#all the bones in your body is gonna be powder son! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ren1327 · 3 years ago

Text

What a Bargain

Demon AU one-shot request

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

“I’m gonna save you, Dad.” Varian said. “I’m gonna, no matter what.”

Quirin was out of the house, laying in his bed in the infirmary. Last Varian had seen him, his breathing was shallow as a rot overtook his lungs and his heart slowed more every day.

Varian had gone to the princess. He had begged all the healers he could find.

But he was running out of time.

He was in his empty house, trying a desperate measure.

Bone powder, red paint (thankfully not blood) creating a circle with several symbols per the books drawing, an offering of gold and several black and green candles the only light in the room.

He held up the book and whispered the words, his mind. Oddly, unable to understand or even remember them as he said them.

The light went out, then burned with high green flames, Varian falling back as a figure stood in the middle of the circle.

Varian gasped, blue eyes staring up at the…man?

He was tall, blond, dressed in a black button up and slacks, with round gold rimmed glasses and oddly barefoot. But his ears were pointed and decorated with many gold earrings, a gold amulet with a green gem around his neck and several gold rings on his fingers and…on set of foot tall antlers that sprouted from the top of his head.

He glared down at Varian with a smirk.

“Really? You’re the one who summoned me?”

Varian nodded, mouth clamped shut, but eyes nearly bugging out.

The man took a step to Varian, stopping at the edge of the circle.

“What do you wish, Human?”

“Heal my Dad.” Varian said.

“Mm, and what do you offer?” The demon asked, examining his nails.

“My soul? My life?” Varian asked.

“Your life will be shortened regardless, given to your father. And your soul is tainted merely by summoning me…”

“What do you want from me, then?”

The blond look at him with a sly smirk.

“Hm…I don’t want to eat your soul, I want to eat your heart…”

“My…My heart?” Varian asked.

“Buuuut…since its the first time I’ve been summoned, and by a child no less—”

“I’m like, nineteen!” He yelled. “And have my own job and a part in the royal family!”

“Fine, fine.” The demon said, green eyes pinning Varian in place. “Your heart wont taste very good.”

“What?” Varian asked.

“I need hearts that have felt real love and real heartbreak.” He said. “I can sense heartbreak, but not love.”

“Haven’t got around it…sorry.” Varian growled. “Don’t really care to.”

“Is that a fact?”

“It’s a promise. I don’t want a relationship with any person at the moment.”

“Hm…Very well, how about this. Release me from this circle and I will heal your father, exchanging your life spans. But for MY payment…let’s play a game.” He said, tilting his head.

“What kind of game?” Varian asked.

“I’ll wipe your mind of this, but if you fall in love, a deep, true love…I will come for you and feast~” He hissed, eyes glowing like the green fire around them. “Should you beat me, I’ll give you back your life span to live happily with your father and he not experience the death of his son tomorrow.”

“So either way, I’m going to lose something…” Varian said softly. “Okay…Okay. You have a deal…”

He put his hand out.

“Hugo.” The demon said and took it, spinning around Varian and grinning.

He held out a hand, snapping as green sparks flew from his fingertips.

“There you are, Bluebird.” He murmured, cupping Varian’s chin. “And now I will allow you two years for our deal. If you have no love by then…well…you win.”

“My Dad is safe?”

“Yes. And he will be til a nice ripe old age. I just cleared his body of sickness, but it will still age.” Hugo said with a flick of his jeweled fingers.

“Two years. I just gotta—wait, wipe my memory?!” Varian asked.

Hugo smirked and ran a thumb over his bottom lip.

“Mm. You said it was a promise. When lips touch yours and you say their name with love in your heart…I will return and drag you to hell with me to be eaten…” Hugo said, licking his lips.

“Do you really like eating hearts?” Varian asked.

Hugo made a face and shrugged. “It’s a gimmick.”

“Wait, then why even—” Varian started with a grimace.

Hugo placed a hand over Varian’s eyes, and he felt himself become heavy, taken into the demon's arms.

Then he woke up to a clean room, confused how he got there and how he couldn’t remember anything.

His Dad!

He rolled out of bed and got dressed.

It was a quicker trip this time and when he turned a corner, he was shocked to see his father sitting up and eating breakfast.

“Dad!” Varian yelled excitedly and ran to hug him, the bed creaking slightly from his added weight.

“Varian. It’s a miracle! I feel amazing!”

“Maybe one of the potions worked.” Rapunzel said.

“Yeah.” Varian agreed. “Im so glad you’re okay!”

“Yeah, we’re going to be fine.” Quirin sighed, hugging his son.

Varian sighed as he sat alone at a table in the tavern.

“Hope Dad’s having a better night than me…” He sighed.

It has been about two years since he finally left his dad’s farm to live full time at the castle and a cute guard had asked him out.

Then Varian started talking about work and…

He was alone.

He sighed and was about to order more beer when a new pint was placed before him, a blond man sitting across from him.

He smiled, green eyes behind his glasses seeming to shine. Varian swallowed hard when he took in his lean form, hair done in a ponytail with an undercut and freckles dusted on his skin.

“Hi there.” He said.

Varian looked behind him and seeing no one there, stared at the handsome man.

“Hiiiiiiii?” Varian asked.

“What’s your name?” The man asked.

“V-V-Varian.” He stuttered, cheeks heating.

“Well, V-V-Varian…” He purred softly. “What’s a sweet little thing like you doing here all alone?”

“Uh…I’m a sweet, I-I-I mean…” He blushed and looked away. “I um, scared off a date?”

“Oh?” The blond asked, running a finger around the rim of his glass. “Ask about marriage? How many kids you want?”

“No, talked about Alchemical compounds and how to transmutate metals.”

The other man blinked.

“See, I knew—”

“We talking through heat or chemicals?” The blond asked.

“I…” Varian felt a smile going across his face. “I never got your name…”

“Hugo.” The blond said and smiled back.

“So you ever hear about the drip method?”

He woke up tucked in bed, clean and warm.

He sat up, horrified.

He had spent the night with his target!

He smelled something sweet and looked to his right.

There were fresh flowers and a cup of still warm coffee on the nightstand with a note he picked up.

‘I had a really good time last night. I had to go work. Let’s meet up again for lunch? You can come to the castle and visit if you want. Or meet me here in two days time. I hope I see you again. - Varian’

Hugo smiled and held the note to his lips as he looked at the flowers; pink alstroemeria and white chrysanthemums…

Odd combination.

“Okay, Varian.” He said. “Game on.”

Dinner again.

Hugo listened to Varian talk about his work and current research on creating a new compound.

“Gonna name it after me?” Hugo asked as he looked over his notes, walking his fingers up Varian’s hand.

“Naw. It’s ineffective and ruins everything.” Varian said, eyes looking up at him. “And you’re not that…that. At all.”

Hugo ignored the way his heart skipped a beat and shrugged, waving a hand and smiling.

“Ah, perfect for destroying chemicals. Perhaps it can even affect the PH balance of sulfuric acid?”

Varian opened his mouth to answer, then grabbed his book and started writing.

By the way he stuck his tongue out the corner of his mouth and his brow furrowed, Hugo knew he had sparked something in that brilliant mind.

He sipped his drink and gazed at the calculations and formulas being written with a smile.

“How is your Dad?”

Varian’s pencil stopped.

“What?”

“Yesterday you said something about him.” Hugo said.

“He’s good. Great even. Strong as a horse.” He said. “I’m living on my own right now. Uh, what about you? Any family?”

“A mom.” Hugo said with a shrug.

“What’s she like?”

“Ah…” Hugo rubbed his neck. “She’s tough…but…fair and kind. To me at least. I uh…”

He bit his bottom lip.

“I didn’t have the greatest birth parents. They told me to go to hell and when we got…separated. I went to a bad, dark place. I felt like I deserved it. But she found me and took care of me, trying to get me somewhere safe. But she was the first person to be kind to me and I didn’t want to leave her, so she let me stay. Even got me a cute little pet, like your raccoon.”

“Ruddiger.” Varian said.

“Ruddiger Raccoon.” Hugo teased.

“Was it scary?” Varian asked suddenly.

Hugo scoffed.

“Trust me when I say she’s the scariest...” Hugo laughed. “She lets me travel, go new places in exchange for a…favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Something that makes me like her. Something that will make sure I always come back…I’ve never…done it?” Hugo said with a shrug. “I will, I promised, but I…I never…I need to.”

“What is it?” Varian joked. “Can I help you?”

Hugo stared into his eyes.

“No. I’m not looking for it. Not the moment if I can be honest…” He said, twining his fingers with Varian’s.

He woke up again clean and tucked in, Varian no where to be found.

On the nightstand was a muffin, an apple and still steaming coffee.

His bouquet was now blue and green dahlias…

He found the next note.

‘I really liked seeing you again. Maybe we can take a walk tonight? Have a picnic? I’ll be waiting in front of the tavern if you want to join me at before sunset. I really want to keep seeing you. -Varian’

He sighed and fell back, the flower’s scent sweet in his nose.

He then saw a pair of red eyes and smiled, holding out a hand, a mouse crawling onto his hand.

“Olivia…there you are…”

Her eyes glowed slightly and he sighed.

“That time already?” He asked.

She squeaked and he nodded.

“I got one right now. This will cover me and you can hang out with me for non-business related time.” He said, feeding her some muffin. “Liv…I think I like this one. Don’t tell the boss.”

The mouse paused her eating, then nodded.

He sat up and looked at the flowers.

Stop, he thought.

He was going to eat Varian’s heart…he had to, to keep up his contract…

He sighed and wondered what Varian would think…

It didn’t matter…

He stroked a blue petal.

But he could pretend it did for a little bit…

“…And that’s ursa major. See that little cluster?” Varian asked, pointing up at the sky. “That’s the baby, ursa minor.”

They were laying on a blanket in a clearing, their half-eaten meal of meats, yellow cheese and fresh bread forgotten as they laid side by side.

Hugo had an arm behind his head, listening to Varian with rapt attention.

“That one is so bright…” Hugo said, pointing to one.

“It’s dying.”

“Dying?” He asked.

“I read it takes them millions of years to die.” Varian said. “But they shine brightest when its happening.”

“Shine brightest when its dying…” Hugo whispered. “It’s beautiful…in a sad way…”

Varian looked over to him and kissed his cheek, rolling over to hold him, lips meeting.

In the back of this head, this was wrong.

He was going to take Varian’s life and soul. But now…

Hugo entwined his fingers with Varian’s.

“Varian…I…” He kissed him again. “I really like being with you.”

‘Say it…say it so I can stop feeling like this…’ he thought. 'Or better yet, reject me. Please reject me...'

“Hugo…I…”

Hugo covered his mouth, tearing up.

“Don’t…don’t…I’m sorry…but don’t say it…please…” He whispered. “Don’t say it.”

There was a burst of flames before them, dark red as a figure stepped out of them.

It was a tall slender woman dressed in leather armor the color of dried blood, tall boots and a crown of black spikes with green and red gems on it between two tall horns that curled back and straight up. Her eyes landed on the pair as she took a step forward, flicking her long ash gray hair with thorns and jewels woven into it behind her back.

Varian moved in front of Hugo, but the blond lowered it.

“Master…” Hugo whispered.

“You’re late, Hugo...” She hummed, holding up Olivia by the tail, the mouse squeaking angrily.

“Master, I—”

She held up a hand and waved it at Varian, who blinked as Hugo’s horns and ears grew out.

“Boy. It seems you won your bet.” She said. “You get your soul and life back. Hugo…let’s go.”

“W-Wait…” Varian asked. “What’s going to happen to Hugo?”

She turned, hands behind her back.

“Normally, I’d eat his soul…” She said and Varian gasped.

“But she’s my mother of sorts…” Hugo sighed. “And we made a deal…”

“So he will be confined to the underworld with me.” She said curtly.

“What’s my soul worth?” Varian asked.

“Excuse me?” She asked. “Your soul? You do understand there is a paradise when you die and the underworld is a dark dreary place…”

Varian stared determinedly at her.

She chuckled.

“I can see why Hugo likes you. I’ll make a deal for both of you then.” She turned and waved a hand at Hugo, his antlers fading away and ears rounding again. “Your immortality for a human life…and…you will come…visit me.”

“Master?” Hugo asked.

“Oh, Hugo. I’m not evil. You were never mine to begin with. Not even the punishment demons are evil…consider it….a reward.” She said. “When you both pass from this life…come down to visit once an eternity or two.”

She pinched Hugo’s cheek and gave him Olivia.

“You watch him. He’s my favorite…” She said to the little creature.

Olivia squeaked excitedly and jumped to sit on Varian’s head.

“And you.” She said, looking at Varian. “You hurt him…”

Her eyes glowed and large tattered bat wings spread from her back, flexing almost like hands.

“I will not.” Varian said with wide eyes.

“You remind of my friend. She visits often as well.” The woman said. “I’ll take my leave now. Live happily Hugo.”

“Bye…” Hugo whispered as the flames consumed the woman.

He looked at Varian.

“So…about our deal—”

“New deal. No more wiping my memories. Dinner every night when we can, sleep next to each other when we’re both home and later,” He took Hugo’s hands. “Maybe we can talk about marriage? How many kids we want?”

Hugo laughed and nodded.

“Ey.” Varian said with a smirk. “Seal with a kiss.”

“Oh, what a bargain~” Hugo said as Varian dipped him, kissing a smile on his face.

“They do look happy, Don.” The angel said, holding a pomegranate and walking around the horned woman’s throne.

Donella threw an apple in the air, catching it. “I was nice for you, Ulla.”

They watched the men drink with Quirin and a few of Varian’s friends. Both had matching engagement rings. Hugo was cradling a bouquet of sunflowers Varian had presented him with, giving him several pecks on the lips as thier friends hooted and whistled at the couple.

Ulla smiled as she chewed her treat, swallowing and going to Donella’s side.

“And I thank you.” She said, kissing Donella’s cheek. “Wanna make a bet of how many children they’ll adopt? If you win, I’ll stay another few years~”

Donella laughed as Ulla sat on her lap, smiling up at her. She stroked a finger over a freckled cheek.

“Alright.” She said, leaning down and kissing her softly. “Deal.”

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

Hi, everyone!

Sorry it took me so long to get this one out. Just to let you know, this is the tumblr safe version.

Thank you so much for your continued support.

#varigo #varigo fanfic #varigo request #vat7k fanfic

18 notes · View notes

aradyke · 3 years ago

Text

playlists pt two: highbloods

#homestuck #terezi pyrope #vriska serket #equius zahhak #gamzee makara #eridan ampora #feferi peixes

7 notes · View notes

confusednarcissistwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Hotsy Totsy Pt. 3 (T.C.)

ahhh the last bit of prewritten work!! thank GOD. reworking my own writing from a few years ago was killing me slowly (who tf let me write). next update will be all fresh 😎 hope you enjoyyyyy. things heating up quickly!

(sexual references)

“Man, this is… crazy,” Nick said, shaking his head. He held his tongue for a moment, his brow furrowed. He knew Timothée was already grasping desperately for something that appeared to be just out of his reach, so he needed to phrase his words carefully. “Look, Tim… she’s a married woman-”

“You think I don’t know that?” he retorted, a wild, grief-stricken look in his eyes. He fell into the doorframe, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew he shouldn’t be frustrated with his friend; it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know the full story.

Nick looked at him expectantly, sitting down on the edge of his bed; he sensed this was going to be a late night.

“We met at an audition for A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the college.” Timothée stared at his hands and fidgeted a bit. “She was auditioning for Hermia and I for Lysander, as fate would have it. The connection was instant. Every moment after only confirmed what I’d known the moment I’d met her.” A sad smile graced his lips, melancholic memories of hushed conversations had backstage and through rehearsals. You glowed with life and vigor and enthusiasm; he was snared from day one. “Things quickly grew serious, and I planned to ask her to marry me. But then the draft order came.” His eyes were dark and his hands trembled a bit as he remembered the atrocities of war and the nightmares that still plagued him. He carried on, telling Nick about the day he saw your marriage announcement in the paper and how he, to this day, still believed he was in your heart, that if he could become affluent like her family he would be able to steal you away again. By the time he’d finished his sorry, he had slid to the floor, his back slumped against the door jam. “Before I left, she had promised me she was going to wait for me to return. We’d had our life together planned and names picked out for our future children; I had no reason not to believe her. A couple months at camp turned into two years, and I never heard a word from her. I think I knew then, but I refused to believe it. I kept her on my mind until it became a habit, a coping mechanism, still writing to her every moment I could.”

Nick listened intently to every word, learning every piece of his best friend’s life that had somehow been going on behind the scenes that he hadn’t caught on to; it sickened him a bit. How had he not seen the pain Timothée had been suffering this whole time?

Despite the tragic backstory, he wasn’t sure he could go along with his plan. Married is married. He’d been raised in a home with strong religious values and, though times were changing, he felt he shouldn’t act as an accessory to the two lovers finding their way back to each other.

Seeing his apprehension, Timothée spoke up again. “She doesn’t love him,” he stated earnestly. “She did what she had to so she could get the life she wanted, but she doesn’t love him.”

“How can you be sure?” Nick pressed.

Timothée paused, his eyes closing as if in prayer. “I just… know. I can feel it in my bones.”

Nick looked down at the floor, mulling it over in his mind for a few moments. He couldn’t find it in him to tell him no. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

***

Jordan sat on the vanity as you got dressed for the evening. You wore a rosy-pink, silk shift dress that came down to about mid-thigh with fringe along the hem. Your garters were nearly completely exposed, holding up your black fishnet stockings. You sat down in the chair in front of her, slipping on you Mary Janes and fiddling with the buckles.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” she noticed, pulling the cigarette from between her lips and exhaling swirls of smoke as she spoke.

“Just thinkin’” you replied with a shrug, getting up to pick out some jewelry from the many ornate boxes perched on a shelf inside the armoire. Truth was you’d been off ever since your conversation with Nick the night before.

“That’s dangerous,” Jordan chuckled, slipping off of the desk and striding over to peer over your shoulder. She was in a much more revealing outfit for her performance that evening; a gold, glittering, bedazzled leotard with triangle cutouts right at her waist, thigh high stockings, and a black velvet choker resting against her throat that completed her ensemble.

“You figure he’s gonna be here tonight?”

You huffed, wanting to ignore her as you tried to pick out a set of pearls. “I dunno.”

Jordan rolled her eyes. “What's going on in that pretty head of yours, doll? And don’t say it’s nothing because you know I’m gonna keep buggin’ until you give it up, so you might as well just start,” she chided.

“I just-” you began, clearly flustered. “I’m going through some personal things, okay?”

Jordan went a bit wide-eyed at your snappy reply. “Fine, fine,” she submitted.

You looked at yourself in the mirror as you adjusted the layered pearls that laid against your chest. Would he be there tonight? Noticeable circles were under your eyes, and you looked less than yourself. You patted on a bit more powder, adding some body glitter here and there.

“I’m sorry, J,” you sighed, shaking your head a bit. You turned to see her as she headed toward the door. “I’m just a little tense is all tonight. I’ll be fine soon.”

“I know you will, doll,” she smiled reassuringly, slipping out of your dressing room.

As she stepped out, the door to the manager's office at the end of the long, narrow hall cracked open. Lola, a new fan dancer from Chicago, came slinking out looking blatantly disheveled, red lips smeared and mascara lines down her cheeks. Jordan’s brow drew together as she tried to get a better look. She stepped behind a stage prop, her back to it and her neck craned to watch as the girl scurried away. Before the door closed completely, Jordan caught a glimpse of James sitting on his desk shirtless and his trousers hanging loose.

She quickly stood, ready to storm in there and demand an explanation, but that’s when she saw you standing in front of your dressing room looking shell-shocked. Your entire body was tense and your face white as a sheet. She hurried over to you, pulling you back into the dressing room and closing the door to avoid making a big scene. She had no idea what to say, her mouth open as she grasped for words.

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered, your eyes wide and quickly welling up with tears. The fear coiled in your stomach tightened around your guts, your subconscious hissing cruel “I told you so”s. You shook your head almost violently, expelling them. Short gasps left your parted lips as your chest refused to let your lungs expand.

“Y/N, you need to breathe, love. Come on, in and out,” Jordan quaked, gripping your hands tightly in her own.

You watched her with your eyes that burned from unshed tears, shakily following her breathing she modeled for you. Your chest heaved, and your mind fought hard to clear itself from all the horrible conclusions the other part of you wanted to jump to.

Eventually, she managed to calm you down, but your hands continued to tremble. Jordan looked over you worriedly, feeling like she didn’t know what to do for the first time in awhile.

“I’m- I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” you shuddered, pulling away to clean yourself up in the mirror.

Jordan sat looking a bit dumbfounded. “What?” she asked, unsure she’d heard you correctly.

“I’m sure it wasn’t what it looked like.” Even you could hear the slightly hysterical edge to your voice.

“Y/N-“

“No,” you interrupted in a clipped tone. “This will never leave this room.”

While a woman confronting her husband wasn’t something that happened then, Jordan had never had any of it. She also never had believed you to be a woman to be pushed around, and normally you weren’t. Your lifestyle wasn’t one of a typical domestic wife, and, being an educated woman, you’d taken your fair share of guff from conservative men. Yet, you’d never been one for confrontation, especially in your current emotional state.

Jordan shook her head in disbelief. “Y/N, he has no excuse for-”

“If you are my friend,” you choked, “you will pretend nothing happened.” Your voice was broken, but unyielding.

Her face softened slightly, and she stepped back, her hand on the doorknob as she shook her head. “You are upset and don’t know what you’re saying. I’ll see you after the show,” she replied, leaving and closing the door gently behind her.

Nausea washed over you and you bolted for the bin, the contents of your stomach evacuating unceremoniously. Your whole body heaved as you were sick repeatedly, the brief glimpse of your disarranged husband playing over and over in your mind. Denial was a hell of a drug, but your body was beginning to reject it. A quick knock at your door informed you that you were expected on stage in ten. You quickly began to clean yourself up, knowing that once you left that room, you were Daisy: the beautiful, the talented, the flawless. Hotsy Totsy would never know you as anything different if you had any say.

***

“I need a drink,” Nick grunted, hoisting himself from the desk chair he’d been sitting for the past hour, writing intensively.

Timothée hung his coat up on the hook and dropped his briefcase carelessly, just glad to be home. “I’ll pull something down,” he replied, heading over to the liquor cabinet.

“No, no, Tim. Don’t be a bluenose. I want to go out. I could go put in word with Cousin...” He raised his brows, knowing how to convince Timothée into doing what he wanted tonight.

He turned to him disdainfully. “Nick, I’m pretty tired. I don’t think I can handle that all tonight..”

“We are going. Go get dressed,” he insisted, grabbing Timothée by the shoulders and turning him to go upstairs to change.

He huffed but complied anyways. Subconsciously, he was eager to see you again, no matter how many nerves and feelings it stirred up inside of him. He changed into more casual wear: slacks, a white button up cuffed up to his elbows, and his favorite suspenders.He peered into the mirror, mussing his hair a bit before hurrying downstairs.

Nick was in similar attire, but with a striped shirt and a bowtie. “You ready, man?” he asked, slapping a newsboy cap on his head.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go before I change my mind,” he chuckled.

***

The high-end club was busy and bustling as always that Friday night. Cigarette smoke plumes hung heavy in the hot air, and every person had the Devil’s brew gripped tightly in their fists. A swing group played on the stage while a small group danced the Charleston below them. Timothée couldn’t help but smile as they came in: it really was soothing to his soul to be in such a carefree setting filled with so much life.

As the band’s song came to a close, an announcer came bouncing out and up to the mic. “Ladies and gents, please put your hands together for the lovely and exotic Ladies of Godiva!”

A flock of feathers came shuffling out onto the stage, three pairs of feminine legs peeking from below the large fans. The band began to play a soft and slow ballad beat. One by one, the women began to reveal themselves from behind their ivory plumes, but only in teasing glimpses that fell in time with the music. Eventually, three, jaw-dropping, dark haired women stood on the stage. Their fans were discarded to the floor to reveal bejewelled, scanty bodysuits and long, stocking-covered legs. They all huddled around the microphone and hummed sweet harmonies along with the saxophones and trumpets. Both Timothée and Nick, and every other man in the joint, were held captive. However, it was Nick who was truly in awe. In fact, he was particularly enamored as he took in the sight of the daring girl he’d met a few days before looking absolutely sinful on stage.

Timothée caught him gaping and planted his elbow between his ribs with a smirk. “Put your tongue back in your mouth, dude,” he snickered, leading him over to the bar.

Meanwhile, you stood backstage listening to Jordan and her girls, feeling guilty for snapping at her earlier. James brushed by you, catching your hand and giving you a wink on his way by, on his way to do god knows what with god knows who. He didn’t even notice when your hand quickly pulled out of his as though it were a hot flame. You wanted everything to be okay, but it was still too fresh in your brain. Before you knew it, Jordan was brushing past you with the other girls, giving you a soft smile. You smiled back, feeling a bit of relief that she wasn’t too upset with you for your outburst.

“Next up, our Lady of the Night: Miss Daisy!”

You quickly slipped into your role, a pout on your lips as you strutted on stage. The feeling of hungry eyes didn’t even phase you anymore. However, your heartbeat quickened slightly as you imagined one certain pair of eyes. You pushed that to the back of your mind and focused on the feelings bubbling in your chest. A thought came to you suddenly, and you turned on your heel to bend down to whisper into the drummer’s ear. He then, in turn, murmured down to the rest of the band while you returned to the mic. “Good evening, how is everyone doing so far? Everyone have a drink?” Your voice was low and sexy, the crowd curled into the palm of your hand as they cheered and whistled for you. “Well, I have a little something special I think you all are gonna like tonight alright?” You looked to the drummer, and he gave you a nod of confirmation that you returned.

Timothée leaned against a wall in a more secluded part of the club, eating up the swagger that poured off of you. His imaginings of what you’d become after all those years had far from given you justice. You were not at all shy; you never had been, but seeing you right where you had told him you wanted to be made him bubble with contagious pride. His eyes widened when you growled out the first note over the nearly silent club. Once everyone recognized the tune, cheers and hollars joined your voice, many girls hopping up and pulling their dates over to dance. All he could see was you.

“You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog snoopin’ round the door..” Your body rocked to the percussive beat, your face scrunched up in emotion. “You told me you was high class, but I can see through that..”

You dug up the rage bubbling in you and growled it into the microphone, feeding off of the audience’s shouts and howls. Your hips snapped to the beat as you danced and sang your heart out.

Timothée watched you with a nearly predatory gaze. Hunger bubbled up in him; he was greedy and desperately wanted to pull you away from all the lustful men in the audience to be his and his alone. He wanted to feel you up against him again like the many escapades you two had had in college.

Your last note rang out over the crowd of cheers and catcalls, your chest heaving from not only the exertion of your performance, but also the emotions rushing around your mind. You stayed in character despite it all, but found your eyes searching the audience.

Suddenly, there he was, his eyes already on yours.

Timothée was deafened by his heartbeat in his ears as his eyes met yours. Somehow, he managed a small smile.

You quickly came to, realizing you were staring on stage. Your eyes flitted away, but you were clearly distracted as you waved and slipped off stage. You easily let Jordan pull you out and down the stairs and into the alley outside to get a little break. Everything felt like a blur.

Nick, who had been mingling around the club, watched as you two bolted outside; he knew this was his opportunity. He looked around for Timothée but couldn’t seem to spot him. He figured he was probably drinking somewhere and headed the direction you had left, weaving between the dancing bodies. He was met with a big man in a bowler hat blocking his path.

“And where exactly do you think you’re going punk?” he questioned, his thick New York accent making him almost unintelligible.

“My name is Nick Carraway. I’m a cousin of Y/N’s, Miss Daisy,” he explained, trying not to cringe at the brute’s horrid smell.

After a moment of contemplation, he stepped aside. “You best keep your hands off the ladies or I’ll bash your little head in, ya hear me?”

Nick nodded quickly, hurrying past him and out into the alley. Girls in skimpy feathers, jewels, velvet, and silk stood about in little groups, gossiping and sucking on cigarettes or cocktails. It was a lot of the young bachelor to have to take in, but eventually he spotted you. Girls shot him dirty looks and muttered things from “whatcha you lookin’ for? your ma?” and “who is this little peeping Tom!’ to “Hey, sugar. Wanna ride?” and many other crude things that made him blush hotly.

“Cousin Nicky? What are you doing back here?” you said, spotting the tall boy weaving through all the girls and looking incredibly uncomfortable. You heard Jordan laugh softly behind you, clearly amused by how flustered he was.

“Y/N! You were fantastic as always!” he smiled, giving you a small side hug. “You and Jordan were both uh, stunning! Yes, you were stunning.” He flushed, shaking his head as he stumbled over his words helplessly.

Both you and Jordan just laughed and thanked him. However, you could tell there was more to what he had to say.

“Anyways, Y/N. I wanted to ask you something, um, privately,” he stammered.

You gave Jordan a little look and she politely excused herself, brushing by Nick and making him blush again.

“Go ahead,” you ushered, curious as to what was so important.

“Well, I was hoping you’d join me for tea and luncheon tomorrow,” he said.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing a bit. Did he know? “And you needed to ask me this in confidentiality because..?”

“Oh well, I um, have a… male house guest currently. I wouldn’t want to start any sort of rumours or anything.” It was a lame cover up and you both knew it.

“Will this ‘house guest’ be joining us?” you asked, trying not to be too conspicuous.

“Well, I suppose you’ll have to just wait and see,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck.

“Alright, Nicky. What time?”

#timothée chalamet series #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée fanfic #timothee chalamet series #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagine #1920s #hotsy totsy #confusednarcissistwrites

71 notes · View notes

younghoax · 4 years ago

Text

Marc Coney • New York City • 2001

“Everything will be different now. Marc’s gonna take care of us.”

He’s twelve and his mom’s smiling -really, genuinely smiling- as a man -Marc- stands in their doorway with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face.

The man says, “Hey, Jordan. It’s nice t’meet you, kid.”

He’s got blood drying on his collar and his hair’s a little messy, but Jordan really believes him. Nick’s not been gone for long, but Marc’s taller and stronger and Jord’s got a feeling he’s got something to do with Nick picking up his shit and going for good last week.

“You too,” he smiles back as he watches Marc shut the door behind himself. He asks, “You staying for dinner?”

Marc laughs for some reason, ruffling Jordan’s hair as he passes him to flop down onto the sofa. “I’m staying for a while.”

The following months are awesome. They go to the park and shit, and Jordan has kind of outgrown shit like the park, but it’s just nice to feel so normal. Marc’s got a son; named after him, Jordan guesses, but he goes by his full name, Marco. He tags along sometimes - sleeps over on weekends and although they don’t have a hell of a lot in common (Marco’s got a year or two on him and is kind of a miserable asshole) but Jordan decides he can live with it.

Marc’s got so many friends that he’s lost count; everywhere they go, somebody stops him, and the guy has his own business and always ends up selling something, even when they’re on the move.

***

Thirteen years old and just now really understanding what a drug dealer is. Kind of embarrassing when it finally clicks into place, but at least now he understands where all the money is coming from. Some nights in the week, he hangs out at Marc’s friends’ houses and they all sit around a table and sort through different powders and plants and don’t even try to hide it from him since he admitted that he knows.

... Only problem with those guys watching over him is that, despite working for Marc, they don’t have the same friends as he does. He later discovered that it means they also don’t have the same protection. There’s this one night in September when one of the guys offers to walk him back to his apartment when he gets the okay from Marc.

“I don’t give a shit about school,” Jordan’s telling the guy whose name he thinks is Danny.

He’s one of the only names Jordan can remember, and it’s only because of the distinctness of his bone structure and the slit that he always has in his left brow. He’s younger than a lot of the other guys, but still somewhere in his mid-twenties.

The guy laughs though and, despite being a personal favourite of his, Jordan scowls at him and asks, “what’s so funny?”

He shrugs, says, “you’re just a kid. Marco was the same. You’re too young to decide what to give a shit about. Wait ‘til your-”

But he doesn’t get to finish because there’s a figure that comes out of nowhere, slamming him to the hard ground before a fist is flying into his face. There’s another guy with the first, and he’s got Jordan on the ground before the kid’s even realised Danny is down.

J’s breathing picks up, panting, panicking as this guy looms over him but doesn’t even say a word. He squirms, thinks maybe he’s not strong enough to push him off but he’s small enough to wriggle out. No such luck.

“Yo, hey hey hey,” Danny shouts, then pauses to spit on the ground beside his head, blood and saliva landing on the sidewalk as he tries to wrestle the man off of him. “He’s just a kid, man, c’mon.”

“You Nick’s kid?” The guy’s breath reeks, and Jordan shakes his head hurriedly. The stranger turns to Dan, and the guy that has the man pinned asks, “where the fuck is Nick? He fucking owes me.”

It’s just panic. Dan’s still down, trying to shove the stranger off but barely moving him an inch, and Jordan’s having no more luck. The man only has him by a hand on his shoulder, and it’s too easy and makes too much sense for Jordan to reach into his pocket, press the button--

“FUCK,” the man rolls off him and ends up in a hunched position on the ground. “Fucker stabbed me!”

“What the fuck,” the other says, and he must move as well because then Danny’s pulling Jordan up from the ground and shoving him behind himself. The knife falls from his hand, trembling as his eyes dart between the three men.

“He’s Marc’s kid. Marc Coney. You can’t fucking touch—”

“Shit.” The guy goes white – takes a few steps (limps) back. “Fuck, yeah, alright.”

Jordan doesn’t quite get what that means. He’s busy watching the hand pressed to the one stranger’s thigh turn wet and red as he holds his wound. The other man says, “Our bad man. Our bad.”

“S-sorry,” he blurts, then looks from the blood seeping through the man’s fingers to the knife on the ground, then to Danny and back again. “Sorry, I—“

“Don’t be sorry,” Danny interrupts, then looks the bleeding man dead in the eye and spits on the ground. Jordan’ll never forget that. How something so vulgar and disgusting held so much weight.

Spit at a man and you’re begging him to knock your lights out. If he doesn’t? You’ve already won.

Jordan’s pretty sure they slip away without a fight because they’ve heard Marc’s name, but when they’re a block away, Danny tells him, “you sure fucking scared them away,” then, “’ey, is this your knife,” as he looks at the weapon he’s carried from the scene. He adds, “shit, s’better than mine, keep hold of that,” as he looks down at Jordan with a half-smile, the orange streetlights bouncing off his hollow cheeks and darkening his eyes.

He still looks pretty handsome even with the cut on his mouth. A little menacing maybe, smiling despite the blood between his teeth, but he’s still just about the most powerful image Jordan’s ever seen.

When he takes the knife back, his hands aren’t shaking anymore.

Danny hangs around in their apartment for long enough to give Marc a play-by-play of the night, and the man seems pretty damn impressed by Jordan; doesn’t even seem to care how he got his hands on a knife. His son, on the other hand, sits on the couch looking unimpressed as he tells him, “that’s the stupidest fuckin’ thing I ever heard,” as he scowls between Jordan and Danny. “Who gave the kid a knife?”

Nobody cares.

***

Marc Coney is a big name. Jordan’s mom wasn’t joking a year ago when she said he’d take care of them. Fourteen years old and he can walk home at night alone because anyone that touches a hair in his head is practically sacrificing themselves.

He’s hanging out with this kid from school, Ryan, on the tennis court a few blocks from home. Jordan can’t remember the last time he saw it being used—not that they need to worry about that now, at ten o’clock at night in the winter. They’re both sat with their legs crossed; knees to knees in the centre of the court.

“There was blood on it for ages,” he tells him as he hands the knife over. “They came outa nowhere. I ain’t seen ‘em since.”

Ryan looks taken aback as he turns the knife in his hands, already flipped open. He’d jumped when Jordan pressed the button, but he figured he’d best do it himself to save the risk of his friend losing a finger. “Were you alone?”

“Neh,” Jordan shakes his head as watches the light bounce off the blade, then looks up and spots it reflect into the boy’s eye. Blue. Very very blue. And J’s never really got it, the way people go on about eyes. Never found that shit important. But fuck, are they blue. “Was with… Some guy.”

“So cool,” Ryan mumbles, right before Jordan leans over and presses his lips to his.

He hears the knife fall from the boy’s hand, and for a moment there’s a palm pressed lightly to his chest as Ryan kisses back, but then suddenly it’s shoving him away and Ryan’s looming and there’s fist pummelling into his face.

Then he’s by himself.

***

“What did he look like?” Marc’s asking a million questions before Jordan’s even said hello. “I’ll fucking kill him, I—”

“Calm down,” his mom grits through her teeth from the couch, but she’s sprawled out with her eyes shut so he’s pretty sure she has no idea what’s happening. The boiler’s broke again and she’s wearing her robe beneath the blankets and towels she’s under. She’s shivering like crazy, like she can’t control her body. Shivering so bad that her fingers are all crooked and cramped up--

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down! This was for me, everyone knows the kid, they know I—”

“It was just some kid from school,” he interrupts him, eyes darting from Marc to his mom. Can’t decide who to give his attention to right now. “Sorry, it’s nothin’, really. Doesn’t matter.”

Marc squints, still gripping Jordan’s chin as he inspects his eye. “Some kid? What’s his name? Last name? Does he—”

“It doesn’t matter, Marc,” he insists, bats his hand away. “It’s nothing to do with you, honest. It’s my problem. I can handle myself. I think mom needs--”

“Why’d he hit you?”

Shit. “I d’know, we… We don’t get along.”

“Fuck that. I wanna know his last name. He got a dad? Brother? Fuckin' uncle? What’s the name Jordan?!”

He shoves past the man, needs to find more towels or a coat or something. He spots his own bedsheets poking out from the other layers draped over her. She can have ‘em. “I don’t know, I don’t know! It doesn’t matter!”

“People don’t get punched for fuckin’ nothing, kid!” He’s not even sure who Marc’s mad at anymore as he grabs his arm and pulls him back before he makes it across the room. When he turns Jordan back around, there’s a vein bulging from his forehead. “I’ve got a reputation, Jordan, tell me the fucki—”

“I kissed him,” he snaps. “I- I kissed him so he punched me. Just some kid.”

The red in Marc’s face doesn’t fade, and the vein in his head doesn’t deflate, but he stops shouting as he seems to take a minute to catch his breath.

“Sorry,” Jordan says. “Wasn’t meant to worry any—"

Marc wears these rings; gold rings, some with jewels and some not. When the back of his hand strikes Jordan’s cheek, all he feels is metal.

His mom is passed out by then, so he takes himself off to his room and climbs into bed, just a bare mattress now. He lays down with his clothes on but doesn’t fucking cry.

***

Things are kind of off after that. Marc doesn’t have a lot of time for Jordan, and he finds himself hanging out with Danny and the others more often. Or, getting babysat by them – but he forgets that that’s what this is, sometimes.

One evening, sat with Danny and Marco in some flat he’s never been to, Marco tells him, “my old man told me about you,” with that same look in his eye he always has; void; unimpressed; probably stoned, now that he thinks about it.

Jordan just shrugs, just says, “okay,” because God knows he ain’t in the mood for Marco’s attitude when he’s still got a scab healing on his cheek from the back of his dad’s hand.

“Says I should keep my distance. Doesn’t like fags, my old man.”

“’Ey, don’t be a dick, Marco,” Danny says, then adds, “s’alright with me,” as he nudges Jordan’s shoulder, who just looks at him confused. “If you’re a fag. I don’t give a shit,” he clarifies. “My girl’s brother’s a fag. He’s a’right.”

“Fuck off, Danny.” Jordan stands. “Both of you,” he adds before he leaves.

He decides he doesn’t need a babysitter anymore.

#sorry for typos :/ i'm illiterate #drugs tw #abuse tw #ermm #homophobia tw #slurs tw #blood tw #LOL #self para #marc.#• writing •

2 notes · View notes

specialmindz · 5 years ago

Photo

“dad?”

CLATTER!

CRASH!

“UGH! DAMNIT!”

“Nyeh hee hee hee!”

“IT’S NOT FUNNY PAPYRUS!”

CA-THUMP!

The scientist continued to fumble about the lab, searching for the appropriate parts to fix the generator.

“Ki-et down Daddy, you wake up Boo Boo!”

“Oh no, don’t mind me…I’m just happy to be here…” The little spirit monster shifted a bit in Sans’ grasp, having been mistaken for a pillow in the dark.

“You aren’t SUPPOSED to be here! NO ONE is to visit the lab at this hour!” replied Gaster, still searching for a flashlight. He didn’t approve of his littlest scavenging at the Dump, but every once in a while, Papyrus would bring home something he could use and the flashlight was one of them.

Figures he couldn’t find it now of all times.

What on earth could have happened? The magic crystals still have power in them and the generator itself is in perfect repair! This blackout makes no sense!

He wasn’t used to something being broken without Papyrus having some sort of hand in it.

“Just in case however, did you touch the generator Papyrus?”

The baby bones nodded vigorously, “Yep! We’s out of ghost food, so I decided to make snacks for Boo Boo, but we was out of the veggie oil.”

“Veggie oil?”

A few moments went by before the elder skeleton jumped suddenly in alarm and rushed out of the workshop, running downstairs into the True Lab’s living quarters, apparently heading for their kitchen.

“hey uh bro? you didn’t use the oil from the generator-”

“YOU DUMB LITTLE SHIT!”

“Oh nooo…”

Hiding his face in Sans’ shirt, Napstablook shook in terror, unused to the family’s quarrels. Though the scientist’s anger was nostalgic and reminded him of one of his cousins, it had been awhile since he’d heard any yelling and he had heard from Papyrus that Gaster wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. The fact that this was probably the spirit’s fault, made things even worse as he had been hoping to make a good impression on the family.

So much for that.

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault…”

“naw, forget about it. you’re a guest, right? guests are supposed to get snacks. pap just made a mistake is all.”

“Heh heh heh…”

“hm? what’s so funny?”

“I like your accent.”

Papyrus looked up, grinning. “Me too, Snas from Boston, so he say stuff like 'fuhgeddaboudit' and ‘I’s hittin’ da’ bricks’ and ‘here’s lookin’ at you kid!”

“i don’t spell it like that! and what does that last one even mean?”

SHHHEERRAA!

Before the infant could answer, the elevator door opened and Gaster came rushing out. He didn’t stop to say anything to the children, he merely grabbed a vial of…something…and ran back in, keeping the door open with his wingdings.

Not that this was a good idea mind you, as he soon realized all too late that he wasn’t alone, just as the elevator closed and began its second descent.

“I do hope you’s not planning on ruining mah new firepace stink Daddy,” said the baby, still wearing his smile from before.

“Huh? What the hell? How’d you get in here?!”

“I cuwalled.”

“Well when we get to the living quarters, you can CRAWL your miniature ass to your room! Do you know how difficult it is to put out an oil fire?”

“How this ellyvator work without da’ tricity? You learn Snas’ witchcraft?”

“Of course not. I’ve a second generator hidden downstairs…just in case you break the first one. Unfortunately, it doesn’t reach-”

“THERE A CWOSER BABY MASSAGER?!”

“Wh-what? ‘Baby Massager?’ Are you laying on the generator?”

“Yep! Is fun. I likes it better than the washy machine cause’ it always on. It feel nice on mah bones and it make me go UHUHUHUHUH…then I falls off.”

Gaster shook his head.

“What? What I do?”

“Though vibrations are good for bones and newborns alike, the generator is NOT the best tool to use because of the oil within it. THIS generator especially. This one, connected to the lab, is custom designed to keep running indefinitely…not something a normal generator should ever do. I haven’t a choice however, if I want to keep Mt. Ebott from erupting. The oil I use comes from a reservoir that’s FAR too close to the surface of Hotland. It needs to be depleted less there be an explosion, but no matter how much is used, there seems to be no end to it.”

“That sound like a solution to da’ power problem we gots dough. Why you not use it?” asked Papyrus curiously. He didn’t know much about oil, he assumed it was discovered and researched sometime after he was born. He hadn’t heard anyone else mention it before either…unless it had something to do with cooking. The stuff he had poured out of generator upstairs was a liquid, but liquids were supposed to put OUT fires, weren’t they? “The yellow made the oven a firepace. It cook mah food too good and now no one gets noms. It do other bad stuffs?”

“Yes it does…and that wasn’t vegetable oil Papyrus, it simply had the same color. That was generator oil and a result of refinement on my part. Unrefined oil, or Crude Oil, is a thick, black, eldritch sludge that kills all it touches. It’s made from the deceased bodies of creatures no one in recorded history has ever seen alive and has lied in wait within the earth’s crust for literally millions of years. That being said, it is unfortunately naturally occurring, and everyone aware of its existence is infatuated with it BECAUSE it’s such a huge power source. That’s why I’ve kept it a secret from the public and use it in my experiments as little as possible. It may grant us advanced technology almost immediately, but the things created with it also kill, albeit slowly, meaning you don’t have to come into contact with oil itself in order to become a victim. It’s not evil, but it will take some time before we can figure out a way to use it safely…and keep others from using it poorly.”

Gaster shuddered upon imagining the horror and chaos that would no doubt ensue if ever the monsters were to find out about his discovery. One small mistake is all it would take for Mt Ebott to erupt and annihilate everyone. Even the fire elementals would be destroyed, either drowned in lava or pushed into the barrier and rendered to dust.

“Papyrus, you must promise me that you will keep this a secret. I know it isn’t in your nature to do such a thing, but your life is at stake, along with everyone else’s. That includes Sans, you hear me? I don’t want him knowing about this reservoir less he be tempted to experiment with-PAPYRUS GET OFF THE GENERATOR! WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU?!”

“UHUHUHUHUHUH!”

SHHHEERRAA!

“dad?”

CLACK!

The baby bones fell to the floor and crawled over to Sans.

“Hey Snas! SNAS!”

“hm?”

“DADDY FOUND OIL!”

“You son of a bitch.”

“cool. don’t play with it.”

“Why?”

“it’s like tar. it’ll make you smell bad and ruin your jammies.”

“Kay’.”

Papyrus used his wingdings to lay, once again, atop the generator.

“Sans, I must ask you to keep this oil reservoir a secret. Despite how desperate the power situation is, oil is not the answer for a civilization living within a volcano.”

“yeah i know about oil dad, i’m not dumb. i read more than space books ya’ know…”

“UHUHUHUHUHUHUH!”

“I’m well aware you know what oil is, I’m just SAYING-”

“NYEAH!”

CLACK!

Gaster knocked Papyrus off the generator.

“I’m just saying, the temptation is there and it targets both the money-poisoned AND the lazy. There may come a time during an experiment where you feel oil will solve a particular problem, I assure you, it will cause more than it solves. We aren’t the only intelligent beings in the Underground, if you use oil to create something, it’s quite possible an individual will discover the usage through reverse engineering and in turn, wonder where exactly the oil CAME from.”

“NYEHHHHAAAHH!! SUCK-ASS DADDY! SEE THAT BOO BOO? DAT’S THAT BABY ABUSE I’S TALKIN’ BOUT’!”

“I-I didn’t s-see anything…also, what’s ‘oil?”

“ehh, don’t worry about it,” said Sans, thinking quickly. “you don’t eat our food right?”

“Oh, cooking oil…I remember that. It’s made from seeds…”

“Yep! I’s gonna make you something delicious, but I’s out of the cooking oil and baby oil be for baby food, so-”

“Baby oil is for skin,” said Gaster, rubbing his temples.

“Nyeh?”

“Baby oil. It’s for skin. It’s called baby oil because it supposedly makes your skin feel soft like an infant’s.”

What exactly is Sans DOING while I’m busy working? He’s not telling him this stuff as a joke, is he...?

“Nuh-uh Daddy, daz baby lotion! You confused. BABY OIL be for cooking, like baby powder and-”

“Baby powder is also for skin. It is not a type of baking powder NOR is it a baking soda of any sort. You have no business in the kitchen Papyrus.”

“What Baby’s Breath then?”

“Not parsley.”

“Baby spice?”

“That’s a person.”

“Baby fat?”

“Well it’s lard, but-”

“why don’t you just stick with baby potatoes and baby carrots bro?”

“Why don’t you just stay out of the kitchen period? The oven is not a toy and I believe I’ve told you as such already.”

“NO!” cried the baby bones indignantly. “I’s a genius baby and I deserves the best of edgy-cations! LOOK! Look what dis baby has right here!” Papyrus pulled a page, seemingly torn from an old magazine, out of his onesie and presented it to his family. It showed a young human in overalls, a toddler by the looks of it, pretending to cook on a toy kitchen set, plastic spatula in hand.

“aww, duude!”

That human’s so cute! Is that really a baby one? I wanna pet it soo bad! It’d probably bite the shit out of me though…

“hey, napstablook! c’mere and look at this human!”

Shyly, Napstablook floated over to the group and peered over Sans’ shoulder.

“Heh…”

“cute right?”

��It’s got a spatula…it thinks it’s cooking…”

“They not cooking, they’s modeling. They saying ‘look what I has and you doesn’t! Don’t you wish you had a nice baby-kitchen like me?’ They’s mocking!”

“nobody’s mocking you pappy.”

“THEY’S LAUGHING AT ME!”

“i guarantee this baby doesn’t know you exist.”

“Your brother’s right. What’s happening here is you’ve created a personal fantasy out of boredom and forgotten it was a fantasy. Something you need to learn not to do while you’re daydreaming-”

“All I needs to do is show dis baby that I’S the superior bae! Imma be the best cook ever and I’ll use the big people oven to do it! I don’t need their stink rainbow kitchen!”

“…Or perhaps you merely want an excuse to use the oven even though I JUST said no.”

I asked him to stay out of the Parent magazines to begin with…

Papyrus had an annoying habit of using those particular publications to come up with ideas for “brother-time” with Sans. A time where he would (sometimes quite literally) pick Sans up out of bed and have him do an arts and crafts activity with him, usually involving copious amounts of glue and chemicals Gaster wasn’t sure how he even got ahold of.

Not that the messes were the most obnoxious thing about it, THOSE he could handle. He was used to his smallest making messes.

No, no It was the MIMICRY that the scientist couldn’t stand. Those magazines were to inform parents of why their babies behaved the way they did, but Papyrus would use them as guidelines on “how to be a better baby.”

“Give me the markers Papyrus!”

“NO! These are MY paint-sticks! I keeps the markers cause’ I saw them first.”

“That’s not how that works, where did you even get that ide-no. Do not. Do not pull out that magazine again, god-DAMNIT Papyrus!”

“It say right here, ‘baes between two and four beweave that da’ person who gets an object first is the rightful owner, even if someone else gets hold of it later’ This be what babies do and I’s a baby, so these markers are mine now.”

“Give me that FUCKING magazine.”

“Is my ucking maggy-zeen.”

“Papyrus…”

“I sawed it first. Is the law.”

Gaster reached for the hated literature, causing the infant to quickly shove it back into his onesie. He then clacked his teeth together twice, a signal that meant any further attempts to get closer would result in a bite.

Because that’s what babies did.

They bit people.

“SANS, WHERE ARE YOU?! COME GET YOUR BROTHER!

“You’re not using the oven Papyrus.”

“*Sigh* Fine, I gots a solution for dis.” Crawling out of the kitchen, Papyrus headed into the Nursery and towards his toybox. He didn’t have to rummage long, as he was a very organized baby, and soon he found what he was looking for; an only slightly grimy multicolored maraca. He didn’t know why such a gem had been thrown away, but it made the most wonderful sound…

“What is that?” asked Gaster upon seeing his two-year-old reenter the room. The baby held the maraca by the handle with both hands and shook it.

CHACA-CHACA!

“…”

“Is a big-person rattle! I finded it at the Dump and is the bestest treasure ever! I’s gonna save it for when I does something really bad, but I needs that oven, so we trade. I gets to use the oven and you can pay wit mah rattle!”

“I don’t-”

“Pay not keep.”

“…I don’t need a rattle Papyrus.”

CHACA-CHACA!

“Heh heh, your brother swings it like a sledgehammer…”

“well yeah, he’s small.”

CHACA-CHACA!

“Stop that.”

“Be mesmerized.”

“I’m not interested Papyrus.”

“HOW YOU NOT INTERESTED IN DIS BIG PERSON RATTLE?” yelled Papyrus, completely baffled. “YOUR BRAIN BROKE!”

“not everyone likes rattles pappy.”

“Your brain broke…or maybe you’s planning to steal mah treasure while I’s napping so you doesn’t have to give up da’ oven!”

“No.”

“I bet you are! You’s gonna wait till I’s asweep in my widdle cwib and then you gonna take my toy and blame it on Snas!”

“No.”

“I bets you’s lying about the oil too! Baby oil be a cooking ingredient for babies, but you don’t likes it when I’s better at things than you, so you try to get baby to use fake cwap like ‘sugar’ and ‘spice.” The infant glared at the wall, remembering the disappointment he felt when he tried to get free sugar from Undyne. He had heard girls were made from sugar and spice, but what he managed to collect (along with a few new cracks in his skull) were scales.

Not delicious.

“You know full well I’m not lying…or you would if you were paying attention-”

“YOU DOESN’T LET ME EAT AT DA’ DUMP AND YOU DOESN’T LET ME EAT WITH THE OVEN! HOW I SUPPOSED TO GET NUTRIENTS?”

“Just drink your formula, it has everything you need.”

“NO! I needs solids…like these fintstone yummies.” Papyrus pulled out a bottle labeled Flintstone Vitamins. “They looks like rocks, but they shaped like peoples!”

“hmm…” curiously, Sans popped one into his mouth and began to chew. “this one tastes like an orange.”

“Nyeh hee hee hee! Silly Snas, orange be a color, not a food!”

Silly Sans.

“Hmph, It’s a condensed version of Vitamin C most likely. Vitamin C is essential to the formation of collagen, so it should increase one’s bone density, but I doubt you’ll get much out of them.”

“it says vitamin d on it.”

“What? Vitamin D? Give me that bottle!”

“NYEH!”

Gaster snatched up the bottle in one quick motion and studied the label. If Sans hadn’t misread anything, then this was an extraordinary find indeed. Very few foods in nature contained Vitamin D and nature was what everyone depended on in the Underground. The people’s only source of it was found in fish and within the eggs of birds who had accidently flown into Mt. Ebott. Because they were so rare and important as a food source, the security around the areas in which they were bred was even tighter than at the castle. It was rationed carefully and NO ONE got special privileges that allowed more than their fair share due to overpopulation. That meant Gaster couldn’t add as much Vitamin D into Papyrus’s baby formula as he would like.

Eventually something’s going to go wrong and we’ll end up eating nothing but magic supplements.

Magic food wasn’t particularly healthy, not for Horror Fonts anyway. If there was any problem that breed of skeleton had, it was finding the right balance of magic AND basic nutrients. The magic kept their ectoplasm as strong as human muscle so their bones would stay together, but they needed the same vitamins as humans in order to keep those bones from cracking and splintering in the first place. Normal Fonts like he and Sans weren’t fighters, so it wasn’t as important for their bones to be sturdy, but Papyrus was a hunter, which meant tough fights awaited the baby bones when he got older.

He needs more than magic, and we’ve a limited supply as is. Perhaps though, with these, I can find a supplement for the vitamin itself and a way to reproduce it effectively.

“I trade the rock-peoples for da’ oven.”

“N-”

“And some more baby oil. I’s out of greedy-ants.”

“No. No more using the oven and no more ‘baby ingredients.’ You’re going to destroy this lab along with our kitchen!”

“I dis-gree.”

“bro-”

“You know what I needs? What every baby needs? Ah-structions. I needs a cookie-book. Fetch me a cookie-book, THEN I will succeeds in life.”

Gaster was about to say something, but quickly decided against it. An idea began to form in his mind as he reread the ingredients on the vitamin bottle.

Perhaps this request is a blessing in disguise...

“Papyrus, if I found you a cookbook would you follow the instructions to the letter?” “Course I would!” said the baby bones confidently. “What’s da’ point of ah-structions if I doesn’t follow them? I follow the ah-structions and make good food that Snas will eat.” Papyrus smiled at Napstablook. “You too Boo Boo! I make yummies for eryone!”

The scientist put the bottle in his coat. “Alright then, I will provide for you, a cookbook.”

“YAAAASS!”

“uhh dad, that sounds like a terrible idea,” said Sans, eyeing the ruined oven. “papyrus tends to-”

“Shu up Snas. I happily agwee to yo’ terms, beloved father figure!”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Baby will reward your rare act of rationality.”

“Please don’t.”

“I assist! I learned in one of the maggyzines that if you rewards good be-have-ior, peoples will repeat it. This time I find you REAL booger sugar, not baby powder.”

“papyrus-”

“Actually, that would be great. My experiment with the ‘cocaine’ you originally gave me was a complete disaster. Had it worked, I could have created something to reduce hunger in the Underground’s citizens months ago, but you ruined that for everyone. This time I’d like to succeed.”

“ohhh, so that’s what it was for.”

“Of course child, why else would I purchase it? Drugs are for science and science alone!”

“Um…” Napstablook looked behind him nervously.

Should I tell someone about this?

“Remember Papyrus, if you can’t follow a recipe, then you can’t cook that recipe, otherwise it will come out wrong.”

“Kay’.”

Gaster handed a cookbook to his youngest who took it with both hands excitedly and began to flip through it.

“Waz ‘pepper?”

“It’s a type of spice. We don’t have it.”

“What’s ‘vinny-ger?”

“It doesn’t matter, we don’t have that either.”

“i think that’s in urine pa-”

“Really Sans?”

“Ewww, I not using that! Waz ‘rice?”

“It’s a type of grain, we don’t have it in the Underground.”

The baby bones glared at the scientist who was now busy flipping through the pages of his clipboard; the situation beginning to dawn on him.

“We gots onion?”

“No, unfortunately.”

“We gots yeast?”

“*pfft!* i think that’s an infection pappy, are you sure you’re reading that right?”

“I want to see your books Sans.”

“We gots gween beans?”

“Nope, it’s too cold up where they’d need to fall into Mt. Ebott. They need a temperature of at least 50 degrees Fahrenheit to grow.”

“Does we has ANYTHING?”

“If you can’t find a recipe with ingredients we have, perhaps you should search for another cookbook?”

“NYEH!”

Papyrus threw the book.

“…Scu you stink Daddy.”

SHEERRAHH!

Reentering the elevator, Gaster headed up to the main floor. Hopefully he had some refined oil in reserve at the workshop…

“…”

“mm…this may not be a good time bro, but about that cocaine thing. earlier, you called it ‘booger sugar.”

“…”

“you don’t…actually think it’s sugar do you? you didn’t put any in our food?”

“…”

“…pap?”

“Oh noooo…”

Sorry for the wait, I’m renovating my house to move if you recall.

#Fonttale #Fonttale au #Undertale #Undertale au #Undertale fanfiction #Papyrus #Sans #napstablook #Gaster #Baby Papyrus #kid Sans #baby bones

45 notes · View notes

mrkanman · 5 years ago

Text

game theory time boys

What Are The Corrupted Souls?

The Rusty Lake universe tells the story of those affected by the titular location that transcends several generations, with THESE bad boys as malevolent, ghostly apparitions that give you just generally a hard time.

The White Door told us the story of Robert Hill, who is a confirmed corrupted soul, detailing the events of his involvement with the mysterious death of the woman. But moreso than Bob’s story, we actually started getting some more insight in what Corrupted Souls actually ARE which I’m gonna try to rationalize to the best of my ability--let’s go.

(SPOILERS FOR THE WHITE DOOR AHEAD)

In the timeline, the first instance of a corrupted soul that we see is Caroline Eilander.

Caroline Eilander had died prior to the events of Rusty Lake: Paradise, and was studying how to acquire the elixir of life in secret before her death. Her animal symbolism is the owl, which is shared by both her son Jakob and by Dale Vandermeer, and is typically representative of being the “ruler of the Lake.”

As a corrupted soul, her memories were split apart into ten black cubes that contained the elements for the elixir of life, which she bestowed upon Jakob to aide in his path to enlightenment. She was able to send down a plague as a corrupted soul, speak, and disappear and re-appear at will. When her bones are recovered during the ninth plague, they are ground into “magical powder”. So while her mind may have become broken, and the soul itself split off as its own entity, her body still had anomalous effects on it.

This is important when we examine what happens in the White Door.

The body dies, the soul is carried over. But the body isn’t gone--it’s replaced.

During the last plague in Rusty Lake: Paradise, Jakob is burned alive, but achieves enlightenment. *How* this happens at first seems vague, but by the end, and by what the game often instructs us to do, it becomes clear.

The Elixir of Life alone is not enough to reach enlightenment, one must also embrace a corrupted soul, or well, *literally* merge with a corrupted soul. Mr. Owl was created when the elements were gathered as the cubes and when Caroline Eilander merged with Jakob, creating an entirely new being with (suspected) unlimited immortality and wisdom.

Corrupted souls are not so much as “ghosts” are they like the limbo between death and rebirth, a concept that is repeatedly echoed throughout the series. They eat, they sleep, and speak at times, but are strongly disposed towards violence and can even seem like wild animals. But they are like cocoons for the cycle of rebirth.

Which is why I propose that: Mr. Boar, Mr. Deer, Ms. Pheasant, Mrs. Pigeon, and Mr. Rabbit *are* definitely reincarnations of the Eilander family, they’re very deliberately NOT the Eilanders when they are alive. It is only as Corrupted Souls do their past lives merge with each other, and their memories and perception of reality becoming confused and erratic.

Their containment in the hotel effectively served as a stasis chamber, keeping them in their corrupted state to prolong the cycle of rebirth until they’re needed. When they broke out, some of them stayed at the lake as corrupted souls stalking for potential victims, while some split off and left the lake, still corrupted, but in a different “state,” a different life.

Mr. Rabbit had tried to re-enter society as a corrupted soul, remembering the past life of David Eilander, but based off of what happens to Bob in a similar fashion as a corrupted soul, reality is distorted and Eilander is too unstable, resulting in the massacre of Dale Vandermeer’s family in order to retrieve The Pistol.

These pistols seem not to *kill* so much as, change your state of being. In the Blue Cube timeline of Dale’s birthday, Mr. Rabbit is shot and, as he is absorbed by the tree, beams of light shoot out of his body. Beams of light coming out of a corrupted soul is generally connotative with the soul being destroyed/purified. But as stated, he doesn’t die, he’s merely in a new state and returned to the lake.

Which brings me to the “Lady of the Lake” theorized to be Ms. Pheasant.

Now the REAL “Lady of the Lake” is Caroline Eilander, as seen in painting depictions, so it’s important to recognize that this is a *stage production.* The woman in blue is playing a role, much like how Pheasant did in the Hotel.

For this to be one of the lives of Elizabeth Eilander, I’d actually wager it to not be such a bad guess. It would be natural to assume for her daughter to inherit her legacy, even only as a pretender. She’s seen here in both a corrupted and non-corrupted state, which I don’t feel so much as to be a literal representation of her so much as how she perceives herself, or perceived through the lenses of the memories.

Because another notable thing about Elizabeth is that she was blind, and not once was the Lady in Blue ever shown to open her eyes. This corrupted soul is still a PERSON, and in likely a similar state to how Bob was after he shot himself in the White Door(no memory of her past life and just generally being confused) and was taken in by the theatre as a performer to be kept close to the lake and still get to use her memories.

These are the more concrete parallels and conclusions we can come to, with the relationship between Mr. Deer’s corrupted soul and Albert Vanderboom being one which I won’t go into depth: but there could be implication that Albert had also been trying to recreate the elixir, same as his father did, and maybe had a lost soul influencing him after 1894. (Which, mind you, two years later after the corrupted souls were released did he murder and torture his family outright.) I think the fact that the Corrupted Soul of Mr. Deer looking a lot like the silhouette of Albert was intentional in that way. He may have been a potential candidate for enlightenment before his brain was collected for William’s rebirth, maybe even becoming a corrupted soul himself.

So basically what I’m saying is: corrupted souls are not so much as “souls” but as the physical embodiment of the inbetween of life and death, in which the lake serves as a sort of “womb” for. They cannot distinguish between imagination and reality, are supernaturally aggressive and malicious, have scattered and unreliable memories of all their past lives at once, and DO subsist off of a carnivorous diet, primarily that which of animals (or people) that are still alive. They can be killed and resurrected, are intelligent but only sometimes sapient, and the perception of how they physically manifest can depend on the level of corruption at which they are at. A living person *can* be corrupted with enough exposure to black cubes being forcibly extracted, but it’s a typically longer and riskier process.

#rusty lake #cube escape #the white door spoilers #long post #freaky dudes that will ATTACKA YOU

108 notes · View notes

hadncchoice · 4 years ago

Note

▲ / older hogwarts verse?

FIVE TIMES MY MUSE THOUGHT ABOUT KISSING YOURS, AND ONE TIME THEY DID. @learnednothing

i. fingers curl into the fabric of his robes, and he’s being shoved back, back, back, until draco’s got murphy’s back pressed firm against a wall. right now, where they’re at, no one would ever find them. not for about half hour at least, and the bitter taste of blood settles on his tongue. he hates that taste. ‘’murphy, what the fuck.’’ forearm pressing against a rigid collar bone, a high that makes draco feel like there would be no consequence to what he wants to do. and thats plummet john murphy into the ground with his fist. ‘’you think you’re so funny,’’ it’s practically venom, slow and turpentine off his tongue. he’s smiling, sick and grueling, taunting - and it’s just one moment, weakness settling under the surface met with desire. grey eyes settle on the curve of john’s lips, and he can swear they part, as if he were thinking the same thing. maybe ... a taste. who’s gonna tell? no one would believe him anyway. not since his reputation had been drug through the mud. draco leans close enough he can practically drink him in, a shiver down his spine because if the way john chases he wants it just as bad. breath in his ear, it’s low, borderline possessive ----- ‘’you’re sick as fuck, murphy.’’ and he pushes off him, leaving him against the wall to himself.

ii. four bottles sit on the table, a makeshift wall between the two of them. murphy’s got his own set every which way, and there’s a familiar buzz that settles in his head. it’s the sort of thing that leaves his skin begging to be touch, wants to feel the dizzying way fingertips leave a trail of fire in their wake. he wants to feel like that again, like despite the fact he’s been icarus, a boy who flew too close to the son, left in the ruins and forgotten -- that he can be alive again. astoria is gone, her wedding ring still around his neck, a promise somewhere in the back of his mind. don’t be lonely, draco. anyone would be lucky to have been loved by you. john leans across the table, like he’s meeting draco half way, but its the graze of a calloused thumb over his knuckles that seems to make the world fall away. again, he’s drawn to the way lips curl, just slightly, into a smile. something private and reserved, and draco’s mind is hazy, just knows that they’ve been here before. the alcohol makes him laugh, that deep, rooted one that lies deep in his chest. ‘’fuck off, murphy. you’re a tease.’’

iii. leaving is easy. coming home is hard. he stands at the door with a hand on the handle, looking out at murphy who stares back at him with bags from the grocer. he doesn’t know why the urge hits him so hard, the mirroring in his mind of astoria coming back home. it’s habit. she’d walk through the door and he’d place a kiss to her cheek, take the bags from her hand and follow her into the kitchen. instead he’s rooted, and when murphy passes him a hand comes out to gently grab him by the wrist. it’s .. too long, probably, the feeling of warm skin under cool fingertips - until draco turns just enough, fingers slipping down and against his palm to grab the bags he carry. neither of them make much of the raw, undisputed moment of intimacy. maybe he hooks their pinkies, a silent promise that when he’s ready ...

iv. soft chattering from the kitchen, he can hear two sets of voices. scorpius is awake early, probably nervous about his tour of the shops in hogsmeade. draco doesn’t have to see him to know his eyes are bright, leaning on the table, innocence still wrapped and kept safe. in the doorway, draco leans, still trying to get used to the random nights that john stays because it’s far too late for him. john’s smiling, that sort of admiration draco hasn’t seen before. he’s good with kids -- he’s good with his kid, and scorpius enjoys whenever john comes to visit. ‘’scorp.. don’t be late, now.’’ and draco smiles, watching him bounce out with a bit more confidence in his beat. he laughs, joining murphy at the counter to begin to steep his tea. there’s leftover batter all over, the evidence of pancakes, bye, love you, dad! -- murphy. as the front door closes. from the window scorpius catches up to albus, and they run off together. he presses his lips to a teacup instead.

v. ‘’do you remember,’’ john says, staring up at the glass of the conservatory roof. the rain clouds the sky, but it paints, droplets rolling down either side. ‘’you fucking hated me,’’ but there’s some laugh, and draco snorts without any weight to it. they’re laying against the dirt, bodies in opposite directions but he turns his head away from the glass to peer over at john. in this sort of light he looks younger, not touched by the weight of the world and the casualties of his blood status. ‘’well, you made it easy enough to.’’ there’s laughter, again, because if they want to think of that route, they were both just assholes. now look at them, they can at least hold a conversation. draco leans up on his elbow, facing john and half leaning over him. met with a cheshire grin. murphy radiates a sort of confidence that draco has lost along with the death of his wife, and he rolls his eyes. ‘’you’re impossible.’’

go straight to my head like you used to. he’s not sure the exact moment that led up to this, fingers grounding themselves in the collar of john’s shirt. they’ve been here before, but there is no malice behind his words and there’s a different sort of hunger that boils over the surface, one that doesn’t end with blood in his mouth. why is it every time he’s ever tried to sneak a glance at murphy he was already looking at him? and who gave him the right to walk around his house looking like that? lips part, apprehension in the way his eyes look for a sign that john doesn’t want this. instead, he’s met with a look that he imagines only mirrors his own, something hungry and raw and wanting. it pools hot into his gut, something that only manages a small fuck from under his breath in response. denied so long, he holds that gaze. blue. deep. treacherous. just like something he wants to dive off in to. ‘’you...’’ he manages. the fingers that have been tangled in john’s shirt soon slips up to wrap around the back of his neck. grounding him there. grounding them there. ‘’get the fuck out of my head,’’ he’s helpess, voice cracking -- in a powder keg, giving off sparks - draco’s lips crash hungry and wanting against john’s in an act to make this all make sense. teeth nipping at his lips is the sort of explosion that makes draco feel live, all consumed and lost in the way john’s urgency matches his own. closer, closer, closer, they stumble, knocking off something from the table that draco could care less about. all he wants is john’s hands on him, all over him, wants to feel his pulse between his teeth when they find his neck. against a wall, the fire place - tripping back onto the couch where draco climbs right up into his lap, nails through john’s hair, his neck, finding their home against the curve and muscle of his shoulders. draco pulls away long enough to slide off his shirt, before diving back in for more.

#learnednothing #okay so #i had to do one pre-war because the image of it just wouldn't go away and i feel like ....#it probably happened #you know?#i'm also laughing because i listened to their playlist #and it ended with my writing the last bit to 'straight to my head'#.... iconic #verse. post war ; even hope can come from ashes.#cause i don’t know who i am when you’re running circles in my head. / draco & john ( learnednothing )

4 notes · View notes

cassercole · 5 years ago

Text

the one with the band

SHIP: PROCTOR-ROGERS FAMILY FEELS RATING: TEEN WORD COUNT: 2,943 PROMPT: Just a fun little prompt with Steve and Tristan -- his younger son! TAGGING: (permanent tag list): @whindsor @hrhatbat @fraysquake @sgtbuckyybarnes @elenacarinandherfandoms @chuck-hansens @luucypevensie @mystic-scripture @perfectlystiles @allaboutocs @anotherunreadblog @witchofinterest @hvproductions @heirsoflilith (WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?)

Steve was well aware of how his teenage son was sneaking out at night. And it wasn’t even late at night sneak outs that he had assumed he would have to deal with, no. Tristan would leave after dinner with no word as to where he was going or when he would back. And right through the front door -- not even through a window like the countless movies and tv shows had prepared Steve for.

The first couple of times, he let it slide, thinking his son had at least told his mother where he was going. But when he mentioned it to Q, she told him she had no idea where Tristan was going.

“Why does it matter? He’s back before curfew.” she shrugged while she finished loading the dishwasher with the plates from their earlier dinner.

“Yeah and when did you get back from your teenage antics when you were his age?” he asked, leaning one hand on the counter.

“Before curfew so my parents wouldn’t suspect anything, then I would sneak back out after --” she cut herself off, staring at the open dishwasher for a moment as her words caught up to her. He gave her a pointed look, waiting for the realization to hit, “Oh goddamnit.” she sighed heavily, closing the dishwasher rather dejectedly and then meeting Steve’s look, “We should’ve just stopped with Bonnie. We didn’t realize how lucky we were, not having a kid like me.” she sighed. Steve rolled his eyes at her dramatics, knowing she was just fishing for a compliment but not focused enough to give her one.

“I’m gonna see where he’s going.” he told her, pushing off the counter to go get his hoodie from the chair at the table.

“I want to tell you to not to, but if he’s anything like me, he’s probably in a liquor store putting alcohol into his purse.” she sighed again, annoyed that those genes out of everything were the ones that were passed on. Steve gave a dry laugh as he zipped up his hoodie,

“Or in the city, pit-pocketing some rich Wall Street guy.” he added, reminding her of another thing she used to do in her youth.

“Or plotting a break in to a highly secure government facility, then being found with a dead body and a literal smoking gun.” she continued, making Steve pause and look over at her, “Too soon?” she grimaced, knowing it wasn’t. He shook his head, moving over to give her a quick kiss goodbye.

“I’m sure it’s nothing more than a study group.” he tried to calm both of them down with something rational that their son could be doing. She scoffed at his comment, knowing that wasn’t true.

“If only.” she sighed again, giving him another kiss before he turned to leave.

As with most things in his life, modern technology had made finding Tristan much easier than it would’ve been years earlier. While he did feel a little bad about tracking his son, the fatherly instinct to make sure he was okay outweighed the guilt. Except it only returned when he figured out where exactly Tristan had been going.

The coffee shop in the small town was dimly lit, but plenty crowded as Steve opened the door. Curious to see what was going on, he looked over the sea of people who were all looking in the same direction. Up toward the front of the shop a band was taking their places, all of varying heights and styles, armed with different instruments. It was easy enough to spot Tristan standing to the left of center stage; with his lanky, tall frame and the wild dark curls he had earned from his mother. Surprisingly, he had some sort of electric bass slung over his shoulders and was pretty expertly picking at chords while the rest of the band warmed up.

“Hey, hi,” one of the other members of the band stepped forward to the mic and quieted the crowd, “Hey, we’re Blanket Statement and we’re gonna get started with a couple of covers first and then play you guys some new stuff that our bassist, Tristan, wrote.” the front woman explained the show. Surprise seemed to be the theme of that evening as Steve learned that Tristan was not only able to play the bass, but also in a band. One that had a seemingly large fanbase for the small town they lived in, and was talented enough that he even wrote some songs. He stayed where he was as the band started to play the first of the few covers they had prepared -- two songs he had heard before, a long time before when he lived in DC with Q, and was pleasantly surprised at how good they sounded. The Tame Impala cover the girl sang seemed to be the one people looked forward to the most, and the one Tristan seemed to be having the most fun playing. (Of course it was one of Q’s favorite songs so Steve wasn’t surprised by that).

Then came the songs Tristan had apparently written. Steve waited with bated breath, not knowing exactly how they would sound. It wasn’t like he or Q had any sort of creative writing bone in their bodies. Sure, sometimes Steve would try writing poetry now and then, but it wasn’t one he fostered like his art skills. But musical ones? Nothing. Nada. He remembered seeing a guitar in Q’s apartment in DC however long ago, but it had a thin layer of dust on it like she never ever picked it up. Though, as on theme with the night, he was pleasantly surprised and rather impressed at the songs his kid created. And couldn’t help but grin to himself as Tristan leaned close to his microphone to sing backup with the lead singer.

Of course Steve would be proud of his kids no matter what, but watching his son share his talents and musical gifts and actually look like he was having fun for once in his life ignited a bright flame of pride behind Steve’s sternum. Seeing Tristan pluck at the bass and groove to the beat he was creating was something he never could’ve imagined happening in a hundred years, but he suddenly couldn’t imagine Tristan doing anything else. It was perfect for him.

Not wanting to be caught, Steve ducked out before the show finished. He made his way home where Q was waiting up for him in their bed. He found her reading some sort of trashy romance novel that would do nothing but give her ideas (ones he would be happy to participate in), but when he walked into the room, she marked her page and pushed her reading glasses up to the top of her head,

“You find him?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Mhm.” Steve nodded, wanting to tease her a bit as he shrugged out of his hoodie and then pulled his shirt over his head, “Guess where.” her eyes widened a bit at his tone and she pushed the covers off of herself,

“Noooo, don’t tell me he was dropping balloons filled with colored powder off the roof of a building at pedestrians.” she groaned a bit, making him laugh.

“Nope.” he crawled onto the bed on all fours, “He wasn’t doing anything illegal.” he assured her, flopping down onto his back so his head hit the pillow, “He was at that little coffee shop on Wyndmoor.” he gestured vaguely to the direction of the coffee shop, moving on once Q nodded, “Playing bass. In his band.” he stressed, raising his eyebrows up and watching his wife’s face for her reaction. Her eyes widened at the word, then her mouth opened a bit at the imagery, then she pulled the corners of her mouth down -- nodding a bit as she thought it over,

“I can see it.” she commented and Steve laughed a bit, “Were they any good?”

“Really good.” he admitted, shifting on his pillow so he was a bit more comfortable and still able to make eye contact with his wife, “They covered that Tame Impala song you like,” she gasped a little at the mention, “and he even wrote a few songs himself. Hopeless romantic stuff, you know.” she awh’ed at the theme of their son’s songs, nudging her husband a bit,

“He gets that from you, you know.” he scoffed, rolling his eyes, but knowing she was right. She grinned at him, leaning over to give him a quick kiss.

“Think he’ll ever let us come see him play?” she asked, almost hopefully. The pair looked at each other, letting a moment pass before both of them burst into laughter at Q’s ridiculous question. Their son would never let them come watch; they’d ruin his ‘cool factor.’

Still, that didn’t stop Steve from at least sneaking into Tristan’s shows. He enacted the undercover protocol that kept him safe for the year or two that he was an enemy of the government but still wanted to see his wife: dressed in dark clothes, hood or hat always on and pulled over so enough of his face was covered, and he didn’t talk to anyone. He was able to just stand in the back of whatever coffeehouse or underground bar they were in and listen to his son play his songs.

Though his cover didn’t keep for long. One night, he had gotten there too early, which meant Tristan spotted him. He watched his son do a double take and then the easy smile slid off his face, replaced by the stoic -- almost annoyed, expression he usually received from his youngest. God, sometimes he reminded Steve so much of Dawson, it hurt his heart a bit. They would’ve gotten along so well.

“What are you doing here?” Tristan asked once they were close enough to talk and not cause a scene. His eyes flicked around like he was afraid someone was going to see them, “Is Mom here too?”

“No, no, it’s just me. We found out you were in a band and I just...I wanted to come see you play.” Tristan’s eyes returned to his, looking doubtful but still annoyed.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” he scuffed the toe of his Converse against the ground and Steve chuckled,

“No, actually I don’t.” he admitted and Tristan scoffed, glancing away from him, “It’s a nice way to spend a little quality time with you.” he added. They didn’t do much together as it was; Tristan didn’t like baseball or running like Bonnie did. Steve had a hard time finding something they could do as a father-son duo. If this was as close as he was going to get, he wasn’t going to let it pass him by.

“What if all our songs are about how much we hate our parents?” he eyed him skeptically, testing him.

“Then you would’ve told us about this much sooner.” Steve volleyed back with a small gesture to the stage. Tristan rolled his eyes, but fell quiet for a moment,

“No, Dad, this isn’t cool. This is my thing, okay? I-I don’t want you here,” he raised his shoulders up while Steve tried to ignore the flash of hurt at his words, “I mean if someone recognizes you…” he trailed off, only semi-voicing his insecurities, but it was enough to let Steve understand.

“I’m not trying to steal your spotlight.” he assured his son. He wasn’t even sure if anyone would really know who he was anymore. The world had moved on. There were bigger and better heroes around. He was just content to tend to his garden and go to his kid’s mini-concerts as a random middle-age (or older) dad. “I just wanted to see you play. Or hear you. Or whatever.” he got an eye roll from Tristan, who then shoved his hands into his pockets. He let his kid mull over what he said for a moment. The teen shook his head, letting his wild, dark curls flop around, then heaved a heavy sigh,

“Fine, whatever, but the moment someone asks to take a picture with you --” he pointed a finger at Steve, who raised his hands up in the air, “that’s it, Dad. Seriously. Just stand there. Don’t move. Don’t talk. Just watch.”

“Deal.” Steve agreed to the terms, hoping this coffee shop was dim enough where that wouldn’t be a problem. Tristan eyed him for a moment longer before walking away to rejoin his band.

As much as it killed Steve not to cheer along with the crowd, he tried as hard as he could to respect the rules Tristan put into place. If only because he didn’t want to miss one of the shows. Just like he hadn’t missed one of Bonnie’s track meets or the weird improv shows she did with her community group.

Though he ended up breaking one of the rules by accident after one of the shows Tristan played. While waiting for Tristan to finish up his mingling with people who stayed after the show (Steve was now driving him to the sets), he saw his son talking with a rather pretty girl. His immediate reaction was to take a picture to show his wife later, but as much as technology had improved his life -- it also made it a lot worse. The constant updates had his settings all out of whack which meant when he tried to take a sneaky picture, the flash immediately went off. And he was caught.

Having enough time spent in the field, Steve knew how to quickly exit a bad situation. He exited the coffee shop and headed toward his car, hoping that Tristan hadn’t realized what he had done. But a sharp, loud, “What the fuck, Dad?!” coming from behind him in his son’s angry tone proved him wrong.

Steve froze, then winced, knowing he had messed up and now had to deal with an angry teenager. Really, he’d rather deal with Bruce’s other persona. Much easier to talk to than a hormonal, angry teenager who already disliked him as a base feeling.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was just trying to commemorate a moment.” he held his hands up in defense, but Tristan ignored the look of innocence.

“Fucking bullshit, Dad.” he snapped out, “You just did the creepiest thing ever. This is why I didn’t want you to come to these!” he gestured back to the coffee shop and again, Steve felt his heart sink a bit at not being wanted by his son. All he wanted to do was support him.

“Plenty of people were taking pictures, Twist.” he used the nickname he used to use when Tristan was a kid, “I was the only one who had the flash on.” he admitted his mistake, making Tristan groan. He fell back on one foot, twisting his torso away from Steve a bit as he looked up to the night sky,

“God! Dad! This is unreal! You can’t just be, like, a normal dad?!” he gestured frustratedly at his father. Steve made a face, tilting his head to the side a bit,

“I feel like this was a very normal dad thing to do.” he pointed out and Tristan groaned again, shoving his hands through his curls,

“This is so fucking embarrassing.” he muttered under his breath. He turned away from him, heading back to the coffee shop.

“At least let me take you home.” Steve offered, but Tristan didn’t even pause,

“I’ll get a ride!” he called out from over his shoulder. Steve opened his mouth to try and convince Tristan to change his mind, but Tristan spun around on one foot, spreading his arms out wide as he continued, “I think we’ve had enough quality time tonight, Dad.” he shoved the knife a little deeper into Steve’s chest.

After getting home and being made fun of by his wife for not knowing how technology worked, Steve waited up until Tristan got home just to apologize to him again.

“Dad, it’s fine, okay? Just let it go.” Tristan disregarded his apology, heading for the stairs as Steve followed,

“So when’s your next show?” he asked, trying to be casual but Tristan shrugged, not giving him an answer, “Can I come?” he asked with a slight eyebrow raise.

“Fuck no.” Tristan scoffed out, “Not after tonight.”

“Twist, come on.” Steve put his hand on the railing and the other went to rest on his hip, “I just want to see you play.”

“Why?” he asked, turning on the stairs to look down at his dad, “Why is this so important to you?” he raised his shoulders up, looking rather angry and annoyed by his dad taking an interest in his activities.

“Because I like...seeing you excel at stuff.” Steve answered, apparently giving a wrong answer by the way Tristan glared at him,

“Oh, so I’ve just failed at everything else then?”

“No, Trist--no, Jesus. I mean, it’s great to see you doing something that you’re good at and that you love.” His son eyed him warily for a moment, fiddling with the edges of his flannel as he turned over what Steve said, then nodded slowly.

“Alright, yeah, okay.” he turned away from his dad, heading back up the stairs to his room.

“So can I come to another show?” he tried again, more hopeful this time. “Won’t even look in your direction, promise.” he added on to entice him.

“Ugh, fine, whatever.” Tristan agreed, sounding annoyed, but he agreed. And Steve was going to go to every show he could.

#ocappreciation #allaboutocs #**#**writings #queve fam feels #tristan rogers #i kno the gif sucks ok #but i love them #so

17 notes · View notes

whimsically-ominously-auspice · 5 years ago

Text

This is the last human mimic alien we have to fight.

He's realized he's lost because you people aren't running wild having orgies and you're listening to the DNA4U

And further more You all don't want to share.

When i posted the video of Miss Shawntae telling snoop it was time to snoop her body up... And then Snoop went all seductive to the camera...

122895x1000= men that said "Nigga ima beat your ass you know my wo/man gonna see that. You ain't need to be showing yourself!".

76584284×1000= said "ew i hope i don't have my any asking me to do anything tonight after what i just seen. My imagination gonna kill myself! And i know that's just wrong wrong wrong!"

Now multiply the digits together before the multiplication sign and that is approximately minus 1000 That supported Snoops message.

I did all 3. I had to advert my eyes even. Although he couldn't even see me.

Now Snoop and i know each other over 8000zillion years. So i can easily put myself in his shoes.

So he would walk in and I be having sex and he just sit down and start having a conversation. Like we having BBQ ribs and not sexual intercourse.

His wife tho .... He would make sure "the white boy was covered" and tease her don't look. She look at the carpet... Eventually it kept going on so i took a picture off the wall and put it on the floor where she always sat.

She said "why you do that?"

"I realize the kids keep jumping on the bed and knock it off. Snoop stare at you If you move your face. And unless you're on LSD it's no fun staring at the carpet. So i gave it to you where it seems you always be looking although i had to take a pretty healthy guess. I just felt you was having the most miserable time of all and as my friend it was my honor to trip out and give you a gift"

She used the reflection to put on her makeup and slept in bed later.,Snoop quit being so paranoid. Cause she would face the wall and lean against him.

Point is... Snoop be all like he was watching sports to make sure we got the score.

I mean. Man. Earth. We tried everything we could to stop these aliens from wanting to habe orgies. Even,took,away,their dicks!!!

We did everything. Planet.

Y'all locked up with your soulmates made little difference on this kick of his.

I been doing it. I been riding like I been going around the world 500 times. I love sex.

82% of y'all all around the Earth been having sex.

4% have watched porno

18% have had 1 wild orgies of those 18% -- 32% had s second one. Of those 0.00004981% have gone onto a third.

Of those having 2 or more orgies 92% were aliens

Leaving 8% Of 18% of the entire world interested enough in watching or having sex with other people than their soulmate.

Who saved the world?

100% of humans.

You all get $5 and that includes children.

He's done all he could and he's failed. 100%

I think Edgar might be human... Looking at his alien structure in the film.

But he treated me like an alien. Im still a POW.

Alex had to sell a bed because he acted non human. And Alex worked hard on it to make it perfect for me.

I would been fine gloating from it. Fighting and being sassy to aliens.

But then someone claiming to care about me,most of all abandoned his son and law and daughter. And i hear stories of him being evil.

Some time ago they asked me "do you want a dad or mom?"

"No"

"We need to know because the future of the,Earth,depends on it. And the future of you. Now do you want a dad or,not?!"

"The question is will i remain needing a dad or father figure in the future. No i am fine. I have male role models to keep the species alive. Males. (Species not gender) I also have my mom in Mrs Harriet Tubmam. And if that fails then at that time i should be able to get the rest of me. But she's fine. I'm fine. I just got to remain stable. But adding a father or another mother i don't know just yet can remain disasterous."

Luckily Alex didn't burn the bed down. But it was,bugged and bombed by "Edgar", to me 'its just another one of those things we have to clean"

Do i care? Nothing. He doesn't affect me. I worry about Alex having to,deal with it. But,hes being,and,staying clean,and,then when he's,scared he stays by other cold turkey or non users. He was,around Crystal meth yesterday and he tasted 1/4 of a gram. Like when you would put your finger in the sugar jar. Then lick it. The other guy smoked 4.9876 ounces and blew it all in their faces including the babies. Thus Alex got 7.698 grams ingested via second hand smoke.

I didn't notice but we got in a fight with each other. Just like we always do.

Alex and i power punched him and his eye socket -- ocular bone -- was crushed like glass in 17 cracks.

His jaw I punched more alone but with Alex and total both sides he lost 9 teeth. And had to be wired shut after 72 stiches because i split his upper palate in two. I cracked his lower palate in 8072 places. So if you found a skull it would rest on powder of his lower jaw and then you'll find the upper. After decaying..

Then Alex on the top of his head had 49 stitches to repair his soft tissue from his frontal lobe when he crashed to the floor after the super punch to eye hit the coffee table.

He did get one "good" punch in -- his skull hit Alex right in the right eye.

It fucking hurt but it hurts in a good way. Its weird it's like "reward!" Pain. No suffering. Fucking got him good tho. We feel it every now and again. May be it is when he realises we will kill him for good. He keeps remembering that sudden silence of death.

He's currently on life support. "Medically induced coma" is our non panic code words. But it's basically life support but usually not full life support. It isn't 100% life support medical machines. Its 75% or less.

So technically it's life support and coma mixed. So we csll it medically induced coma. This way you understand if your family is the one on the machines -- it's only 25% body life.... However there's a 75% of recovery via healing machines.

The CIA. Willl decide when to pull the plug. Usually medically induced coma is someone evil or someone bad with the ability to be good. Usually aliens go straight to coma status.

If an alien will die it's 1st life support then coma. Your friend or family will die.

They said medically induced coma. But at this time. His brain is incapable of human thought so I am putting him on life support.

This makes it the family's wishes.

Most of the time "next of kin" is spouse then parents/siblings. Then children last.

Which is wrong. It should be the future. Thus Erica and Steven will ask the babies. And together they will decide.

Last night as a CIA operative while he was in a medically induced coma i was told by at least 1 child and 2 adults to pull. I reviewed. While they spoke from shock and relief their true feelings.

Knowing that the children escaped life with Eric once. I don't feel the right to allow Eric to live. I know the consequences of his actions caused two children to leave my planet in fear and terror and disgust because of Eric.

Erica was my 3rd pregnancy to abort and hold souls.

I hate Eric. That's why i punched him in the fucking face. I was happily surprised that Alex did it. Too in person.

Since the infants are involved and already resurrected. And had a nightmare of a time in less than 36 hours on Eaerth.

I allow them to be there to pull the plug, they can actually yank and pull the plug themselves.

So that is what i want and what the children need.

It will show Eric he doesn't belong here and has no,reason to,be at 25%

It makes life easier for all of us.

Eric was an outdoor kid. Like John and Jason and Greg. Etc. He never went into my school.

They didn't have to. And actually weren't ever enrolled. They liked the man work to learn to survive on their own.

While i taught the children the indoor stuff. The expansion of the mind.

I taught them the economy so the men working to increase their own economical structure could be helped to be taken in under their wings.

I left no one behind.

But he refused confirming.

1. Alcoholic system to drop other drugs. -- he uses crystal meth. Without cut backs. Without moderation

$5 if yoh remember and realized i said make smoothies without alcohol to share with your kids.

2. He blew it in their faces on purpose them injesting over 2.4 grams each.

Erica and Alex would cover their faces with thick blankets when the smoke came towards them.

It was quite a hostage situation. Knowing he could take the newborns and kill them in front of them.

Its happened to me 985 Point 2 times. I'm 35 years old.

875.8 times it's been with a knife.

Take the numbers and multiply by 10 million. For the last some kinda lots of 8 thousand zillion years.

It even happened to Alex. He he has the scars. From,this and last life., it,has happened.

So for me they're terrifying. Unless I'm there... I have saved 900 billion times 30 thousand. I those situations.

But i always remember the ones i lost.

So don't worry when I'm suicidal. Just leave me alone. Don't talk to me. I need silence.

So dead babies y'all.

Dead aliens.

It will be done

I seen that actually quite beautiful meme of April 2020 the clouds and UFO.

I don't get mad or violent because I'm stepped back to watch y'all cope.

But I say to y'all "fuck no that's not happening" I say to that UFO "Fucking try it you will all die" i just scroll on because I get so angry. I get so mad. Its a beautiful photo but i refused to repost it because it isn't something i support.

Most reposts of memes are supported unless i type something on the bottom. Saying it's not.

So my dad. I didn't care until i saw The Rock, "her dad is alive" all happy and in support.

Then i was bothered. Then I cared. Then i felt something about it. But until then i felt nothing.

I didn't feel shame..i felt that were all made of glass.

Because I was happy to have a dad.. One that seemed good. I was actually happy.

And it was kept personal to me... But then I saw the Rock felt it. Then I began to feel..

Broken. But Alex kept it together and started getting rid of the bed. Taking it down. Removing bombs. And fixing all that ass hole did "my dad"

I know the Rock.. He can handle. His dad just died. And we did a lot for him.

So for him to be elated. I get through the day thinking no one really cares what i feel and they don't pay kuch attention..but the Rock in that moment in time.

He was happy. And i knew then i had to Destroy a light of happiness inside him and he looked away from the camera to say "we are all happy. The while world"

DNA4U list one person as my father. He's my uncle..

Edgar claimed it was his 18th cousin.

You know, it doesn't matter.

Donate. Mr Lee Tubman. And more. They're my dads. They kept me safe. Taught me to be wiser and more caring about myself. Donte was 2 years younger than me. But he was a father figure. Guy was the fun dad. Fred Flintstone i called one friend's dad was the fishing buddy. We were not close but he was a silent father figure.

I stole all my friends dads. Borrowed them. Their moms, too.

I have 1800 moms that I call mom.

I know who my moms and dads are.

Just like Erica called me mom the other day and Brittany will too. And Alex my cousin's son. Candy. Brandy. Declan.

So i know i have a family that understands it doesn't matter how I got here. It matters who treated me well. Matthew McCognohey. Kid rocks. They're like my dad's and my kids. Uncles and Cousins.

Blood doesn't matter. Shit half the time Snoop is my God or dad or bother or husband or little kid i have to save. He's my friend.

Snoop is too much of everything. He is my co-nigger. My partner in many crimes against humanity (practical jokes)

I call him my Friend. But my family wouldn't be complete without him and Shawntae.

Harriet. I call her momma all the time. It feels natural. Sometimes i call her old lady.

So while i was joyful for a moment thinking I found someone that actually cared to find out he didn't.

I myself wasn't affected until i knew others would be

Its just a lesson in life. Don't trust people.

I told Alex abandon ship, fuck that place. Ain't no one can go in there!!

He understood and agreed then took the role "no,one is driving me and her from our home." He decided to defend the homestead. That is the role a man takes

Im all you gotta sweep the whole place,then,rest and do,it again,2 more times at least.,Then,again when,I,get there. If i get there.

But i feel good to know my lover isn't gonna let anyone drive him down. Just turn around. Learn a lesson. Clean the mess.

Why do i need a father when i have a man?

Clearly i am an independent woman and always have been.

But i need a family. Otherwise I have no point to live.

And that is why i am suicidal.

I don't see s point to live. Not when Alex and i fight and i don't want him to talk to me cause some alien got in our way once again.

He was double attacked by aliens.

So if their desire is for me to die... Then they should keep,doing it.

If,not they need to stay out of my way so i can,get my family,together again.,in,real life.

My family that I know is my family. Not aliens. Not fans. Not someone that needs to apologize to me or needs an explanation.

People that can think on their own and not be reminded they need to have love in their spirit.

Now Snoop sometimes plays the role of my brother. And we are competitive. It just makes us proud of each other and ourselves for surviving a challenge. I do it to him too but I play old hard skill. He plays old new remember when. I do ancient V-Ball and he does pop and country experience.

So his spirit is of an ego -- which salutes the fact we will grow.

Often we do the spirit of mischievous. To remind danger still exists but we will have fun and love in the end.

Friend. Someone that is gonna fry you but the end od what matters.

Sometimes we relax and chill. But them old cogwheels of the mind never quit rolling. Advance. Advance. Lets keep it going don't stop.

He's like me. Suicidal.

But he used to release his inner poison. Now he makes it not exist by doing something else ....

But me? Nothing helps but the mimic of death itself. Silence.

People are what causes it. Alien people.

So you humans. Keep on being you.

Its you that is gonna save the world

I gave you guidelines to help us out this mess.

Because I can't even see y'all because the aliens surrounding me trying to get my last breath.

Show me you. Save us. You're doing good

I got $5 on y'all that we make it.

3 notes · View notes

bittysvalentines · 6 years ago

Text

Love in Aisle 12

From: @wrathofthestag

To: @pieandpucks

Summary: Jack meets a cute stranger with a baby at the grocery store. He's instantly smitten, but will a connection be made?

Message: Happy Valentine’s Day to @pieandpucks who requested a Single Dad!Bitty Zimbits meet cute based on this post. I hope you like it. - WrathoftheStag

Bone broth, a dozen eggs, protein powder, the cassava flour tortilla chips Tater got him hooked on, some glucosamine, and maybe he’d hit the mochi freezer, too. Chocolate or green tea mochi?

Jack was trying to stick to his list and get in and out of Whole Foods as quickly as possible. He pushed his cart as his eyes wandered up and down the vitamin aisle when he felt his cart roll over a small lump. Jack looked down and on the floor was one teeny, tiny shoe.

He picked it up.

“Toms?” he read out loud as he looked at the label. Jack examined the glittery pastel green shoe. It fit in the palm of his hand and was now a little beaten up thanks to him.

He looked around and wondered if maybe the shoe’s owner was nearby but his cart was the only one in the aisle. Part of him thought he should just plop the shoe on the shelf and keep going, but it really was a cute shoe. He put it in the shopping cart cup holder and proceeded to shop and keep an eye out, just in case.

Jack turned to the next aisle and saw a cute, chubby-cheeked baby in the cart chewing on the ear of a stuffed rabbit. He glanced at her feet and bingo! Cinderella had been found.

“Well, Miss Clara, should I get mint sage or lavender honeysuckle?” A soft voice with a southern accent asked as he turned to face the baby. The man held two candles in his hand.

Jack stopped and stared at him and was instantly smitten. He had a sweet face, enormous dark eyes that Jack could just dive into, and a tight little body that showed signs of athleticism.

“Oh,” the man said as he looked back at Jack. The two smiled softly at one another.

Jack cleared his throat and said, “I found this?”

He awkwardly held up the shoe, and the man frowned then turned back to the look at the baby.

“Again?”

He sighed as the baby kicked her feet. He put the candles down, walked up to Jack and took the shoe.

“Thank you.”

The man examined it and scrunched up his nose.

“Looks like someone ran it over. Good lord,” he said as he dusted it off.

“I, uh, found it by the supplements,” Jack replied.

“I swear, if these weren’t so cute, I’d just chuck them. She’s misplaced one twice already.”

He bent down and gently placed the shoe back on as he cooed, “Daddy is gonna use double-sided tape, isn’t he?”

The baby laughed and Jack couldn’t help but laugh as well. The man smiled at Jack, then frowned.

“Well, thanks,” he said dryly.

The baby laughed again and then raised her arms toward Jack. He waved at her and she laughed harder.

“Anything else?”

“What?”

“Lord, I’m just trying to shop with my daughter in peace.”

Jack then realized he didn’t need to still be standing there; his work there had ended. He delivered the shoe and could now move on, but there he still stood.

The man pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “Well, you’re just there gawking. I don’t have reward money on me or a book or anything if that’s what you want.”

“What? I don’t-- No. I just…” Jack held up his hands. “Sorry. Well, you’re welcome. And personally, I’d go with the lavender. Bye.”

Jack took his cart, did a 180 and felt his face burn as he kept going.

The entire ride home Jack felt stupid. He didn’t mean to come off as creepy or anything. Had he been creepy? He hated not being sure of himself and what he might have done or not done.

It would gnaw on him for the rest of the night. He’d just been so unprepared for how cute he found the guy, he might have stared a little too much—but he didn’t think he did. Still, the guy didn’t have to be so rude. The little girl was super cute though and at least she liked Jack.

+++

Oats, asparagus, chicken breasts, toothpaste. Jack read his list and knew he was forgetting something. He had almost considered going to a different Whole Foods so he wouldn’t run into that guy again, but his therapist said maybe he was reading into the situation too much. Jack couldn’t control other people’s rude behavior—only his reaction to it. So he kept that in mind and kept his usual store and routine. He reread his list when bam! The cart-on-cart smash pulled Jack out of his headspace.

“I am so sorry!” A voice called out.

Jack was ready to throw in a very Canadian, “No, I’m sorry,” when he realized who it was.

“My god,” the man said, clearly mortified. “It’s you.”

Clara was with him again.

“It was an accident, really,” Jack said as he quickly began to reverse.

The man sighed and followed Jack.

“I was hoping I’d run into you again—and it turns out, I did, literally.”

“Oh?”

“I just wanted to apologize for my behavior the other day. I was having a really bad day, trying not to take it out on anyone, and instead, I took it out on you. I have no excuse. My mama would tan my hide--”

The man was interrupted by Clara who babbled loudly and waved her arms in Jack’s direction, wanting to be carried.

“See? Clara here has better manners than me as she’s being way friendlier.”

The two laughed and Jack finally spoke.

“It’s fine. I know what it’s like to want to be left alone, believe me.”

“I’m Eric,” the man said as he extended his hand.

“Jack.”

“And this,” Eric smiled, “is Clara. And she thanks you for returning her shoe last week, by the way.”

“It was me,” Jack blurted out.

“What was you?”

“It was me who ran over her shoe with my cart.”

Eric laughed. “That’s okay. I mean, at least you returned it to its rightful owner.”

“I’m sure your wife was glad you came back with both shoes, huh?”

The man look puzzled and then laughed.

“My wife? Bless your heart! No, no wife.”

Jack realized how heteronormative he was being. Shitty would have had a field day with him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

Eric quickly added, “No husband either for that matter. Just me and Clara. Right, sugar?”

Jack and Eric grinned at each other, then Eric peered into Jack’s shopping cart.

“Lots of fruits and veggies, I see. Impressive.”

“I am a growing boy,” Jack said and playfully flexed his arms, surprised at his own chutzpah.

“Are you always this flirty?” Eric asked as he placed his hands on his hips. “And in front of my child, too?”

Jack blushed and began to stammer.

“I’m just teasing you, Jack. Clearly,” Eric said as he slowly raked his eyes down Jack’s body, “you eat very healthy.”

Jack let out a loud laugh. “Pot meet kettle?”

It was then Eric’s turn to blush as he covered his face and laughed.

“I’m sorry. It’s just been a long time since I’ve even had… banter?”

Jack smiled and then he just went for it. Why not? He still found Eric incredibly attractive and it seemed like the feelings were mutual.

“Would you like to have some coffee with me? We can go to a kid-friendly cafe. We can banter some more. I’m a great banterer.”

Eric’s smile disappeared.

“Oh… um, I would but I really don’t date right now. Or at all. I--”

“That’s okay,” Jack said. “No need to give me any explanations. Really.”

Jack tried to mask his disappointment, as Eric studied his face and smiled softly.

“You really are very sweet, aren’t you?” Eric said. “Thank you.”

He then got up on his toes and planted a soft kiss on Jack’s cheek.

“Goodbye, Jack.”

Jack watched as Eric rolled his cart down and over to the next aisle, and it appeared that was the end of that.

Jack thought maybe he’d change his Whole Foods after all.

+++

“I’m surprised you’ve never heard of him,” Alicia said.

“I’m surprised you’d come all the way here just to see him,” Jack chirped.

“Clearly, I came to see you first and Bitty Bittle, second.”

“Really? His name is Bitty Bittle?” Jack asked as he poured Alicia a glass of wine.

“Nickname he’s had since college. He’s my food and lifestyle guru—without any of that GOOP nonsense—and when I heard he was actually going to be signing his new book here I just had to come. And now I get to visit my beautiful son.”

Jack laughed. “Do you mean me or him?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said with a wink as Jack laughed.

Alicia had flown in that morning from Montreal to spend the weekend with Jack. Jack enjoyed the quiet summer weeks of the off-season. It gave him time to savor moments like these. He grilled some fish on the balcony as he caught up with maman.

“And papa didn’t want to come out with you?”

“He’s off doing god-knows-what in Toronto with Wayne and Mario. Some sort of goofy reunion.”

“Haha. I bet he misses you.”

“Probably,” Alicia said with a smirk. “So Bitty films his show here, he’s lived here since college, and you have no idea who he is?”

Jack shrugged again.

“Busy,” he offered.

“Well, guess you’ll meet him at the book signing tomorrow. He’s so fascinating. He’s been baking since he was a little boy, had a popular vlog in college, started his own bakery, it took off like crazy, he wrote a cookbook, was offered a show. And he’s so sweet!”

“You’re such a cook bunny,” Jack chuckled.

“Hush! And then, he was dating that actor from that Law & Order spin-off and they were going to get married and have a baby but the guy broke it off.” Alicia shook a fist. “Said he didn’t want to be a father or some nonsense. Can you believe it? I wanted to beat that guy senseless. I bet he was secretly dating some twink he met on Grindr.”

“Twink? Really, maman?” Jack laughed. “And how do you know about Grindr?”

“Poor Bitty got his heart broken and hasn’t dated since,” Alicia said sadly.

“More wine?”

Alicia grinned. “Mmm, yes! You have me so spoiled.”

Jack smiled at his mother who continued to sing Bitty Bittle’s praises.

The next morning, Jack and Alicia drove to Barnes and Noble, and Alicia bounced happily as they waited in line. A few people approached her for an autograph and a couple selfies, some said hello to Jack, but like Alicia, the crowd was there for Bitty.

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring other stuff for him to sign,” Jack said.

“I want him to sign the new book. I heard there’s a whole section on piecaken.”

“Piecaken? What’s piecaken? Do I want to know?”

The line moved forward and Jack and Alicia chatted idly until Jack heard the voice. His voice.

“And who do I make this out to, honey?”

“Elizabeth, please.”

“Sure thing, Elizabeth.”

Jack peered over everyone’s head in front of him and just about died when he saw it was Eric—his Eric—sitting at a table at the end of the line signing his book. He was Bitty Bittle.

“Câlisse,” Jack muttered.

“What is it?”

“I--I know him.” He pulled down his snapback and felt his shoulders begin to rise with tension.

“You know him? How?” Alicia asked.

Jack’s face flushed and then Alicia squeaked.

“Jacky!” she staged whispered with glee. “No!”

“His name is Eric. I ran into him at Whole Foods,” Jack whispered back. “Twice.”

Alicia gripped Jack’s arm.

“Did you two sleep together‽”

“Maman!”

“Well?”

“Yes, we totally threw down right there in aisle 12 by the olive bar.”

“I wish!” Alicia shot back.

“Merde!” Jack said. “He’s going to think I’m following him or something. I asked him out and he said no. He said he doesn’t date or whatever.”

“I told you that! It’s that moronic Chad’s fault! I should have him kicked out of SAG.”

The line kept moving forward and the look on Alicia’s face was priceless.

“Well, we’re almost up there, so you better think of what you’re going to say.”

“Hi, welcome. And who do I make this out--” Eric said then stopped when he realized it was Jack, and then completely froze when he saw Alicia.

“Bitty, I’m Alicia--”

“Oh my god, you’re Alicia Zimmermann,” Eric said as he held his hand to his mouth. “It’s really you.”

“And this is my son, Jack, who had no idea who you were so he’s not stalking you. He just came to keep me company.”

Jack covered his face and groaned as Eric laughed. He looked at Jack and smiled.

“Euh, hi.”

“Hi.”

Alicia beamed and then cleared her throat.

“Oh, uh, sorry. Who do I make this out to?” Eric asked Alicia.

“‘To my new best friend, Alicia,’” she replied.

“Nice,” Eric said as he smiled. He then looked at Jack, “Are you buying a book, too?”

“Sure,” Jack said, and then, hell, why not? “And maybe some coffee... for you?”

Eric stared at Jack with an eyebrow raised. He took a book from the stack, wrote something in it and gave the book to Jack.

“Thank you so much for stopping by. Alicia, I love you and I hope you enjoy the book.”

Alicia smiled and waved as Jack took the book and pulled her away.

Once they were hidden from view, he opened it.

401-555-1595 xo

“Get out!” Alicia yelled.

They both walked up the registers with smiles on their faces.

+++

Jack pulled up to Eric’s house right at 5:00 p.m. He closed his eyes took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he counted from one to ten. The two had been texting each other for the last few weeks. With Jack’s preseason schedule and Bitty finishing up a small book tour, they finally found time to get together.

He rang the doorbell and saw movement inside Eric’s windows. Eric poked his head out from behind the curtain, and the two caught each other’s glance as Jack waved.

“Well, aren’t you Mister Punctual?” Eric said with a grin when he opened the door.

“Canadian,” Jack said as an explanation. “Hi, Eric. It’s good to see you again.”

“Come in, please. My sitter should be here in a little bit, and then we can get going.”

Jack entered the house and loved how homey and lived-in it felt.

“Excuse the mess,” Eric said as he moved some wooden blocks into a basket.

Clara, who sat on the floor, crawled toward Jack.

“Hello, hi,” Jack said softly as sat down cross-legged near her. Clara climbed right into his lap and he brushed her hair out of her face.

“Just make yourself right at home, I guess!” Bitty laughed as he watched Clara lean back and begin to suck her thumb.

“She likes me,” Jack beamed.

“She’s a good judge of character,” Bitty replied. He smiled at Jack and said, “I’m glad you finally texted when you did.”

“I never thought I’d get the chance to,” Jack said simply. “I’m glad you gave me the opportunity.”

“Jack,” Eric began, then paused. He gripped a wooden block then continued, “Before we go, I feel like I should be honest with you…”

“Eric--”

“You can call me Bitty.”

“Bitty, there’s no pressure here, okay? I just want to get to know you. That’s all. It’s just an early dinner.”

Bitty looked relieved.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

+++

The two went to one of Jack’s favorite places right near the water. It was small, very low key and at that time of day, fairly empty.

They learned about one another, and much to Jack’s delight Bitty confessed that he had no idea who Jack was or what he did.

“I’m sure your mom probably told you about me,” Bitty said as he looked out the window. A family of ducks swam in the river.

“Some.”

“It’s hard for me to go out… on dates, I mean. What happened was so humiliating. My love life, splattered in the tabloids like it’s oh so entertaining. And I’m not trying to talk about my ex here, I promise, I just wanted you to know why I said no the first time you asked me out.”

“Why did you say yes the second time?”

“I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your mom,” he said cheekily.

Jack grinned.

Bitty sighed. “And when it all happened, when I found out Chad didn’t want to be a father, our surrogate was already in her second trimester.”

“I’m so sorry, Bitty.”

“It all worked out for the best. I wanted Clara. I wanted her and loved her before I even met her. She was my daughter with or without Chad in the picture. I got the better end of the bargain, frankly.”

Jack smiled and placed his hand on Bitty’s.

“Do you want some dessert?” he asked.

“Not from here. God, no!”

Jack laughed. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“Let’s go back to my place for coffee and pie. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They returned to Bitty’s just as Clara was about ready to be put to bed. Bitty paid the sitter and got Clara into her pajamas.

“Do you mind if I read to her for a bit?” Bitty asked as he returned from her bedroom. “It’s our night time tradition.”

Clara clung to Bitty and yawned.

“Not at all. I can get the coffee going, if you show me where the stuff is.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

Bitty sat in a comfy looking armchair in the living room and settled in with Clara and a copy of Goodnight, Moon.

Jack watched them from the kitchen and filled the coffee filter.

“In the great green room,” Bitty began, “there was a telephone and a red balloon…”

Jack smiled as he heard Bitty continue. Twenty minutes later, Jack and Bitty sat at the kitchen table drinking their coffee and sharing a slice of pecan praline pie.

“You like?” Bitty asked.

“God, so good,” Jack said as he took another forkful.

“I can get you your own slice, you know,” Bitty chuckled.

“No, because then I’d eat it all.”

“That’s kinda the point of pie, Jack,” Bitty giggled.

There was one last chunk and they began to fork-wrestle for it. Jack’s tines got stuck with Bitty’s as their forks tried to stab at the last piece.

They laughed and Bitty huffed out, “No fair! You’re so much bigger than me.”

“You’re still strong,” Jack cried out.

Jack forked the last piece and fed it to Bitty. Bitty smiled as he chewed, and they locked eyes. Jack leaned in closer, and Bitty gave the tiniest nod of consent.

Jack kissed Bitty—tender and sweet—and Bitty, in turn, melted into it. They kissed for a few moments until Bitty pulled away and jumped out of his seat.

“Jack, I can’t okay?” Bitty said as he walked to the counter and turned away from Jack.

When it came to romance, Jack was generally clueless. He was clueless when it came to his feelings, clueless when it came to the feelings of others—but this, this thing with Bitty felt real. It felt good and right. Jack could tell Bitty liked him, and he sure as hell liked Bitty. Immensely. Kissing him was like coming home to a place he’d never known but it felt so natural and true.

“Look,” Bitty said as he gripped the counter, “my life… it’s, it’s complicated.”

“Is that right?” Jack said as he took a step closer.

Bitty turned toward Jack.

“Yeah, like you would not believe. And I have Clara to think of. She’s only ten-months-old Jack. She comes first! And then there’s the show, my cookbook…”

“I know,” Jack said as he smiled and inched closer.

“It--it wouldn’t be fair to you, you know? You travel. I travel. We’d hardly see each other. I’m just so, so busy,” Bitty whispered.

“Yep, so terrible, I’m sure,” Jack chirped softly as he stood in front of Bitty and brushed his hair off his forehead.

“Yes. Exactly,” Bitty squeaked out.

“So then I should just go,” Jack said and leaned down to cup Bitty’s face.

“Uh-huh,” Bitty said as his eyes fluttered shut.

Jack pressed a soft kiss onto Bitty’s lips and added a quick swipe of his tongue.

“W-what was I sayin’?” Bitty asked as his lips parted from Jack’s.

“Some horseshit about being too busy,” Jack murmured.

“Oh, right,” Bitty said as he wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck and leaned in for another kiss.

The next morning, Clara played peek-a-boo with Jack (who happily wore last night’s clothing) at the kitchen table while Bitty whistled and flipped another pancake. Bitty smiled and gave Jack a happy wink.

If this was the start of love, they’d both gladly take it.

+++

Cheerios, a flat of strawberries, dark chocolate, gouda, butter. Jack checked the list and knew he was forgetting something. He stuffed it back into his pocket and turned around.

“Candles?” He called out.

“Yes, lord! I almost forgot. Thank you, sweetpea. You can’t have a birthday cake without candles,” Bitty replied from the end of the aisle and tossed them as he blew a kiss.

Clara laughed and clutched Jack’s arm as he carried her on his hip.

“What do you think, Clara? A number two candle, or two candles?” Jack asked and held out a candle with a bear on it.

She looked at the candles thoughtfully and looked up at Jack said, “Pie, Papa.”

“Right. That’s what I thought you’d say,” Jack said and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s go tell daddy we’re ready.”

“Okay, we got everything. You and papa ready to go home and celebrate turning two?” Bitty asked and pushed the shopping cart toward Jack and Clara.

“Yep!” Jack said as he bounced Clara up and down.

“What time are your parents getting in?” Bitty asked.

“One.”

“Then we better get going,” Bitty said and pulled Jack in for a quick kiss.

The three made their way to the registers with smiles on their faces.

#bittyjack #fanfic #bittysvalentines #bv2019 #omgcp

378 notes · View notes

arlandvery · 6 years ago

Text

Alabaster Stones (Come and Lay Your Bones) Chapter 1

So this was a thing I came up with purely because I love a/b/o and harem/concubine fics but I never find any of the latter, let alone the both in the same fic. So, you know how it goes, if you can’t find it, write it yourself!

Honestly this wouldn’t have been a thing if not for @veninos-posion, who, again, is kind enough to listen to me ramble and not get spooked, but also talks my ideas out with me and offers suggestions. You rock, Veninos!

I’m doing a new thing for me and posting all the chapters separately, but I will go back and link everything from fic to fic, and update my masterlist, so we’re cool there! It’s also on ao3 here

tw: this chapter has very explicit sex and mentions of abortion via moon tea, post heat. It’s not graphic, but it does upset her.

Tomura’s lab was dark and warm. He preferred to keep it that way- often the powders and potions and spells that were stored, being worked on, or brewed there were light sensitive, and so there were no windows and the barest of candles needed to work by. Colored smoke hung in the air the color of crushed grass, lights sparking inside it, crackling like sparks.

Tomura himself sat at his worktable, fingers stained with chalk and blood, the ritual circle drawn out with its familiar shapes and arcane lettering. Sitting inside the innermost circle was a skull, with four of his fingers pressed around it. The skull was a morbid work of art; it had begun as the skull of a virgin, the seventh daughter or a seventh daughter, killed on a full moon on her seventh birthday. Tomura himself had then stripped, cleaned and bleached it to it’s current horrifying white, then infused it with veins of gold. Its eye sockets were fitted with carved amber in a mockery of eyes, and inside of the dome were arcane symbols pressed with obsidian.

The project had taken weeks, his first major work of magic, and it was his most valuable tool- with the proper precautions and spell work Tomura could look through it’s eyes and see anything he wanted. It was a tool that Tomura often made use of- sometimes at the behest of his master. Other times he wanted to see for himself.

Tonight was one of those times.

Red eyes stared unblinkingly at the amber, mouth cracked and split and sealed in a firm line.

The suite afforded to the Emperor’s favored omega were lush and soft. Tomura had intimate knowledge of the harem and its décor; those rooms were so opulent it was disgusting, costly beautiful fabrics, gleaming furniture, carved inlets. These rooms…these rooms were so lovely they nearly didn’t look real. These rooms, meant for the mother of the heir, for the favored concubine, had been made beautiful and further infused with magic. Lights floated around the nest- and oh, the nest! Cushions and blankets and sheets and the Emperor’s best clothes coated in his scent, woven and blended together to her comfort. The bath was charmed to keep the water heated, and there were dozens of other superficial charms and spells for comfort and pleasure of the omega. A songbird in an elaborate cage flitted about, singing it’s song, feathers glittering like jewels in the light, books were tucked in cozy corners, a basket for sewing…anyone would kill to have a room so lovely.

But Tomura wasn’t watching the room.

Instead he watched the bodies writhing together, crimson eyes wide and unblinking.

Sensei and his favorite omega twined together during the throes of her heat. Tomura watched with bated breath as she bared her neck for him, he could see the golden collar around her neck, gleaming, preventing a mating mark. Sensei’s hips rocked with enough force that it shook her body, her mouth open in a silent wail, eyes sightless in pleasure in want.

“Please, alpha, alpha I need it, need you,” She begged, her voice hollow through the magic he was using.

“Do you, omega? Are you going to be good for me? Take my seed, carry my pups?” Tomura’s chest tightened at those words, at Sensei’s steady tone. He was so calm, unbothered, despite the omega being split open on his cock and begging for it. He’d seen alphas lose it over less than that.

She cried out at his words, nodded like a doll getting her string tugged. “Yes! Yes alpha, yes, I want them- I want your pups, please let me-” She looked so desperate, skin flushed and sweaty. The room would be soaked with her pheromones by now, dripping with it. They’d been at it for hours now- the smell of sugar and vanilla would be enough to choke a lower alpha.

Tomura swallowed audibly, biting down on the inside of his cheek. Sweat beaded on his skin. He felt filthy watching this, but he was helpless to stop it.

“You’ll get them,” Sensei promised, pausing, ignoring her wailing in distress to pat at her cheek. “You’ve been such a good omega; you always have been.” He resumed fucking her, going straight back to the brutal pace he’s begun with. “I’ll fill you, mark you forever, just for me. Gonna grow fat with my pups, little alphas, all of them. They’ll lead armies and expand the empire, the perfect legacy,” those promises meant nothing to her. All she heard was the promise of young, of fulfilling her duty. Pups she could dote on and nurture.

His heart pounded, imagining the scent of her, the sensation of her flesh, her cunt. The taste of her tears, the sting of her nails digging into him. Those sweet pleas, all for him. She’d be the jewel of his kingdom, he’d mark her, make her his wife, not just the favored omega- he’d never leave her uncertain like that. He’d fill her, she’d never not be pregnant, never be empty again, heat or no heat.

Sensei grunted, stuttering to a stop, signaling that he’d locked in with his knot. Tomura looked away, chest heaving in want. He was so hard it fucking hurt. He wanted to do something about it, but that would man breaking the spell’s connection.

Tomura realized that he’d been grinding his teeth by the ache in his jaw and reluctantly loosened the clench. One day he’d grind his teeth into dust, he was sure, and then where would he be?

For 3 days Tomura ate nothing and drank little, keeping the connection open, forcing himself to watch as the heat roared and Sensei got creative, taunting and petting and mocking his pretty omega concubine.

Finally, when the heat burned out, she was curled at her alphas side, soft hands on him, thanking him for his generosity.

Sensei allowed her that, but soon he removed himself from the nest, ignoring her crestfallen face. He made tea in the fireplace, ignoring her growing misery as he boiled the herb and finally poured it into a tea cup for her.

“Drink up, my dear.” He smiled cheerfully, holding out the cup, as though this were any other act. An alpha treating his omega. She stared at it, eyes empty, before daring a look up at him.

Her voice was soft, pleading. Tomura was willing to bet that her scent had changed, trying to wheedle what she wanted from Sensei. It wouldn’t work. This happened every time. “Please alpha, you promised me…”

“I decide what happens to you, pet. Now, drink your tea and speak no more.” She shuddered, staring at the foul smelling, evil concoction.

“I…but my purpose…”

“Is to pleasure me. You are my concubine. Of course, should you wish to have pups, Tomura’s position would be a lot less clear, wouldn’t it? Against a flesh and blood heir, well, he might be dismissed.” Without another word, the omega drank her tea, tears marring her face.

There was a sour taste in Tomura’s mouth. Was it blood or bile?

“Good girl.” Sensei patted her head and left her alone in her empty nest, body betraying her by her alpha’s order.

Tomura was the only witness as she curled into herself and cried silently, hands on her abdomen. There might be a pup there or there might not be. The potion was still painful.

“Mother,” he whispered, finally releasing the spell.

Tomura bathed after it was over, then he collapsed in his bed. The young alpha slept for nearly 2 days before his body demanded food and he was forced to dress and join Sensei for dinner, something that the older man had always insisted on.

“You might not be blood, my boy, but you are my son. And fathers and sons should at least share one meal a day.” He’d said when they’d started this tradition.

Of course, Tomura had been much younger. He hadn’t even been Tomura yet.

Tenko

Just the name was enough to make him shake with hardly restrained rage.

Darkness-the chains-noxious smells and filth-so much pain he was so scared he didn’t mean to do it please let me out let me out let me out stop hurting me let me out

But Sensei came and gave him a new name, brought him home, made him a family. It was thanks to Sensei that Tomura was as strong as he was, that his powers were in control. But in exchange, Sensei had asked for and tested Tomura’s loyalty. He challenged him, remade him into something better.

Sitting with the man though, still smelling like Mother and knowing how it made Tomura twist up in knots inside, was always the hardest thing to do. It was Sensei’s measure of his self-control- if the young alpha could refrain from attacking him in such a state, he proved his status and his control over his own instincts. The knowledge of the test never made it any easier.

“Did you witness anything interesting, Tomura?” Sensei asked, sipping his wine. His lips were twisted in a semblance of a smile.

“Not really. The maid is fucking the stable boy.” He shrugged. Little details like that meant next to nothing to Tomura, but Sensei found gossip invaluable. Often there was some kind of truth in gossip, and Tomura could witness that truth with his own eyes. An empire was built on more than blood and fire; secrets, bribery and blackmail had their place in it’s construction and keep, and Tomura was good at finding them.

“Is that all? Nothing from the kingdom to the south? From Yagi, even?” Ah, the famous attempted usurper and rebellion leader, of course things would circle back to him.

Tomura shook his head. “I don’t know where he is, no one’s set eyes on him, Sensei.” Not even Tomura himself, which was the real trick of the spell. So long as Tomura had seen them he could find them; could watch them or use them to see more.

It was because of that spell that Sensei had brought him along everywhere in the kingdom, in an effort to spread the spell’s limits. He’d met delegations, kings, queens and consorts all, beggars and thieves and merchants. But not Yagi.

Sensei made a disappointed noise and shook his head. “Slimy bastard. He’s planning something, I know it.” Tomura ate his dinner, watching his master. One hand came up to dig uselessly at his neck. The sting was grounding, kept him focused. It took conscious effort to pull his hand away again as the skin became raw beneath his scratching.

“Tenko dear, you’re hurting yourself.”

He twitched, hand dropping back into his lap at the ghost of her voice.

“How are your studies coming? I’ve heard that your swordsmanship has been slipping in my absence.”

“I was tired. I’m fine now.” The knowing glow in Sensei’s eyes said it all.

“Are you, Tomura? Were you having trouble sleeping?”

“No. I just wasn’t resting well.”

“You know, my boy, at your age, it’s normal to have desires. Urges. As an alpha you’re going to have to learn to burn off some of that energy.” Disgust roiled in Tomura’s belly.

“I know.”

“The harem is there for a purpose, my son. You are the heir, you have access to it.”

But not yours.

“I know, Sensei. You’re too generous.”

“It’s my duty as your patron to see to it that you are healthy and happy. Are you happy, Tomura?”

Tomura remembered hunger and fear and weakness. He remembered pain. He remembered the blinding sun and arms wrapping around him as he cried. Arms that brought him to the palace and educated him, made him stronger, gave him a home.

Gave him a mother.

“Yes, I’m happy.” When he thought of what had been before…why wouldn’t he be happy?

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #yandere #yandere shigaraki #All For One #Necromancer Shigaraki #Concubines #Fantasy AU #abo #alpha shigaraki #alpha One For All

52 notes · View notes

fuzzydemolitionsquad · 5 years ago

Text

The Tractor

Part 1

A rusty GNK droid plodded across the farmstead’s dirt yard, its pace much slower than its maker had programmed it to be.

It was morning. The sun had just peeked over the humped ridges of evergreen trees in the distance. The air was already beginning to warm and the humidity was high.

The GNK tried to ignore the condensation building on its circuit boards. It made a deep gonking groan and tilted its boxy body toward the sky. How dreary it was to waddle around a farm, looking for something in need of power.

Why couldn’t I have been a spaceship, a sleek X-wing, or a roaring TIE? The sky beckoned. The GNK moaned sadly .

Its dream suddenly ceased to be when a circuit in its electronic brain crackled. Sense of duty restored, the GNK marched toward a shed containing the chooken brooder. There, behind a wall of woven wire, a passel of fuzzy, powder-blue chicks snuggled together. The cord to their heater box had come loose, pulled out by a pesky varmint who chewed it to a fray . The GNK plugged a pronged service arm into the box and powered down to fifty-percent so that it could rest.

And dream.

Pa Trodd stepped out of the farmhouse’s door and stood on the porch drinking his morning caf. He snapped his suspenders and looked at the large and formidable anooba laying upside down on her back and staring back at him.

“ Whadda yew say ol’ Gracie. . . wanna hep me till that quarter acre fer ma’s garden?”

Gracie’s tail thumped the porch’s wood planking so hard it raised a ferocious cloud of dust. The anooba stood up and stretched and trotted over to where pa was standing.

“Dat’s my girl.” The lasat thumped her side and scratched her ears.”When we done ahl gives ya a nice big soup bone anna plate a kalgow jowls for breakfast. Howzzat sound?”

The anooba's brushy black and tan mane quivered. Pa stepped off the porch, slapped his thigh and whistled. Gracie galloped to his side, her tongue lolling and her great jaws clacking. She gently took his wrist into her mouth and followed him to the barn where the old tractor sat.

Zeb Orrelios opened his eyes, stared up at the ceiling and smiled. He was back home.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love the barracks at the academy–on the contrary–all of his best mates were there. He chuckled as he thought of serious Geezer who–didn’t look like it– but had connections to the owners of every dive cantina and strip parlor in the Capitol.

Zeb checked his chrono on the nightstand and jumped out of bed. The delicious aroma of bacon and maize-bread, fried eggs and beans tugged at his nostrils like a farmer leading a hammerhead bull by the nose-ring. Being away on leave meant ma’s home cooking and lots of it. It wasn’t uncommon for Zeb to put on fifteen or twenty pounds during his stays with his family. Of course, it was all converted to muscle. Zeb thought of the academy. If it was one thing he didn’t like there, it was Private Rrazchow’s breakfast special, a plate of jellied meat chunks floating in greasy gravy and served on a couple pieces of stone-dry bread. Zeb and his mates affectionately referred to the entree as ‘dung on a raft.’

Zeb looked into the full length mirror and couldn’t help but smile. His stripes were growing a deeper purple, a nice contrast to the pale lavender of his base coat. His beard was darker too, and a lot thicker than it was the last time he was home.

“Looking good.” He pointed into the mirror with both index fingers and made a clicking sound with his tongue. Pulling on a pair of skivvies he grabbed his scrub brush and towel and headed to the wash room to pump water into the round wooden tub he had taken baths in when he was a child. It seemed so big back then, a veritable ocean. Now he couldn’t even stretch out his legs.

Ma Trodd served up plates of bacon, beans and bread then padded back to the stove to pick up a huge iron skillet full of sputtering eggs. She went around the table, neatly plopping two eggs on every plate.

Jax rolled his eyes and slammed his elbows down on the table. “Aww ma, yew know I like mah aigs on m’ beans! Now there’s yolk all over the maize-bread!”

“Land-a-muddlin’ Jax!” Ma put her furry hand on her hip. “Yew done act like I kilt yer best friend. They’s a lot worse thangs happ’nin in thee universe then aigs a’leakin’ on bread!”

“I’m sorry ma. Didn’t mean t’ get yew riled.”

“She’s not riled.” Sister Sal said, cutting a dainty slice of egg with the side of her fork. “She’s worried. Mizz Yogg was telling her about the Coruscant emperor. He’s got six more planets under his belt.”

Brother Muss wrinkled his snubby nose. “Huh? Whadda yew mean, sis?”

“He stole them. Not fair and not square.”

“How do you steal a planet?”

“With a lot of guns.” Puggles grunted through a mouthful of breakfast. Egg yolk glistened in his shaggy beard.

Sally nodded her head. “It’s true. Unfortunately.”

Ma’s yellow eyes flashed with fear. “ Some people is fightin’ back. Mercy. There might be another Clone Wars round thee corner.”

“Ain’t no Jedi left t’ fight um.” Brother Jimbo said, subdued, a sweating beer can held to his forehead. He hadn’t touched his breakfast. The hangover he was fighting demanded some hair-of the bantha first.

Sister Shoog changed the subject. “ I shore wish cuzzin Zeb could stay longer. He’s only got two more days, and he promised to take me to the fair.”

“Cuzzin Zeb never breaks his promises.” Said Muss.

“CuZzIn ZeB NEEEEEVER BreAKs his PrOmiSes. . . Puggles said in a wheedly, exaggerated voice, his face puckered like a dried korbapple.

“Did I hear my name?” Zeb said from the foot of the staircase. He hopped down and entered the kitchen.

Ma beamed. “ Bout’ time yew got up! Sit at the table. I’ll git yer vittles ready. Did you sleep well?”

“I slept like Firuz in his tomb.” Zeb said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of his breakfast. Maybe tomorrow ma would make her special spawffles and needle tree syrup. He was about to tuck his napkin into the front of his shirt when-

“Hey, did you all hear something?”

“ Like what?”

Like bellowing. Sounds like the Lunx’s bull got out of his pen again.”

There was a stamping of feet out on the porch. Older sister Hallie opened the front door and hurried inside. She set her basket of herbs on the table and started to pour herself a cup of caf.

“ Pa’s out in the field and he’s cussin’ up a dust storm. I mean, worse then usual.”

“ Ma clutched her apron. “Goodness child! D’yuh think he’s a’right?”

“I asked him, but he jus’ kept on a hollerin’ and carrying on. I think the tractor musta broke down or sumthin’.”

“Great an’ benev-lent Bearded One.” Ma groaned as she served Zeb his breakfast. “I’m gonna hear ‘bout this til thee end a’ days…Jimbo, Jax, go see what’s goin’ on, woudja dears?”

Jimbo looked up. His yellow-orange eyes were rimmed with red. “ Ma! I jus found out mah girl is courtin’ another he-male! I cain’t take pa’s bellyachin’ right now. I’m too e-moshan-lee com-pree-mized!”

Shoog rolled her eyes.

Ma looked at Jax, who panicked.

“I’m late for mah sparrin’ practice!” The blotch-coated lasat rose from his chair and threw his napkin on his plate.

“Now where’s mah boxin’ gloves at?” Jax ran from the kitchen.

Zeb forked his food between two pieces of maize-bread, making a giant to-go sandwich. He scooted his chair back and grabbed Puggles by his scrawny wrist.

“Let’s go help pa!”

“Help Pa? Is yew crazy? He’ll tie me into a Mon Calamari sailor knot fer intrudin’ on his bad mood!”

“ Not if we solve his problem.”

Pa raged. He pounded on the tractor’s hood and stamped the turf beneath his feet, turning it into a large patch of dark dirt. Gracie sat on her makeshift perch next to the tractor’s seat, grinning and panting, her tongue darting in and out of her mouth. Every time a fist came close she attempted to give it a sloppy kiss.

“ WHAT IN CONSARN-A-SHUN IZ WRONG WID YEW, YEH BLASTED CONTRAPTION!!!???”

“TAR-BUBBLIN’ LAZYBUMP SONNAVA JUGHEADED PLEASURE DROID!!!”

“ POCKMARKED’ PISSENGINE!!

“CHEAP PIECE A’ RUSTED RUIN!!”

“DROIDSON BATTERYDOOKER!!!”

“Do you kiss ma with that mouth?”

Rufus Trodd whirled around. He saw his beloved nephew standing there, smiling, his demeanor as calm as a boodle bug floating on the surface of a still pond.

“She would faint if she heard you cursing like that.”

Pa’s giant mitt batted at the air. “ Aww. Not now Zebidiah. I’m inna awful gaumy stew.”

Puggles stepped out from behind his brave younger cousin.

Looky here pa, I brang yeh a nice cold one! I thanked yew could use it.”

The mammoth lasat grabbed the offered six pack of beer, cracked each can open with machine-like speed and poured six streams of golden brew into his cavernous mouth. He wiped the stray foam from his mane and belched.

“Thanks son. Remind me not t’ call yew an ijit next time yew piss me off.”

Zeb approached the tractor. He ran his hands over three, still-warm engine cowls and sniffed the turbines and jet ports. “What’s going on with her?”

“She were running fine, then all of a sudden, she starts a’shaking and a sputterin’. Den the jets got all quiet-like. How did I blow up three engines? That tiller I’m towin' behind her don’t weigh that much. Hells, I towed a big ol’ howler-barr to thee taxidermist with dis here tractor. ”

Zeb scratched his head. “Was there any smoke?”

Pa thrust out his thick lower lip and tapped one of his fangs. “Now thet I think about it. . . not a hole lot. Jus’ a little puffin’ out from under thee hood.”

“Ah-ha. Pop the hood Puggles.”

The little lasat obeyed and the tractor’s boxy mouth opened with a ‘TUMP’ Zeb raised the hood, looked inside and saw the problem immediately.

“It’s not the engines, pa. It’s your injector cylinder. Are you running super-lean Kashyyk oil in her?”

“Shore as dust I am!”

“Well, it must be clogged with dirt. The guy you bought this from should have changed it before he sold it.”

Pa snorted. “Figures.”

Zeb changed the subject. He patted the old Agri-Hover. You know, inside, these tractors are almost identical to the inside of the tanks in the royal army. They really ARE well made. Let’s pull the injector and Puggles and I will go into town and get a new one.”

Pa looked resigned to his fate of plowing the field by himself. Why did he sell that good team of muley-tauns? They weren’t that long in the tooth.

“Payday’s not fer six more days. I don’ wanna ask ma t’ dip into her savings. She ain’t got that much anyway.”

Zeb grabbed Puggles by the ear and tugged him away’t so pa couldn’t hear.

“I have some extra pay this cycle.” He whispered.

“Must be nice.” Puggles' gold eyes flashed orange. “I cain’t even afford a lil’ teeny-eeny far-cracker or a pack a smokes.”

Zeb crossed his striped arms. “First of all, you shouldn’t be smoking. It’s bad for you. Second, you’re a liar. I know for a fact Hallie gave you credits for cleaning her shed. You put them in your. . . ahem, ‘detonite fund account.’”

The little lasat was incensed. He balled his bony fists and put them up, taking a fighting stance.

“I otta whup the green right outtta yer eyes yuh sucklin’-cub!! Of all thee indig-nitities! Called a larr by m’ little cuzzin!!!! Y’ain’t got the manners of that bitch anoobie over there! Come on, git yer dukes up!”

Zeb rolled his eyes and bit his lip. “ Not again.”

The young lasat was turning out to be a rather large and honorable soldier. One befitting of admiration and praise. How much longer was he going to allow his belligerent cousin to talk to him this way? Zeb sighed. A lasat couldn’t choose his family or the members within, but if he could have chosen, he would have picked what he already had, the hard-working and sometimes crude, spiritual, salt-of -Lasan Trodds.

“Alright you little a-hole. I’m sorry I called you a liar. Do you have any creds you can spare? Any at all?”

Puggles put his fists down. He retrieved a toothpick from his pocket and wedged it between his crooked incisors. He made a sucking sound with his teeth.

“Maybe. . .”

#Zeb Orrilios #star wars fanfic #rebels themed I guess #Puggles trodd #no he ain't dead

6 notes · View notes

artyblogs · 6 years ago

Text

Across the Frozen Sea ch10

Star Wars the Clone Wars, Ahsoka/Barriss/Riyo

Across the Frozen Sea summary: Ahsoka, Barriss, and Riyo find themselves stranded in the Pantoran Taiga. They must get back to civilization, but the wilds are more dangerous than they realize. If the cold doesn’t get them, the locals will.

First Chapter : Previous Chapter

Chapter 10: The Frozen Sea

Barriss feels sick. She's been sick before, but she's never felt an innate sense of empty urgency that she feels now. The feeling in her hands are deadened at the wrists, like she's been sitting on them long enough for all the blood to flow out. Similarly, where her Force Sense would have billowed beyond her body to fill the immediate room and somewhat beyond, it is now contained within herself. There is her skin, and her clothes on her skin, and the cold air and snow on her face and hands, but there is nothing else. Barriss wakes up disoriented for the lack of the Force. It's like losing a limb.

The culprit is the pair of cuffs clasped around her wrists. It would be a familiar sight, only this time, the cuffs have an electrical component. Even though there is no indication of it; no mark or engraving of any kind, Barriss knows that these cuffs are Force inhibitor cuffs.

This time, Barriss lies on a plane of ice that extends out in all directions until the edges are swallowed in the gloom. Snow falls from the cloudy night sky, blanketing everything in a thick layer of frost. Barriss' cloak already has a thin crust of ice on it. Defiance and its piers are a distant landmark in the gaping expanse of the darkness surrounding her.

Ahsoka lies next to her, and Barriss is startled to find her so close. Without the Force, there is no Force Bond, and despite their physical proximity, there might as well be a chasm yawning between them. Ahsoka is also in the same Force inhibitor cuffs, but she's also draped in chains. They wrap around her shoulders, and her chest and wind down her torso until they reach her hands. Heavy padlocks keep them in place.

Before them is Riyo, who sits upright on the ice. She is cuffed and her feet and ankles are chained to a couple duracrete blocks.

Both Riyo and Ahsoka watch Sprekker Jok, but while the only sign of anger on Riyo's face is the slightest crinkle between her eyebrows, the look on Ahsoka's face is downright murderous, with her lips peeled back from her pointed teeth and her eyes wide and focused. A low growl emanates from within her chest.

Sprekker watches them all dispassionately. The remaining two bounty hunters are here too, only they are busy chipping out a hole in the ice using picks. If it were under other circumstances, it'd be impressive.

Beyond the bounty hunters are a couple hover sleds laden with more cinder blocks and chains. No doubt meant for them, judging by Riyo's example.

Riyo glares up at Sprekker, and try as she might, the subtle tremble of her shoulders betrays how frightened she really is. "Why?"

Sprekker's eyes have never been so hard and so cold. "With your death, Uncle Chi's death will be avenged."

Riyo balks. "Chairman Cho, Chairman Chi Cho, he was your uncle?"

"Yes. I'm a junior; my father was named Sprekker Jok Senior, and he was Chi Cho's illegitimate brother. They were raised together. When my father died during one of Uncle Chi's military campaigns, Uncle Chi took me in and raised me like a son."

"Should I have known that?" Riyo asks.

"No one outside the Cho family knows it. Uncle didn't formally announce the adoption and after he turned out to like me better than his actual son, the rest of the Cho family preferred to keep their distance." Sprekker scowls. "But then Uncle died. I thought that perhaps Auntie and Rommeruk would want vengeance for your treachery, but no, they didn't! Instead, Auntie suggests an alliance!"

"So it falls to you to take revenge?" Riyo asks, incredulous.

"Yes, it does! And after you're finally dead, I'll be free of this responsibility. You don't comprehend, Senator, how difficult it was to befriend you. How much patience it took, how much planning and credits I sunk into this. Nor do you understand how worthy I consider the investment. It's a relief that you and Rommeruk didn't get married after all; it'd be more difficult for me to kill my cousin's wife," Sprekker says, his face twisting into something ugly.

"Wait, that means Rommeruk really was a good guy after all?" Ahsoka asks.

Sprekker gives a short bark of surprised laughter. "Of all the questions you have…yes! My cousin is actually a pacifist and good with kids. You really should have given him a chance."

"Let the Jedi go, Sprekker. Whatever it is between us, it doesn't concern them," Riyo says.

"It is a shame that they should be collateral, but no. I'm not stupid, Riyo. I know they are the reason why you were able to escape the first time. But perhaps it is best that you escaped so that we can have a drowning now. A proper drowning for a proper Pantoran," Sprekker says.

Barriss subtly scoots over to Ahsoka and whispers, "I have a plan."

"Good, because I can't break through durasteel. What're you thinking?" Ahsoka whispers back.

"If I can get one hand free from the cuffs, it might be enough for me to use the Force and free us all."

"Yeah, okay, but how are you gonna free that hand? The bounty hunters have our lightsabers, so we can't cut them open."

Barriss grimaces. "You'll need to break my wrist."

Ahsoka pulls away, open horror on her face. "No."

"Do you have any ideas? Because I'm open to suggestions."

Ahsoka's mouth curls into a snarl, and Barriss almost retreats in alarm until she realizes that Ahsoka's truly frustrated with herself, not with Barriss and her request. Her blue eyes flicker as she tries to desperately come up with something—anything. Anything at all.

"Break my wrist instead," Ahsoka whispers.

"Can you undo all the locks at once? Because that is what you'll have to do." Anything less would turn out awful for them.

More snarling, and even some growling, but Ahsoka ultimately quiets. She must have cycled through the entire grieving process within the past second; Barriss certainly watched it play out over her face.

Barriss scoots forward again. "If there's one thing that this trip has taught me, it is that success is a sliding scale. A broken wrist is a small price to pay for our overall survival. Ahsoka, please. I wouldn't ask you to do it if I could do it myself."

Ahsoka's eyebrow marks knit together in worry, then she wriggles close and reaches out as far as the chains will let her. She holds Barriss's left hand in hers.

"Like this?" She asks, a little defeated. Her warm breath comes out against Barriss's forehead.

"Yes," Barriss whispers. A horrid, sinking feeling settles in her stomach, and she tries her best to relax.

"I'm sorry, Barriss."

"Don't you dare feel bad about this," Barriss whispers. It'd be better if there was a stick for her to bite down on, but as it is, her clothes will have to do. She tucks her chin in and bites down on the purple material of her hood.

"Ready," Barriss whispers through the cloth.

SNAP.

Barriss whimpers and recoils as Ahsoka breaks her wrist, sending sharp pain lancing through her arm. She hates this. Hates that Ahsoka did this to her. Hates that she asked her to do it. Barriss pulls her hand through the narrow pinch of the cuff until it's free.

Free. The Force cuts through the pain, tingling in her nerves and in her bones. Barriss grasps the tiny sliver of the Force she can feel and doesn't let go.

At Barriss' whimper, everyone else turns to look. Riyo gasps, and the bounty hunters start towards them, but Barriss clenches her teeth and draws in a deep breath. She closes her eyes, reaches out through the Force, and twists.

CLICK, CLICK, CLICK.

All the cuffs and all the padlocks clipped to the chains pop open and fall into the snow. Riyo stares down at her freed hands, her mouth open in amazement. The bounty hunters stop in their tracks, and Sprekker blanches. Ahsoka shrugs out of her chains and lets them fall into the powdered snow. Her eyes and teeth flash in the low light.

Sprekker and the bounty hunters draw their blasters, but Ahsoka reaches out and summons them from their hands and catches them. The last goes wide and skitters across the ice until it's lost in the snow. Ahsoka crushes the remaining blasters in her fists, making them crack and spark as they're warped beyond functionality.

Sprekker turns and kicks Riyo's duracrete blocks into the hole, where they disappear into the dark water with a splash. The chains that are pulled through the blocks and around Riyo's ankles aren't fastened with a lock, and they hold fast as they drag her drag her belly-down across the ice. Riyo shrieks and rakes her fingers across the surface, sending snow everywhere as she searches for a handhold, but in vain. She takes a deep breath before she's swallowed up by the sea.

Sprekker runs towards the hover sleds.

Ahsoka winds back, her arm flexing, and pitches the two crushes blasters as hard as she can. The first hits a bounty hunter's helmet, cracking the visor in two and caving in the forehead to a devastating degree. He falls through the ice with a splash. The other blaster smashes into one of the hover sleds. The duracrete blocks and chains spill onto the ice, breaking it open. One of the sleds falls through the ice as it tips over.

Sprekker ducks and runs past the sleds. His boots keep inches ahead of a quickly-forming spiderweb of fine cracks in the ice.

PEW. The last bounty hunter shoots at Ahsoka, who merely palms the bolt of red light away with the Force and rushes at him. The blaster bolt fizzles out in the snow.

"Riyo!" Barriss goes to the edge of the hole and sees nothing but black water. She cradles her injured arm to her chest and tries not to panic. Riyo's down there. She's down there and sinking further and further by the second. But even now, Barriss can sense Riyo's light in the Force. Tiny, like a candle. A candle that's flickering out.

"Here." Ahsoka gently presses the cool hilt of Barriss's lightsaber into her good hand, then reaches up to pull her parka off.

"No, no. It's too cold; you'd drown too. I'll do it. I can sense that far down," Barriss mutters. She doesn't even bother asking what happened to the last bounty hunter.

"Then how can I help?" Ahsoka asks.

"Arrest Sprekker."

Just like that, Ahsoka's gone, sprinting across the frozen sea towards Defiance. Sprekker is a distant figure, but he's slipping and sliding all over the ice, and he's not so far away that a Togruta Jedi can't catch up.

Barriss clips her lightsaber to her belt, closes her eyes and whips the Force down through the water towards Riyo. Down, down, down, until the current isn't harsh, until the pressure is too much, until where the light would thin if it were daytime. Barriss cuts down through it all until she lashes around Riyo; a tiny body in the vast expanse of the ocean. Barriss pulls, but finds Riyo tangled.

Of all things, she is tangled in a fishing net, and it gives an answering tug.

Barriss closes her lips around a sob. No, she thinks. No. It simply isn't possible. The Force is the Force and while the locals may invent masks for It that fit their views, the Force is still the Force.

The Force does not have a fishing net because It doesn't need one; the Force does not gather drowning people. And yet here they are, and there the net is, and it coils possessively around Riyo.

Barriss surprises herself by wrenching it away with the Force. Whatever it is, it has no business around Riyo.

The net presses in, adamant, but Barriss maintains a shell of the Force around Riyo. It's not something she can keep up forever, however. Barriss will eventually run out of energy, and then whatever is down there will be free to take Riyo for themselves. Barriss will have to find a different way and if she can't do it through brute force, then….

Barriss's vision goes hazy from tears. Her good hand is clenched tight above the hole in the ice and the other is throbbing with blood and pain and she is shaking from the effort of staying upright.

All around Barriss, the cracks form as fine as lace. If she doesn't let go of Riyo now and lie down, she will be dragged under the same as the sunken hover sled. And if the ice is that fragile here, then it must also be the same everywhere else, and Ahsoka is the heaviest of all of them.

From a distance, in the direction that Ahsoka went, comes the crack of breaking ice. Barriss looks, but doesn't see anything but the darkness of night.

Barriss cannot imagine a galaxy without either of them, but however such a galaxy would be, it would also be so cruel, so ruthless, so incredibly lonely. She wasn't lying when she told Riyo that the galaxy would be poorer if she and Ahsoka would leave it.

"Please! Please don't. Don't take them," Barriss manages to whisper through her closing throat. She would do pretty much anything to save them, even beg alleged gods.

There is a terrible moment where the net lingers, unrelenting, but then is whisked away as if it had never existed. As if whatever was down there heard what Barriss was thinking. The chain unravels from around Riyo's ankles and sinks down into the depths of the ocean.

Barriss cries and pulls again. This time, Riyo rises unheeded through the water.

-----

The falling snow makes the ice slippery. Ahsoka maintains a steady pace as she follows Sprekker with a single-minded focus, and she's getting closer and closer with each measured step.

Sprekker was Riyo's friend. Riyo trusted him, and he ended up literally shooting them in the back. In the back! Riyo's back. Barriss' back. And now Barriss is hurt and Riyo has been plunged into the sea.

Barriss had said to arrest him, which means Ahsoka needs to bring him in alive, but no one said anything about what state he had to be in.

CRACK.

The ice splinters beneath Ahsoka's feet, and she falters and tries to step away, only for the cracks to follow her. Cracks of all size form in the ice around her, and the Force blares a warning in her head. Several feet away, Sprekker also slows down as he picks his way across the flimsy ice. But he's still moving too fast and too recklessly.

"Sprekker, stop! You'll fall in!" Ahsoka shouts.

Sprekker glances over his shoulder at her, but keeps going. All the while, the ice keeps crumbling and the Force's warning gets louder and louder in her montrals until it's deafening.

Ahsoka slowly gets down on her stomach, with her arms stretched out before her. With her head this close, she can actually hear the ice creaking and snapping beneath her.

Stay.

Ahsoka stills on the ice. A pressure builds up over her back, as if pinning her in place, as prickly as being held by an oversized mouth full of knives. She has felt, or known, the Force to be so commanding before, on Mortis, but it's also different somehow. It's wilder, more animated and more dangerous. If she didn't know any better, she'd classify it as the Dark Side, except it isn't malicious at all. Whatever it is, she must obey, and whatever is happening, she must not interfere. Ahsoka's hands flatten over the ice in surrender.

Sprekker smirks back at her and keeps walking towards Defiance at a more sedate pace.

CRACK.

Sprekker falls through the ice with a shout. One second he is there, and the next he has sunk down to his waist. His hands spring out over the ice, keeping himself from sinking any further, and he scrambles to float on his belly. He gives a dark, relieved chuckle as he begins to crawl forward.

Ahsoka's hands twitch. She could try to summon him with the Force, but she's never summoned anything of his size from so far away before. It proves to be a moot point, however, as Sprekker is pulled under by the same invisible presence that pins Ahsoka to the ice. His scream is cut short as he's dragged into the sea, and in the Force, his presence disappears. Like he was never there.

The teeth retreat and the pressure on Ahsoka's back dissipates, freeing her.

"What the kark," Ahsoka whispers as she carefully gets up. "What the kark? What the kark was that?"

Whatever it is, it's still lingering beneath the ice, slowly circling her. Ahsoka takes a few careful steps to the right, and it follows her, as if curious. If Ahsoka goes back to Barriss and Riyo now, she will lead it right to them.

Ahsoka instinctively turns in a circle to face the unknown predator as it swims around her. While she has never hunted an apex aquatic predator before, one that—judging by the power with which it dragged Sprekker into the sea—is probably at least twice her size, it should be relatively easy. She calculates how she might jump, dive through the ice, and catch the thing with a surprise attack.

The ice is thin enough and she has the Force. She could do it.

She'll do it if that's what it takes to keep Barriss and Riyo safe.

Despite how fun that sounds, Ahsoka knows that this is no ordinary creature. She holds a hand out in the its direction and reaches out in the Force to it.

She finds this monster to be a behemoth of a shark, thirty feet long and blind and ancient. A mixed school of lamprey and other fish swim around it, like an escort, or a procession.

Ahsoka breathes in deep as she concedes to the shark. Barriss said to arrest Sprekker, but he was never theirs to take, was he?

The monster takes one last lazy lap around Ahsoka before it peels off and swims away, not towards Defiance, but not towards Barriss and Riyo either. Ahsoka waits until it's far away, then huffs and lowers her arm.

The hole that Sprekker fell through is already freezing over. Ahsoka gives it one last long look before she leaves the way she came.

-----

Riyo emerges from the water, splashing everywhere. Barriss sets her down on the ice and kneels at her side, but she remains unresponsive, with her head lolling to the side.

"Riyo?" Barriss places her good hand over Riyo's nose and mouth, but feels no air. She's not breathing. Barriss presses two fingers against Riyo's neck instead and feels the slightest pulse. She's alive, but only just. Riyo's aura is quickly disappearing in the Force, and Barriss hurries to treat her as best she can with just one hand.

Open the patient's mouth. Make sure that the tongue is out of the way of the windpipe, then tilt the head back to ensure airflow.

A horrible gasping noise escapes Riyo's throat, but Riyo herself doesn't stir.

Barriss ignores the sinking feeling in her gut and pinches Riyo's nose shut.

Make a seal over the patient's mouth with yours and give two breaths. Look to see if the patient's chest rises and falls. If the chest doesn't rise, then the seal is deficient. Try again.

Ahsoka comes out of the darkness and kneels at Riyo's other side.

"What's wrong with her?"

Barriss pauses to take Ahsoka in. Unhurt. Alive. Not at the bottom of the ocean. "She's not breathing. Have you been trained in emergency aid?"

Ahsoka nods. "Do you need me to do the compressions?"

"Yes."

Put the heel of your hand in the center of the patient's chest. Place the other hand over the first. Lock your elbows and press down two inches at a rate of about a hundred to a hundred and twenty times per minute. Let the chest rise completely between compressions.

"Come on, Riyo!" Ahsoka shouts, her teeth clenched.

Barriss keeps Riyo's nose pinched shut, but carefully watches Riyo's face for any change.

Do two breaths every thirty chest compressions. Do this until the patient starts breathing, or emergency help arrives.

Emergency help will not arrive. Barriss and Ahsoka are the emergency help. There is no one else.

There is no one else.

It is just Barriss and Ahsoka and Riyo in the middle of this frozen wasteland with all this falling snow.

Barriss breathes into Riyo's mouth and Ahsoka presses on Riyo's chest. If she needs lungs, here they are. If she needs a heart, here they are. There is so much here they can give Riyo, if she would wake up and ask.

Riyo chokes and Barriss lets go and leans back.

"Hurk!" Riyo rolls onto her side and spits up what must be almost a liter of water; it spills out of her mouth and onto the snow around them.

Ahsoka pumps her fist in the air and whoops. "Yeah!"

"Ugh!" Riyo cries and clutches her chest as she sucks in air and has a coughing fit.

"There you are." Barriss leans over her and carefully smoothes her wet hair from her face, then holds it back as she continues to cough.

"Sprekker? Where's Sprekker?" Riyo wheezes. Her face is scrunched in pain.

"Don't worry about him," Ahsoka says. She squats down next to Riyo and thumps her on the back, helping her cough up even more water. When Riyo finally runs dry, Ahsoka switches to rubbing circles over her back. Riyo curls up between them and shivers.

"Are you two all right?" Riyo asks, her voice small and hoarse.

"Never better. Are you up for traveling?" Barriss asks. Riyo nods.

"Cool, let's go home." Ahsoka scoops Riyo up into her arms and together, the three of them head towards the remaining hover sled.

-----

Riyo's hospital room is full of tokens from well-wishers. Almost every horizontal surface is covered in bouquets and cards. There are even some plush toy bears. Riyo sits up in bed, fully dried and warmed and awake. Her light purple hair has been pulled into a half-updo, and the rest tumbles over her shoulders and down her back. There is a tray on Riyo's lap, and on the tray are thank you cards. Her secretary stands at the side of the bed with folders of more cards under their arm, and they swap out the signed ones for fresh ones and gently inform her which ones are for who. There must be cards for everyone who sent flowers, and more. Riyo dutifully signs them all, and when she's done, the secretary shuffles the flimsi together and bids Riyo a good rest. They give Barriss and Ahsoka a polite nod before leaving.

Ahsoka sits next to her, in a position to see both the door and the window clearly. It's toasty in here, so her parka hangs from the back of her chair. Ahsoka's hand is over her mouth and nose to protect her from the strongest smelling flowers. One or two is fine, but this place might as well be a nursery. Riyo must have noticed her discomfort, because she calls a nurse and asks her to distribute the flowers to other patients. The nurses transfer most of the bouquets to a cart and wheel them out. When the door closes again, it's blissfully quiet, only for Riyo to open a small packet of gummy snacks as she leans back against the pillows; the plastoid packaging crinkles in her hands.

She pops a gummy in her mouth and chews, then holds the packet out to them. "Want some? It's meiloorun."

Barriss, who sits on Riyo's other side, reaches into the little bag with her good hand.

"I'm sorry about your wrist, Barriss," Riyo says.

Barriss has strategically placed herself opposite of Ahsoka the entire time they've been in this hospital so that Riyo is never alone and never too far from either of them. Her left sleeve has been unbuttoned and rolled up to make room for her cast. It extends from her knuckles all the way up her forearm, but stops at her elbow. There is no tension in Barriss' shoulders. No worry in her brow. There is just her clear blue eyes and the most sincere smile that Ahsoka's ever seen on her face.

Barriss eats a gummy and puts her hand over the cast.

"Don't be. It's not your fault and I have no regrets." She pauses, her eyes unsure. "Would you both like to sign it?"

The corners of Riyo's mouth turn up. "I'd like that very much. Here, you go first, Ahsoka." And she offers the stylus.

Ahsoka takes the stylus and scoots the chair closer. Barriss climbs onto the bed and reaches across Riyo's lap.

"Although, it might need to be in a discrete place," Barriss says. Ahsoka hums, then takes Barriss' hand in both of hers. There's a twinge of guilt in her chest. She did this. Yeah, Barriss did ask her to, but still.

"It'll heal in two months," Barriss says.

"That's a long time."

"That's actually quite short compared to the convalescence of non-sensitives." Barriss smiles up at her. "Two months, and no surgery required. It's a pretty good deal."

"I'm sure the pain tabs are sublime too," Riyo says.

Barriss hesitates, then says, "They are very nice."

Ahsoka looks here and there over Barriss' pristine cast, then gently turns it over to reveal the underside.

"Here?" She asks. Barriss nods, as if her voice has stopped working. What should she write? Get well soon? Her com code? Fragile: handle with care? Ahsoka carefully draws a heart shape as neatly as she can on Barriss' wrist and colors it in.

"Done." Ahsoka reluctantly lets go and returns the stylus to Riyo. "Are…you wearing lipstick?"

"Where did you get that? Where were you keeping it?" Barriss asks.

Riyo is indeed wearing dark blue lipstick when she wasn't a minute ago, and she waves their questions away. "Do you want me to sign it or not?"

Barriss, bewildered, holds out her hand. Riyo holds it still in her hands, leans down, and kisses the inside of Barriss's wrist, just under Ahsoka's note.

Ahsoka lets out a shocked, but delighted gasp, not just at the shameless display, but at Barriss's sudden turmoil in the Force and the deep blush spreading across her face.

Riyo lets go and wipes her mouth on a napkin, getting rid of the lipstick. "Sorry, did I go too far?"

Barriss stares down at the blue lipstick mark. "No," she says after a long moment.

"We could get rid of it," Riyo says, but Barriss turns away, protecting the cast.

"No!"

Ahsoka laughs. Riyo giggles and tosses the napkin in the trash can.

There's a knock on the door, and it opens, revealing Rommeruk Cho. His hat is pinned under his arm and in his hands he holds a bouquet.

"Senator," he says.

"Your Grace," Riyo says.

"I'm very sorry about my cousin." And here, he gives the flowers to Riyo, who accepts them with a small 'thank you.'

"And I'm very sorry about the Summit."

Riyo stills. "What? What happened?"

"Nothing! With you and Sprekker gone most of the time, I had to mediate. War almost broke out no less than three separate times. It wouldn't have happened if you were mediating."

"No, it wouldn't have," Riyo says. "You really didn't know what Sprekker was up to?"

Rommeruk shakes his head again. "He estranged himself shortly after my father's death. We…disagreed on how to move on. I can't help but feel responsible. The Summit is over now, but nothing much was agreed upon. Our people still don't trust each other."

"Always so cynical. The fact is that the Talz trusted us enough to let their most important leaders step foot on this moon for several days. Progress, no matter how small, is still progress."

The corner of Rommeruk's mouth turns up and he turns his hat around in his hands. "Still so optimistic. I can't see how Sprekker or my father thought Pantora would be better off without you. Riyo, if I may…."

Riyo sets the flowers to the side and gives him her full attention, her gold eyes sharp. "If you are about to do what I think you're going to do, don't. We've talked about this before, and we've talked many times. Such an arrangement wouldn't be fair to either of us. And I've told you my reasons."

"Yes, you have." Rommeruk looks directly at Ahsoka as he says this, his eyes piercing, and she almost flinches back. She realizes that she's been leaning forward in her chair throughout the entire exchange, with her fingers clenched in her lap. Too late, Ahsoka tries to keep a neutral expression on her face.

Why is this guy here? Sure, he wasn't behind the abduction after all, and sure, he's nicer than he appears to be, but can't he just leave already? The sooner that Ahsoka doesn't have to look at his punchable face, the better.

Rommeruk glances at Barriss too, then returns to Riyo. "If I never ask, then you'll never have to say 'no,' and both of our dignities are spared."

"That was the deal," Riyo gently says.

Rommeruk snorts, then gives a slight bow. "I'll be in touch, Senator. I hope you get better soon."

"Thank you, Your Grace."

And with that, Rommeruk turns and leaves the room. The door clicks shut after him, and Riyo lets out a long sigh.

"What a creep," Ahsoka mutters. "He wants to marry you, but he doesn't even like you."

"Ahsoka, that's very unkind of you!" Barriss says.

"Don't pretend you disagree. He doesn't take Riyo's opinions seriously, so he doesn't take Riyo seriously, which means he doesn't like her."

"That's not what the gossip rags say," Riyo says.

"The gossip rags can shove it."

"I…well, the tabloids are rather malicious," Barriss says.

BEEP.

Riyo's data pad lights up from its place on the side table. Ahsoka picks it up and hands it to Riyo, who swipes across the screen to read. She frowns.

"What is it?" Barriss asks.

"The Jedi Order messaged me. Now that the Summit is over, they're asking when to expect you to return," Riyo says.

Ahsoka clicks her tongue and looks away. Barriss just sighs.

"We will return when you are well enough to travel. We will…." Here, Barriss's voice wavers, but she continues. "We will report to the Council and we will respectfully resign from the Order."

One of Riyo's eyebrows goes up. "Just like that?"

"Yes. It's rather drastic, but it can't be helped. I've looked into registering as a conscientious objector, but the Jedi don't allow for that sort of thing."

"But if you are generals and commanders in this war, then you are beholden to military law, and military law allows for soldiers and officers to develop conscientious objections and to abstain from fighting."

"Usually, you would be correct, but the relationship between the Jedi and the Republic is made up of exceptions. We are not Republic citizens, but we command the GAR. We command the GAR, but we are not subjected to military law. I would rather not wade into that mess," Barriss says.

A sly smile spreads across Riyo's face at that. "It sounds like you've been brushing up on your line of reasoning, Barriss. When did you do that?"

"It was gonna happen eventually; you're a bad influence," Ahsoka says. Riyo laughs.

Barriss frowns. "I'll admit that I'm concerned of our path outside of the Order. When we leave, then what would we do? How would be do it? We've not much by way of credits, and we don't have a ship, and we won't have any identichips either. No citizenship means no clearance, and no support."

"How many credits do you have? Would they follow you out of the Order?" Riyo asks.

"Yes, because the accounts are with the Banking Clan," Barriss says.

"I have about one thousand credits," Ahsoka says.

"And I have a bit more than two thousand," Barriss says.

"Three thousand credits?" Riyo taps her chin as she thinks. "Give me five days and I'll flip it for eight."

Barriss squints. "How?"

"If you have to ask, it's not a gift," Riyo says.

Barriss's nose scrunches. "I don't like that, but I won't ask. Tell me no one will get hurt."

Riyo raises her hand. "No one will get hurt."

"There see? We'll be fine," Ahsoka says. "Riyo, can we stay at your place until we figure stuff out?"

"Of course! Anytime," Riyo says.

"And as for a ship, I mean, I could always slice one," Ahsoka says.

"Who said you'd have to steal?" Riyo asks. She reaches out, and Ahsoka automatically takes her hand. Riyo lightly tugs, and Ahsoka joins them on the bed.

"Who told you that you'd have to steal a ship, Ahsoka?" Riyo asks in a low voice. Their faces are so close that her breath tickles Ashoka's nose. Her heart thuds in her chest.

So this is how Barriss must have felt when Riyo kissed her wrist. Ahsoka's dimly aware of how Barriss watches them from the other side of the bed, her fascination leaking through the Force Bond. Damn if it isn't the smoothest thing Ahsoka's ever seen Riyo do, and her mouth turns dry, but a teasing glint in Riyo's eyes jolts Ahsoka back to her senses.

Oh. That's how it is, huh? Well, Ahsoka can play too.

"Would you get us a ship if I asked you nicely?" And at that, Ahsoka lowers her gaze to Riyo's mouth.

Riyo's eyes flicker. To her credit, she doesn't move away at all.

"Ask me nicely," Riyo whispers, teasing save for the spike of pure want cutting through her humor. It's hidden as fast as it appears, but it's too late. Ahsoka sobers from the sheer magnitude of it. How can emotions so intense be housed in such a small body? And how can Ahsoka not hold feelings just a fierce in return?

There is no shying away either. Not this time. There are no blinders to divert Ahsoka's attention and there are no reasons why she should box away her wants the way she's always done before. And by the Force, does Ahsoka ever want.

Ahsoka wants to kiss Riyo. She wants to curl around her like how they did in the Moonlit Monastery. She wants to pull the collar of Riyo's shirt aside and press her mouth to the yellow tattoos woven over the tops of her shoulders.

There's a spike of surprise through the Force Bond, and Ahsoka glances past Riyo to Barriss, who is blushing under her lumen. Was…was Ahsoka broadcasting that through the Force? Oh no.

But instead of leaving in disgust, Barriss stays. She stays and her fingers curl in her lap, crumpling the material of her skirt in her fists. Like she's holding herself back.

That just won't do, but Ahsoka will get to that. She looks back to Riyo.

But Riyo pulls back, flushed indigo. "I mean, of course I was joking. You and Barriss aren't obligated…I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…."

Yeah, maybe she shouldn't have, but Ahsoka started it. She started it and she might as well finish it too, as it's the responsible thing to do. Ahsoka leans in and kisses Riyo, catching the corner of her mouth. Riyo gasps, and a sharp thrill zings through her aura. After a moment, she lays an cautious hand on Ahsoka's arm and turns her head for a proper kiss. Riyo is soft against Ahsoka's mouth and blazing hot. Sweet too, because of that candy.

Ahsoka is careful or her teeth and makes sure not to bite down, even as Riyo responds with rising insistence. Her fingers skim up Ahsoka's arm and curl around her shoulders, pulling her closer. Ahsoka's montrals pick up the quickening thrum of Riyo's pulse, and she is so very pleased. She's doing that to Riyo. She caused that.

When Ahsoka finally sits back, contented, she leaves Riyo breathless and dazed, her pupils are blown wide open. A dopey smile slowly spreads across Riyo's face as she turns to Barriss.

Barriss still hasn't left, and the Force around her is a mess of swirling emotion. She looks down as if she hasn't been watching. As if she didn't also sense that lapse in Riyo's mental shields. As if she hasn't felt what Ahsoka felt through the Force Bond they share.

"What about you?" Ahsoka asks.

Barriss' eyes widen. "What about me?"

"Do you want one too?"

"So you're just giving them out today, huh?" Barriss' voice cracks and she clears her throat. Ahsoka scoots across the bed to Barriss, so close that their hips touch.

"Only to Riyo, and to you if you want them," Ahsoka says. Behind her, Riyo gives a strangled noise.

"If I want them," Barriss repeats, her voice soft. "If I want them from the both of you."

"Yeah," Ahsoka says.

A torn look passes over Barriss' face. She was always more methodical, always had to examine an issue or situation thoroughly to the point of exhaustion. It might too much too soon. A pang goes through Ahsoka's heart, and she moves to shift back.

"Yeah, it's a little fast, isn't it? I'm sorry."

But Barriss' hand falls over Ahsoka's and holds fast. Ahsoka stills.

"Barriss?"

Barriss finally glances up, her blue eyes clear and sure, then flutter closed as she leans in and presses her lips to Ahsoka's.

The Force flares around them in response, bright and warm. Ahsoka gathers Barriss into her lap as she kisses back, making Barriss melt around her. Compared to the intensity of the last kiss, this one remains slow and patient. Barriss breaks the kiss to breathe and drops her forehead against Ahsoka's shoulder. She hooks her fingers into the material of Ahsoka's dress and shakes.

Riyo ducks to better see. "Barriss, are you crying?"

"No…yes," Barriss mumbles.

"Damn. I was that bad, huh?" Ahsoka says.

Barriss gives a watery chuckle. "No, I'm just really happy."

Ahsoka hugs her tight and looks at Riyo over her shoulder. Riyo's grinning like a fool, and Ahsoka must be doing the same, because her cheeks hurt.

"Your bed on Coruscant, is it big enough for all of us?" Now that Ahsoka has the two of them, there's no way she's ever letting go.

Riyo shakes her head. "It's not, but I can fix that."

-----

Reindeer Ridge can't be found on a map, nor has it been found by any other travelers. There is no recorded history of it in any database.

Vuyo Kortzeer tried reconnecting with his ex fiancé, but she already moved on. That's ok though, because he found someone else and married her. Sanele Kortzeer got her degree and moved to Kark You Pay Me, Pantora to help develop the town.

Anathi Mafoo and his family donated the hunted seals to the people of Bravado. His eldest son, Dumi, returned from exile and inherited the Count title. Thandi never quite got the hang of the uhadi, but was able to tour Pantora by playing the batanga as part of a band.

Nanuk, his wife Yuka, their friends Osha and Ujarak, and the rest of the Breede Ice Ferry passengers survived the bounty hunter attack without any injuries and got to their destination safely.

Priestess Kupun made it back to the Moonlight Monastery by taxi. Riyo bought High Priestess Estuuya and the priestesses a new speeder to replace the one she, Barriss, and Ahsoka stole, and also donated enough credits to fix the damaged classroom. The priestesses are very grateful.

Riyo became Ahsoka's and Barriss' financier and treasurer. After Barriss and Ahsoka quit the Jedi, Riyo provided them with the proper flimsies, identichips with clearance, and the equipment they need to travel the galaxy and help people. It's all far too expensive for a Senator's salary, but they don't ask where it came from and Riyo doesn't tell them where she got it all. Riyo joins them on their adventures when she can.

Ahsoka and Barriss went on to cause a major and successful slave rebellion in Hutt Space. They each have seven figure bounties on their heads and have been deified on a couple planets for their efforts. After every adventure, they come back to Riyo.

The three of them are very, very happy.

-----

Want to read this on Ao3 or on FF.net? Click here for the links.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #Ahsoka Tano #barriss offee #riyo chuchi #fanfiction #fanfic #artillery writes

12 notes · View notes

larenoz · 5 years ago

Text

Roswell New Mexico - Live Rewatch - Ep 3 - Tearin' Up My Heart

What matters is the science

The power to heal or harm. Hhhhmm, I wonder who else that might apply to in the future?

Hey lab rat!

Subtle, Liz. Real subtle.

No, he's not just stressed Liz

It's all a plan to get Max to get his gear off.

His heart isn't racing because he's scared of Liz. Neither of these people has a subtle bone in their body.

Die Jesse Manes Die

Hey there Kyle.

Alien hunting buddy, four war hero sons.

"Are you calling Alex faint of heart?" You go Kyle.

Die Jesse Manes Die

See now I think this is where Jesse made his biggest mistake. Threatening Kyle's life is one thing, but threatening his friends. That just kicks his protective side into high gear. Especially when it comes to ALex who he feels he owes. Probably gets his competitive side going as well

OMG Kyles face as Jesse walks away.

"I don't need an Airman, I need a Valenti"

"The light show whenever I feel anything" Yeah, we know what your talking about Max

Yeah, we know why you didn't Iz and Michael about the experiments.

So that's a yes then.

"Please don't touch me". Oh, that's gonna hurt the feels

Busted. Not sure how I feel about that shirt Iz is wearing though. I think we might be trying a bit too hard for the New Mexico aesthetic.

"We have a connection, we did, I think" Not too sure there Max

OK, now that's just mean Iz, with the Kyle/Liz hookup.

Especially when you know it's gonna hurt Max.

Now here we have on rewatch the first scene where I'm not sure if it's Iz or Noah??

Where she talks about his hand print on Liz's chest, just seems a bit Noah like??

Which would also explain the meanness?

Arguements about who knows each other best and relationships built on lies.

That's a set of criteria where everyone is on pretty shaken ground at this stage.

Max as golden retriever or X-file. Kyle being all caregivery. Fuck, I would give anything to see him in a nice white shirt. Sorry, I digress.

Provocation. Another theme we see again and again through the show.

Not a fan of this whole treasure hunt storyline tbh

Yes Kyle, we all love Max because he's tall.

OK Nancy Drew"

Fuck, you cannot just cut to THIS scene like that. Fuck me.

The song, the hand caressing that skin.

Fuuuuccck

Once again I am not emotionally prepared.

"Your awake"

"You staaayed"

God, such little dialogue that just tells us so much.

That Michael isn't used to Alex being there in the morning. That he leaves.

The way Michael looks over at Alex. So soft and happy.

Alex's barely there smile as he looks at Michael.

They just break my heart these two.

Fuck me.

The physical intimacy in this scene is just.... I don't even have words for it. It's so soft and gentle and ...

Michael's face.

It's just such an amazing scene especially for a queer couple.

The chemistry these two have as actors is insane.

God fucking damn it Isobel.

And fuck here it comes.

"it's just Isobel"

"Does she know about us?"

"would it be so bad if she did?"

"Yeah"

"Nah, don't worry about it"

Fuck me. Michael goes from being so happy to being someone's dirty little secret in seconds.

Now I'm pretty sure that's not what Alex thinks, but that's sure as shit how Michael interprets it.

All his insecurity and self-loathing just brings his armour back up.

oh shit yeah

It applies just as much to Alex as well.

The thing that hurts to the most is that Michael is so resigned to it. Like yep, this is how it always goes.

And I think that might apply to not just Alex, but other people he sleeps with. Good enough to fuck, but not good enough to be seen with. And that's just fucked up.

Especially for someone like Michael who is so tactile. That his way of connecting with people is so distained.

And Alex's face. He know's he's hurt Michael, even though that wasn't his intention.

But as they say, about paving the road to hell.

Tbh honest, I didn't notice until it was discussed in another channel that this ISN'T the morning after "I never look away" and that the Airstream has moved.

I blame opening the scene with all that golden skin. It's very distracting.

I offer that line as public domain to any fic writer that wants it!!

God how I hate that Michael is probably alot of people's dirty little secret. Fuck them.

"He's letting Liz experiment on him"

"Please say sexually"

Not gonna lie. THat is one of the best lines ever on tv.

Also Michael with no shirt.

Also if they ever get Michael in a nice white button up I'm gonna die.

Yes I have a white shirt kink.

Iz's face. :laughing:

Kids, kids kids. Have we learned nothing?

Plans involving Liz never end well.

Secrets, always about the secrets

Mix cd

Clues, Nancy Drew

Teen melodrama is our thing.

So cheeky Liz. It's a good look on you.

Liz is wearing armour lipstick.

Of course Maria is coming on the treasure hunt.

Cam buying Max a first edition. Nerd boner. Don't ever change Cam.

Max, max, max. It's not the time.

Don't dig into the past. HOld onto the good memories. Exactly the advice Kyle gave Liz last ep.

And he doesn't listen either. Lucky he's so pretty.

I really hope we get to see the hold your hair while puking, slash your exe's tires Rosa in S2. It's such a great description by Maria. Gives a great sense of the real Rosa.

"She's isn't what leftover in the dirty crevices of this town." That is such a great line - gives a great insight into Maria.

which in no way makes up for that fucking powder blue skivvy he wore!! Jesus that was ugly. So I need more white shirts to balance it out. Bonus points for linen.

But more likely on Kyle than Michael, not that I wouldn't be cool with that.

Ophiuchus

Liz's don't lie to me face.

And here we go with more heart break. THis show never stops.

I love so much that in this fandom a dark green and black flannel shirt is what constitutes the "slutty" outfit.

I love that he is alergic to buttons.

Scared of not being the number 1 person in Max's life. Tbh. he's not wrong.

Michael and his touching people to check in with them.

Annnd here comes the start of more pain.

Not to be shallow, but Alex's outfit in this scene is interesting. I know we haven't seen him in civies much yet, but even so this stands out. It's such a light palette. So different to the dark colours we've seen before and everything that we see him in after.

A reflection of the lightness he feels from reconnecting with Michael? That disappears after the drive in and never really returns for the rest of the season?

Maybe? I lean towards more unconscious choice.

A willingness to be seen?

Which then is picked up later with his "can't be seen with a criminal" comments.

Where he goes back to not standing out, even in civies

Gods, the looks on their faces. They just love each other so much but Alex is still struggling.

Alex's smile when Michael sits down.

Kyle you are so gonna get busted.

Your mum is the sheriff dude.

Seriously Max. take a fucking chill pill.

I know it's the overpower but seriously. How do people not notice?

Yes Kyle, this massive over reaction is about Liz.

OK, I know Kyle is doing it on purpose, but that is cold.

Kyle, Kyle, Kyle, alot of people want to hit you, don't encourage them.

And even if he was human Max has height and weight on him as well.

That smart arse smirk of Kyle's.

Damn, Jenna looks good with her hair like that.

Damn Kyles eyes.

And Kyle's little puff after Max leaves. He knows how close he came to getting his arse kicked in some way.

Die Jesse Manes Die.

Alex, ALex don't listen to the evil man. Please!!

And what about Michael, sitting so close to the man who mutilated him? Any person would have trouble keeping their cool.

Knowing Jesse is around is one thing, but what must it do to Micahel to see him like this?

"Can't lie to a psychic, hmm mmm"

Liz, spying on Max and Cam is a little bit creepy. Jealous much?

Not sure why Iz sees Rosa when trying to influence Liz??

Oh, Rosa's saying the lines she says to Iz later on after Noah is exposed.

Run and puke face.

Don't be a douche MIchael

Might not be a high school crush. More paralleling.

Max, don't be a dick to Cam. More than just try. And don't make it sound like a burden for fuck sakes.

"xenophobia sells more tickets"

I have Maria boot envy

And here comes the heartbreak

"I was dating a Chad"

"All the Chad's end up being Chad's"

That is some grade A dialogue right there.

Poor Diego

2 min break, I need a hot drink to stop myself coughing.

BRB

Could be. Might also be that Noah's blocks are weakening?

You go for it Cam.

Oh OK. Max you fucking dork.

OMG Liz, not cool.

Cam shutting this shit down right now.

Max making possibly the worst life choice ever seen on tv

Kyle Manuel Valenti!

And the most shit I'm busted face ever seen on a grown man.

Kyle why did you say love triangle? Don't say that.

Totally, he's hopeless but extra hopeless when your Mum is sheriff.

Sheriff Valenti has Jesse mans sussed out.

Tbh, I feel Max's pain as Liz reads out that letter. I found some stuff recently that I wrote at that age. OMFG, it was pretentious and oh so serious.

I like the hot sauce homage to OG

And then Liz just goes all in.

Don't do it Alex.

Fair warning I'm about to say some stuff about Alex that people might not like.

"I'm an airman, I can't be with a criminal".

Gods, Alex, no. You just let your Dad win.

You just told Michael he isn't important.

"All my life, the system has put me at the mercy of ciminals"

This line. FUck me.

Just another example of Michael flat out telling people the honest, painful, fucking private truth about his life and people then just blowing him off.

He just does it over and over again and then people have the fucking gall to say "we didn't know" How the fuck did you not know?

From anyone else it's bad but from Alex? Alex who knows Michael, who knows Michaels life, who has seen more of the cruelty of the world than anyone else in the show, from Alex it's a betrayal.

Yep, and using that as an excuse just compounds it. Because he's using the actions that Michael takes in order to survive against him. Compounds that betrayal.

And for me, if any action by Alex could be described as being a dick move, it's this one.

And I know why Alex does it, I really, really do, but fuck, it's still really, really bad.

And, And, all this happens in Michael's truck, his home, that Alex fucking knows he lived in during high school.

"Just trying to survive it"

Again, truth.

Not live, not escape. Survive.

Exactly.

Yes, he is Michael.

Fuck no, Alex. You don't get to say that. You don't get to blame Michael for your choices.

And Michael's sigh. Not even disappointed. Just resigned. Same ole, same ole.

Fair cop Liz. You don't really think Max killed Rosa.

But I'm also sorted glad they didn't make Liz into the sort of person who dismisses her own experience and world view just because she likes someone.

Max, it's not you place to decide what Liz can handle.

"That's what everything is about for me". Max, Max, Max. I'm impressed you could say that without coming off as a creepy stalker type.

You know what Max, now would be an excellent time to come clean about everything, just sayin'.

true

Noah, Noah

"I knew what I was marrying into" we now know what an understatement that was from Noah.

Gotta be honest, telling your husband that someone else is your person is a bit harsh.

You have two unhappy brothers Iz, pay attention.

True, but also Michael's abuser as well? I sort of read it as they both know the other isn't OK and they just don't talk about it with each other?

Noah, I'm trying really hard to block out that you are not a good guy.

Maria - "Max is so harmless" and Liz's face.

Kyle, Kyle, Kyle.

I really like how they actually have the smart person (a doctor) actaually be smart? He knows Jesse has power.

Paul Ryan comment

He cooperates just enough. Though I think part of that is he still doesn't trust Max.

Oh yeah

Max loosing his shit

Shut up Jesse, just shut the fuck up.

Yeah, not subtle but still good.

Overall not a bad episode.

As I said, not really a fan of the treasure hunt storyline.

I'm really happy with the way they handled Kyle dealing with Jesse. Again another example of a storyline that would drag out for seasons on other shows.

More backstory for Alex and Michael. My poor boys.

Love Maria giving us a more balanced view of Rosa. Who I am really looking forward to seeing in S2.

Yep, so many examples of how out of the loop people are keeping Maria. And we know it's just going to get worse. I really need for them to give her an opportunity in S2 to really rip into everyone for keeping her in the dark.

And Jesse fucking Manes. Just about everything he says makes sense. He's actually right about aliens. Even right about there being bad ones. But we also know that he's a violent, vindictive dick.

#roswell new mexico #Roswell Nm #roswellnm #rewatch-larenoz

1 note · View note