their home.

“I truly cannot thank you enough for this. We would have died out there.” The man said as he finally let go of Y/n and studied their face for a moment, looking for words it seemed. “We should introduce ourselves. I’m Phil and the big guy back there is Technoblade. The lanky one is Wilbur and the blond one between them is Tommy. They are my sons.”

Y/n watched them as Phil introduced them, each of them giving them some sort of little greeting when they were called. Whether it was a head nod or a little wave or a smile. They seemed nice.

“One hell of a family..” Y/n mumbled which Phil seemed quite funny and even Wilbur chuckled a bit.

“Oh yeah, but they are my boys.” He said while looking at the three with fondness.

The sweet moment was caught a little short when Technoblade crossed his arms, his body language screaming distrust. He looked down at Y/n and sized them up as he grumbled out a question that sounded more like a command. “What is your name. Who are you.”

“Techno- for god’s sake be a little nicer could ya? Bloody hell, they just saved us.” Wilbur retorted and Technoblade huffed a little growl and looked away. Wilbur gave a short and annoyed sigh, looking back at Y/n as he pulled his hand away from Tommy and instead rested a hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist. It wasn’t meant to be seen as a threat, but the gesture did make Y/n a bit uneasy as they shuffled back a tad. Instead, he just spoke kindly with an inviting hand gesture.

“What is your name?” He stated and he and Phil looked at them expectantly.

They hesitated for a moment with the eyes on them and cleared their throat, standing taller. “My name is Y/n... it’s nice to meet all of you.” They thought for a moment about what they should say to these people who stood awkwardly, warming up from the cold. “How about I uh… go get some blankets for you all. Blankets and I’ll set up my two spare rooms.” They added as more of a side note to themselves than the group and hurried up the stairs to get things together.

This was going to be a long night. They can only hope the snow stops soon.

[Chapter Two]

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

Hi!! Spooks here. Like the first chapter? Want to make sure you know when i post the next chapter and any after that?

Click here and interact with this post! I'll add you to my tag list!!

And thank you so much for reading!!

314 notes · View notes

emotionallyits2009 · 4 years ago

Text

deancas fic rec list!

hello everyone! happy christmas to those who celebrate it, my gift to you is my fic rec list that i said i would make like a month ago. the only thing it is organized by is canonverse vs alternate universe. tried to cover a variety of subjects but there are in particular many fics of the genre “postcanon where cas is human and he and dean live together and slowly finally get their shit together” because i know what i’m about, son. HOPE U ENJOY. and if you wanna talk about any of them or rec me other fics please do. :)

Canonverse:

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo, 30k, explicit “Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.” There are many fics set in a post-canon universe where Cas is human and he and Dean live together and slowly fall into a relationship. Imo this one is the best of the best of that genre. This was one of the first fics I read back in July when I was getting Back Into Supernatural where I was like oh fuck I’m like in this. Dean builds Cas planters and bookshelves and a chicken coop and they fight and work through it.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits, 10k, explicit For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental. It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless. Really Gets the dynamic of Cas doesn’t think Dean wants him to stay/Dean thinks Cas will leave the first chance he gets. Also a nice example of Cas thinking he’s not wanted if he’s not useful/powerful and being told otherwise. Another all-time fave!

lonely hearts by outphastthemoat, 4.5k, gen He thinks he might give up having his own anything just to be able to step foot inside the room next door and sit on the edge of Dean’s bed instead. This one is for the CAS GIRLS who know what LONELINESS feels like.

Helionneiros by aeli_kindara, 24.2k, mature In which Dean visits his mother, and Claire takes Cas on a hunt. I’m always on the lookout for more fic with Claire and Jack. Jack doesn’t show up until the end here but the relationship between Cas and Claire is really nice.

Crawl by aeriallon, 11k, explicit It’s been almost four years since Castiel left Kansas; he'd eventually settled in an island town where he has a job, a house, and a life without the Winchesters. Every winter, Dean drives down to the coast to see him. Another fic where Cas is human but in this one he took some time for himself and got some distance from the Winchesters! He gets to be competent and weird as a human and we love that for him. I must warn you all that this fic contains one use of the phrase “making love” which would normally put me right off but it’s still worth reading. The first of a three-part series.

home where you hold me by microcomets, 1.6k, gen Cas and Dean, in the moments between their battles, ache for quiet spaces. Technically this is a coda to 10x20 but you don’t need the episode for context. Short and very sweet.

Build a Home by domesticadventures, 20.1k, teen After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them. He doesn’t. This one is so cute it’s like what if once they were done saving the world Sam and Dean actually invited other hunters to move into the bunker with them. Obviously Dean wants that to include Cas but doesn’t know how to use his words.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo, 22.4k, explicit This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore. Angst fic! They go on a road trip and Dean is severely fucked up post-Mark of Cain.

Unknown Quantities by xylodemon, 8.6k, explicit No one ever tells Dean anything. Another nice getting-together fic.

Creature of Habit by trinityofone, 5.2k, teen The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well. This one is ancient by destiel standards (written during season 5) but it manages to nail the married couple vibes they give off in later seasons. Cas is a bitch and Dean likes him so much. <3

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by Tuesday, 11.2k, mature Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this. Another old one that is a lot of fun! They get Accidental Angel Married and if you don’t enjoy dumb fanfiction tropes like that I don’t know what to say to you.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi, 4k, teen In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything. The OTHER accidental angel marriage fic written in 2010.

Crazy Diamonds by pantheon_of_discord, 24.8k, explicit A week ago, Dean was pulled out of Hell. Now, he’s apparently woken up in 2018, and the angel that a mere twenty-four hours beforehand had threatened to chuck him back into the pit is sleepily pouring himself coffee and wearing Dean’s second-favourite Zeppelin shirt. It all seems like a perfect happy ending, but with Hell’s scars still so fresh, Dean can’t imagine how he could have possibly gotten there. At the same time, the Dean who went to sleep in the bunker, right next to Cas, wakes up on Bobby’s couch in 2008. He’s instantly bombarded with questions by a Lilith-obsessed brother and a man who’s been dead for years, and must decide between keeping his finally-perfect life intact, and the lives he could save by re-writing history. Regardless of these choices, both Deans are trapped in the wrong decade, and their only way back lies with a Castiel still very much under Heaven’s thumb – one who might find the future Dean describes difficult to believe. Time travel is FUN. There’s an excellent part where (minor spoilers) future!Dean is like, “Guess what, asshole? You like me so much you marry me!!!!!!!!!!!” to 2008!Castiel that made me laugh out loud the first time I read it. Also just a good reminder of how most problems in life are temporary and if you could go back in time to talk to your younger self you’d be like, “Hey man. Chill out. You get through it.”

The Path of Fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, mature After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years. There’s a lot of amnesia fic and djinn fic out there were Dean wakes up ~suddenly together with Cas~ but I like this one in particular because he’s initially very confused and kind of a dick about it until he acknowledges that being with Cas makes him happy.

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden, 95k, explicit Three months ago, when Dean decided to retire, he thought his life was going to end up differently. He'd thought that he might get to have it all, Sam, Cas, Jack, and nice little place to live. Instead he gets Sam and Jack off on their Summer of Love Tour, radio silence from Cas, and a never-ending road trip consisting of himself. Still reeling from the loss of his grace, Castiel travels the country in search of hunts. Driven by a need to prove his usefulness, he pushes himself beyond all limits of endurance. Together, with the help of a few friends, a crumbling Victorian house, and a stray cat, Dean and Castiel patch themselves back together and create a home together. Do you wanna read almost one hundred thousand words of Dean and Cas having extremely intense feelings but refusing to voice them aloud? Haha of course you do that’s why you’re here. There’s also a lot about Cas adjusting to being human and being depressed about it which might resonate if you’ve ever felt weird about having a body. To be honest the author could stand to use a few more commas but there were also half a dozen moments that made me put my phone down and drag my hand slowly over my face and whisper “oh my god” to myself which is like, the ultimate measure of a good fanfiction so it gets to be on the list.

like moses and batman and james dean by saltyfeathers, 31.6k, explicit dean used to turn tricks. over a decade later, he met cas. Have you seen the fanon (apparently pioneered by Mr. Jackles “Original Deankin” Ackles himself) that Dean used to prostitute himself to feed himself and Sam when they were younger? Are you interested in exploring that concept in fanfiction? Well, this is the only fic you need. Mind the tags on this one! It’s not what I’d call happy but it’s good.

Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircases, 47k, mature It’s September of 2005, and Dean Winchester, in an attempt to outrun old mistakes and painful memories, finds himself in southern Kentucky on a wild goose chase. He’s completely certain this weird religious movement he’s “investigating” is a hoax, despite the miraculous healings people report, and he’ll be back on the road in a day or two. Things are looking up when he meets Cas, an awkward (and gorgeous) graduate student who’s actually doing honest-to-god research into the local tent revival meetings. When that research takes a weird and personal turn, Dean’s left to face two very serious realities: one, this may be a real case after all, and two, he’s fallen way harder for Cas than he should ever have let himself. Stanford-era AU of Dean trying to avoid his father and getting in over his head on a case.

Alternate universe:

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets, 57k, mature Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen. Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen. Mundane AUs in this fandom have to be really, really good to catch my attention and this one is! It’s exactly what it says in the summary and the characterization is spot-on.

Out to Drift by deathbanjo, 20.9k, mature Dean drives a black car with a loud engine. He lies too easily. He keeps a gun in the back of his jeans, and Castiel isn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean has killed someone before. Two people in fucked-up unstable situations meeting and forming a connection. Honestly guys I really just love deathbanjo.

#fic #deancas #destiel

533 notes · View notes

ikeromantic · 3 years ago

Text

In the Spotlight

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction, approx. 1700 words. This scene occurs after the events of the romantic epilogue and includes some of what happens in the part 2 introduction. Mostly fluff!

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Uncomfortable Questions

Kyubei bowed low and held the position. It wasn’t his first time to report to Nobunaga, but it was his first time to do so without explicit instructions from his lord. He was nervous, but it didn’t show. Kyubei could hold an icy composure as well as Akechi.

“Report.” Nobunaga’s tone was flat, hiding his own frustration.

Hideyoshi and Masamune weren’t trying to hide theirs. The one-eyed dragon was pacing and Toyotomi’s scowl could have peeled paint.

“There is no evidence,” Kyubei cleared his throat, “that the forces at Kasugayama are involved in the attacks on Azuchi. However -” he paused. This was the part that made him sweat. “The disappearance of Lord Akechi and the lady chatelaine coincide with the vanishing of their ninja, Sarutobi Sasuke.”

“I don’t believe it.” Masamune stopped, one hand dropping to his sword hilt. “There’s no way that ninja got the drop on Mitsuhide.”

Hideyoshi nodded. “Agreed. My guess is that they are working together.”

Kyubei interrupted. “I find that unlikely, my lord. At least, in the manner you suggest. If I may?”

Nobunaga indicated he should continue.

“My sources tell me Shingen Takeda is ill, and between the loss of his ally and his ninja, Kenshin is unstable. Seeking conflict within his own forces as well as outside. It is unlikely he is aiding Kasugayama. Though he must have known Sarutobi's absence might . . .” He frowned, wondering how much he should imply, what he could suggest.

Ieyasu saved him the need. “Mitsuhide was making plans for an extended absence. I think we should consider that he has left, with Sasuke, to visit the chatelaine’s homeland.”

Mitsunari nodded. “This would make sense. There could be something about the events of the night he disappeared that forced them to leave sooner than he expected.”

“There’s more to it, and if I know that snake -” Hideyoshi’s rant was cut short by Nobunaga’s raised hand.

“Enough. I did not wish to bare Akechi’s secrets, but Ieyasu is correct. Mitsuhide sought my permission to take the chatelaine to her home. He was uncertain how long they would be gone.”

The room exploded with sound, warlords talking over one another. Hideyoshi was ranting about safety and plots; Masamune demanded permission to seek them out. Keiji was laughing. Ieyasu and Mitsunari were relatively silent, waiting for the excitement to die down.

Nobunaga’s carnelian eyes quieted each man in turn.

When he could be heard again, Kyubei continued. “I made contact with Ranmaru. He is seeking out the forces responsible for the attack on Azuchi, along with other spies in our network.”

“Ranmaru? That boy is afraid of his own shadow. Completely unreliable,” Hideyoshi muttered, not unkindly. “He should be here.”

Kyubei couldn’t help the slight smile at that. He didn’t approve of Ranmaru’s tangled loyalties, but one could not argue with his ability to act a part. “Of course, my lord. But Ranmaru insisted. And he does have many friends to rely on for information.”

Ieyasu stood. “This doesn’t answer my questions though. Where is the chatelaine? Is she safe? When will she return? We all know Akechi has his . . . plans. I’m not worried about him. He’ll turn up when and where he wants to. But she’s -”

“You’re worried about her!” Mitsunari beamed. “I knew you were just trying to hide it when you told me-”

“Shut up.” Ieyasu glared. “I’m just . . . the enemy could use her against us. We need to know where she is.”

“Agreed,” Masamune spoke up. “I will put together a team. We’ll find her.”

“My lords, I am afraid she and Mitsuhide are beyond any team.” Kyubei sighed. “The greater concern is what this impacts and how it will be used against us. The Ikko Ikki are moving. The Mouri clan have resumed pirating, and we know it was Kichou that executed the attack on Azuchi. In addition, we have rumors the shogun in exile is drawing a new following.”

Mitsunari frowned. “Yes, I reviewed several shipment records and troop movements from old loyalist daimyo. It appears we are not done with the shogun as of yet.”

Kyubei bit his lip. The scribe they’d installed should have been satisfied to live in luxurious exile, but it seemed the old shogun’s loyalist stirred his greed. Or maybe they were using him as a puppet. He had no way to know, as the spies in Ashitaka’s court had all fallen silent.

Nounaga spoke again. “Hideyoshi, you and Keiji will pursue the Mouri. Masamune, I want you to make contact with Kasugayama. Offer a truce. See what they can offer up about their missing ninja. They may be willing to hunt down our enemies with us, as it does them no benefit to see this land descend into chaos.” His gaze fell on Ieyasu. “You will join Kyubei’s efforts to track down Mitsuhide and the chatelaine. Your research and his current knowledge will yield results.”

“May I assist Lord Tokugawa?” Mitsunari’s innocent smile could have been worn by an angel. He was completely oblivious to the sudden grimace on his friend’s face.

“You may, in your spare time. I need your mind fixed on calculating provisions, troop movements, bridges, and roads. There will be fighting soon.”

Mitsunari acquiesced with a bow.

Kyubei delivered the rest of his report, and then was dismissed. He went straight to the Akechi mansion and opened a bottle of sake. Alcohol was a vice he rarely indulged in, but today he felt like he needed it. He’d exposed some of his lord’s business without permission. He had no idea how or if this would impact Akechi’s plans. And now . . . he’d be working with Ieyasu. It would be difficult to keep the secrets he needed to keep.

He kept drinking until the room spun and the lights all wore halos. Kyubei might have kept it up, but he ran out of bottles and couldn’t make the walk to fetch more. Instead, he fell asleep, sprawled out on the floor of his lord’s office.

***

Mitsuhide felt a mix of relief and distress when his little one explained the plastic stick on the bathroom counter. It meant they were not having a child together. Not yet, at any rate. And this was good. He was in no position here to father a child. But . . .

The image of himself holding a child. His. Hers. His heart felt too big for his chest, thinking of what such a child would be like. His very own son or daughter. One with his love’s sweetness. His eyes. Her nose. His perception. It made him ache, as if he had an old bruise, a wound that hadn’t healed. Which was completely irrational.

He looked out the train window at the rapidly passing countryside. Trees. Hills. Houses. Different and not so different from the world he knew. He should be spending this time planning the next few days, not moping. Kitsunes did not mope.

“Are you ok? Are you nervous?” His little mouse put her hand on his leg, comforting.

“Yes and yes.” Mitsuhide turned his head to give her a sideways smile. “I have never had to meet the parents of my betrothed.” He had expected Nobunaga to marry a woman to him for political purpose. Some well-bred woman who knew how to run a house and had courtly manners. A woman he would never love, but could put up with, at a distance. Yet here he was.

She laughed. “It will be ok, really. I talked to okaasan and she is excited to meet you. She’s happy for us.”

“And you father?” Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sure he’ll get used to the idea. He’s just . . . to him, I’m still a little kid. But I’m sure once he sees us together, he’ll come around.”

Mitsuhide was less certain about that. He’d known several fathers and they fell into two categories, most of the time. There were the men who could care less about their children beyond their use to the clan. And there were the men that treated their children as things of wonder. Not that they coddled them - but they cared. About their education, their work, their friends. He was sure his lover’s otousan fell into that second group.

The train stop came sooner than he might have liked. The two of them disembarked. There were only a handful of people getting off the train here, so it was easy to spot her parents.

They were dressed conservatively. Her father was a little shorter than Mitsuhide, and a little thicker around the middle. His greying hair was thin on top, and he wore glasses. Her mother was small and wore a smile he would have known anywhere.

The parents caught sight of them at about the same time Mitsuhide’s study of them finished.

“Otou-chan! Okaasan!” His little mouse flung herself across the platform, and was swept up in a hug from both sides. Tears ran down her face, and her cheeks were stretched in a wide smile.

Mitsuhide felt out of place in this moment of familial warmth. He had no such experience himself, and did not want to intrude either way. He stood quietly, holding their bags. Waiting as they exchanged hugs, kisses, and stammered apologies and explanations. As if they could make up for half a year apart in a few minutes.

Her father finally looked up and met Mitsuhide’s eyes. His were dark and suspicious. Protective. “You.”

His little one smacked his arm. “Be nice, papa. This is my fiancé, Mitsuhide. Mitsuhide, this is my father, Minoru, and my mother, Youko.”

Mitsuhide bowed low. “I am pleased to meet you both.”

Her father didn’t reply, but her mother did. “We are so glad to meet you too! It was such a surprise . . . our little girl . . . disappearing and then -”

“And then coming back with a weird boyfriend,” her father interrupted.

Oh yes. This was already going very well. Just as expected. Mitsuhide straightened and put on his best ‘trust me’ smile. “If there were any way we could have done it differently, I promise we would have. I hope we’ll be able to lay any worries you have to rest.”

She stepped over to his side and took his arm. “Yes, I plan on explaining everything.” His little mouse was the one to look nervous now. And no wonder. After much discussion, they’d decided on telling her family a version of the truth.

In fact, Sasuke and Miyake were supposed to come out the following day to provide backup evidence for their story. But even with that, they were asking her parents to accept a lot all at once. Mitsuhide did not see their chances of success as being very high, but for her, he would try anything.

Next: Bonding

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #kyubei #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #hc

65 notes · View notes

watery-melon-baller · 4 years ago

Text

Danny Phantom Fic Recs

Absolutely nobody asked for this, but I feel like doing this so here are some, as the title says, Danny Phantom fic recs! There’s not really any cohesion or theme to this, these are just fics I find good in general. They’re not ones I’ve seen around on a ton of rec lists, so maybe this can help people find something new to read.

Tucker Foley and the Long Arc of the Paranormal Universe by helpivefallenandicantgetup

I cannot recommend this fic enough. The quality of the writing is extremely high. It may start off a bit slow, but once you get into it it really sucks you in. It’s a longer one, currently sitting just above 90,000 words, and still a work in progress but actively updating. The fic is a paranormal mystery AU centering around Tucker, as the title implies, with some good focus put on Sam as well. Danny is the new kid in town, and, not to spoil too much, it crafts an interesting mystery around a series of related murders. This fic provides a remarkably fresh take on the Danny Phantom characters and setting. I in particular love how the interpersonal relationships between characters come so naturally. The take on the characters really stands out to me, giving a lot of depth to them in a way that makes them feel like full people. The plot is engaging, with each development adding to the intrigue. Seriously, probably the best piece of fanfiction I’ve read, ever.

Face to Face by DP_Marvel94

This one has a special place in my heart. It’s one of the first long pieces of fanfiction I read (currently sitting around 150,000 words), and it’s a good one. It’s a very character driven story, centering around what happens when Danny, not long after the accident, tries to get rid of his powers but instead splits himself in two. Now I will say I’m a big sucker for split Danny stories, but even so this is a very interesting take on the concept. As I said, it’s highly character driven, with an engaging arc of Danny learning to accept himself. Another thing that stands out about it is the writing of Jack and Maddie, with some excellent takes on a reveal and reveal aftermath. Big queer allegory vibes, which sure hits for me. This fic is still in progress and continues to update.

Losing Teeth by halfpastdead

This one’s much shorter, a oneshot of around 2000 words. Still, it’s one I find myself coming back to again and again. It’s about Danny becoming more ghostly after a few days stuck in Phantom form. Highkey angst with the Fenton parents, which I am here for. The author portrays the consequences of a post reveal Danny well, how Danny struggles from the trauma of them hunting him, how they can’t just instantly let go of their prejudices once they know the truth. The writing and prose is well done, with good characterization as well.

Doppelgänger by CrzyFun

Boy oh boy do I love this one. It’s halfa trio AND qpr trio, two concepts I love immensely. The writing is well done, and it’s really interesting to see how things have been changed. It’s very much an AU, following through canon but showing how things change with all the tweaks made and, of course, the halfa trio thing. It works well, as do the little tweaks to character. Especially standing out is the portrayal of Valerie; the author manages to give her a lot of nuance and development, giving her a realistic relationship with Danny and the trio as Doppelgänger. And the queerness, I love the queerness so much. This fic currently sits around 40,000 words, so pretty middling in length. It went on a hiatus for a while, but now it’s back to regular updates and seems set to be completed soon.

Eidolon Interloper by HeroineofTime

Everything HeroineofTime writes is so good. Their two other DP fics, Can I Not Grasp Them with a Tighter Clasp? (Around 20,000 word completed multichapter, psychological horror centering around Danny’s protection obsession going too far) and Speak of the Banshee (A ghost speak humor oneshot with Danny and Valerie, at about 7000 words) were both excellent and I enjoyed them immensely. You should read them both. Eidolon Interloper just stands out for its originality and length. It is a crossover with The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess, but as someone who has never played Twilight Princess and has very limited knowledge on it, I had no issues getting into it. It follows Danny after he falls through a portal into the world of Twilight Princess and proceeds to have a terrible time. I really enjoyed the handling of Danny’s character and how his secret-keeping goes. Currently around 50,000 words, it is ongoing. I binged it.

Analog by Workparty

I don’t know, I just enjoyed this one. It’s kind of an anthology of oneshots exploring Danny-clone related situations, scenarios, and AUs. It’s well written and I like how the author explores different ideas and themes. I actually don’t have a lot to say about this one, it’s just good. This one is actually completed, sitting around 20,000 words over 7 chapters.

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out by LichrallyJustVibin

I love full ghost Danny aus so much, and this is pretty much the perfect take on a full ghost Danny au. And that pretty much sums up the plot: Danny Dies. Now he has to deal with the aftermath of that. The author puts so much character into the narration; they absolutely nail everyone’s voice. They also manage to strike such an expert balance between angst and fluff, which really makes the fic. It might be abandoned (it hasn’t updated since January), but I’m unsure as of now. Still, the 14,000 words we do have are completely worth checking out. Seriously, this fic is so good.

That’s what I have for now! If any of these interest you, please go check them out, they’re all really good. -Aru

#Danny Phantom Fic Recs #Fic Recs #Danny Phantom #Fandom #Fanfiction #Recs #fic #writing #if any of these summaries I'm giving are too spoilery tell me and I'll try to fix it #If y'all want more fic recs from me I can definitely dredge up more fic recs

191 notes · View notes

liloelsagranger · 3 years ago

Text

Night shift - finally a new Rocketshipping-fanfiction

My dear friends,

it’s been a while since I last posted an entry. Let me tell you why and what, besides Covid-19, made me pause from publishing fanfictions over the last couple of months. Of course, Switzerland was very affected by the pandemic and still is today. We had numerous lock-downs or as Swiss people call it “slow downs”. My mother got very sick last year, I almost lost her. The doctors said she would only live two or three more days, but my mom is a fighter. She had to stay at the hospital for months, she endured countless medical examinations, had to take meds and slowly learned to live again. I’m so proud of my mother that she was strong and determined to get better. When she turned back home, I started to take care of her and I hate to leave her on her own, even if we’re talking about half an hour or less. Right now, she’s doing quite good, actually, we’re on vacation and she makes a great effort to participate in life in Italy. She’s my role-model! She will never be the same as before, but she won’t give up, she wakes up every morning to make progress. I prayed for her and her well-being, I prayed every single night she might get another chance and now we’re here at the beach and dining in fancy restaurants. It’s been a horrible year for everyone, a year full of sorrow, tears and desperation, a year where I was constantly afraid, the hospital would call me with some bad news, but she did it! She survived and she fights for her life! So proud! Good news is: I passed my doctoral exams and I’m officially allowed to call myself Dr. phil. des. Melanie C. but that won’t ever stop me from loving Team Rocket so here it is - a brand new Rocketshipping-fanfiction for you guys. LOVE YOU! Night shift

Chapter 1:

It was past ten o’clock when that miserable looking guy entered the diner. He inconspicuously sat down in the farthest corner of the café and immediately hid his face behind the menu card. Nevertheless, Jessie the waitress could make out the pathetic expression on his face, how he was cowering like a whipped dog. She had seen quite a bit in this diner. Drunks, thugs, addicts and other needy people who asked for a sympathetic ear, compassion and understanding, but that guy was different. He suffered terribly, but did not dare to communicate, instead he hid from the world so as not to attract attention and quietly endure his fate. Jessie had to do something about it. Of course, she didn’t want to play the Good Samaritan. She knew the tricks of the men who entered this diner. Most of the time, they told the waitress tall tales, hoping to be comforted, whatever they meant by that. But this young man did not make a shady impressionHe was well dressed, looked well-groomed, and Jessie was especially struck by his bright emerald green eyes, the only thing in his face that had not yet been veiled by grief and sorrow. She decided to do something about his displeasure.

“Did you have a rough day?” she asked while disinfecting the table.

He looked briefly into her eyes and nodded. “That’s one way to put it,” he answered, the gaze immediately lowered again.

This would be a taciturn conversation, but Jessie didn’t give up easily, she was a natural at making even rocks talk.

“Listen! No matter what happened, I’ve seen or heard some things. If I can help you in any way, my name is Jessie and I’m in charge of this table today. Let me just get the gum out from under your seat and get you a cold drink. What would you like?” She pulled a spatula from her apron and rubbed away the remains of the spoiled brats that marred her diner.

‘Wow,’ the young man thought to himself. ‘A strong, self-confident woman who lends a hand herself and who’s not above cleaning up dirt.’ Their eyes met briefly, and he forced a wry smile.

“You know, kid. You can’t rely on anyone. If you want to get everything done, do it yourself and don’t trust anyone. This world doesn’t give you anything for granted!” She briefly wiped the back of his chair before disappearing behind the counter and pouring the young man an ice-cold Coke.

“I have rarely seen you so concerned about a customer. Normally you show yourself aloof and only take the order, so as not to get involved in embarrassing conversations. Must be a really great pike, this pathetic creature in the far corner. Could it be that you’ve got a tiny crush on this guy?” For Eddy, teasing his best friend was the greatest pleasure. He didn’t know her like that. Jessie usually resisted any kind of small talk. This was due to her dark past, when she had repeatedly fallen for advances from men who were never looking for a steady relationship, but for a quick fix. Eddy had witnessed this bad time of his friend, how her heart was broken, how she was badly played with, and how she was simply dropped like a hot potato. Jack was the worst example of them all. While Jessie was already hearing the wedding bells ringing, he was making love to the women of the Strip and deceiving Jessie night after night with other broads. Jessie was devastated when she found out Jack was cheating on her. She was furious, not even at her lying boyfriend, but at herself for having been so stupid as to trust a man.

Jessie gave Eddy a light pat on the head. “Don’t be silly! That time is over. I can take care of myself, I don’t need male support for that. I’m a big girl, I make my own dough, and I keep my head above water pretty well. No, not a chance, I’ve sworn off flirting.” Nevertheless, she caught herself as her gaze wandered to the young man in the corner. “Oh yes, this time is definitely over,” Eddy smirked.

“Jessie, could you bring us a side of fries, please?” Misty’s order echoed throughout the hall. The twenty-year old waved her hands. She was used to speaking loudly, almost shouting, to attract guests to her daily water Pokémon show. Sometimes she walked up and down the streets of the Strip all day in the blazing hot sun, trying to win people for her underwater attraction. As an excellent student, she could have taught at any college, but she had decided early on to get into show business and make her living doing what she really loved, joined by Dewgong and Starmie. Her parents had not agreed with this decision at all, it was wasted talent, they had claimed, and had summarily turned Misty out the door. Since then, she had been struggling through life on her own, but could always count on Jess, the diner and her two best friends, Ash and Brock, young people who were also not favoured by fate.

“Temper your voice, twerp!” Jessie couldn’t help but grin. She spread the ketchup bottles around the table, hoping Ash wouldn’t spill on himself and the diner again. His constant companion Pikachu immediately hopped on his shoulder, grabbed a fry and popped it in his mouth. Ash and his Pokémon were carnies. He had trained his friend well and attracted many spectators with his performance. Most of them felt sorry for the guy and tipped generously. That’s why Ash was able to invite his friends to the diner every night, a place that gave them hope where they could experience security. They were convinced that nothing would ever disturb this idyll and that fate, for better or worse, had taken its course.

“Who’s that guy over there?” Brock wanted to know. He had barely sold chocolate and roses tonight. The others held back, but they were certain that their friend was just too pushy with women and that’s why he only collected rejections instead of green bills.

“I’ve never seen him here before. Must be from another area. I can’t tell you for the life of me why he’s wearing a suit at theses temperatures, he looks pretty pathetic to me anyways,” Jessie replied.

“Maybe his car has stalled,” Ash suggested, “and now he was forced to wander through the desert until the tasty aromas from your diner brought him back from his delirium.”

“Or,” Brock interfered, “he had to flee his own wedding because his wife is a real pain in the ass, unlike our sweet Misty,” Brock oohed at his friend. “Forget it, Brock! You and me, this will never happen!” She gave him a gentle poke.

“Enough now with your naïve speculations! Just let him enjoy his drink. We’re closing soon, so get going,” Jessie dismissed their absurd ideas with a wave of her hand, but at this point no one knew how right Brock was.

Dark thoughts hunted the young man. He knew what he would face at home if he was late. Beatings, torture, rebuke, harassment, were just a few words to describe his failed relationship. Unconsciously, he stroked his scarred arms.

“Can I get you something to eat?” Jessie pulled him out of the maelstrom of bad thoughts, of course she had noticed the wounds, but maybe he had gotten those injuries at work. The young man rummaged some coins out of his pants and let them jingle on the table. “Is that enough for a cheese sandwich?” Jessie hated small change, but she would make an exception for him. A friendly smile, a quick nod, and she passed on the order.

“Something’s wrong with this guy,” she whispered to Eddy. “He’s scarred, bruised and pays with penny coins. Possibly a vagrant.” Eddy couldn’t help but grin. “That guy’s been keeping you busy all night, Jess. What’s the matter with you? Are you getting weak?”

The young man could not overhear the conversation between the waiters, but he was sure they were talking about him. He sure made a rather frightening impression, but that was a private matter and not something you shared with a waitress in a diner.

His gaze drifted to the daily paper, which had two faces emblazoned on it: Butch and Cassidy. He had never heard of this odd couple, but according to the news, theses two were causing quite a stir and were terrifying the Strip.

“Oh, so you’ve already spotted them, those two knuckleheads! They keep the Strip in suspense, and heads roll when the taxes don’t add up,” Jessie served him the cheese sandwich and gave him a slight smile.

“Can I get you anything else?” He thanked her and took a hearty bite of his dinner.

The last half hour flew by and the remaining guests left the diner to spend the night on the Strip, as very few had a roof over their heads. Jessie set about cleaning up and Eddy checked the register.

The young man stood up and made his way towards the door. But before he left the diner, he glanced back at Jessie for a moment. A sigh escaped him. What if…?

Jessie returned his gaze and watched him go until the young man disappeared. She walked right up to his table and found a little note on the receipt.

“Thanks for treating me like a human being, James.”

48 notes · View notes

elvish-sky · 4 years ago

Text

A Love Forged by Knives

A.N: Ok, so this is kinda my first ever fanfiction and I'm really excited about it! I had so much fun writing and hopefully, I'll be able to write more soon.

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Word Count: 1660

Summary: Y/N gets hurt in an orc attack and Legolas has to take care of her.

Warnings: Some fluff, blood/wounds/battle, a little angst.

****

A Love Forged by Knives

When you had joined the fellowship, you hadn't expected there to be quite this much running. Sure, at first it had been just walking, admittedly lots of it, but walking was fine. Now, though, with the eagerness to get to the mountains, Gandalf was setting a hard pace. Aragorn and Legolas were easily matching Gandalf, even foraging ahead for a while, and Boromir would have done the same had he not been looking after the hobbits, all four of whom were struggling but still keeping up. However, you were not having quite as easy a time. Thankfully, you weren't the only one having trouble with the faster pace.

Poor Gimli was huffing and puffing, weighed down by all his armor and unable to match even your slow pace because of his size. There had been a lot of checking on him to make sure he was keeping up over the past few days, and on the rare occasion he passed you, he returned the favor.

While you were looking back at Gimli to make sure he was ok, you heard a shout that sounded like an orc. You spun around to see the rest of the fellowship under attack. Gandalf was whacking one with his staff while slicing another with his sword. Aragorn and Boromir had quickly drawn their swords and were dispatching orcs with apparent ease, while the hobbit stabbed with their small weapons, taking orcs by surprise. Legolas was interchangeably using his bow or daggers to fight and looked like a small, contained hurricane of death.

While you were taking this in, Gimli had caught up, and the two of you jumped into the fight, him with his axe and you with your two hunting knives.

As you whirled around, stabbing and slicing and blocking with your two knives, you heard a cry. You spun around and saw Legolas on the ground, with an orc looming above him. You watched as the orc brought his axe up, ready to bring it down and end your friend's life, but at the last second Legolas whipped out a small dagger from his boot, sprung up, and sliced the orc's throat.

You sighed in relief, and as you did you felt a sharp pain in your leg. An orc had snuck up behind you and slashed at you while you were distracted. You managed to stab and kill him, but then your leg gave out and you collapsed.

"Y/N!"

A shout came from Aragorn as he saw you collapse, and he made his way over to you, having just killed the last orc. Everyone else's attention was drawn by his shout, and Legolas rushed over, pushing Aragorn aside to get a closer look at your wound. It was deep and long, running half the length of your thigh, and you were bleeding profusely.

Legolas examined it, and after he had poked and prodded until you had to bite your tongue to keep from crying out, he said, "Y/N, this needs to be taken care of but we can't do anything until we camp for the night. It looks pretty bad. Do you want me or Aragorn to carry you until we can find a spot to camp?"

"No," you said, "I can walk."

You tried to stand up to prove your point but the second you put weight on the leg you hissed with pain. You stubbornly kept trying to walk, managing to make it about four feet until your leg crumpled beneath you.

Aragorn caught you and wrapped a piece of cloth around your leg to stop the blood, while saying, "I think it's best if someone carries you. We'll camp soon."

Aragorn swept you up into his arms but was quickly accosted by Legolas, who whispered something you couldn't hear. With a smirk, he handed you off to Legolas, who held you gently as if he didn't want to cause you any more pain. You placed your head on his chest and drifted into unconsciousness.

As you fell asleep, you didn't hear him whisper "Sleep well, melleth nîn(my love)."

Later, you awoke as even Aragorn was growing weary looking for a good spot to camp, Gandalf called back to Legolas to hurry up, and you wondered why you were so far behind the rest of the group. Unbeknownst to you, Legolas had been so worried about you that he had slowed his pace to make sure he could walk with the utmost care, so as not to disturb you.

Finally, Aragorn called out "I've found a camping spot!"

Everyone went over to him as he parted the branches to reveal a small glade, perfect for the night. Sam quickly got a fire going and began making stew while the others gathered around and Aragorn and Boromir set up all the sleeping rolls. Legolas gently placed you on yours and began unwrapping the cloth over your wound.

You both gasped as it was uncovered, as somehow it looked worse than it had earlier. he quickly made a dressing and placed it on the gash, while also doing something that you thought looked suspicious with a needle.

"I'm terribly sorry Y/N, but this wound is too severe to leave open. I'm going to have to give you stitches."

"What?" you exclaimed. "Legolas, no. I'm fine. I don't need you to sew me up like a doll."

He ignored you and asked Merry and Pippin to come over to hold your hands, and possibly restrain you from moving while he stitched. As he sewed, he told stories of other adventures he'd had over his long life, and you, Merry, and Pippin listed raptly. The tales he told were so amazing that they made you forget about the pain, and you drifted off to sleep once he had finished the stitches and placed another poultice on.

You opened your eyes to see a pitch-black forest surrounding the small glade, and a shape silhouetted by the fire. You could tell it was the elf by the shape of his ears. You made to rise and walk over to him, but you hissed as pain shot through your leg. Legolas was up in a flash, striding towards you with an expression of worry on his face.

"Y/N? Is everything ok?"

"It's fine," you replied, "I'm just cold, and my leg hurts."

"I'm sorry," said the elf. "Sip this."

"What is it?" you replied.

"It's an elvish sleeping drought. It should take away the pain and help you rest."

"Thank you," you said, and you took a sip and felt the pain begin to leave your body.

You began to fall asleep, but through the haze of drowsiness you felt Legolas kiss your forehead and heard him say "Sleep well, melleth nîn." This time, however, you heard him say it.

You sat up, your sleepiness gone. "What did you say?" you asked the elf, who was blushing like mad.

"Uhmm... nothing. Why?" he replied.

"Oh no, don't you weasel your way out. You called me 'my love'."

You could see his face wince with the words, and then harden into resolve.

"Ok, Y/N. I have been putting this off because I was never quite sure how you were going to react, but you've caught me so I guess I must tell you. I'm in love with you."

You gasped, heat rushing to your face as he continued.

"I've loved you ever since you sent that knife whizzing between Aragorn and Boromir's heads that one night."

Your mind flashed back to a night just after they had left Rivendell when they were all gathered around a fire. Aragorn and Boromir had been boasting about their skill with throwing knives and had challenged each member of the fellowship to a contest. Legolas had, of course, beat them both. Gimli had tied with Boromir and lost to Aragorn, and Gandalf declined to participate. Merry and Pippin both failed miserably, Frodo had been ok, and Sam had shockingly done pretty well. It was only after everyone else had gone that Aragorn and Boromir had begun to tease you. After a while, fed up with it, you decided to show them your skills. You had them stand side by side against a tree, and proceeded to gather the knives of everyone in the fellowship. Then, in about sixty seconds, you made a row of knives in between them, with the last on landing in between their heads. They both looked shocked, and the rest of the fellowship had broken out into applause.

Legolas' cough drew you back to the present, and you listened as he continued. "I don't think I've ever felt as scared as I did today when you fell. I'm going to do everything I can to help you heal, but if you don't want me here then I'll leave at dawn. I'll do anything for you."

"Oh Legolas," you whispered, "I don't need anything. I only need you. I love you, too."

He looked back down at you and slowly sat next to you. "Are you sure?"

"Of course."

He made as if to get up and go to his bedroll, but you grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

"Will you stay with me?"

"Yes."

He lay down next to you and wrapped an arm around your waist, careful not to move your leg.

As you both got drowsy, you whispered "Sleep well melleth nîn."

He whispered back "Gi mellin (i love you)," and you both drifted to sleep.

When you woke in the morning, the sun was out, the birds were chirping, and Legolas' soft breathing filled your ears. You sat up to see the rest of the fellowship looking and you and Legolas and silently each handing a few coins to Gandalf and Aragorn.

Legolas awoke, and, seeing the same scene as you, proceeded to yell out "Did every one of you bet against me except Gandalf and Aragorn?!"

#legolas #legolas x reader #legolas x y/n #legolas fanfic #legolas fanfiction #legolas imagines #legolas imagine #lord of the rings #lotr #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction

275 notes · View notes

q-gorgeous · 4 years ago

Text

Am I a Ghost? Fear Me

fanfiction

ao3

Valerie, hoping to improve her skills and learn more about anti-ghost tech, interns at Fenton Works for @kinglazrus

word count: 1069

yo hi laz

“Hi there, Valerie!”

Seconds after knocking on the door, Valerie was greeted by a very energetic Jack Fenton who looked like he was trying very hard to contain his excitement.

“Hi, Mr. Fenton.” She said, smiling up at him.

“Come in, come in.” He stepped out of the way. “Maddie’s upstairs but she should be down shortly. I can’t wait to get started! We’ve never had an intern before!”

Valerie smiled and bit her tongue. She knew why no one wanted to intern here. Everyone was getting more and more interested in learning about ghosts but no one wanted to listen to the Fenton’s ramble on about them everyday. But Valerie needed to learn more about ghosts to help with her ghost hunting and the Fenton Works internship was paid anyways. It was a good option all around.

“I can’t wait to see what you guys all do downstairs. I’ve been down there a handful of times but I don’t think you guys were ever actually working when I was there.”

Jack laughed. “Amazing stuff we do in the lab. We engineer stuff, study ectoplasmic samples, research the behavior of ghosts. All sorts of neat things that we’ll get into soon!”

Valerie nodded and was about to respond when she was interrupted.

“Hi Valerie!” Maddie said from the top of the stairs. “You’re here! I think it’s about time we head down to the lab and get started for today.”

“You betcha, come on Valerie!” Jack ran out of the living room and into the kitchen, already disappearing by the time Maddie and Valerie made it into the kitchen.

“Okay.” Maddie said as they walked down the stairs into the basement. “The first thing we’re going to do today is get your measurements so we can make you a jumpsuit. It’s very important to wear it when in the lab for safety, no matter what our children and their friends think. Do you have any particular colors you’d like your suit to be in?”

Valerie pondered it for a few moments. “What about red and black?”

“Excellent. Now just stand here while I take a few measurements.”

Valerie stood still and moved as Maddie directed while she took note of Valerie’s measurements. Jack was on the other side of the lab listing off the name of each invention that he picked up and telling her what each one did.

“And this one is the ghost gabber! It translates the wails of the ghost language into something we can understand! It also still registers when a ghost is speaking in a human language which is good for confirming if someone is a ghost or not.” Jack turned on the invention.

“Wow, that’s cool. I didn’t know that ghosts had their own language.”

“Wow, that’s cool. I didn’t know that ghosts had their own language. Fear me.”

Valerie frowned at the invention and her gaze flicked back up to Jack’s face when he laughed.

“We finally got this thing to stop picking up on Danny and now it’s registering you too! I guess we never actually fixed it.” Jack said, turning it over in his hands.

Her brows furrowed. “Danny?”

“Ever since our portal started working all of our inventions started picking Danny up and trying to tell us he was a ghost.” Maddie said as she laughed. “Which is ludicrous because we know our son and we know he’s not a ghost.”

“But why does he set off the inventions?”

Maddie paused for a moment. “He was involved in an accident with the ghost portal, the day it started working, which is why lab safety is so important.”

Jack nodded. “Ever since Vlad had his accident in college, we upped our safety protocol as high as we could but that doesn’t really stop stubborn teenagers.”

Valerie’s blood ran cold. “Vlad? As in Vlad Masters?”

“Oh yeah, he was our buddy back in college. It was the three of us against the world!” Jack stared off into space longingly. “But he was hospitalized for a long time after his accident and he never wanted to see us.”

Valerie’s brain was starting to turn as Mr. Fenton kept talking.

She knew half ghosts existed and that both Vlad and Dani were halfas but-

Oh god she was so dumb. She knew about Dani and Phantom’s relationship to one another, but she never stopped to consider how much she looked like Danny when she found her in her human form. Or stopped to think what Dani being both human and ghost meant for Phantom, especially after seeing Vlad transform.

But what did that mean for her?

She showed up on the ghost gabber just like Danny did, but she never had a lab accident where ectoplasm or ghosts were involved. The only thing-

Her suit.

She could feel her suit tingling just under her skin, available to her with the command of a simple thought. She didn’t have to store it anywhere on her anymore, not like how her old one was in her backpack. This one was just there all the time. She never stopped to actually consider the implications of that ghost melding her suit with her beyond having easy access to her equipment that her dad couldn’t take away.

Was she a half ghost too? Was she just severely ecto-contaminated? Was-

“Alright, I’m all done, Valerie!”

She started as Maddie cheerily announced the end of her measurement gathering. The woman had stood back and moved to a cabinet and was looking at different pieces of fabric.

“The earliest I can get this done by will be two days from now, but for today we’ll just continue going over what each of our inventions do and seeing if there are any others that we need to tweak like we did for Danny!” Jack said.

“Okay, yeah. What does that one do?” Valerie pointed at one that she didn’t recognize.

“That’s the Fenton Ghost Weasel! It…”

Jack’s voice slowly faded from Valerie’s hearing as the implication that all of these weapons could hurt her arose in her mind. If she set off the ghost gabber, who knew what could happen with the other ones.

“I caught Phantom with this bad boy once! Had him trapped inside here real good! Until he, uh, escaped! Yeah.”

The more Valerie learned, the more and more it really did seem like a good option all around.

104 notes · View notes

lucifer-luci · 4 years ago

Text

Fanfiction Summary:

Mono Realizes that breaking Six's Music box wouldn't be the best option to turn her back to normal. With trust being tested between the two, he searches for another way to get his friend back.

He shouldn’t have tried to break her music box. It took Mono one hammer swing to realize that. Now across from him Six was perched on her stretched, broken, legs. Her back was arched, and her spindly arms snaked around her music box like a shield. She had responded to the box getting hit with something akin to pain. She lurched back and gurgled a yelp as if he had hit her.

He never wanted to hurt her. He was only doing what he thought to be a good idea.

Now standing before Six, Mono let a heavy breath fall from his lungs. He could fix this. He had to fix this. Neither of them could survive if he didn’t.

Trying to stay calm, he cleared his throat, and tried to whisper out a quiet, “Hey.”

Upon leaving his mouth, the word echoed around them, and grew louder with each passing second. The room was twisting his calm tone into snarls of hate. It was eerie, and spooked Mono to his core.

Six didn’t react so calmly. She screeched against the din, and tried to swat in Mono’s general direction. She missed by a few feet, but Mono couldn’t help to step away. Stone shattered from the ground and pelted him.

The screaming echoes faded into nothing, and so did Six’s anger. She pulled herself away and back over the dented music box. Though Mono couldn’t see her eyes, he could tell that she was keeping a gaze on him. Mono disregarded the axe to the side of his feet, and slowly moved towards Six. His hands were held up in a universal ‘I mean you no harm’ gesture.

Six shook as he approached and arched her back slowly. The floor around her rattled as she snarled out a warning.

Get no closer.

Alright. Mono stopped and planted his feet to the ground. He was close to her now. Not close enough to touch her, but close. He had an urge to try to talk again, but he knew that if he tried, he would probably end up dead. So he carefully, and as non-threateningly as he could manage, crouched down and sat on the cold stone floor. He lowered his raised hands into his lap and looked down at the ground. If Six wanted him to move, he would move. But right now he planned to stay here for a while.

If his common sense was still there, he wouldn’t be trying this. Six looked close to smashing him into Mono goo, and sitting down wasn’t the best position to try to dodge in. Still, he did it. Probably because it was the only thing he could risk doing.

Six seemed to wind up tighter as she brought her music box closer into her protection. Her chest shook as she tried to keep up her scratchy bitey mood without snapping and killing him. Mono doubted that Six could see well, due to the hair flooding around her face, but he knew that she recognized him. Could be his scent, could be his voice, he didn’t know.

After, what Mono guessed, a minute, Six showed some change in her demeanor. Her growling stopped, and she deflated. Her music box was still held close, and she didn’t seem to welcome his presence being so near, but now Six could appease him whether she liked it or not.

Mono held his breath and slowly scooted a foot closer to her.

Six immediately took notice, and resumed her previous fit. It hurt Mono to have her so defensive against him. The trust that took days to build was now shattered into small pieces of broken glass, and Mono was cutting his soles on the remains.

Internally sighing, he lifted his eyes to where he believed Six’s eyes were. He didn’t see a monster in a yellow raincoat towering over him, he saw the young girl he rescued from The Hunter’s cottage. His lips curled into a smile, and without knowing, his hand was reached out, asking for something that they would always do in the toughest situations.

Six was still on edge, but she looked taken aback.

I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Mono tried to say to her. More to himself, I was selfish and only doing what I believed to be right. His smile quivered and his outstretched hand shook, I wouldn’t save you when you needed me the most. Even now I’m hurting you instead of saving you. His hand dropped into his lap, giving up on that form of comfort, and he tried to keep smiling through progressively blurring vision. He couldn’t keep up the act. You shouldn’t have to forgive me. I know I wouldn’t forgive me either. His form slouched as he rested his head in his hands, “It’s my fault.”

Silence.

He tried to hold back the tears. He really did. I have no right to cry. Six is trapped in a monster body because of me, and all I do is break down crying instead of finding out ways of helping her. Pathetic.

A large hand brushed his side and Mono flinched away from it. A slender yet large finger got under his chin and lifted up his teary face. Through the tears, and Six’s long black hair, he spotted warm sad eyes speaking back to him, I forgive you.

Mono choked a laugh that turned into a sob. His face crumpled and he sniffed. Good job, me. You guilted her. Six’s hand pulled him close across the stone floor and into her side. Her music box was moved slightly to accommodate him. I really made things worse for both of us. A wrong note from the music box made him curl into her raincoat and cry openly. Six whined and hugged him closer.

“I made you like this.” Mono croaked between hiccups.

He flinched when Six growled at him. Be quiet.

He whimpered. Why is she angry? It’s the truth.

The ground beneath them grew warm and soft. Mono risked a blurred glance to see that the stone floor and walls had reverted back to the playful child-like room he had found Six in. It’s tied to her emotions. He looked up at her to see careful faintly red eyes staring down at him. Six’s body rumbled in a soft purr. So… she’s truthfully forgiving me? That shocked Mono out of his tears so he simply stared at her. His disbelief was immeasurable.

Taking his stunned silence as contentment, Six grabbed him and set him down next to a pile of toys as if saying, ‘If you’re done crying then you should play.’

“Wha-?” he tried to ask her, but she was curled around her music box, eyeing him again. The trust was still in fragments.

Mono cleared his throat from the lump it had before, and asked carefully, his voice still slightly shaky, "I'm guessing you still hold some grudges against me?"

Six didn’t make a move to acknowledge him. She only breathed, and listened to the dented music box intently. She was enraptured by it. Exactly like the viewers with their TVs. Mono had to deal with those guys before. He knew they hated having their viewing time interrupted. If there was no TV in sight, they would hunt one down or kill themselves trying.

If breaking the music box was like breaking those TVs… maybe they should find a different way to get Six back to normal. It would take time, he knew that.

He would do anything to make her happy. He would go through this journey with her. They had come so far already. He couldn’t bear the thought of abandoning her now.

The second chapter is currently being worked on.

#Inseperable LN Fanfic #little nightmares #little nightmares 2 #ln mono #ln six #ln spoilers #ln2 spoilers #fanfiction #Chapter 1 #Chapter Mono am I rite?!#If you have questions then please ask #I will answer them to the best of my ability #avoiding spoilers of course #monster six #This will be posted on AO3 soon.

110 notes · View notes

wallgirl · 3 years ago

Text

The Little Nereid Part 11

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 2,100

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. There will be some graphic violence in the future.

Starting a temporary hiatus; will have about ?17? parts total.

---

Dynamene could hardly see through the dark, brackish water that surrounded her on every side. She was too upset to pay attention to where she was going; she swam straight on until her tears had stopped. When she had finally slowed to a halt, she didn't recognize the ocean around her. The water was colder and the coral reefs had disappeared. A heavy stillness and silence pressed about her. She allowed herself to drift down to the bottom, her gentle landing stirring up clouds of silt. She was completely alone now. This part of the ocean was largely devoid of sea life; any way she turned, she saw no movement. It was only her and the swaying kelp that stretched as far as her limited vision could see.

Sniffling quietly, she removed her bracelet and cradled it in both hands. It didn't shine in the hazy water, but the colors remained the same. She stared at it, wishing that the same strong hands that had gifted it to her could appear now to caress her cheek and tell her that everything would be alright.

But they would not. She was all by herself, with no one to count on or turn to. She didn't dare go back home now, where they would surely lock her up on account of keeping her safe. She couldn't go back to his palace either; that would be the first place her family would look for her. Her face crinkled up again in despair, but no tears emerged; she had cried them all out long ago.

What do I do? Where do I go? I'm alone now. And I have the feeling that, no matter where I go, people will discourage me from following my heart. She squeezed the bracelet tight.

I want to see you. Won't you come here, so I can talk to you? I want to hear you explain things in your calm, logical way. I want to hold your hand and feel how strong its grip is around mine. I want you to hold me until I feel better, and this ache goes away.

Her lower lip quivered, and she allowed herself to sink down onto the coarse sand. She curled up, squeezing the bracelet to her chest with both hands. But you won't.

Maybe my feelings are hopeless after all. I have no way to act on them. I can't tell him what I really feel, and my family won't let me be with him. It's all useless. It's all for nothing.

She sensed something moving in the seaweed nearby, and quickly turned. A small pike was poking its head out, watching her puzzledly.

"Oh, excuse me, my lady," the pike said quickly. "I wasn't expecting to see one of you Nereids way out here, especially so late."

"No, it's okay," Dynamene sat up straighter. "I hope I didn't disturb you." She brushed the sand from her cheek.

"Not at all. I was just settling in after a hunt." It swam forward curiously, its immobile little face and dark eyes an almost humorous clash with its sympathetic voice. "Are you alright? You sounded upset."

"I..." Dynamene covered her face in both hands. "I am. It's been a horrible night. I've ran away from home. I got in an argument with my older sister... I don't know where to go from here."

The pike rested against her leg sympathetically. "I'm sorry to hear that. Family quarrels are never fun. Do you want to talk about it? It might not be much, but I can listen."

Dynamene took a deep breath. "I... I've fallen in love with someone that my family doesn't approve of."

"Oh, dear. That's no good."

"No. I want to be with him, but they won't hear me out. They don't like him at all. I don't know what to do. I love him, but it's hopeless. Nothing will come of it." Dynamene wiped at her eyes, despite the fresh tears bubbling away in the water.

The pike was quiet for a moment, flicking its tail in thought. "I might have some advice, if you'd like."

Dynamene looked at it in surprise. "You do?"

"Yes. About thirty miles from here, overlooking the coast on a tall hill, is a temple of Aphrodite. Perhaps she could counsel you."

Dynamene jerked back in surprise. "Aphrodite?! I'd never even considered..."

"She can be temperamental, but it's said that she loves a good love story. She might see fit to help you. You can get there from here by following the north star."

Dynamene mulled this over briefly. Temperamental... I already knew that from gossip over the years. But if there's even the slimmest chance that she can help me, I have to try. She had never spoken to Aphrodite, only seen her from a distance during formal events. Aphrodite was not one to often lift a finger for mortals who asked for her help. But Dynamene was a Nereid, and part of Poseidon's court. Perhaps she would be willing to speak to her. Dynamene's expression began to brighten with hope. "Thank you so much, friend. I truly appreciate it."

"Not at all. I hope your luck improves, Nereid." The pike brushed its face against her hand before returning to its home in the weeds.

Dynamene took a deep breath, her spirits slightly lifted. A door had finally opened for her; she had a spark of hope to embrace now. That spark had lit a new resolve within her, flooding out the dark hopelessness that had weighed her down previously. But it was so late, and she was tired. There was no way she could make the long swim to the temple on her limited energy. She began to walk the ocean floor, the current gently pushing against her body. She just needed to find a good place to rest for a while.

Her approach stirred up a school of silvery blue fish from the weeds, and they scattered in every which way about her. She stopped to watch them swirl about her. Their color was a perfect match for Poseidon's eyes. The ache returned to her chest, and she reached for them, her fingertips brushing against the slick scales.

I wish I could see you right now. Are you asleep at the palace? Or have you returned to the Indian Ocean, seeing to your duties? Even if we're miles apart, the idea of you being awake as well comforts me...

I love you. I want to be yours. I want you to be mine. I want to wake up next to you in the morning and see the sun shining in your fair hair. I want to cling to your arm as we attend events together; you and I, as lovers. I want you to take me all across the ocean, showing me everything you know, everything you see.

If that can happen, then one night alone on this cold seafloor isn't so bad.

A dip in the silt ahead seemed like a reasonable spot to stop. She curled up in it, her body just small enough to fit comfortably. She waved her fingers, and the surrounding seaweed gently bent over her to weave themselves into a delicate shelter. Taking comfort in her new course of action, she quickly faded off into a deep sleep filled with visions of slender lips and strong arms.

---

Hundreds of miles away, Poseidon stood before a towering underwater wall of craggy rock. Focusing his energy, he slowly rose his arm and tightened his hand into a fist. By his will, the rock groaned in an ear-splitting crack before separating. Giant segments of the wall began to fall slowly through the water, narrowly avoiding the sea god. He didn't blink. He knew they wouldn't touch him.

The last of the fault was finally broken up; at least that of it which had been causing the disturbance. Given another year, the grinding of the plates might resume. Even he couldn't stop the movement of the Earth's giant tectonic plates, but he had no desire to. It was simply another cycle of nature. That being said, he also didn't like the idea of the friction leading to disaster. He'd have to have one of the lesser sea gods keep an active eye on it for the time being.

His work finally finished, he leapt from his perch to land on the ocean floor. One task was done; now he had another to focus on.

"Come to me," he spoke. His words were at a casual volume, but they resonated over hundreds of meters, reaching out to the sea life nearby. At once, the animals stopped what they were doing and began to flock towards him, his words an undeniable command. Like a scene from a painting, fish, cetaceans, and crustaceans of every sort formed a colorful crowd about him in the pristine blue waters.

"The largest of you, find me more of these." He held up an opened oyster in his hand, showing them the mother-of-pearl interior. "Only oysters that are this size or larger will do. Quickly."

The sea life scattered, the biggest animals rushing out obediently to find what he'd asked for. Some of the oysters they fetched were broken from being opened by other animals.

"No, not the cracked ones," he told a whale who brought him a large oyster that was nearly trisected. He gently placed his hand on its head. "Only those that are intact. I need them for jewelry."

The whale looked at him with its intelligent dark eyes before hurrying away once more.

Why am I doing this? I promised her a bracelet. I don't need these many oysters.

A necklace and a tainia for her hair will be much more visible. No one will miss them. I'm sure she'll be over the moon with delight. Such a simple girl.

But a bracelet is a rather pathetic gift. So low-brow coming from one of the greatest gods. So easy to miss on such a slender wrist.

A heap of oysters with shining interiors quickly began to pile up next to him. "That's enough," he told his subjects. "Thank you."

He summoned a bag, and as if they'd returned merrily to life, the oysters hopped one by one inside. He fastened the bag and was about to return to the surface when he saw a humpback dolphin steadily approaching from far off in the blue void.

"What is it?" He asked the animal as soon as it came within range. He recognized the intricate golden markings on its back immediately as a sign that it was part of the court of the Nereids' family. "My day is busy enough as it is."

"I apologize for... interrupting you, sire," the dolphin began apologetically. It was completely out of breath, as if it had raced the entire way here. Poseidon's brow furrowed. If the dolphin was arriving just now in the morning, it had to have left its palace in the dead of night.

"You're nearly incomprehensible. Surface first, then tell me."

"Lord Poseidon, it's an emergency. The Nereid Dynamene has run away overnight."

Poseidon froze. His jaw clenched tightly. "...Run away?"

"She had a quarrel with one of her sisters last night, and escaped into the ocean. She hasn't been seen since. Her family is... is worried for her."

Poseidon's lip began to curl. Those idiot Nereids. I allow them to remove her from my palace, and they can't even keep hold of her for one day. Worthless sisters. I should have never let them leave. "Where do they think she might have gone?" He managed to ground out. Cracks began to form in the seafloor beneath his boots.

The dolphin shrank away from him, his anger apparent from the way the water was beginning to simmer about his body. "They haven't any idea, my lord. They wondered if she might have returned to your palace."

"That would be the logical idea." His cool words barely concealed his rage. "Return to them. I will return home and organize a search on my end immediately. If she has returned to the palace, I will send word."

"Yes, my lord." The dolphin quickly swam towards the surface to take a breath before making its return journey.

Poseidon stood there, fuming, as he formed a plan of action. The sea life nearby quickly scattered, not wanting to get caught in his growing wrath. Stupid child. She'll get herself killed. She's far too naïve and weak to traverse the ocean alone. So like a young girl, to let her emotions rule over her. The water around him was boiling now, bubbles hissing in his ears.

Eyes snapping, he waved his arm in a sweep before himself. The water began to roar as it swept quickly all about him. For her sake, she'd better be at the palace.

The turbulent current dispersed, and he was gone.

---

AUGHHH

I listened to On My Own from Les Misérables. The 25th Anniversary Samantha Barks version. That's what I thought of with Dynamene by herself.

Is Poseidon even capable of loving another person? Or is owning someone like an object the closest he gets to affection?

I will be taking a brief hiatus from writing this to refill my writer juice, no longer than 3 weeks. I love this story, but I'm losing energy for writing it. I need to give it some space to regain that emotional drive. I will see you all soon!

#record of ragnarok #poseidon #poseidon x oc #record of ragnarok poseidon #shuumatsu no valkyrie #fanfiction

26 notes · View notes

lilydalexf · 4 years ago

Photo

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Audrey Roget

Audrey Roget has 10 fics at Gossamer, with some different ones at AO3, fanfiction.net, and her website. You might know her from her very good fics or as part of Musea, a collective that all wrote fic and posted X-Files fic recs. I’ve recced some of my favorites of her stories here before, including Three Times Dana Scully Didn’t Go to San Diego for Christmas and The Shirt. Big thanks to Audrey for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)? A little, yes. Not so much by folks who were around in those days. I sometimes go hunting for beloved stories from the early years, both those I read and loved, and those I never got around to. I am always delighted to hear that later generations of fans have stumbled across my stuff, especially since I haven’t posted anything new in a number of years. It’s fantastic that both years-long fans and new ones are out there continuing to rec fic from all eras, and to maintain archives for fans yet-to-be born. What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it? What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general? It may sound corny, but the main thing I think of, and the thing that has ultimately been most valuable and lasting, has been the friendships. The feeling of having found a tribe – not just of TXF fans, but of other people who could be as enthusiastically engaged as I was (if not more so) with fictional stories and characters – was mind-blowing. Since I was a kid, I had often mulled over the books/movies/TV I loved and speculated internally about what happened off the page or off-screen, or created new stories for characters in my head. But, except for an elementary school phase where I and my two BFFs regularly played Charlie’s Angels, I hadn’t engaged in that kind of gleeful immersion in a fictional world with others until TXF fandom. My involvement in fandom followed pretty quickly from getting hooked on the show, so for me, it’s all one big ball of experiences. Even as my interest in/involvement in fandom has waxed and waned over the years, I’ve been lucky to remain friends with wonderful people who I originally connected with as fellow fans.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)? What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

My initial entrée to the fandom was through fanfiction. I didn’t get interested in the show until mid-season 5. Around the same time, I read an article in a zine called Might (co-founded by Dave Eggers) about this thing called fanfiction that people would write and publish online. At first I thought it was satire or a joke – the fic cited involved Wilma Flintstone and a polished sabre tooth, as I recall – but then realized this was an actual thing. So I figured that a show then at the peak of pop culture must have fanfiction, and I went looking. Early on, I scrolled atxc on a daily basis and downloaded stories. But I didn’t engage in discussions about the show on Usenet, since I only knew how to access it with my Earthlink email client, and I didn’t want to post using my real name.

Later, I set up a pseud address with Yahoo and subscribed to a couple of email fanfic/discussion lists, and stayed subscribed to those for years. There was also a period in there somewhere – of maybe only a year or so, when I think about it – when I’d often nerd out into the wee hours with other fans via IM chat groups. That was around the time the small writers’ collective Musea was founded, and we were active for several years after the show’s initial run. In the early aughts, I followed many authors to LiveJournal and eventually set up my own account and stayed involved in fandom that way, until it mostly dispersed as well. What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show? In a word: Chemistry. I had casually watched a couple of episodes during the first four seasons, but I’m not a huge sci-fi/horror fan at heart, and the story lines didn’t immediately grab me. But I happened to tune into The Red and the Black in 1998, and BOOM. For the first time, the intense layers of emotion and attraction between Mulder and Scully really struck me – and then of course, upon further viewing, I realized it was unmissable, an essential element in the fabric of the show. As a wise woman once said, a switch had been flicked. Mulder and Scully’s magnetism was like nothing I’d ever seen, and though I eventually came to appreciate the storytelling, humor, production values, and other components that made the series so successful, watching those characters interact has always been what kept me coming back. Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files? I was part of a list-serv discussion group for The West Wing for a while, which was a fun melding of character and plot analysis with political discussion. Later, I got into the House, MD fandom, again mostly as a fanfic reader/writer. I was finding that other fandoms, unlike TXF, were more dispersed, the networks of people structured more loosely, if at all. There were fanfic and discussion communities on LiveJournal, and fanfiction.net was the other main hub for posting and reading, but if there was anything centralized like Gossamer, Ephemeral, or the Haven, I never found it. Within all those fan communities, as in TXF, there were partisans for various characters and pairings, and flame wars erupted over plot developments that outraged this faction or that. One main difference was that those other shows had larger, ensemble casts and more varied subplots. So on one hand, there was more opportunity to explore back stories and multiple perspectives. In House MD in particular, there were several entrenched rival shipper camps, which were about equally grounded in canon, rather than TXF’s central ship. I was less into TWW fic, but my impression was that readers were less militant about their pairing preferences than TXF or House fans. Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

I was deeply fascinated by Greg House for several years. (And the love-hate chemistry between him and Lisa Cuddy was a strong draw for me.) House MD came early in a wave of TV shows centered on anti-heroes, and Hugh Laurie brought amazing complexity and thoughtfulness to the character.

Philip and Elizabeth Jennings (The Americans) are a lethal pair of antiheroes. The inherent moral conflict of a sympathetic narrative from their POVs, and the global political conflict they embody was TV catnip for me. The internal struggles at the hearts of those characters were so exquisitely written and performed, they completely fascinate me.

The West Wing felt so much like a show created specifically for me. I’m especially fond of story arcs and scenes that centered on CJ Cregg, Charlie Young, and Josh Lyman. Though I loved Martin Sheen’s human portrayal of Jed Bartlet, the fact that he was the President always made him a little untouchable in my mind. But CJ, Charlie, and Josh were basically hard-working functionaries who were ambitious and idealistic and funny and flawed, and they spoke to me. What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I do continue to think about Mulder and Scully and watch episodes somewhat often. I’ll sometimes run a favorite episode as background when I want something comforting on. I read TXF fic pretty regularly, which can inspire me to go back and watch a particular episode or story arc I haven’t thought about in years. Just recently, I started listening to The X-Files Diaries podcast (@XFDPodcast, @admiralty-xfd), and that’s a fun dive into the characters, and how other fans react to and interpret episodes.

Every once in a while, a TV show or movie – and more particularly, the characters – will grab my attention and make me curious about how fanfic writers have interpreted the original material. Random example, I saw Singin’ in the Rain for the first time in a theatre a couple of years ago, and the chemistry of the three leads sent me to AO3 as soon as I got home. I also loved the first season of Mercy Street and found some well-done stories in that fandom. I usually peruse the Yuletide gifts every year and have been amazed by the sheer variety, creativity and cheekiness of the output. There are a bunch of other shows I’ve followed faithfully, and sought out fanfic – Broadchurch, The Killing, Agents of SHIELD, Elementary, The Good Wife. Although I’ve found some well-written stuff in those fandoms, I’ve rarely gotten the same charge from them as reading TXF fic. Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

syntax6 (@syntax6) – Universal Invariants/Laws of Motion. I’d also shout out to syn’s Hunter fics, too – well worth reading even for those who have never seen or particularly loved the show itself.

JET – I re-read Small Lives Awake every year around Thanksgiving time. Other annual holiday re-reads: Revely’s The Dreaming Sea and Jordan’s Through the Fire (both set at Halloween).

Amal Nahurriyeh’s Casey universe – the rare post-col fic that felt hopeful, made extra intriguing by a kick-ass original character. [Lilydale note: the series starts with Machines of Freedom and has lots of additional fics and snippets.]

Prufrock’s Love �� Finding Rokovoko was genuinely terrifying and tender.

melforbes (@melforbes) – Seaglass Blue is a recent favorite, lyrical and bittersweet.

These are just a few (apologies to those that didn’t come to mind immediately). Fortunately for readers, there’s an astonishing number of authors who have written in TXF fandom whom you can depend on for a good yarn, insightful character study, and/or ingenious “fixes” where 1013 went awry.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Probably the two set in my own (former) backyard of Southern California: Enivrez-vous and Ravenous. I’d first read the Baudelaire poem that was the source of the former’s title back in university days, so I was tickled to be able to use a few lines as an epigraph. Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online? It’s not out of the realm possibility. I’d meant for “Three Times Dana Scully Didn’t Go to San Diego for Christmas” to be followed up with “And One Time She Did.” In fact, the idea for that never-finished story was what inspired “Three Times” in the first place. I have a couple of scenes sketched out and – unusually for me – even know exactly how to end it. Every year, November rolls around, and I think I should finish and post it…maybe in 2021?

Where do you get ideas for stories? Sometimes it’s from my environment. “Enivrez-vous” and “Ravenous” describe places that I’m fond of, that made me want to place Mulder and Scully there. “What Not to Wear” has that element too – I set it in Memphis as a tribute to a great trip there with a sister Musean. But WNTW was also inspired by a kink challenge in a years-ago LiveJournal thread, so sometimes ideas come from fandom discussions or even other fanfics. In the House MD fandom, a fic by another writer made me want to continue the story, and the author kindly allowed an authorized sequel. What's the story behind your pen name? I wanted my pseudonym to sound like it could be a real person’s name – or at least, maybe like a romance writer’s pen name – rather than an online handle. I also wanted to use a slightly obscure fictional character, to amuse anyone in the know. I had long had a bit of an obsession with Whit Stillman’s 1990s film trilogy, which started with Metropolitan; the 3rd installment, Last Days of Disco, came out the same year I started down the TXF rabbit hole: 1998. The central heroine of Metropolitan – who is mentioned in or makes a cameo in the other two – is Audrey Rouget, a lover of Austen and, eventually, a book editor. I altered the spelling of the last name as a nod to every writer’s companion, Roget’s Thesaurus. Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions? I have a few close friends – from outside TXF fandom – who know that I’ve written fanfic. I don’t know if they know my pseud; if they do, or if they’ve ready any of the fic, they haven’t said so to me. They are fannish sorts themselves, but not really TXF fans. A smattering of other friends and family members know or could intuit that I’ve been a fangrl on some level for years. My boss, whom I’ve known for about 3 years, recently mentioned off-handedly that she was really obsessed with TXF “back in the day,” and I am DYING to know if she got involved in fandom, but don’t think I’ll ever work up the courage to ask.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now? Most of the X-Files stuff continues to be generously and steadfastly archived by Forte at The Basement Office. The House MD stories and some TXF things are at fanfiction.net; same for AO3. If ever post anything new, it will probably go to TBO and AO3. I really ought to get it all together in one place, one of these days…

(Posted by Lilydale on April 6, 2021)

#old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #audrey roget

75 notes · View notes

an-aura-about-you · 2 years ago

Text

in the lovely springtime, 2014

un petit chat

From the Files of the STP

I really should write more of this kind of fanfiction because I LOVE making the Admiral an active participant in conversations:

The Admiral, for the most part, is content to stay at home. He has a good time living with Georgie, at least when she’s not trapping him in weird clothes during her recordings. Granted, it was better when Jon was there, too, as he was better conversation than her or Melanie. But as he’s learned over the course of his life, his living situation is something he only has so much control over. Jon would sometimes lament that, while humans technically have more control, it’s honestly not by much. And the Admiral has found a tiny sliver of control in the form of the door left open. He meows goodbye as a courtesy to Georgie before running over to the park.

Now he is lounging on his side in the grass, sunning his fur after a great time indulging his hunting instincts by chasing some birds. He can’t think of anything that could make today better.

“Admiral?”

Except maybe that. The Admiral flops over so he’s on his belly and stares up at his new company.

“Jon!” he chirrups in delight, getting to his feet. He stretches before trotting over, his tail up in the air but crooked at the end. “I love you! Please scratch my face!”

Jon smiles down at him before taking a seat at a nearby bench. “Of course,” he agrees.

The Admiral leaps into his lap, sniffing at Jon’s hand before rubbing his face into the offered fingers. “Jon, something’s wrong. Your hand smells like dogs.” He’ll have to fix that, purring as he keeps guiding Jon to scratch along the seam of his mouth.

Jon chuckles and says, “Well, if you must know, I’ve been thinking about getting a dog, so I went to see some.”

The Admiral looks up at him. “Betrayal,” he huffs, staring him down.

“You know I love you the most,” Jon tells him, resuming scritching under his chin.

The Admiral tilts his head to accept it. “Sounds like you forgot.”

“I can like both cats and dogs, even if I prefer cats. Besides, I can’t steal you from Georgie. We’ve already had that custody battle.”

The Admiral gently bats at his hand. “Not a baby,” he protests, remembering the explanation Jon had given him about the ‘custody battle’ jokes when the breakup happened.

“Still,” Jon says. “A dog would be nice. And Martin likes dogs, so it would be nice to get him one.”

“Martin?” the Admiral asks.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“He will like cats better,” the Admiral asserts. “Bring him to me.”

“You are out when you shouldn’t be and should go home,” Jon argues.

“No, I will meet Martin. I’ll even show him my butt.”

Jon sighs the way he sometimes does when the Admiral brings this up. “While I’m certain Martin will try, humans just don’t have the same capacity to appreciate that.”

“But he’s fine with a dog’s butt?”

“Humans generally don’t like animal butts in their faces.”

“Look, I’m really trying to climb a tree about this,” the Admiral says.

“Do you mean you’re going out on a limb?”

“Yes, that. Point is, if Martin doesn’t like cats more than dogs when I’m done, then I don’t know if he should be your boyfriend.”

“That’s not up to you,” Jon says, stroking his palm down the Admiral’s spine. “Or to be more accurate, you might get that wish but not the way you want it. I plan on asking Martin to marry me.”

The Admiral headbutts Jon’s chin. “What’s marryme?”

Jon goes oddly quiet and still at this. The Admiral has seen him thinking before, but this is different. It’s kind of like when he used to explain things to him, the bigger things, the human ideas the Admiral usually doesn’t bother with.

“It means I’m going to tell Martin I love him and I want to spend the rest of my life with him,” Jon answers, his voice a bit hushed. “And I’m going to ask him if he wants to spend the rest of his life with me, too. And if he says yes…” He takes a deep breath. “If he says yes, then we’ll have a party called a wedding where our loved ones watch us promise each other that we’ll do that. And if we do that, we won’t be boyfriends anymore. We would be husbands. And that’s what getting married is.”

The Admiral crawls out from under Jon’s hand, who resumed petting to the point of overstimulation, his tail wagging slightly from being wound up. “And you like this Martin enough to do that? To be colonymates forever?”

“I do,” Jon answers. There’s something more to those words, but the Admiral just doesn’t have enough human nuance to get what before he continues. “It’s funny. I’ve wondered that lately every time Martin and I have a disagreement. Sometimes right in the middle of it. I ask myself, ‘If this argument comes back in the future, would I still want to be with Martin to have it?’ And every time I ask it, the answer’s been, ‘Yes.’ Sometimes it feels like I mean it more because of the disagreements.”

“I like to fight, too,” the Admiral says, idly cleaning his paw.

“Not like that,” Jon explains. “I mean like how Martin’s out to see his mum in Devon, and I asked him not to go.”

“Jon, even cats and kits see each other.”

“There are also situations where a cat doesn’t develop a maternal instinct and abandons her kits,” Jon points out, though he follows it with a sigh. “But the kittens still have their own instincts, don’t they?”

“They do,” the Admiral agrees.

Jon gently rubs the Admiral’s ear. “I just worry that Martin will hurt himself by seeing his mother. She’s-” He frowns as he puts together what he wants to say. “You know how we’re able to talk to each other because I can pick up your thoughts?”

“Kind of,” the Admiral answers. “I know you can’t understand my meows the way another cat would.”

“Right. I haven’t spoken face to face with Theodora that many times, but I’m able to pick up her thoughts about Martin and me. She hates Martin, and most of it is for the pettiest bullshit, stuff he can’t help. And I just- I just don’t want her to hurt him.” He scratches the Admiral��s head again. “Pain is dangerous here. There are people who want to ruin the world with it. And while I don’t think things are going to get that bad with Martin, I still don’t want him to seek out situations where he’s just going to get hurt.”

“If she hates him, why does Martin want to go see her? It’s not like he’s a kit who needs to be nursed.”

Jon’s eyes glisten with tears, and the Admiral leans against his chest to purr. He remembers seeing this with both Jon and Georgie when they broke up, sees it with Melanie sometimes when she comes home from work, and he knows enough to know Jon needs it.

“Because Martin is kind and thinks he owes her kindness because she’s his mother,” Jon says, and he wipes at his eye. “And I admire that about him. If he wasn’t as kind as he is, we probably wouldn’t have become friends or started dating.” He pats the Admiral’s side in a sort of hug. “He doesn’t think he’s that kind because he resents having to do it. But he’s overlooking that most other people can’t see his thoughts and that sometimes acting kind and being kind are the same thing.”

Some of it blows past the Admiral’s head. Jon’s explained kindness to him before, but human kindness is more complex than cat kindness. The colony takes care of the colony, and that’s the only real concern. He’s able to apply the idea a little wider than he might have before Jon told him about it, like still counting Jon as part of his colony, but that’s about as far as it can go.

Jon sighs again. “I hope he comes home soon. I’ll feel better once I know he’s alright.”

“If you’ll feel better with your colonymate home, why don’t you go out and get him?” the Admiral suggests.

As if on cue, the two of them can hear Georgie calling for the Admiral nearby.

Jon stands up, holding the Admiral close to his chest. “I think you’re right. And I think it’s time for you to go home.”

The Admiral headbutts him once more for good measure before he returns to Georgie and his home.

Jon didn’t think he’d be taking advice from his old cat, but once the Admiral suggested going to meet Martin, it just made too much sense not to do it.

He stops by a florist on his way and picks out an impressive single bloom, an Eighteen Scholars camellia. He wants to save getting the big, stunningly romantic bouquet when he’s ready to actually propose, but he still wants to give Martin something now. Besides, he gets the feeling Martin will appreciate both the flower’s relation to tea and not having to manage an entire bouquet along with what he’s brought with him. (Not that Jon minds helping with any baggage, physical or emotional, but all in due time.)

Martin gives him a smile when he gets off the train, and while it doesn’t reach his eyes, Jon can tell it’s making the journey there with every step he puts between himself and Devon. “You didn’t have to come meet me, Jon,” he says instead of hello.

“I wanted to,” Jon answers, presenting the camellia. “Welcome home.”

Martin’s face lights up once he sees the flower. “Thank you, love,” he murmurs. And he would take the camellia except he’s not even pretending like he’s not going to hold Jon’s hand.

Jon smiles down at their joined hands and the flower in their hold. Is this what it will look like if they get married? Probably not, but he hopes it feels the same. He takes Martin’s bag and throws it on his shoulder. “Why don’t we drop your things off and go to the chip place?”

“You’re not reading my mind, are you?” Martin playfully asks.

“Hard to say when we’re on the same wavelength,” he answers. “Is that me thinking, ‘I love you,’ or is that you? Honestly, I hope it’s both of us.”

“Point taken,” Martin replies, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Their meal turns into an impromptu date, the two following up their stop at the chip shop with a walk in the park. Martin had a nice trip, and Jon’s grateful to hear that his visit with his mother ended up being shorter than anticipated. Apparently, they got into some sort of row, and Martin is content to put more time between this visit and his next visit. Jon would be surprised that he doesn’t want to say, “I told you so,” but of all the things he enjoys being petty about with Martin, this isn’t one of them.

“Maybe we could go and visit Bournemouth instead,” Jon suggests.

“And see your grandmother?” Martin guesses. “Does she even know about me?”

“She does. In fact, she’s eager to meet you.” Jon frowns at this. “She seems to have it in her head that you might be more amenable company than me.”

Martin laughs at this. “That’s a big assumption.”

“I don’t know,” Jon counters. “I think you’re better company than me.”

“You’re just not your type,” Martin argues back.

Jon smiles at Martin’s certainty. “That’s a fair point. I guess let me know when you’d like to go to Bournemouth?”

“I will,” Martin says as he guides them to a bench, incidentally the same one where Jon sat earlier with the Admiral.

Jon entwines his fingers with Martin’s, leaning against his side. It’s so peaceful, so perfect. And he gets to just do this, gets to just sit here with Martin because he wants to, because Martin wants to be here. Even with their differences like dogs versus cats and how late is an appropriate time to work late and arguments about mothers and the right place to put away the dishes so he can reach them without them falling and breaking on his head thank you-

Martin leans over to Jon’s ear, his lips close enough to be a kiss with each word, and whispers, “Will you marry me?”

Jon isn’t sure what he heard at first, distracted by the tickling sensation of Martin’s lips brushing against the shell of his ear. Once the meaning takes hold, he jerks away to stare at Martin, his pulse racing and his breath coming short in shock.

“What?” is all he manages to get out before clapping his free hand over his mouth, overcome with emotion.

Martin smiles and lifts their joined hands, Jon’s left in his right, and presses his free hand on top. “Will you marry me?” he asks again.

Jon places his hand on top of Martin’s. “I can’t believe you managed to keep me from picking up that you were going to propose,” he says instead of answering.

“To be fair, it was a lot of work,” Martin points out. “I couldn’t plan out any grand gesture otherwise you would have known ages ago.”

“And you beat me to it!” Jon continues.

Martin squeezes their joined hands tight at that. “What?!” he asks in return.

“I mean, I’ve been trying to plan something since last November? I wanted to make it special for you, but I’ve been having trouble finding a ring that’s just right. I even thought about getting us a dog as a sort of engagement gift instead. I thought about saving it for your birthday, but then I started thinking that maybe I shouldn’t do it on a date that’s important to you just in case things didn’t work out. N-not that I was thinking things wouldn’t work out, just that- !”

Martin moves to cup Jon’s cheek with one hand, thumb brushing over his cheekbone as he often does when he’s about to lean in for a kiss. “Jon.”

Jon quiets at the sound, his heart hammering in his chest as he presses Martin’s hand against his cheek. He must be doing something right if Martin sounds like that, his voice rough in just that affectionate way that makes Jon burn with pride. “Martin,” he nearly sighs, his eyes slipping closed a moment.

“Will you marry me?” Martin asks one more time.

Jon nods and says, “Yes,” before leaning in for a kiss.

How is it that Jon has had more than one first kiss with Martin? There was the first kiss when they started dating, which Jon could feel deep inside him was probably his last actual "first" kiss. And now he’s sure of it from the searing heat of this kiss, his first kiss with Martin his betrothed. And there’s still one more first kiss waiting for him, his first kiss with Martin his husband. It’s like learning the original words to a beloved song that was introduced by translation: it already lives in your heart, but here it is again brand new to fall in love with for the first time.

When they part, Jon ends up saying, “Now I hope you make a good impression if the Admiral should get out again and actually meet you.”

Martin tips his head in curiosity and repeats, “‘The Admiral?’”

“My old cat,” Jon explains. “He’s particularly insistent on meeting you and convincing you cats are better than dogs, but I think you’ll get his blessing either way.”

“Sorry, you mean you talked about me to your old cat?” Martin asks, and he’s already laughing as he does.

“Was I not supposed to?”

“No, I don’t care if you do. It’s just a very you thing is all. You’d probably talk like that with cats even if you didn’t understand them.”

“They are trying, Martin. They just have a limited vocabulary and unique customs.” Jon gives him another kiss on the cheek. “But he won’t dissuade me if you still prefer dogs after meeting him.”

“That’s a relief,” Martin says, turning to meet him in another kiss.

It’s some time before they wind their way back to their flat, taking the long way and giggling like smitten teenagers and exchanging sweet nothings and stories of what they each would have done to propose if they thought they could have gotten away with it. There’s even planning to make some of them happen as dates if not full-blown proposal reenactments.

(“Wait, you want me to propose to you on the merry-go-round at the London Zoo?” Martin asks.

“Merry-go-rounds are often overlooked for their romantic potential,” Jon answers, a bit pink in the face.)

But as nice as their shared daydreaming is, Jon couldn’t have asked for a better day to mark the beginning of the rest of his life with Martin.

#tma #aura's fanfiction #on this day in aura's tma/chzo mythos fanfiction

2 notes · View notes

drabsyo · 4 years ago

Note

What were some of your favorite fleurmione week fics? Any recommendations? (I didn't realize it was a thing until today and there are over forty stories.)

More Fleurmione fic recs here: Pt1 | Pt2 ✨💖💙📚

Dance Avec la Vie by Sosh_022 (Day 2: Dancing)

(Listen. Listen. Listen. This is on a whole other level. It gives you an intimate look to a ballerina's life except—and are you ready? It's through the eyes of Hermione Granger, herself. But listen, that isn't even the best part. The best part? She'll fall in love with Fleur Delacour, who is also a badass ballerina like her. If you can't already tell, I'm swooning.)

Summary: In 2016, New York City Ballet performed a total of 58 ballets. Not one was choreographed by a woman. | "Classical ballet is all about women and the female form, but it is controlled by men." | "As a dancer you see a lot of male duets but you don't see female duets very often. We can't lift each other above our heads but maybe we can partner each other a little bit more." | Or, two ballerinas dance together and spark a revolution.

Lights, Camera, Action! (Are We Canon Yet?) by Sosh_022 (Day 1: A Crush is Revealed)

(Cuteness overload. Couldn't stop grinning the entire time. And Fleur calling Hermione 'wifey'—hello??? Why isn't anyone talking about this???)

Summary: Fleur guest stars on a TV show that Hermione stars in.

Just Gals Being Pals by DisasterLesbean (Day 6: Babies)

(A well and truly delightful read. Fleur and Hermione just constantly skirting around each other, everyone knows we can never get enough of that. Bonus points if the brightest witch of her age is a little bit oblivious to that fact herself...)

Summary: “If you’ll sign here for guardianship.” The wizard gestures to a line. Fleur’s hand shakes as she lifts her wand to the line. “You as well, madam.” Hermione turns her empty gaze towards him. | “Me?” Hermione exclaims. | “They specifically listed the both of you as Josephine’s guardians." | The baby in question is chewing on the wizard’s hair.

I Only Have Eyes For You by lipeviez (Day 2: Dancing)

(Don't touch me. Don't look at me. Don't even breathe in my direction. This one HURTS. I love it.)

Summary: A dance introduces Hermione to possibilities she didn’t know existed, possibilities she didn’t know she wanted, but there’s nothing to be done when the source of those possibilities has just married someone else. | A prequel to You’ll Lose A Good Thing.

Mutually Assured Attraction by lipeviez (Day 1: A Crush is Revealed)

(Because you'll need something fluffy to combat the pain from the one before this. And nothing says fluff than teaching the person you want to date how to ride a motorcycle! Ya know... if Hermione manages to in the first place.)

Summary: Hermione Granger gets roped into giving motorcycle lessons to Fleur Delacour, and wants to ask her out, but very well may die before she gets to.

As You Wish by Kamaro0917 (Covers most prompts)

(Fleurmione As You Wish AU. Need I say more? This one is also a multi-chapter, completed story! Yay!)

Summary: There was a time when she dreamed of finding true love, being swept off her feet, and riding off into the sunset toward her happily ever after. She grew out of that mindset long ago. The idea of marrying for love was just a dream for fools to cling to, and Fleur Delacour was no fool. | Everything changed when the new farmhand showed up.

Neighbors by lipeviez (Day 3: Jealousy)

(The tension in this one is through the roof. No, not because they're neighbors—or wait, actually, you know what? Never mind. That's definitely it. Rated E!)

Summary: Hermione’s flat has windows that face the windows of a flat in the building next door. This wouldn’t be a problem except for the fact that Hermione can’t stop watching her neighbor. Oh, and her neighbor might just like her watching.

What We Are: Fleurmione Week Sneak Peeks by cationix, waxwing_Saint (Covers all prompts)

(THIS one is incredible. I smell a Fleurmione classic incoming. This is the BIG ONE.)

Summary: For Fleurmione Week March 2021, we're posting teasers from our Big Damn Project: | The Triwizard Tournament brought them together with a mysterious pull of attraction. Hermione wants answers but Fleur is willing to fight fate until it kills her. With a war going on--Fleur on the front lines and Hermione hunting for fragments of Voldemort’s soul--will they accept their destiny, or are they doomed to become a cautionary tale?

Once Upon a Time in New York City by drabbles (Day 6: Babies)

(Okay this one is just my measly attempt at writing a fanfiction for this fandom lmao because for some reason, Robert from the film reminds me so much of Hermione! Also, Disney Princess Fleur breathing whimsy into Hermione's colorless city life.)

Summary: When Hermione Granger and her six year old daughter moved to New York, she already had both their lives planned out. She would finally settle down with someone, give Rose the proper family life she deserved, and win as many cases as her law firm would allow. However, things take a whimsical turn when a strange Frenchwoman crashes into their lives, making Hermione question the true meaning of happiness and eventually, love. Or... the Fleurmione Enchanted AU.

I haven't been able to read everyone's contributions yet, but please I hope you take the time to read everyone's stories. Everyone's worked so hard during Fleurmione week, we're all just so lucky to have many talented writers for our rare pair 💖📚💙

And as always, I hope you enjoy reading! Please feel free to leave more fic recs on my ask box in case I missed any of your favorites, which I probably have! 🥺🥺💖

#fleurmione #fleur delacour #hermione granger #hermione x fleur #fleurmione fic rec #hp wlw #hp fanfic #fleurmione week #fleurmione week 2021 #drabstuff #I NEED TO GET MORE READING DONE JSLFSLFHG #sending my love to the fanfic writers!!!!#thank you thank you thank you sooo much to every single one who contributed #and no the colors of the titles don't mean anything i just like to add color to everything #i just think it's neat

120 notes · View notes