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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years ago

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Whether It Works Out Or Not: Winter’s Cold, Part Two

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: High Honor!Arthur Morgan/Named OFC

Rating: Holy shit T.

AN: Thank you all so much for being here! Enjoy!

[Spoiler warning for the epilogue!]

Tag List: @huliabitch @cookiethewriter @pedrosbigdorkenergy @thirstworldproblemss @anonymouscosmos @culturalrebel @karmezii @teaofpeach @crookedmoonsaultpunk @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @nelba @scribblenotes76 @toxiicpop @mstgsmy @misty-possum @gallowsjoker @midnightbeauty35 @lackofhonor @renegademustelid @missfronkensteen @newplanetshine

Part One: Strangers

Part Two: Friends

Part Three: More

Bonus One: A Brief Diversion

Bonus Two: Back In The Cage

Winter’s Cold, Part One

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains emotional distress and self-loathing. Stay safe!]

The first time Arthur really felt...aware, like he was actually inhabiting his body instead of floating above and slightly to the right of it, he realized that he could hear chirping birds. A breeze stirred his hair; there must be a window open nearby.

It dawned on him after several moments that he could breathe. It still hurt, it pained him, but he wasn't hacking and wheezing every second. Dread flooded his soul then; either he was dead, or the law was in the process of meting out the rope for his noose. Bit of a raw deal for all those hellfire preachers if eternal damnation was only some downright mild discomfort (at least after everything else) and a lazy little breeze.

His whole body still felt like it weighed too much to move. The idea of opening his eyes was a distant, faint notion; barely a fledgling consideration in the back of his mind. Arthur was more than content to lay just wherever it was that he had fallen, sunshine wavering in dappled patches across the insides of his eyelids.

He dimly noticed that fabric was covering his mouth and nose. A bandanna, or some kind of mask? To keep him from spreading the infection, he surmised pragmatically. Through the material wafted a scent from his childhood, the alive smell of freshly-cured hay. Beneath it was the ever-present odor of manure, the crisp tingle of pine. So he must be in the mountains somewhere.

Odd. Last he knew, he was being shipped off to the city to be read his last rites. Had they decided to let him convalesce in the wilderness, drag him back from the clutches of death and then set his backside afore the law?

Very odd indeed. But then again, justice had always been more of a performance than a true enforcement of moral integrity.

I sound like Dutch.

He drifted off again. Just thinking was exhausting, like wading through swamp mud.

More medicine. Balm for his chest. A stew, lip of the bowl pressed to his mouth so he could slowly slurp it up. Rich, meaty broth, soothing his throat. How many days had it been?

He couldn't even bring himself to move when he felt the familiar press of a flat blade against his neck. Hot water soaking into his skin, a warm cloth moving in circles to scrub away whatever grime was around his nose and mouth. The person was meticulous, sure strokes carefully ridding the man of the stubble he harbored on his face. How long had it been since he shaved?

Christ alive, Arthur was tired. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to live or not. This caretaker, whoever they were, clearly wasn't letting him go without a fight. But he was so tired.

He wavered for what felt like a lifetime, hovering at the edge of eternity in the green fragrance of curing hay. It was safe here, at any rate. Nothing would harm him in this peaceful tomb. He could rest until he began to feel like he was in control of his body again, and one fateful day, Arthur Morgan finally realized that he wanted to see how much worse living could manage to be.

His eyes opened slowly, squinting against the near-blinding illumination of sunset that played pink against the unfinished beams over his head. Lord, just doing that much had taken the wind out of his sails. Maybe he was already dead.

His eyes rolled shut wearily, blinking open again what felt like moments later to find the place dark. Night had fallen. Time was slipping past him, it would seem. There was a faint taste in his mouth: venison stew with wild carrots, if he had to guess. He didn't even remember eating.

He squinted in the blackness, trying to force his eyes to adjust so he could at least take in his surroundings before he lost consciousness again.

Hay. Everywhere. He appeared to be in a loft of some kind, bales stacked neatly all around the tick he laid on. Night sounds filtered in through the open window, bats squeaking and the booming call of an owl telling him that the hour must indeed be late.

Arthur lapsed back into senselessness once more. He dreamed of hearing violin music and catching sight of a massive, pale buck through the window. It watched him from a far-off hillside, ears flicking back and forth to catch every sound.

He dreamed of Irene. Her smile, her eyes, the kisses in the tent that they had shared...

Maybe, maybe sat like a block of lead in his gut. 'Maybe' was all he had ever had. A chance, a mirage. Pretty words from men and women who had made him feel useful, needed.

So he had poured from himself until he was empty and it still hadn't been enough.

He was a fool. What was it that Irene had said to Jamie? "I'm not letting anyone else dig my grave and usher me into it."

Arthur, in contrast, had practically handed Dutch the shovel on a silver platter.

I gave you all I had.

…

He was aware that someone was nearby, and he managed to open his eyes again for a brief moment. Long enough for him to hallucinate that it was Irene tending to him, Irene giving him whatever horrendous medicine it was and washing away the bitter taste with hot soup and small sips of tea. He must truly be long gone, mad with delirium or fever or the consumption that had wracked his chest until he felt paper-thin.

How would she even be here? How would that have even happened? There was no way.

Arthur almost loathed himself for choosing to live at that moment, because he was clearly missing a few more screws. He knew that some agues raged so strong they could burn the brain right out of a man and he feared that was the case with him.

Not that he'd had much brain to lose in the first place.

Christ, he did wish she was here. He wished he could take her hand and never let her go again.

Allowing her leave that final time was a regret that had haunted him even more prominently than his bitter failure with Mary, for all that he knew there was nothing he could have done to make her stay with him. Irene had been on her own too long, flown too far and high to ever be tied down to some old, miserable bastard again.

Mary had come to know him under false pretenses, and she had never truly reconciled herself with it. In a way, Arthur hadn't either. He had known she wasn't his from the very beginning, had known that he was playing a part or living a lie whenever he was with her. It never would have worked out, and it never did.

But Irene, despite their deceptive start, came to him with a certain honesty. The haphazard performance of masculinity had done little to hide her true nature, the kindness that she claimed to see in him so freely displayed in her as well. It also didn't hide the burdens she carried, though he hadn't understood the sadness in 'Frank's' eyes when they had spoken.

The trials she had gone through...he at least had the gang, but she was wholly alone. She had endured, like a pine tree rooted on a crumbling and wind-whipped bluff. Storms of life howling all around and yet…

And yet, when he had last seen her, she had held herself proudly in Lemieux's mansion, unshaken. The guts and wherewithal that had seen her thus far would continue, and Arthur had wished her nothing but the finest of luck even as he had sent her on her way.

…

There were folded clothes on the floor beside him when next he stirred, and on top of them was a note. Arthur had no idea how long it took him to sit up, never mind move his arm, manipulate his fingers into picking the note up, unfold the note to read it…

Lord, living certainly seemed to require a lot of steps.

Arthur,

Not sure if you'll really be awake today, but I've noticed you moving around a bit of your own volition. Left the clothes in case you feel up to getting dressed. I am uncertain if you'll recall, so I'll remind you that the waste bucket is in the far corner.

The note was unsigned.

Arthur huffed out a breath, clearing his throat experimentally. He reached for the union suit on the top of the pile, planting his face in the article of clothing with a groan as his head suddenly felt too heavy to support. "C'mon Morgan." He encouraged himself, the words thick in his mouth. Shit, how long had he been out for? It was like he had forgotten how to speak.

Just pulling the suit up and over his legs was a task of Herculean proportions. Arthur doggedly kept fighting the urge to pass out, the desire to lay back down and let time zip by again. He had made the choice to live and by God, he would follow through with it even if it killed him.

The longer he worked at getting dressed, the easier it became to keep his eyes open. Socks on over the suit, shirt, pants. His suspenders hung limp at his sides, but he did tuck in his shirt as best as he could after he relieved himself.

Boots. Boots, one tipped over on the space beside the ladder, the other within reach of the bed.

Next, climbing down the ladder. Mercifully the loft was not particularly high. The whole barn seemed rather small as far as barns went, obviously originally built with one stall. A second one appeared to have been hastily grafted onto the building at a later time.

Arthur had to take a breather at the base of the ladder, clinging to it just to keep his balance. His knees felt like they were made out of jelly. Had his boots always been this damn heavy?!

He floundered onward after a moment, grateful for his hat as he emerged into the blinding sunlight of the outside world.

Arthur rubbed his eyes, nearly losing his footing as he did so. He had already been uncertain of the reality of his current situation, and this idyllic scene in front of him wasn't helping matters!

A small paddock stretched out on the left, and a cozy-looking cabin was nestled into the green, flower-dappled glen alongside the barn he had just emerged from. Arthur staggered to the paddock fence for support, draping himself over it. From the shadow by the barn, a shape stirred. He forced himself to focus on it, his eyes widening when the horse meandered lazily out into the sunlight to graze.

"Chase!" Arthur rasped, his voice rough and cracking from disuse. The mare's head jerked up and she looked around. His heart leaped in his chest when she whinnied excitedly at him, trotting across the paddock and bumping her nose against his chest. Arthur held her tightly, cupping her muzzle and scratching beneath her jaw. "That's my sweet girl, my good girl." He murmured, feeling foolish for getting choked up.

There was an explosive snort to his right and a familiar pink nose snuffled over his shoulder. Arthur squinted, turning his head to the side and realizing that it was Bluster. The horse whickered, mouthing at the sleeve of his shirt.

Arthur Morgan was speechless. He must be dead. How else could he have his horse, and Irene's horse besides? He sat there mutely for God only knew how long, just petting Chase with his eyes closed to luxuriate in the sensation of sun on his skin.

Behind him, the wind carried faint sounds to his ears, and he flinched when he caught a child's high-pitched squeal of laughter. Just where the hell was he, if he was indeed alive? What buffoon would nurse someone like him back to health, yet leave him unbound and unguarded? Something was very odd about this whole scenario.

Arthur turned and leaned back on the fence, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the sun as he looked up at the ridge of the glen. There was an abrupt flash of motion to the left on the edge of the gully, and he watched a woman that he desperately wanted to recognize chase after a child. The little one was fairly shrieking with mirth, scurrying away from their pursuer until they flopped down dramatically and allowed themselves to be caught.

It felt like his heart had left his body, the damn thing soaring and shattering all at once. A girl, it was a little girl, her hair the color of a pale buck. Irene scooped the child up, laughing breathlessly and tossing her into the air before spinning the two of them in a dizzying circle.

Irene.

Arthur swallowed hard. Fate was indeed a cruel mistress if this was the vision he was greeted with upon making his decision to live! He continued to just slouch against the fence, silently observing the duo as they frolicked at the top of the ridge. Irene had flowers in her hair just like she had at the Mayor's little soiree, and he realized dimly that her dark brown curls were much longer. Just how much time had he lost?

He finally mustered up the strength to wave at them and he liked to think that Irene went still out of happiness. In a moment she caught the child up and fairly bolted down the hillside, her skirt hiked around her knees as she ran.

"Arthur!"

Christ, Christ he wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready for the sight of her with a babe on her hip, the agony of maybe, maybe that ripped at his insides. In another life, it might have been his child that she had been playing with. In another life, this might have been the home that they had built together.

But instead, she had gone on and made a fruitful existence without him. He couldn't, wouldn't blame her for it. He had cut her loose, after all.

Irene came to a halt inches away, her chest rising and falling from the effort of her sprint. "Y-You--you're up!" She panted, her smile burying itself in his ribs like a blade. Christ, his heart was too weak for this.

The child in Irene's arms gawked up at him with crystal blue eyes and he tried to muster up a smile, startled when Irene embraced him tightly. He felt her fingers dig into his back, and then her shoulders quivered while she buried her face in his chest. "Oh no, c'mon now Miss Irene." Arthur said hoarsely. "I ain't worth all that fuss, it's okay."

...

"Mama?" Anna asked tentatively. "Mama okay?"

"Mama's fine, love." Irene managed to say, kissing her child's forehead. "Just very happy is all. You remember my friend Mister Arthur, right?"

"Sick." Anna replied, her attempt at a fake cough making Arthur chuckle. "Better now?"

"I'd reckon so, little miss." The man drawled hoarsely. God, that voice. Irene hadn't realized just how much she had missed him. She had seen him every day, of course, nursing him back to health, but he hadn't been conscious for most of it. "S'pose I have your mama to thank for that."

Irene noticed him glancing over her shoulder, like he was expecting someone else to show up. "Your friend, Mister Trelawny--"

Arthur chuffed out a breath through his nose, making Anna giggle. "Friend? Man's a cockroach in a waistcoat." He groused.

"Yes, he mentioned that the two of you may not be as close as he posited. Nonetheless, it's thanks to him that you're here now, alive."

"Really. Huh. So I am alive, then. I wasn't shoah. This place is…" Arthur gestured vaguely around. "S'beautiful, Miss Irene." His tone was melancholy. "Like a dream."

"I'd like to think I chose well, Mister Arthur. It hasn't been easy, but the two of us have made it work." Irene said proudly, nuzzling her nose against Anna's. "My tough little frontierwoman."

"Just...what, you an' the baby?" Arthur asked, his confusion evident.

"Yes. Who else would there be?" Irene replied with her own question, brow furrowed. Arthur blinked down at her. His eyes darted momentarily to Anna, and Irene bit her lip, wondering whether he would put it together immediately.

"I-I jus'...I figured there might be a third person, is all." Arthur stammered.

Irene couldn't help her sad smile, shaking her head at him and extending an arm. "Come inside, Arthur. It's nearly suppertime anyways."

It was so strange, finally having him in the main room of her little house. She had thought about this scenario more times than she could count. Just the walk across the front yard thoroughly tired him out, and the man seemed more than content to doze in one of the kitchen chairs while she put the finishing touches on the evening meal. Obviously it would take time and care for him to regain even a fraction of his former strength. He had been bedridden, or something close to it, for nearly five months!

Anna played noisily on the floor with a few carved horses that Irene had made for her when she was teething, their forms scored with scrapes and marks from the event. The child didn't seem apprehensive about the large man currently nodding off in the chair by the table, which had Irene feeling hopeful. Maybe, just maybe…

"Dinnertime." She said softly, "put away your toys, love."

Anna pouted, holding up a finger. "One?" She bargained, clutching her 'favorite' horse to her chest. "One for Art'ur."

"Oh it's for Arthur now, is it?" Irene teased, wiping her hands off on her apron. "Go on then, you scallywag."

The little girl fairly beamed, placing the horse with a laughable amount of care alongside Arthur's arm. Then, she impatiently bounced in place as Irene fetched the riser for her chair so she would be level with the table when she sat.

"Ah ah, go wash up! You know the rules." Irene instructed the eager child, sending her on her way to the porch.

"She is just the cutest damn thing." Arthur mumbled, almost like he was talking to himself. His fingers idly played along the curves of the little horse by his fork. "How old is she?"

"A touch over two. She was born during the winter." Irene watched Arthur nod absently, and what she was about to say got caught in her throat as Anna toddled back inside.

Arthur accepted the coffee Irene poured him with all the gratitude in the world, his eyes closing in enjoyment as he took his first sip. "Ah, that's good," he sighed. "Ain't nothin' like a decent cup of coffee. Feel like life is comin' back to me."

"Well, don't forget to save room for dinner." Irene buttered Anna a little piece of bread and scooted it across the table to keep her occupied while she loaded two plates with corn, mashed potatoes and a spoonful of precious pork gravy from tomorrow's slow-cooking dinner. "Corn is Anna's favorite, right love?"

Anna nodded, blue eyes wide as she munched on her bread. "Mine!" She announced sharply, scrunching up her nose when Arthur chuckled at her.

"Sweeting, be polite. There's more than enough for all of us, you know that!" Irene chided her daughter, rumpling the little girl's hair fondly after she placed Arthur's plate in front of him. "Always enough here."

Anna's plate, as usual, required a bit more preparing, so she brought it along with her own to her chair beside the child. Anna immediately started digging into the mashed potatoes as her mother carefully shucked the kernels off the cob in neat rows. "Th'nk y'Mama." Anna said through a mouthful of food.

"You're welcome Anna, but slow down. No one will take it from you." With a touch of amusement Irene noticed Arthur visibly slow his pace in response, the man obviously used to wolfing his food. "Drink your water, Anna."

Arthur ate mainly in silence, aside from a few appreciative grunts. He couldn't contain his laughter when Anna started to imitate his sounds, the man apologizing for his poor table manners. "Forgive me, Miss Irene, I've always been awful at eatin' in the presence of polite company."

"Mama says I'm a little piggy." Anna informed Arthur, seeming confused when he burst out laughing again.

"If you're a li'l piggy, Miss Anna, then I must be the biggest boar alive." He said once he managed to rein himself in.

…

Arthur lingered on the front steps, the lantern in his hand ready to light his way back across the yard. He felt exhausted, stuffed with good food and more than ready to get a full night's rest.

So what was he waiting for?

Many thoughts had gone through his head during dinner. How beautiful Irene still looked, how good of a mother she clearly was. Anna was a precocious little thing, those blue eyes bright with the possibility of mischief.

Her eyes…

Arthur didn't dare to hope that one of he and Irene's little diversions had borne fruit, if only because it would throw into question his oh-so-noble attempts at prevention. Had he truly tried as hard as he could to be safe, or was there always that selfish desire in the back of his mind waiting to be acted upon?

He jumped guiltily when the door opened and Irene stepped out, half-turning to face her with a brittle grin. "Howdy ma'am. Little one safely abed, I take it?"

"After a bit of deliberation, yes." Irene sighed, her posture weary. "She's very opinionated for someone who cannot manage eating a carrot unless it has been sliced into wheels. I do fear for the future, Arthur."

The future.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Irene, is...did we…?"

She put a hand on his shoulder, silencing his stammering with a sad little smile. "Later, Arthur. Right now, rest is what you need."

He wanted to deny that, but it was fairly impossible to do so. He was nearly asleep standing up as it was. "Tomorrow?" He bargained through a yawn.

"Tomorrow. I promise."

Summer’s Warmth, Part One

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x original female character #high honor arthur #arthur morgan imagine #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 epilogue #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 spoilers #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 epilogue #rdr2

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hopevalley · 4 years ago

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Season 8, Episode 1: Open Season

Work was busier than expected on Monday, but the deep dive into the first episode of S8 begins now!

Scene 1: Narration, Elizabeth and Nathan, Lucas

The awkwardness between Elizabeth and Nathan was...palpable at first lol.The best part about the non-narrated part of the scene is twofold: Nathan interacting with Jack is a well-needed and very nice touch, and of course it’s always nice to see that Nathan is patient concerning Elizabeth’s situation and reassures her that she can let him know when she’s ready to go to dinner with him.

My problem with the whole thing is that...if she hasn’t spoken up about wanting that dinner date yet, and she’s not saying yes she’d like to get dinner with you now, it’s like...any sane person would assume at this point in the story that Elizabeth isn’t interested in Nathan. Worse, Nathan isn’t the kind of man who wouldn’t take a hint. I’m pretty sure this is why the opening scene felt just a little bit off. I think they ought to have let Elizabeth be a little more enthusiastic about the idea while still failing to commit to it.

To be fair to the writers, I can’t imagine it was easy for them to figure out how to open this season after such a long time gap. They let a whole winter elapse between last season and this one. How do you explain literally no major development with the love triangle in that amount of time? Especially after the way the last season ended?

Random consideration: the camera focuses on Elizabeth’s face a lot and makes her wedding ring clearly visible.

Boom, the flashback with Lucas. I think having him leave out of jealousy was a better idea than having his mother fall ill (we’ve certainly seen that enough at this point), and maybe we should also consider the fact that while Lucas was gone, Nathan didn’t really jump on the opportunity to woo Elizabeth himself.

I wonder if we’ll get an explanation for that or not. What makes Lucas so sure that after 4+ months, Elizabeth hasn’t started courting Nathan? Maybe he kept in touch with someone in town? Or he just knows Elizabeth well enough to know she wouldn’t feel quite ready to commit in that time frame anyway?

I did really like Lucas’s opening scene with Elizabeth. Honestly, he was quite likable, here: admitting he was wrong, admitting his shortcomings, apologizing. All good things. “I’m ashamed I let my jealousy get the best of me... The worst of me.” That’s such a good line.

It didn’t feel equal in enthusiasm to the Nathan scene, but I’ll have more thoughts on that later. I do believe it was on purpose.

Scene 2: Clara and Jesse’s Fight, The Café

I like the concept of some marital discord for Clara and Jesse. Marriage is easier said than done and like any serious relationship, it’s a lot of consistent maintenance. It starts out pretty well, with Jesse sleeping in the other bedroom. At this point I fully expected to find out Clara kicks in her sleep or she snores a lot or something that’s funny to hear about but really difficult to actually deal with in real life. Color me disappointed later, but I’ll get to it.

Scene 3: The Mercantile, Ned, Florence, Carson

This just set up things with Faith’s situation so there’s not much to say, but as always I do love Florence. I hope she gets some good scenes this season. And I love Ned so I hope the same for him.

Henry coming in to mail a letter was interesting, though. I’m not sure it’ll mean anything in particular later, but...it’s possible. Then again, maybe he’s just here to set our expectations regarding Faith’s return (of course it’s a long trip from Chicago) or Carson’s worry (a bit unreasonable unless he expected to hear from her at a specific stop).

Scene 4: Nathan, Dylan

Dylan is such an incredible scumbag. The spurs were a nice touch. He says things almost fondly (“She’s growing up... My little girl.”) and then wants nothing to actually do with Allie.

The guy’s actually a pretty good actor. The way he segues into being glad for Allie’s sake that Nathan wasn’t the one killed. If the next words out of his mouth weren’t a demand for go-away money you’d almost feel those words were genuine!

Scene 5: Lee and Rosemary’s Return + Faith’s Return + Dylan Part Two

Lots of energy in this scene, both good and bad. I always appreciate what Lee and Rosemary bring to the show. I genuinely just don’t care that much about Faith. I’m ready to ship her with Cowboy Brett Brewer. He gets a name, which makes me wonder if he’s gonna show up again. :3

Lol at Carson’s jelly face:

I MEAN...

Not a fan of Faith’s outfit...but to be fair we’ve never really seen Faith outside of uniform. That just doesn’t strike me as something she would wear to travel in...?

Dylan approaching Jack and Jack speaking to him was so hilarious to me. “A puppy!” It’s extra funny after he looked afraid of Rosemary. Nathan intervening was undoubtedly for the best, but I can’t imagine why he would have approached Elizabeth or Jack. He doesn’t know who they are, or their connection to Nathan. Maybe too convenient. Might have been better to have him approach someone else entirely--like Opal.

Scene 6: Nathan and Allie

It’s great Nathan’s officializing the adoption but he had literal years to do this and only chooses now, when there’s a threat? Legally Dylan doesn’t have a leg to stand on even in that day and age (he did the abandoning in the first place + Nathan is a lawman)... It kind of ruined the cute moment for me, and I think it will come back in a bad way later.

I don’t mind Nathan’s inability to confide in Elizabeth in this situation. At this point, she doesn’t need to know, and the situation is just weird enough that he probably doesn’t think he needs to dump his own problems on her.

Scene 7: Carson and Faith

I’m the jerk who just chanted “BREAK UP BREAK UP BREAK UP” during this scene in my head. I just...don’t care about Faith and Carson.

Scene 8: Bill and The Gals

I hate that they keep retconning Bill’s ability to cook well with every passing season. In season 2 and 3 he was more than satisfactory. In S4 he made dinner for Dottie and it was really nice. Now he’s godawful and doesn’t taste his own shit before letting other people try it? Come on.

This is the kind of stuff the writing team needs to cut out of the story. It’s not funny.

Worse, outspoken Fiona lying to Bill? I just don’t see it. At least Molly told him the truth...but I still am just SO tired of seeing this shit. It makes me think new writers only watched the last couple of seasons instead of all of them.

Also, if Bill is literally running the cafe most of the time, if he was bad at cooking, then...the place would have shut down ages ago. What they should lean into if they wanna do a cooking joke is that Bill isn’t good at creating recipes from scratch. Maybe he doesn’t have a strong sense of taste (my husband has this issue so it’s the first thing that comes to mind) so he’s likely to over-do things like spice or sugar or salt on accident. There’s also a lot of room for jokes about his “taste” in things that can come of it (women, clothes, et cetera).

Scene 9: Lee’s Pants

Good scene, 10/10, wouldn’t change a thing. I hope this pants thing becomes a running gag. This is the good kind of humor I want in my life. And I like that Jesse wants to emulate Lee. It’s wholesome.

Scene 10: Rosemary and Clara

The ribbon as a tissue was funny, but it was just SLIGHTLY too over the top for me.

Scene 11: Faith and Carson Again...............

“Were you jealous of that cowboy?” I think he should be. The cowboy is better. I don’t give a damn about these characters. And I genuinely hate that the strumming is Carson’s Thing Now. At the very least we should get some Carson and Bill doing a duet together which would be cool.

It just felt like it was shilling Paul and had nothing to do with the characters.

Scene 12: Mmm Money

This is arguably the most interesting scene in the episode. Lucas nodded at Nathan. Nathan went to Lucas for money. Lucas didn’t need to get the scoop to find out why Nathan needed it to loan it to him. Elizabeth is officially the least interesting part of the love triangle.

They treat her like she’s such a prize to be won, but I’m starting to worry that she’s become the new Lorigail on the show.

Anyway this scene had some gay vibes and I liked them.

Scene 13: Rosemary and Elizabeth Catch Up

YES. GOOD SCENE. It starts off fun and it gets serious, and the transition feels really natural. “Did he have reason to be [jealous]?” I’m genuinely glad this is in the episode. It needed to be. I hope Rosemary continues to ask the hard questions.

Elizabeth needs to face either dating one of them, or dating neither of them so that everybody can get on with their lives. If you’re not that enthusiastic about either of them I’d say...maybe don’t date either of them idk.

Scene 14: Nathan and Bill Talk

"If he sees you with me, then...” The problem with this scene is uh...twofold, let’s say.

Issue 1: ThEN HE WILL WHAT, NATHAN? WHAT HAS HE EVER DONE BEFORE THAT WAS SO BAD if he’s not a hard criminal? Maybe an example would be useful here...?

Issue 2: The old Bill Avery would have heard “if he SEES YOU with ME” and mentally been like, “all right so it’s only bad if he SEES ME” and spied on Nathan.

Nathan wanting Bill to stay behind in case Dylan doubles back isn’t a terrible idea, but it almost comes across more like...the writers just want Nathan alone.

Scene 15: Oil

I like the discussion and that Hickam gets to do something. I feel like Henry is low-key advising against shooting the well, and that Lucas and Hickam will end up doing it and causing an issue. It’s just setting up for the future and it’s nice to see those kinds of scenes in the series again!

Scene 16: Jesse and Lee

I’d like this scene more if I felt it gave us ANY insight into the problem Jesse and Clara are having. It mostly comes across like Jesse gets home and does nothing at all until bedtime and Clara is lonely. Could have been a better scene. It’s mostly just repetitive right now.

Scene 17: Nathan Cancels the Date

“Tomorrow’s Saturday.” Nathan’s like uhhhhh. This actually works really well to do what it’s supposed to do. By that I mean, he seems “off” so Elizabeth realizes he’s a bit stressed and leaving town = mountie business = dangerous.

I kind of wish Rosemary and Elizabeth would talk more about this, but maybe that’s coming in an episode soon...?

Scene 18: The Barbershop

Just a cute nice scene that shows a good friendship between Fiona, Clara, and Faith. I like this stuff. Keep it coming, Hallmark!

(Skipping Scene 19 because it’s just Nathan riding around...)

Scene 20: Lee and Rosemary Scheme

I really enjoyed this little bit where they decide to buy something for Clara and Jesse and we don’t get to see what it is. Super wholesome and very fun!

Scene 21: Nathan gets Ambushed

This scene was absolutely wild. Probably one of the best scenes like this that they’ve ever done. Dylan taking Nathan’s hat, “Take care of my little girl” after he takes the money and Nathan’s gun. It was super good.

Also, not too fake that Nathan was on the ground that long. If you got roped off of your horse you’d have the wind knocked out of you super hard lmao.

Scene 22: Bill & The Girls

Clara and Fiona are so cute. Bill playing the “Dad” figure to them both is really nice and it’s good for him. “I’m a lawman. I get to sneak.” What a Bill response.

(Skipping Scene 23 since it’s just Nathan finding his horse.)

Scene 24: Lucas visits with Elizabeth

Lucas and Elizabeth are flirting via a nursery rhyme. I...don’t like that LOL. But Lucas’s “Helen Bouchard taught me to read and after that I was on my own.” She really sounds unloving. This was a pretty decent scene, though.

Also, Grand Isle Louisiana had a major hurricane in 1909 and 1915.

They also seem to have been hit by more mild hurricanes in 1916 and 1917, but the 1915 one was a Cat4, so...the most notable.

Scene 25: Rosemary and Lee in the Dress Shop

This tries to solve the issue of Clara and Jesse’s marital problems, but it doesn’t actually do that. “Let Jesse read when he gets home.” “I’ll talk to Jesse.” Meh.

Scene 26: Barbershop

“Why do this when you’re so good with women’s hair?” I fully expected Fiona to say, “That’s where all the hot gossip is, of course.” I do like her gumption, though!

Scene 27: Nathan Finds Dylan

“I had to let you ambush me, so I had grounds to put you away.” COLD BUT EFFECTIVE. I appreciate this.

Imagine getting to be this smug. I wish it were me.

Anyway, long-term thoughts on this are mostly that...there is just no reasonable way Dylan’s story is over yet. It’s too juicy of a storyline to let go this easily. Allie is going to find out what Nathan did and she’s going to struggle to come to terms with it, especially after her grandfather really did try to turn his life around. Why couldn’t it be the same for her father? Why couldn’t she get lucky like that?

I hope it feels satisfying, whatever they choose to do. Otherwise this was just wrapped up too neatly/too quickly.

Scene 28: Nathan Returns

Very good scene. Nathan’s in a good mood and he does my favorite trope of all time when one person in the relationship has a child: “Why don’t we all go?” You already all know each other, so why not? It’s wholesome and good, and it shows he doesn’t care how he gets to spend time with Elizabeth, as long as he does.

Also, it takes a lot of the pressure off of her for the duration of the date and at its conclusion. This was a cute and good scene, one of the better they’ve had, I think.

Scene 29: Jesse and Lee Talk

This was a nice attempt at a talk, but it really comes off like Jesse has stopped loving Clara for no reason. That his romantic interest in her is what is causing the failure in their relationship.

The problem is: WE HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS CAUSING IT. NOBODY EVER SAID.

I agree that love isn’t “just” a feeling or “just” an emotion. It’s ALSO a choice. Marriage is a commitment you choose to continue every day. That is all good.

“Choose love. Then you feel it.” is probably some of the worst dialogue they’ve put in the show, though. Yuck. It left a bad taste in my mouth. It feels like it’s shaming people who legitimately fall out of love or who are in bad relationships. “If only you chose to work harder.”

I don’t think that was their intention at all, but it really soured the scene. I would have MUCH rather have had Lee get Jesse to talk about what’s wrong and then offer him pointers on how he could do better. Maybe he’s stressed out and losing himself in books, or he wishes Clara would sit and read with him because that’s something he always wanted. Or maybe Clara would be down for reading time if he read to her while she did her sewing.

There’s so much they could have done here to really send this home, but it didn’t work very well. At the very least Lee could have said, instead of ‘choose love’: CHOOSE COMMUNICATION. Make sure she knows you still feel that way about her.

The biggest thing is like, Lee could also be very encouraging in saying like, the honeymoon phase doesn’t last forever but just because things settle down doesn’t mean the love is less.

THERE IS SO MUCH GOOD STUFF THEY COULD HAVE WRITTEN FOR THIS but they chose “Choose love. Then you feel it.” WTF. That’s awful advice.

Scene 30: Jesse and Clara

Him bringing her flowers was a nice touch, and her getting him the book was also nice. The tandem bike was SO unexpected to me and I loved it. It’s just goofy enough that it works. The best part is that they know it’s not going to fix anything, but it’s still a fun and nice thing to do, and that’s wonderful for Rosemary and Lee. They both like to make the people they care about happy.

Scene 31: Mama Bouchard

MILF ALERT.

Elizabeth is just so shook at all of this she doesn’t say a damn thing for so long it made my palms feel sweaty.

“Someone ought to take an interest in your writing, don’t you think?” I rewatched the episode to understand the tone, and it’s a little hoity-toity/uppity, but she actually doesn’t sound condescending. It’s good for an editor to meet the author, after all, and meet to talk about their writing/book. This has always been custom, even in the early 1900s. Authors didn’t usually get their work published by an editor they’d never met (though of course, you will find some exceptions).

From the little we saw, Helen seems fine. The preview for the next episode tells us she’s UH, AN EDITOR DOING HER JOB, so I’m not looking forward to the editor being the bad guy, but I guess I’ll have to deal with that when it arrives. (To be clear, Elizabeth has never proved to the audience that she’s a Good Writer, let alone a Great Writer. She’s also not experienced which means her work probably NEEDS SOME WORK.)

Anyway, Elizabeth is immediately rude as HELL. Nobody can make an excuse for this. Helen isn’t THAT big of a deal. There are other publishers. Your father is filthy rich. If she changes her mind about your book you can pub to someone via your father if you have to. Like...Helen wouldn’t have taken you on if she didn’t see any potential in you.

Even if it was a big deal, Elizabeth has NEVER been a flake. EVER.

This is a classic case of a writer forcing the character to go out of character in order to bend to what the plot dictates.

If I were Nathan, I’d drop Elizabeth like a brick.

How to fix this scene? I’ll honestly have to think about that for a while. This was the first hint of truly bad writing this season. The bit with Lee and “choose love” was careless writing, but this scene with Nathan is just Bad.

The thing is, I KNOW WHAT THEY ARE DOING. I know they put this in there so that it looks like she’ll choose Lucas because she never even goes out with Nathan, and then BOOM. I know it’s meant to be this big thing about how she’s scared to feel anything for Nathan because Lucas is the safer option and also a good man (so why would she fall for the more frightening option?).

But this was not the right way to do this type of scene. I hope to God in the next episode someone says something about it. Allie could tell her it was rude and it hurt Nathan’s feelings/you shouldn’t have said yes if you didn’t want to. It’d be fully in character for her. Rosemary could also say something similar. If they do, I might be able to forgive this...but if it’s not called attention to by the other characters, then it’s a massive failure as a scene to me.

Did I miss anything? Do you want my thoughts on something in particular? Shoot me a message HERE and I’ll do my best to answer!

#when calls the heart #long post #season 8 shenanigans #season 8 spoilers #episode write ups

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snarkwriteswrasslin · 4 years ago

Text

summer sizzle | blackout - trent beretta [m]

[prompts used]

As suggested by my lovely Lemon.. Lean into the awkwardness. Ahhh.. I fucking hope this is exactly what you pictured bc I legit couldn’t have made this idea FINALLY work without your input.

** the rest of these prompts come from various lists I squirreled away on the internets. One day, I need to sit down and link to every single list I’ve used. Until then, credit to the prompt creators, I own literally nothing but the scenario and the original character **

Don’t look away + catching someone undressing + “I thought you didn’t peek!” “I don’t have to peek to know you’re hot.” ( belongs to Lemon, btw) + Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force. + “You’re so beautiful.” - Trent Beretta | Roommates/mutual pining au

[pairing]

Trent Beretta x OFC

[warnings]

18+ only. All kids, exit stage left fucking yesterday pls and thanks? uhhh.. this is so fluffy it’ll rot ya teeth. because i didn’t see Trent being any other way. Body fluids. Oral (male giving), masturbation, heaavy sexual tension. OH YEAHH... unprotected sex.

[tag squad]

@kyleoreillysknee

@rampagewriting

@writertoo18

@thatnerdwriter

@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure

@chasingeverybreakingwave

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[ tag list - masterlist - about page ]

TRENT BERETTA in BLACKOUT,

Just as I shut the door to the apartment, the storm raging outside reached a fever pitch, a clap of thunder loudly rattling the window and momentarily sending the lights to flicker. I tugged off my soaked jacket and scarf, letting them settle on the floor next to Trent’s gym bag and I sat my messenger bag and keys down on the table before bending down to pull off the boots I was wearing. My feet were killing me, it’d been a really long day and all I wanted right now was a hot shower.

Literally nothing else mattered but getting out of my wet clothing and getting warm again.

“Trent! I’m home!” I called out to my roommate. I paused for a minute or two and waited. When he didn’t say anything, I figured that he might be asleep because he’d gotten a late flight in the night before. So I made my way down the hall quietly and stepped into the bathroom, wasting no time in peeling off my clothes. The lights flickered again and then I actually heard the shower running.

I froze in place, biting my lip.

Trent was obviously not asleep like I’d thought upon entering. No, he was showering and for the third time in a week, we’d managed to burst in on each other awkwardly. I was just about to back out of the bathroom and make a hasty retreat to my own room right beside it to wait it out, but then I heard him groaning.

When I heard him groaning my name, though, that’s when my knees turned to jelly. I was about to turn around and reach for the knob but the lights flickered and then went out completely.

“SHIT!” I shrieked before I even realized that I’d been trying to make a quiet exit. To keep things from getting any more awkward between the two of us. The shower cut off and Trent stepped out before my flight mode kicked in and for some stupid reason, rather than take a step back and hurry to leave the bathroom like I’d been intending, I took a step forward instead, slipping on my wet jeans. Trent reached out quickly, catching me just as I fell into him. I took a shaky breath and tried to brace myself to look up at him as my eyes adjusted to the lack of light. If I thought my knees were like jello before, it was so much worse now because the way hard muscles pressed against my softer body was both somehow sheer heaven and complete torture.

For a few seconds that felt like they dragged on for hours, the two of us stood there staring. I licked my lips and swallowed hard, stepping away reluctantly. Trent bit his lip and I watched helplessly as his throat bobbed when he swallowed hard.

The lights came on again and Trent realized that I’d come in and stripped down and he turned away quickly, a lingering “Fuck” mumbled under his breath after he called out to me, “I’m not looking!” once he was totally turned away. I grabbed for the nearest thing I could find to slip on and cover myself. Slipping his shirt over my head. Once I’d done it, I tapped Trent’s shoulder so he’d know it was safe to turn around.He turned around a little faster than I was expecting and we found ourselves body to body all over again. One of his hands raised, going to wet hair as he took a deep breath and then proceeded to burst into laughter.

I pouted, but then the humor in the whole thing hit me too and I nearly doubled over myself, a hand lightly resting against his bicep to keep myself upright. “Oh god, this is classic. I even managed to put on the wrong shirt.” I barely managed to get the words out through my laughter and Trent’s body brushed against mine. The laughter died on my lips as I remembered exactly what he’d been doing and whose name he’d moaned a time or two when I’d burst in on him a few minutes before and I could feel my skin heating up all over because naturally, my eyes darted down and I swallowed hard almost the second I realized that he was strained against the towel. I tore my eyes away quickly and walked my fingers up and down his chest, managing a quieter laugh. “I’m sorry, I..”

“It’s fine. I’m honestly not complaining. I had a good view.” Trent’s eyes locked on me and he gave this teasing little smirk as he shrugged.

It surprised me when he said it and I clenched my thighs tight as my eyes met his and I immediately felt myself getting lost in the depths. He gave me this almost teasing little grin and I took a breath. “I thought you didn’t peek!” I pouted up at him slightly as I tilted my head. My fingers caught in the curly ends of my hair and I twisted a curl around, tapping my foot at him, giving an amused soft giggle when his mouth opened and then closed and then opened again.

“I don’t have to peek to know you’re hot.” he muttered, a husky tone to his voice as he spoke.

My thighs went from slippery to flooded and I blinked as the words sank in. He stepped closer and our bodies rubbing together had a shiver passing through my body as he gazed down at me with a tender look in his eyes and his tongue trailed over the outline of his lips only making me want to raise to tiptoe, pull myself against him and pull his mouth down to cover mine. Just the thought of it had me squirming under his tender gaze.

“Back at you.” the words came tumbling out as I closed the distance between us just a little more. Trent’s arm shot out, wrapping around me to pull me even closer and my breath caught in my throat at the suddenness of it. “Back at me, huh?” he was leaning in a little, his nose bumping against mine. I gave in to the fit of giggles that kept threatening to take over and his fingertips dug into my lower back lightly. It was unintentional, but I rubbed against him and he groaned quietly. “Glad this is amusing to you.” he pretended to pout as he tilted my chin so that I had to look him in the eye instead of just staring at his chest, totally distracted. Turned on. Fully aware of the tension thickening in the air around us and not sure what to do about it.

“It’s not amusing. I mean it was funny, but..” I trailed off, blowing at hair as it flopped right down into my eyes.

“But?” Trent insisted, reaching out with his free hand to tuck the annoying fallen strand of wet hair behind my ear. The closer his face got to mine, the harder it was for me to think. To form words. If I could even come up with anything to say to begin with. I typically can’t around him, the man is a breathing distraction. Walking temptation.

“But I’m only laughing because it takes my mind off of other stuff.” I admitted it quietly, going awkward and about to look down when he tilted my chin again. I swallowed down the lump in my throat as I saw the way his eyes just kind of fixed on my lips as his tongue trailed slowly across his own.

“What other stuff?” his voice dropped lower, his mouth almost dangerously close to mine by this point. “Because if it’s anything like what I have in mind…” he trailed off in a groan because his mouth brushed clumsily against the corner of my lips. My fingertips dug into his pecs and I leaned against him just a little because if I didn’t I was almost certain I’d puddle to the floor of our bathroom.

I just thought things were intense between us lately. I honestly didn’t have a clue, come to find out.

“That depends on what you have in mind.” I muttered quietly, making myself lock eyes with him as our bodies rubbed against each other just a little more. Trent took one more step closer and my back met the edge of the counter behind me. The hand on my hip dug in, holding me against him and now he was staring at my lips like he had every intention in the world of kissing me.

And I wanted him to do it so badly that I could taste it. I was a breath away from raising to tiptoe and tangling my fingers in his hair just to pull his mouth against mine.

“What if.” Trent rubbed against me a little as he towered over me, his hands all over me. “Yeah?” my mouth grazed against the corner of his as I said it and he groaned quietly, the rest of his question coming in short and heavy pants, “What if I want to kiss you?”

“What if I want you to do more than that?” it slipped out in the heat of the moment before I could even be bothered to censor myself. I bit my lip and went to raise my hand to cover my mouth because honestly, I was shocked I’d said it out loud. Trent’s hand circled my wrist, lowering my hand from my mouth. He released my wrist and both hands wandered down, gripping my ass as he lifted me up and sat me on the edge of the counter, stepping closer all over again. I wrapped my legs around his waist and scooted myself closer to him, biting my lip as his lips inched closer to mine all over again. Agonizingly slow.

“What if I want to do more than that?” Trent muttered just as his mouth met mine, his lips latching on to my top lip, tugging at it slightly. I pressed myself against him heavily, my arms wrapping around his neck and my fingers tangling in his hair, giving a gentle tug. My legs squeezed at either side of his hips and it caused me to rub against him even more. His tongue slipped past my lips and my fingertips dug into broad shoulders and tugged at wet dark hair as I rubbed against him with more urgence. My tongue clashed with his and he moaned into my mouth, slipping me off the counter and wrapping me around his body as he carried me out of the bathroom and down the hall, into his bedroom without breaking the kiss. My body hit the mattress softly and Trent followed me down, settled over me, propped up with a forearm beside either side of my head as he deepened the kiss even more.

“Just so we’re clear.. You don’t want me to stop.” his words disappeared in the kiss and I breathed out against his lips raggedly the answer, “No.” as I opened my legs, a leg resting on either side of his body as he settled between them. My arms were back around his neck and my fingers caught in his hair all over again, tangling up in thick strands. His head bent, his lips dancing right over my pulse. My heart fluttered lazily as that ever-present sense of calm I felt whenever he was here with me took over.

“Trent.” my soft moan was smothered by his mouth as it dove back against mine. “Mhm?” the soft murmur against my lips to linger in the air for a split second before being swallowed up by a deepening of the gentle nipping kiss. My back arched away from his mattress and I rubbed against him, a ragged sigh escaping my throat.The kiss broke again and his forehead rested against mine. My fingers hooked in the chain around his neck, tugging his mouth back down against mine all over again, making him chuckle into the kiss, hands roaming and incapable of being still in one area of my body for too long.

And god did those hands feel like heaven against my skin. Each gentle touch had me squirming, struggling to rub against him just a little more. His hand drifted down, fingers splayed over my thigh as he squeezed and his teeth dug into my lower lip. He rocked himself against me, the two of us laughing quietly when our foreheads bumped together and he nearly fell on top of me completely.

“Trent, it’s okay. I’m not made of glass?” I teased gently, making him laugh as my fingertips trailed down the center of his chest, toying with the towel wrapped around his waist as his hand started to move up the hem of the t-shirt I was wearing to cover myself in. “I know.” he locked eyes with me, biting his bottom lip as he tugged the shirt up, tossing it onto the floor of his bedroom with a quiet groan lingering in the air as his eyes roamed slowly over my body. I pouted, squirming against him in a desperate bid for more friction, the sheer need to feel him pressing me into the mattress, his skin against mine. It was driving me crazy and it felt like the more I tried, the more he resisted, determined to draw it out.

“Trent.” I whined again, a shiver racing through me when he rocked himself against me all over again and his lips settled against my forehead. “What’s your hurry, doll?” the question was muttered against my skin in the softest teasing tone and all I could do was squeeze his hips with my legs and try to rock myself up and into him, my breath catching in my throat when as soon as I did that, I could really feel him straining harder against the thick towel.

“ Please?” I questioned, giving my best pleading pout as I gazed up at him. He chuckled, leaning down and into me, nuzzling his nose up against mine, damp hair tickling my forehead. As his body rubbed against me a little harder and his fingertips dug in, I rubbed back against him, my breath catching only to come out shaky. I trailed my fingertips just beneath the plush towel, giving a little tug at it, trying desperately not to seem needy but realizing that there was no way to control it.

With a tug, the towel came unwrapped and Trent tossed it into his bedroom floor, his lips meeting mine in a soft and noisy smack as he drawled lazily against my mouth, “Better, doll?”

“Much.” I gave a soft gasp at the feel of skin on skin. Hard muscles on a soft body. Trent’s mouth broke from mine and started to trail lightly down my throat, his teeth catching here and there, totally at random. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re kind of handsome too.” I teased, our lips bumping together clumsily. Trent’s teeth caught on my bottom lip, tugging. The soft wet smacks of our kisses seemed to linger in the air between us. My leg bumped against his side and his hand wandered down, squeezing my thigh, holding it there, staring down into my eyes. “Kind of handsome, huh? I could be hurt by that, doll.” he pretended to pout, giving a quiet laugh as his eyes roamed over me, lingering long enough to make me squirm and try rubbing against him all over again. He rubbed right back against me, making me moan softly when I felt his cock slip between my folds.

“Oh come off it, Trenty. You know exactly how sexy you are.” I mumbled as I softly planted my lips against the top of his chest, the feel of a strong and steady heartbeat against my lips comforting. They say that when you really love someone, you feel this sense of calm fill you and I was realizing just how true that was.

He grinned into the kiss, deepening it, his fingertips digging into my body as he rocked me against him all over again. “To be fair, so do you, you little flirt.” he muttered lazily against my mouth as his hands drifted up, one catching hold of both mine, holding them above my head. I pouted a little because he’d stopped kissing me and he wasn’t rubbing me against him anymore either and that ache that had been building only intensified. I needed him touching me, I needed to feel his body against mine, pressing me down into the mattress. I wanted him buried so deep inside that I couldn’t tell where one of us ended and the other began. The realization prompted me to let my legs circle his waist, trying to pull him flat against me, but he nipped at my throat, shaking his head no at me as he licked his lips.

“Trent.” another needy whine ripped from my mouth, swallowed up by his own when he worked his way back up my throat and crashed it against mine. His hand gripped my ass, squeezing as he rocked himself into me and muttered quietly, “If you had any clue how long I’ve wanted this…” his voice trailed away as his nose bumped against mine, our soft laughter lingering in the air for a few seconds. He pulled his mouth away from mine, rough lips venturing slowly down the front of my throat all over again.

A shiver wracked my body when I felt them dance across my collarbone and Trent moved himself lower down my body, positioning himself over me all over again. I reached up, fingers carding through thick wet hair and he gave a low growl before dipping his mouth down, little kitten licks against my breasts as his hands journeyed up my body and squeezed them together. “Trent!” I arched up towards him, his name catching in the air as his teeth scraped against my nipples and tugged.

His mouth crept even lower and I could feel my body tightening up, my pussy practically dripping and throbbing with need. My toes caught in the plaid comforter on his bed and my fingertips dug into his shoulders lightly and I could feel them moving beneath as a shiver passed through. His eyes met mine again as he sank lower, teeth grazing right against the soft surface of my skin as he gave quiet groans. The hand in his hair gave a light tug and it only seemed to encourage him to keep going… But so much slower.

Each slow roll of his tongue over my skin had me squirming beneath him, whimpering and all but begging for it. He chuckled soft against my tummy, his beard leaving a tickling burn against my skin as his mouth worked lower. When I giggled, he stopped and looked up at me, licking his lips and winking. “Keep forgetting how ticklish you are.”

I rose up slightly, extending a hand and catching hold of his jaw to pull his mouth against mine greedily as I mumbled against his lips, “This has nothing to do with me being ticklish.” a teasing wink as the kiss broke and we pulled away from each other. His mouth dove down to my stomach again, his arms hooking beneath my legs as he spread them wider and settled between them. I clutched at the top of his head as his tongue ghosted my navel, rocking myself against him a little. The more I squirmed and moaned, the slower he moved.

Torturing me. Naturally.

When he pressed a kiss against my pelvic mound I bit my lip, tensing in anticipation. Everything happening right now was literally straight out of one of my more wild dreams about the man and yet.. So much more.

By the time his tongue was circling at my clit, my fingers were digging into his shoulders and his hair and all I could do was whimper and rock my hips upward as that ache built even more, sending a slippery wet rush down my inner thighs.

A slippery wet rush that Trent stopped to lick clean, teeth scraping at skin just a little. Beard burning up the insides of my thighs as his mouth moved higher and higher and two fingers worked me open carefully, a quiet growl escaping his mouth when he realized just how wet I was. “Fuck.” his breath was warm against sensitive skin and I felt goosebumps all over as his tongue rolled lazily right up my center and back around my clit. When his lips locked on the circular bundle of nerves, I sucked in a sharp breath only to have it catch in my throat as his fingers delved deeper inside, stretching me out a little. The soft wet sounds hung heavily in the air and I tried literally everything I could think of just to keep from actually crying in frustration at how slow and tender and focused Trent was on what he was doing.

My toes curled against the comforter as his tongue joined his fingers, soft wet slurps filling the air and competing with my whimpers and whining in volume. “Trent, ahh.. Oh..”

When I rocked my hips upward to meet his tongue and fingers, he chuckled quietly against my pussy, muttering a softly spoken “Sweet.” as his fingertips dug into my body just to keep me still. I pouted, propping a little to stare down at him, panting for my next breath and shaking just a little more.

I felt his tongue form the shape of a T and I moaned, managing to fight the grip of his fingers to rock my hips against his mouth. By the time he got to E, I was squirming even more, begging because my orgasm was so close to shattering through me. I felt him smirk against my cunt and when his teeth grazed against my tender and throbbing clit, I moaned out loud, the sound echoing off the walls of his bedroom. By the time he’d finished spelling his name against my skin, I was begging, breathless and dripping. Trent’s tongue delved back into my pussy, my head fell back against the bed and I rocked my hips against it, my orgasm getting closer and closer.

“Fuck. Doll.” Trent groaned against my cunt as he ground himself against the mattress a little, “You ready for me?”

“Please.” I begged, breathless and gripping at his hair as my other hand raised, resting against my forehead, fingers tangling in my own hair, tugging lightly. “Now, Trent.. Need you now.”

“Okay, baby. You got me.” Trent answered in a lazy drawl, raising up to his knees, his hand lowering, circling his thick length and dragging it along my folds, making me suck in a sharp breath and shiver just a little. He settled against me, carefully, making me giggle as I pressed a soft kiss against his mouth. His hands settled on my hips and he slowly slipped it in, sending a shiver racing through me as he did.

I dragged my hand through his hair, pulling his mouth deeper, his tongue parting my lips as my legs wrapped around his waist and he groaned into the kiss, our soft smacks the only sound for a few seconds as he sank his cock even deeper inside, growling and snapping his hips against me slowly as soon as he was buried to the hilt. His hand left my hip, settling on the side of my face, his thumb trailing lazily over my skin as he stared down at me intently, catching his breath before his lips settled deep against mine all over again.

“Trent.” I breathed out, rocking against his slow and steady drives, stretched and filled, the pleasure almost blinding at this point. “C’mon baby. Faster.. Please?” I caught hold of his jaw, making him look at me, my tongue rolling over the outline of his lips. He sped up just a little, muttering in awe against my mouth when he pulled it against his all over again for another deep kiss, “Not gonna be able to stop doing this.” and I answered breathlessly, “I don’t want you to.”

His cock struck against my spot and I whimpered, clinging to him. “Feels so good.” he mumbled quietly against my mouth, conquering it with another deep and slow kiss as he started to fuck into me slower, almost pulling totally out only to drive back into my cunt deep over and over again. “Doll…” he groaned aloud as my nails dug into his shoulders and my legs clenched his waist tighter, my heels digging into his ass in an attempt to drive him even deeper inside.

His hips pressed down into mine harder, his thrusts nearly driving me into the mattress, the soft smack of our bodies meeting over and over filling the room. “Whoa.” he groaned as his hips stammered against me and he paused, pressing little kisses across the bridge of my nose and my cheeks, chuckling quietly, “Was starting to feel way too good.” he muttered lazily against my mouth when I reached out and pulled it against mine greedily, answering into the soft deep kiss, “I know.. Didn’t want you to stop, honestly.”

“Oh really now?” he asked, biting his lip as we pulled away from the kiss, staring at one another. He started to fuck into me again, hips flat against mine and pressing me down. I lowered my legs and he took a shaky breath, bottoming out inside of me. “You didn’t want me to stop, hm?”

“No. I didn’t. Ugh, fuck.. Trent. C’mon. Please baby.” I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulder and back all over again as he gripped my hips, holding me still, pumping his cock in and out faster, harder. As deep as he could possibly go until I wanted to see stars and I could feel my body starting to tense and spasm a little with each thrust. “So tight. It’s drivin me crazy.” he growled against my skin as his teeth sank into a patch of skin just above my collarbone, his lips latching on as he continued to fuck into me.

“Trent, fuck. Oh god I’m-...” I trailed off as my head tilted back and I tried to catch my breath, my orgasm about to take over. I literally couldn’t stop it. Trent muttered against my throat, “C’mon, doll. Let go for me.”

I didn’t need the coaxing he gently gave. My orgasm racked me, leaving me clingy and limp, my hips desperately trying to meet his as I moaned his name over and over and actually nipped at a patch of skin above his collarbone just to keep from screaming bloody murder. It flooded me with such a blinding intensity I almost couldn’t catch my breath, my pussy clinging to his cock, making him slow down a little to let me pull myself together, soft kisses all over my face and neck as he did so. “Doll… that felt..” he started and I breathed out against his mouth, “Amazing, baby.” as he started to pump into me all over again, his fingertips digging lightly into my hips, pumping me up and down on his cock, quiet groans and growls. I could feel him tense and he leaned down and mumbled next to shell of my ear, “Don’t wanna stop, fuck.” as he pulled out, his hand fisting his cock, staring down at me from above, biting his lip as he bucked his hips against his hands and his cock throbbed, erupting, his warm seed splashing against my skin and settling. Just watching him had me squirming and moaning, my hands wandering slowly over my body to give him something to focus on as he came hard.

He leaned down, gripping my chin lightly and pulled my mouth against his as he slid off the bed and pulled me up, letting me wrap around his body. “C’mon. We’re gonna shower together and save water.”

“Mmm. Sounds nice.” I drawled lazily as I rested my face against the space between his neck and shoulders.

#trent beretta #trent beretta fanfiction #trent beretta oneshot #trent beretta smut #trent beretta fanfic #trent beretta imagine #//18+ only #//smut #// fluffy smut #// so this happened.

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brandstifter-sys · 4 years ago

Text

Molting

Word Count: 2479 (Ao3)

Rating: T+

Characters: Virgil, Remus, all other sides as of PoF mentioned

Pairing: Dukexiety (platonic but could be not platonic if you want)

Warnings: Body Horror, Spider!Virgil, knife, sex mention, grossness, Gore, swearing, physical strain, exhaustion

Virgil is a spider boy, and spiders need to molt. It’s not a pretty sight and it’s an ordeal Virgil hates. Lucky him, he has a best friend who is willing and able to help, even if it drives him nuts.

-----

"Hey Princey, where's Virge?—Whoa are you okay, you look like you need to sit down, kiddo!"

"Patton, Virgil won't be joining us for a few days, surely his eating habits and sudden baldness have been a sign of the time of year for him." Logan commented from his seat on the couch. Roman was curled up and shaking, pallid and horrified.

"You mean?" Patton squeaked and shuddered.

"Yes. I will be joining Janus and Remus during the clean up. I suggest you try to avoid his room for the next few days. Molting is a delicate process."

-------

Virgil felt like jello, trapped in a hard shell. He was on his back spread and nude, unable to move without the sickening feeling that came with it. His chelicerae and extra limbs were out and just as rigid, making his position more awkward. He couldn’t breathe and he desperately tried to force his gelatinous form to shift and expand where his head was. He was dizzy, just trying to crack the eggshell-thin casing like a chick about to hatch, only without anything solid to chip at the barrier.

Pop!

The casing around his head split in half, with a sickening crack, leaving him gasping for air. Oh that sweet, sweet oxygen was tainted by the taste of his own skin-flavored goo falling into his open mouth. His eyes were sealed shut, but not out of fear for what he would see, since they didn't do a great job at blocking the light. No they were closed until he was sure none of his shell got in his eyes, trapped in the gelatinous muck that would cause his eyelids to tear if he dared open them.

"I thought I might have to cut you out of there if you took much longer," someone, Janus he assumed based on the tone, hummed softly nearby, "Time to cut off the area around your shoulders. Do try and wiggle out of it once it's done. And yes, you have to get yourself out."

Virgil tried to calm his breathing, waiting for one of the worst parts. He was too fragile and squishy to be nicked by a blade, let alone a full cut. But he trusted Janus more than the others, except maybe Remus, especially with his mouth wide open.

Virgil could feel the vibrations through the floor. The steady gait and heavier footfalls were different from what he expected, but he could chalk it up to Janus being tired, he and Remus did carry him here and set up when his outer layer went rigid and his bones melted into this disgusting jelly.

He heard the blade gliding over his shell just above his shoulders with such a slight amount of pressure. It was far too smooth to be Janus's work, and Remus wasn't there, so it had to be Janus, but something about the stiff meticulous nature was throwing him off.

"Now you have to go up towards the ears on both sides and then to the crown. Once that's done you can carefully lift those pieces away." Janus said to the person cutting his head free. Virgil's heart pounded in his ears, at least his soft organs were still intact, as intact as the situation allowed. He struggled to keep his breathing even, unsure where the blade was.

"Would it be more efficient to cut along the fault?" That was Logan. That was okay, he was not easily disturbed. His suggestion, however, was not okay.

"Do you want to risk slitting his throat?" Janus asked with an edge to his voice, "He is vulnerable and having that scalpel near his throat will make his anxiety worse."

"I understand. In that case—" Logan trailed off and continued his task. Janus hissed under his breath, in a way that only Virgil would understand, but he didn’t, which was concerning. For the smart side, Logan had his stupid moments and this Janus was regretting bringing him in so soon.

"And to be clear, I am not supposed to peel the exoskeleton."

"Correct. And once you remove the upper half, will you have a suitable specimen?" this Janus responded curtly. He was done sharing this vulnerable moment with the nerd.

"Yes," Logan said as the tips of his fingers brush Virgil's new skin, making him wince, "Remus has already called 'dib'—is that the correct phrase?"

"Yes."

"He has already called dib on the lower half."

Virgil winced as cool air hit his tender form. He could feel the slime stretching and pulling away from him with a soft, sickening snap, with the tendrils falling back into the near liquid of his body. Logan was quick to set that piece aside and remove the other with as much dexterity and grace as before.

"Shall I tell Remus his presence is requested at this time?" Logan asked as he gathered his samples.

"No. I suggest you sink out to your room before he bursts in like the unhinged maniac he becomes when told to sit still and wait." this Janus droned. Logan nodded and sank out. And not a moment too soon. But it felt like the other presence changed rapidly.

"Virgil, I’m the only one here with you. I'm going to clear your nose before I wipe your eyes," Remus hummed, after dropping his disguise, and knelt down beside him on the old sheet he was laying on. The bulb syringe entering his nostril was a strange sensation when his nose was basically formless, as was the goo exiting his nose, but it was a relief.

"Stay focused on breathing, Virgil, 3/4 time—that's it. One more time."

The second his nose was cleared, Virgil closed his mouth. Remus giggled and conjured a clean rag.

"Whatsamatter, Soft-skull? Don't like the taste of your own mucus? It's like a giant loogie!" Remus cackled and carefully wiped down his face.

"I thought you said you weren't gonna pull that stunt," Virgil wheezed.

"Nerd wanted samples more than I want my dick sucked. I had to pretend to be Jan to keep things calm in here—you think the nerd would listen to me? Besides, Janus isn't good at anything but the first cuts. He thinks it's nasty!" Remus laughed, "It is but that's not the real issue—it's the mess that you leave behind that's the problem!"

Virgil rolled his eyes and focused on wiggling out of his shell instead of the duke's rant. It was the same one every season. Whether it was Janus's scales or the molting, Remus would bitch about the mess.

"... and I know what you're thinking—what everyone thinks! 'Why are you so bent out of shape? You like grossness and garbage and mess!'" Remus rambled, "There's a difference between a messy aesthetic and a mess! Organized chaos, Harlot's Web, I know exactly where everything is and where it's supposed to be even if it looks like shit! It's mine to manipulate! Your body cast is not in the design plan!"

"Talk cryptids, dammit!" Virgil hissed as he tried to squeeze his way out of his exoskeleton, weakly curling his toes, or attempting to, "I hate this shit too!"

"Cryptids and cursed objects?" Remus cooed.

"Fine!" Virgil grunted, feeling the goo on his skin shifting and stretching with the slightest movement, peeling him away from his old skin slowly. He was going to take hours to get out.

"Okay so I know you don't usually watch the videos of Dybbuk box openings and you should, gets the blood pumping, but you know those are fake, right? They're all a sham!" Remus started ranting. His rage was actually quite helpful as a motivator to move.

"...and don't get me started on the bullshit wax! It's so hard to clean! You know I have a design aesthetic and wax is not a part of it! Especially when there's no restless spook involved! It's a lot of crap with no real payout! If I wanted to have a creepy old box covered in wax I could make one myself!"

“Fill it with spider exoskeleton,” Virgil huffed and wheezed at the exertion, “It’ll make a good snack!”

“Just like you!” Remus giggled, “But seriously, those things don’t hold any angry ghosties, and they seem problematic in other ways too, which usually isn’t a problem for me, but no spooks? That’s crossing a line! I could create better cursed objects!” Remus paused as a wicked grin split his face. Oh no.

“Get me out of here and you can see something really cursed!” Virgil spat, venom shooting from his mouth, literally, and landing on the sheet under him. He broke into a fit of coughing, his form sloshing and molding in the shape of his exoskeleton.

"Easy there, Swamp Thing!" Remus jeered, "If no one helps Bolt, Nimby, Cirrus, Cyoomy, Hansel, or Gretel when they molt, you don't get much more help either."

"Swamp Thing? More like the Blob!" Virgil retorted bitterly. Remus clapped his hands and grinned.

"You are so right!" he cheered, "That's a better nickname when you're like this! Like an alien creeping out of a meteor all gelatinous and prone to leaving slime trails! Emo Jello! How you still have lungs is a mystery to me! You don't even have a digestive tract!"

"Great reminder, jackass!"

"It is! All your fluids and organs are blended up—except for your heart, blood, brain, and lungs!"

Virgil tried to ignore the glee in his voice and focused on moving. He didn't feel like telling him that his blood was traveling through his body through osmosis, always finding a way back to the heart and lungs, he would see it eventually. The rubbery slick kept him stuck to his exoskeleton, bending and stretching, but always pulling him back.

"You look like a jaundiced Hellboy cosplayer in a deflated Paleman blow-up suit who's gonna eat a crap ton when he gets back to normal! And then there's the whole hair growth thing! Like throwing straw on a potato sack filled with rotten meat! Do you even have eyelashes now?"

"You. Tell. Me." Virgil grunted and grit his teeth, which were far too soft to actually bite anything or grind. Remus squatted next to him and leaned in close.

"They're coming in!" Remus grinned and stood up. Virgil groaned and flexed his chelicerae. Some movement was better than none. He was trapped, like swimming in tar, and he had to fight to escape his full-body restraint.

"Do you want some music? I can do a striptease!" Remus asked and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Does this get you hot and bothered, sicko?" Virgil scoffed and tried to focus on curling his fingers with what energy and strength he had. Remus pouted and wiggled his mustache in thought.

"No, not really. But just standing here is boring! Besides, it's just incentive for you to burst out of your shell!"

"Not. Interested."

"You and I both know you would do anything to stop me from getting naked for no reason!" Remus teased. He was right of course, but it was still irksome.

"Shut up," Virgil hissed, still not getting anywhere, "Put on some music and keep your fucking pants on!"

"Fine!" Remus groaned and rolled his eyes. He snapped his fingers, filling the room with some sick emo jams. At least they made Virgil more at ease!

Two Days Later…

"Remus, c'mon!" Virgil panted as he fruitlessly clawed at the soft carpet trying to remove himself from his exoskeleton, smearing goo all over. He was weak and exhausted from the endless strain. His body was still akin to a gummy bear with a dark cherry filling, but at least his bangs were back.

"Nope! I already cut out your—"

"Please! I'm not even stuck!" Virgil cried, "Pull me out of here!" He was so close to bursting into tears. Two days straight of wiggling just to get back to normal took its toll on him. Two days straight of moving two inches forward and one inch back with no food or water left him weak. There was no time for sleep and no time to rest. Remus didn't sleep the entire time either and it showed.

"I could tear you in half, and then your guts'll spill all over the floor and there'd be a huge stain and you'd be pissed off while you bleed out!" he said with a bright grin that bordered on maniacal.

"It's just my legs! Please!" he begged, "I don't have the strength!" He was actually crying at that point. Remus ceded and carefully looped his arms under Virgil's. The goo stuck to his shirt as he carefully pulled the emo from his old skin and scooped him up into his arms.

"Easy there, Raggedy Anx, you're free to crawl on the ceiling and scare those losers like some fleshy horror movie creature bent on devouring them, starting with the eyes," Remus said and stood up. He could have easily snapped Virgil's spine over his knee, watched him writhe in agony and scream until he couldn't manage it anymore. He could watch his fluids pool under his translucent skin and ooze out of the puncture wound from the snapped vertebrae.

He did the smart thing and placed the fragile blob of emo on the bed and stepped back. Molting meant growing and that meant he needed space as everything took shape again. Remus could already see what changes happened under that shell as Virge gasped, forcing air in to help his expansion.

"Stress workouts?" Remus asked and stretched his arms above his head.

"Mostly."

"You fixed your—"

"Yeah and that was your fault!"

"No no no, I didn't mess up the piercing—you let it get infected and tried to rip it off!"

"I'll rip yours off if you don't shut up!"

"I can regrow it, without going all rigor mortis alien!" Remus laughed, "But I can't make it any bigger, so you have me beat!"

"Go to bed," Virgil huffed, "You're losing it." He kept up his hyperventilating style of breathing and closed his eyes. Just a few more hours of this and he could finally get some rest.

"But you're not sleeping!" Remus argued, "And I vowed to watch over you while you're weak and nasty!"

"You sound like Roman," Virgil scoffed.

"You take that back!"

"'I vowed' c'mon that's a Princey line!" Virgil huffed, “You need to get out of this room. Come after you get some rest and food. You did your part.” Remus pouted and snapped his fingers. The exoskeleton and sheet on the floor vanished. That was the last thing he had to do before Janus could take over.

“Fine, but I’ll be back and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!” Remus laughed and sank out. Virgil rolled his eyes, like he could ever stop Remus from doing anything! This time he didn’t want to.

Reblogs > Likes

#sanders sides #spider!virgil #virgil sanders #remus sanders #dukexiety #platonic dukexiety #logan sanders #sex mention tw #spider tw #body horror tw #gore mention tw #knife tw #exhaustion tw #molting tw #sandyscribed #i wrote most of this back in Nov/Dec 2019 before i got wise and stopped writing symp!logan for mental health reasons

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antigenius · 5 years ago

Text

Skincare Hcs!!

I was thinking about skincare, then the boys came to mind and AAA SKINCARE HCS HERE WE GO

Izuku:

· tbh he used to not care about his skin, but now he really does once you came into his life.

· He washes his face daily with an oil cleanser, he has a normal skin type, so he doesn’t really need all too much.

· Likes to get All-Might facemasks. Like you’ll come home and then he’s just there with a flaccid All-Might on his face and holy heCK it scares the living shit out of you.

· Uses Teatree cream at night, makes him smell nice and refreshing, but you also have to warn him to put on another moisturiser after it because it can seriously dry out his skin.

· He likes to use body scrubs too! You introduced him to sugar scrubs, and he lives by it. He always comes out of the shower with silky soft skin and it makes you drool bc omg soft skin, but scars are somehow best combo?

· He usually doesn’t moisturise his body. You did give him some body oil which is supposed to slowly help heal scars. He uses that weekly and it makes him smell like baby oil :>

· Doesn’t really use deodorant either. He uses the natural deodorant [salt block] because he doesn’t like the feeling of sprays or the stick/roll on deodorants. He doesn’t smell of BO, but it means he doesn’t smell like cologne.

· Doesn’t have hair on his skin. Which is so unfair. But it’s in his genes, and means his legs get ashy easily. He normally counters this by putting on a bit of sunscreen.

· Btw he uses sunscreen daily. Urges you to use it too, he loves you being tanned but doesn’t want you to get skin cancer ;-;

· “Love...” “Yes?” “Drink some water.” “But I’m not thirsty...” “You need to!” “I’m not thirsty!!” “What if I kiss you for all the glasses of water you drink?” “... *gets a bunch of tiny little shot glasses of water*” “W-wait that’s-” “YOu SaiD IF I dRInK A GLaSS-”

Bakugou:

· okay let’s get something straight. Bakugou REALLY CARES ABOUT HIS SKIN LIKE HELLO GOSH HE IS BEAUTY GURU 101

· He has combination skin type and normally really large pores due to his quirk. Always has to use toners so that he’s all handsome for you (tho tbh you don’t mind, you think he’s handsome always ^^)

· Washes daily with both a foam and oil cleanser to make sure that his pores aren’t clogged with sweat, dirt and debris. Then uses a really harsh toner (sometimes he curses as he uses it, that how much it hurts) and moisturises with a light day cream.

· ORANGE BURST IS HIS FACEWASH. NEUTROGENA PLEASE SPONSOR HIM.

· Also really enjoys bath bombs!! He has like a heck ton of them and he really enjoys the ones that smell like citrus.

· Tbh just in general citrus smelling skincare is really hecking nice for him, especially since he has to sweat a lot, so he wants to smell good for you.

· Uses a LOT of hand-cream. He has all different types with different smells, so that his hand aren’t as rough when you hold them. It also means they normally smell like vanilla or strawberries and gosh that’s a good smell-

· Nags you to get the right skincare items for your face. His mom also does it too! Helps find the correct products especially for your skin-type and actually had proper conversations about skincare with you.

· Rarely uses facemasks. Even if he does, it’s a plain black charcoal one. Makes him look creepy though, he chases you around the house with it, loves hearing you laugh and scream in playful terror.

· Sometimes when you come home, he literally has his face covered in oatmeal with cucumbers for his eyes. It’s so funny that you took pictures and now it’s a secret meme with the bakusquad-

· You literally snuggle with him to try and get good skin. Especially once he comes home from gym. He tells you it won’t work, but he lets you do it anyway because cuddles-

· Sunscreen is must with him too! Please use sunscreen, he will literally pin you down to put some on you because he cares if you will get cancer or something even worse-

· Calvin Klein deodorant! Manly, but not too overwhelming. He really hecking cares about how he smells since he has to sweat so much, so yeah, he always smells good. It’s one of his insecurities.

Shouto:

· He has really, really dry skin. So dry that he literally has to use hydrating masks almost every day. On the left is combination skin tho.

· Every time you come home, he’s like “hey babe” but like all slurry because the mask is on his face and he can’t talk properly so it just sounds like “hy be”. It’s SO FUNNY-

· Also loves manuka honey for skincare- He uses it on his face weekly. Makes his skin nice and plump!

· He cannot use sunscreen enough, especially on his right side. He urges you to use it too, especially since sometimes he gets scared you’ll get some sort of cancer. (cancer is real guys please-)

· Uses an oil hydrating facewash, but he kinda hates it since you have to have your face dry first and then wash it. You’ll walk past the bathroom and you’ll hear a sigh, you poke your head and it’s shirtless Shouto rubbing on the shiny stuff on his face and he’s grimacing, but he does it to look good.

· Smells like pine trees and forests. Uses Old Spice Timber.

· Really, really likes bath salts!!! After a loooooong hard day, he’ll just grab a bag of it and sploosh it in the bathtub to feel the fizzle massage all his aching muscles and he just relaxes with some vanilla and/or berry candles

· Has a plethora of chapsticks and lip-scrubs. His lips taste different every time you kiss him and whenever he gets a new one, he tests it out on you and he’ll be like “How’s this one y/n?” and you can’t answer bc the kiss was so sudden but it tasted so good that you want another taste and woop-

· Uses a lot of different creams and body oils for his body. His skin is silky soft, tbh sometimes its softer than yours and you feel jealous. Normally makes him smell like vanilla.

· Also uses feet masks!! Weirdly enough, his feet get really cracked and dry, so he always soaks his feet in hydrating oils or creams so that they’re not so unsightly.

· He doesn’t have much hairs, but he actually waxes?? Like one night you heard a grunt from the bathroom, and you looked and there was Shouto??? He told you that since his quirk can sometimes make body hair uncomfortable, he usually waxes it off.

Kirishima:

· Okay, he also has really dry skin due to his hardening quirk

· Didn’t really use skincare until you came along. Now it’s the manliest thing ever!!!

· Uses a gel or cream facewash that makes his face smell neutral. Usually uses aftershave afterwards.

· He actually doesn’t use much sunscreen. He uses it more when he’s working as a hero, since his skin is almost always really exposed, but otherwise he doesn’t use it all too much.

· You bought him some cute animal facemasks since he told you his skin was really dry. He truly appreciates it! Now you guys have nights where you put on animal masks and watch David Attenborough talk about animals.

· He really enjoys using loofas. He keeps destroying them a lot of the time in the shower, but he does really, sincerely like them!

· Also really loves to exfoliate. He has a lot of exfoliating soap bars, and he goes through them like butter. Really makes him feel smooth and silky to cuddle, but razor sharp in hardening mode so…

· Bathes in really cold water since he heard that bathing in hot water can destroy the skin. You discovered this once you bathed right after him, the water was FREEZING AND YOU SCREAMED, and he was like “Y/n!! I’m sorry I just showered-“

· He obviously uses the manliest deodorant ever, OLD SPICE! He has a whole collection of all the different types of Old Spice deodorants, as well as bodywash, aftershave, etc. He especially likes the smell of Old Spice Fiji. It makes him smell like the beach and the first time you smelt it on him you had to agree that was HIS smell. He smelled like a mojito on white sand and jUST-

· Doesn’t have any hair, which makes his skin easily ashy as well. Uses body oil normally, but it does make him a bit more clumsy than usual since he hecking slathers it all over his body and also his feet, then he walks on the tiles and woop-

Denki:

· Oops also has dry skin, but an oily T-zone. Poor boy actually gets acne easily but handles it somehow.

· Is actually clueless about skincare. He doesn’t do it often, so you have to help him buy the right items for his face.

· Loves going to the spa though!! Especially likes those fish that eat his dead skin cells. Though the one time you took him, and he zapped the poor fish in the tank. As the smell of fried fish filled the air, you and Denki apologised to the owner of the spa.

· USES AXE BODY SPRAY FOR MEN. He sprays it all over, then goes with some cheap adidas cologne. It’s to lure you in, he says, but really all it does it make you feel lightheaded with such a drowning scent. When it dies down though, it actually smells alright.

· Denki on his own smells like mint. Like a really refreshing mint you popped into your mouth to freshen up. Possibly because he keeps some mint herbs near his bed because he saw you planting some in a small pot, and then took some and thought they were cute.

· Uses For Men specific body wash. Only For Men. Once he forgot his and refused to shower with soap because yours wasn’t for men.

· Uses shower cream instead of body scrubs. He just finds it easier and less messy, as well as less harsh on his skin. It also doesn’t clash with the smells of his deodorant and cologne.

· Has a collection of cologne. Musky, rich, deep tones? You name it, he’s got it. They’re mostly cheap ones though. You got him an expensive one for Christmas and he cherishes that one so much.

· He also uses jelly masks! They’re really helpful and colourful and GAH he loves them!! Tried to eat them once though, and that was horrible.

· Puts cucumbers on his eyes daily. Helps him relax and feel refreshed, particularly on days that he just feels so tired. Plus, he can eat them after!

· Oh hecc he also loves jacuzzi massages with bath bombs. SPA PLEASE GIVE HIM SPA TREATMENT HE REALLY LOVES IT

· Actually really liked the one time you gave him a spa treatment at home. You even dressed as a cute Spa girl and his heart was doing backflips in his throat as you massaged him and asked him if he wanted more rose petals.

#izuku #midoriya #bakugo #katsuki #shouto #todoroki #denki #kaminari #ejirou #kirishima #skincare #hcs

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shutupandshipit · 4 years ago

Text

Little Life - Ch. 3

Summary: A baby could ruin his career before it had even started. If anyone found out, he would be kicked out of the Hero Course at the very least and UA at the very worst. Even then, how was he supposed to care for a baby once it arrived? He was a fucking seventeen-year-old boy, not a twenty-nine-year-old omega with their shit at least somewhat together.

…..

Or where Katsuki get pregnant, but is determined to make it to graduation. No matter what it takes.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T (just for language mostly)

Chapter: 3/16

Previous <- Chapter 2

Chapter 4 -> Next

Master Post

Chapter 3: 1 Month

"Kacchan, we shouldn't," Izuku whispered below him, mouth swollen and red from Katsuki's kisses, eyes closed in pure bliss as their bodies slid together despite their boxers still creating a barrier between them.

Izuku was intoxicating. Had always been. His face, his eyes, his mouth, his voice, his body, his scent. Everything sending Katsuki closer and closer to the abyss of his volatile emotions.

It had taken Katsuki the better part of two years of high school to pull his head out of his ass to realize that all of the fantasizing and skirting around each other when they were close to their cycles meant something. That it had always meant something. That it wasn't just his body's natural reaction to a nearby alpha, and that it wasn't going anywhere. He was around alphas all day every day which was just an occupational hazard of working to become a hero, but he'd never once imagined himself being with any of the others the way he almost religiously fantasized about Izuku. The one time he'd tried in first year had resulted in several days of no eye contact with Kirishima.

Even after they'd finally fallen into each other, taking that headlong dive off of the cliff they'd always been teetering on, they'd been careful. Condoms. Birth control. Suppressants. They never did anything close to their cycles, Izuku happily bottoming often times, kept their hands off each other during the day as if nothing had changed.

Everything had changed as it inevitably would though, and Katsuki was starving.

His body was heated almost to discomfort, his cycle right on the cusp of kick starting, and he needed Izuku. Needed him like a dying man needed water.

"Need you, Deku. Want my mate, want you," Katsuki rasped against Izuku's throat as he gently scented him, "Need my alpha, Izuku."

Izuku positively keened beneath him, turning his head to catch his mouth again in another slow, searing kiss.

Izuku had gone pliant beneath him, following his lead as he stripped them of their boxers and straddled his hips. They'd been less careful that night, indulging in each other. Drunk on each other. Relying on the birth control.

Their sex had been different that night, slow and steady and loving as Katsuki took everything his body had been screaming for. He reveled in the heat and feel of Izuku filling him, moving inside him, gripping his hips with bruising force, coming apart beneath him.

When they were both panting and sweat drenched and satiated, Katsuki marked up Izuku as his without sinking in his teeth like he so desperately wanted to. Deep red love marks were his next best option, and he readily used them. Then they lazily made out for hours before passing out together.

Katsuki had never felt more fulfilled in his life.

.....

Katsuki woke up retching which was absolutely the worst end to the best dream, and before he could puke in his bed, he hung his head over the side to use the trashcan he'd put next to his bed just for that reason. "Ugh," he groaned, rolling over onto his back when his stomach was empty.

His bed was empty, and he felt worse for the fact that it was his own fault.

That night... that night had been one of his best experiences in recent memory. He couldn't bring himself to regret any moment of it, every moment of bliss and touch and silent communication.

Even during, he was pretty sure he knew. He knew in his bones that even if they'd used a condom, he still would have ended up pregnant. No matter how careful they were, this would have been the outcome. He'd heard of horror stories like that from other omegas, but he never thought it would actually happen to him. They were all just stupid. They had missed a pill or forgotten to get their shot or they were in the full swing of their heat. Something, anything, to pretend like he wasn't like them.

Here he was though, reliving a blissful memory and puking in a trashcan without his alpha to comfort him. He was no better than any of them. Worse because he was a teenager, still in high school.

He didn't regret that night, but it didn't feel worth it in that exact moment with his mouth tasting of bile and his throat burning.

Rolling out of bed, exhaustion weighing heavy on him as it did more often than not in the past weeks, he staggered into his bathroom. He readied himself for another grueling day. Another day of constant roiling nausea, of napping on the roof at lunch instead of eating with his friends, of fielding questions from Kirishima, of ignoring or all together hiding from Izuku.

All of it just made him that much more exhausted.

He dug out one of the shirts he'd stolen from Izuku's drawers that only smelled faintly of him and pulled it on. The nausea eased just barely, but he hissed as it slid over his overly sensitive nipples. So sensitive that rather than being pleasurable, the stimulation was painful. He hadn't figured out a workaround yet. Women had bras, and he figured that probably helped. Their nipples wouldn't be subjected to the constant shift of fabric. He had half a mind to start tapping gauze over them or something, but he didn't think there would be any explanation that would make sense when the others saw him in the locker rooms.

He finished getting ready, biting back snarls of irritation every time the fabric rubbed, and stuffed a bag of ginger candies into his pocket.

.....

Training got harder. He knew it would, but he wasn't expecting just how intensly.

With his heat, training would be at the very least uncomfortable as those days approached. His body would get heavy, mind wandering more easily, tiredness making a home in his bones, nausea curdling his stomach.

Being pregnant was similar to his heat, but ten times worse for the simple fact that it never stopped. There was never a point where it all became easier, where the nausea faded and he was suddenly wide awake. That, and his tolerance of his idiot classmates had plummeted to levels relevant to his first year of high school.

The thing was that his heat had a designated end. He had no idea when this was going to end. He'd read that the symptoms usually faded by the end of the first trimester, but he was 99.9% sure he wouldn't make it through another two months.

In training, it was embarrassing how hard he was panting from less than half of what he normally did. His head and vision swam, his legs jelly beneath him as they barely held his weight. Luckily, no one was paying attention to him, focused on perfecting their own techniques. Except, of course, for Kirishima who seemed to possess a sixth sense for the slightest change in Katsuki whether emotional or physical. In soft quiet moments when his head was nearly empty, he'd had thought that if Izuku hadn't been the only mate truly worthy of him, he probably would have chosen Kirishima in the end.

He shook head, trying to clear out the weirdly affectionate thought and his vision.

"Hey, Katsuki-" Kirishima started towards him.

Katsuki's legs buckled beneath him. Before his hit the ground, strong familiar arms wrapped around him and cocooned him in Izuku's ever calming woodsy-minty scent. He hung limply in Izuku's arms, just allowing himself for inhale his alpha's scent. The first inhale steadied his legs. The next eased his stomach. The last cleared his head enough for him to shove Izuku away from him with a snarl, "Don't fucking touch me, Deku!"

Izuku's expression was fiercely uncompromising as he glared back, the green lightning of his quirk crackling along his skin and in his eyes. "What's going on, Kacchan? Are you sick?"

"Stay out of my business!"

Aizawa and All Might both took steps in their direction, ready to break them apart.

Expression hardening further, Izuku took a purposeful step forward. "What is that supposed to mean? You are-"

Kirishima slotted himself between them, hands up in supplication and neck bared in submission. He grinned disarmingly. "Alright, you two, let's not start something right now. You've been doing really good not starting unnecessary fights. Let's not end that streak, yeah?"

They continued to glare at each other over Kirishima's shoulder, but after a moment, Izuku calmed and softened until he took a step back. "You're right."

Scoffing, Katsuki turned his back on the pair. He knew Kirishima followed after him when he heard his quick footsteps catching up to him.

"Maybe you should call it a day. You haven't been in top form the past couple weeks. You should rest. Maybe we can talk?" Kirishima asked hopefully, but when Katsuki shot him a glare, his hands raised again, "Okay, okay, but at least rest."

"No." Just the short time with Izuku's scent had nearly completely cleared out his symptoms, and his rolled his shoulders. "I don't need a break, I need a fight. Let's spar."

Kirishima frowned, but followed him to an empty portion of the gym.

#my hero academia #mha #bakudeku #dekubaku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #omegaverse #omega!Katsuki #alpha!izuku #my writing #multi-chapter #little life

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ertrunkenerwassergeist · 5 years ago

Text

Born Into the Wilds - Chapter 11

Mehe. Finally did it! Sorry it took so long -.- Here’s the Link to AO3.

In which the Glaive travels back to Insomnia and Nyx gets a gift.

Featuring: Nyx' coeurl instincts, magical stuff, characters the author didn't plan, Nyx' new crush and clothes.

Words in Hadnissa:

namakar = huntress; lit.: she-hunter makti-oir = war chief, commander-in-chief, warlord; lit.: leading hunter memakar = hunter; lit.: he-hunter akastral = ahtri = spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors mahir = mother; affectionate form, lit.: woman who birthed me sineähr = Elder; title for people over 70 ohlro ar fahl Eohsas = a formal greeting; lit.: Eos' light be on you. rid ohlro ar = answer to a formal greeting; lit.: and on you fohrnfilkar = polite address to an unknown Galahkar schiwel = clan thuirahn = grandfather limeschti = traditional welcoming tea lumo varistos = thank you; formal

Whoever had constructed these stairs deserved to be called back from behind the Gate and be killed again. Very, very painfully.

The steps were directly carved into the rock of the Crag, winding their way up in serpentines. Every step was of a different height than the one that came before it, and more often than not, one had to take one to two strides to actually reach the next one. It was all one big trip hazard.

Some of the stairs were cracked from age and fallen boulders. Sometimes those boulders still lay there, like their only purpose was to keep them from reaching the upper edge of the Crag.

Nyx took a deep breath and looked down. The bronze afternoon sun made it difficult to see the ground, but he judged they had made it about halfway up at this point. He had taken point once they had reached the stairs as he was the best climber out of all three of them. Ladone, the least injured, took the rear and Libertus was between them.

They hadn't even passed the second serpentine when Libertus had started to lag behind because of his injuries. His new battle axe had been repurposed as a walking stick, its blade bobbed next to his head like a cloud, the sharp edges seemed to absorb all light around it.

It was slow going and secretly Nyx worried that they wouldn't be able to make it all the way up before night fell. Should they not make it, defending themselves against daemons would be very difficult. At least there didn't seem to be any wyvern nests nearby. That would have just been their luck.

Ignoring the muscles in his legs that increasingly felt like they turned into jelly with each new step he took, Nyx turned around and waited until Libertus and Ladone had come closer.

“Has one of you managed to radio Luche yet?”

Both shook their heads and Libertus grimaced at the action. The cut across his face had stopped bleeding entirely some time ago and his hunting-brother had done his best to clean most of the blood off his face, while they had taken a short break some time ago. Its edges had swollen slightly and turned red. Nyx tried not to let it worry him too much. He wasn't very successful.

“Do you need a break, big guy?” he asked.

They needed to get higher up to leave the area of interference, but Libertus also needed all the energy he could get. With mistrustful eyes he looked at the crystalline structure Libertus stood next to. They had a very strange presence and Nyx was convinced they were the reason why anything electronic ceased functioning down in the Crag.

“Nah. I can continue for a bit longer,” Libertus waved aside his concern.

“Okay, but if you need to stop, you tell me,” he demanded and Libertus rolled his eyes.

“You know, normally I'm the one demanding you take a break,” his hunting-brother grouched playfully and took a pointed step forward.

Nyx huffed and exchanged a look with Ladone, who just raised a thin eyebrow.

“All right, all right. I see when I'm beaten.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just wanted to be the responsible one.”

Libertus muttered something under his breath that sounded like “For now”.

Not gracing that with an answer, Nyx continued their way up.

Shadows chased their heels as if they were stalking prey, as they reached the last turn of the stairs. The sun had sunken worryingly low. It would touch the horizon in maybe another half an hour. They would never make it back to the rest of the Glaive in time before nightfall, if they weren't already on their way back to Insomnia like they were supposed to, that was.

Behind him he could hear Ladone speak into her earpiece again. “This is Namakar Najad of Oresh Unit, do you read me? We found Makti-oir Ulric. I repeat: We found Makti-oir Ulric. He's alive and mostly unharmed.”

For a few long seconds there was silence and Nyx thought they were still within the field of interference the damn Crag gave off, when Ladone spoke again.

“Yes, I copy.”

He couldn't see it, but he heard the smile in her voice.

A soundless sigh of relief escaped him as he eyed the setting sun again. Wrecking his brain for a haven that might be near here, he came up with nothing. He blinked slowly and felt his eyes wanting to remain shut. Damn, he was exhausted. What he wouldn't give for a nice and comfy bed right now. And a hot shower and some food. Nyx looked at his slightly trembling hands and wondered if they shook from hunger or fatigue or both.

“Memakar Ostium is the most injured and in need of medical attention. We came upon fierce opposition in the Crag.”

Nyx gave a quiet snort.

“That's one way to put it,” muttered Libertus, not far behind him.

They continued on their way while Ladone gave a short report of their situation. Nyx shielded his eyes from the furiously glowing sun that was a bloated ball of red and gold as it touched the horizon, and looked around, as he finally reached the end of the stairs.

“I don't know exactly where we are, but we're definitely further south from our original position. There's grassland on both sides of the Crag, but we're definitely in Duscae. Should make things a bit easier,” he called back towards Ladone who relayed the information.

Studying their surroundings a bit more closely, Nyx couldn't find a place that looked like they would be able to hole up in for the night, if worst came to worst. They stood on a flat, grassy plane that receded the closer to the edge of Tealpar Crag it grew, until there was just naked rock and a few smaller boulders. It was a shit place to be stranded in for the night.

Libertus walked up next to him, leaning heavily on his axe.

“We need to keep moving. If we stay here, we'll make a very nice meal for the next big daemon coming by,” his hunting-brother muttered lowly.

“There's still some light left, big guy. We'll figure something out,” Nyx replied and wondered who exactly he was trying to convince.

Libertus threw him a deadpan stare.

“How are you holding up?” Nyx asked, instead of thinking further on their impending problem for the moment.

“If I sit down now I won't get up for a while,” Libertus answered with a quiet hum. “So don't even try to make me rest or some shit.”

“That's not what I meant.”

Nyx knew Libertus would bounce back from his wounds with little to no problem. He had lived through worse injuries when they had had to flee Galahd.

A sneer flittered across his hunting-brother's face and for a second his eyes found the bead he had tied a hand's width beneath the axe's blades with strands of Gilgamesh's pale hair.

“Should have killed him is what I should have done. I wonder who managed to cut his arm off. Would adopt that person into the Clan right now, rules or no rules.”

“We both know you can't just kill an akastral by shoving a few knives into it,” Nyx reminded him.

Libertus snorted. “Since when do you give a shrew's ass about that?” He sighed and looked to the sky that would soon lose its red and gold glory. “You know what really gets me? That he isn't corrupted. He should be for what he's done. Then it would be easier to... ahtrii damn it, this happened two and a half thousand years ago!”

Nyx didn't say anything. Just waited for Libertus to come to grips with whatever he was struggling with. He would tell him what was bothering him so much as soon as he was ready. His hunting-brother always did.

“There's a reason we settled to close to the eastern most shore of Galahd, you know?” Libertus suddenly spoke up again.

“You never told me that,” Nyx said with a raised eyebrow.

A sardonic grin was his answer. “Yeah well, it just never came up. Other than the stories to remember what happened, talking about Gilgamesh-” he spat the name out like it was the foulest thing he had ever tasted- “is practically a taboo. He could have been family. Loved and remembered and treasured. Instead he threw that all away to become that.”

“Whenever you're ready, I'll be there to listen, big guy,” Nyx said after a heartbeat of silence.

Libertus shot him such a pathetically grateful look, Nyx had to avert his eyes. He gently clasped the other man's shoulder and watched as Ladone walked up to them.

“I've got no idea what you did with Luche, Nyx, but he's been waiting for us to call. The whole caravan is making their way south to pick us up.” Her voice was underlined by a quiet wonder that showed just how much she hadn't expected this.

“I didn't do anything,” he exclaimed, utterly astonished himself.

The Glaive should have been on their way back by now to make it to the three day mark. That Luche 'I abide the rules to the letter' Lazarus had waited to hear from them was utterly unexpected.

Libertus rolled his eyes. “Of course you did, you hero. I know you two were talking.”

“We didn't talk about that much.”

“From what I hear through the grapevine, you're on the best way to make the Lazarus Clan your ally,” Ladone added. “But enough of that. We have two hours at least until they are here, and we need to figure out what we're going to do until then.”

Nyx took a deep breath to centre himself. Since they had started to climb out of the Crag, his magic had been replenishing at a steady rate. Neither reservoir was enough to fight off more powerful daemons, but maybe...

“Ladone, can you do a warding circle?”

A pair of thin eyebrows climbed upwards. “I can do that. However, it won't do much of anything without the right ingredients and I don't have any of them on me. Why? What are you thinking?” she demanded.

“Do it then, please. Make it a perimeter big enough for the three of us. I have no idea, if what I'm thinking of will work, but it's worth a shot.”

“What are you thinking of?” Libertus demanded to know with the same expression on his face he had had when Nyx had proposed the idea they should try to warp through walls.

They watched for a moment, as Ladone pulled out one of her kukris and started to carve lines into the earth. Nyx would help, but she was most likely using a circle variant that had a water focus, and he had no real idea how those were made up.

“Coeurl's need to protect themselves from daemons, too. So I figure since you know-” he waved a hand in front of them, a tiny spark travelling between his fingers- “I might just as well try it.”

Libertus frowned thoughtfully. “That might actually not be a bad idea.”

“Hey! I have many good ideas.”

“As long as you don't fry us all, that is,” his hunting-brother continued, as if he hadn't heard Nyx' indignant cry.

“I have three words for you: The Old Apothecary's Trail,” Ladone spoke up from where she was still carving the lines and symbols into the ground.

Nyx winced. “Okay, that was dumb. But I was also a kid with something to prove, and Libs and I got a sister out of it. So it wasn't that bad.”

“We nearly died more than once, you hero. Being in mortal peril for a whole night doesn't count as 'not that bad' in my book,” Libertus snorted with no real heat behind it. “But you're right about Crowe.”

“Mahir had me on forge duty for a whole month, and all the while she tried to get more food into Crowe,” Nyx remembered with a far away look.

If he concentrated enough, he could still feel the soot under his fingernails, he hadn't been able to clean out until weeks after his punishment had been finished.

“Done,” Ladone announced and brought Nyx out of his reverie.

She stood in the circle of her work, the lines deep and dark between the blades of grass. Above them the sky was turning darker and the first stars were winking down at the world. They were cutting it mighty close. Nyx helped Libertus into the circle, careful that neither of them touched any of the lines.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered once they were all safely within the warding circle.

He sunk deep into his magic, as far as he could manage, to get to the source of the animal-deep jungle-instinct sparking within him. A satisfied purr rumbled in his chest as he travelled along his magic's path to carefully guide it to what he wanted to do.

It was surprisingly easy. Only partially aware of what his body was doing, he sat down in the cooling grass and close to the pack mates he wanted to protect, sprawled out like a possessive cat. Lightning sparked first along his arms and hands, then between his fingers before it travelled into the ground and along the lines elder pack mate had carved into the ground with her claw.

Pack-brother gave a startled yelp as the lines crackled with energy and began to glow a blueish purple. Nyx gave a calming rumble to help calm him down. If pack-brother hadn't been injured, he would have flopped all over him to make it clearer that Nyx would never hurt him, but instead was protecting him. He wanted to lick the wound on his face clean. And probably would have done so, if he wouldn't have to sit still to keep the lightning from fizzling out.

Elder pack mate stood sentry, still and unmoving as she watched their surroundings. With a deep rumble of approval he cast his senses out in search for threats. None of the weaker of those rancid smelling night hunters would dare come near, but the powerful ones were a concern. Nyx himself was not at full power. He had only enough left to keep this protective field up until more of his pack arrived to take them to their temporary den.

He looked out into the night. The part that was still mostly Nyx Ulric and not a mass of coeurl-instinct-protect wondered how the lightning of his magic wasn't blinding him. Overhead the stars slowly lit up the night in a beautiful monochrome.

Only once during their wait did a night hunter dare to come near. It was a lone humanoid carrying a weapon propped against its shoulder. It ambled near, clearly curious, but vanished quickly at Nyx' warning roar. None would harm his pack mates while he was able to protect them.

At the roar elder pack mate's hands flew to her claws and pack-brother gave a quiet curse, but nothing else happened. Satisfied, Nyx gave a quiet rumble.

Another rumbling sound joined it. At first it was far away but slowly grew closer and louder. Nyx tensed, awaiting an enemy. A twin pair of lights pierced the monochrome, joined by another and another and many more.

Pack-brother gave an excited shout and Nyx relaxed the tiniest bit. The pack had finally come.

The rumbling pairs of light stopped not far from their warding circle that still glowed and cracked with charged lightning. People appeared, staring and and whispering.

“Nyx, you can stop now,” elder pack member said gently.

He gave an unwilling growl. The night smelled foul and he could sense another night hunter not too far away.

“They can't take us back to Insomnia, if you don't cancel the lightning,” she reminded him.

Nyx gave a miffed huff. His lightning would never harm a pack mate. Never. He wouldn't let it. Nonetheless, languidly, he stretched his limbs out and loosened his muscles. With each careful movement the lightning surrounding them grew weaker, until Nyx stood up and it stopped.

The blueish violet glow in the lines of the warding circle stayed.

Nyx didn't care about the power still pulsing along the carved lines in the earth, or the whispers and stares flitting from the circle to him and back. Instead he prowled amongst the members of his pack until he found pack-sister. He couldn't see it, but he knew she had cried. With a reassuring purr from deep within his chest he draped an arm over her shoulders and rubbed his chin and cheek over the crown of her head. She clung to him with the fierce strength of relief.

“Don't you ever scare me like that again, Nyx Ulric! You hear?” Her voice was muffled against the material of his coat.

Neither in the mood nor willing for a more verbal answer, he purred louder against her hair.

“All right people. Back into your seats! We need to go now, if we want to make it by morning,” sounded the voice of pack leader-in-his-absence.

Pack-sister gently pushed him towards the leading vehicle and he went willingly. Before he knew it he found himself draped over pack-sister, elder pack mate, pack leader-in-his-absence and another, making his satisfaction known with a rumbling purr.

Their voices drifted around him, but Nyx didn't care to listen. Instead he blinked slowly and watched pack-brother for a moment, who sat across of him, being fussed over by another pack mate. He was tired. So, so tired. A hand carded through his hair and he closed his eyes, gently drifting off to his own purrs and the rumbling of the vehicle beneath him.

Blue eyes blinked open. With a jaw cracking yawn and stretching limbs, Nyx wondered what had woken him until he noticed that the engine of the military van he was in, had turned off.

“Finally back with us, you big cat?” a voice above him questioned, equal parts amused and exasperated.

Brain still sluggish from sleep and wondering why the surface he lay on was so uneven, he twisted around to look over his shoulder and found Crowe gazing down at him. She looked tired, with dark circles under her eyes and pale skin. Her uniform was rumpled and her hair a mess, but otherwise she seemed alright.

“Good morning. At last one of us got some sleep,” Ladone announced herself dryly from next to his storm-sister.

“Not to complain or anything, but can you get off my legs now, please? I swear I can't feel my feet anymore,” Pelna complained from the other end of the bench.

Only then did Nyx notice that he was sprawled over the legs of Crowe, Ladone, Luche and Pelna. Deciding the easiest way was to just roll off, he landed on all fours in the space between the two benches before he climbed out of the open door.

They were at their usual post-mission drop-off point in Insomnia, near the military hospital. The morning sun shone warmly down on him. Hadn't it just been night outside?

“When did we get here?” he asked Pelna who came out of the van, stretching his limbs and groaning.

“Maybe fifteen minutes ago? Libertus just got taken into the hospital. By the way, you need to get checked out as well.”

Nyx hummed non-committally and looked around. Glaives mingled between the vans, most tired and pale and dirty, but alright. Some who saw him, gave wide eyed stares, others respectful nods and one or two even crossed their wrists in greeting. He bit back an exasperated groan. Why had he decided taking the position of makti-oir was a good idea again?

“What are the numbers?” he asked and it was Luche who answered.

“All of us have scrapes and bruises, the mages all have some form of magical exhaustion. Around thirty people need medical attention, twelve of those are more heavily injured. Other than that nothing.”

“No fatalities?”

“None.”

Shoulders sagging, Nyx gave a sigh in relief. That was good. Very good. And with this and all their goals, other than Glauca's death, accomplished, this was their most successful field mission in years.

“General Leonis radioed in as soon as we entered the city limits. The King wants a personal debrief in six hours sharp, and since only one of us got some sleep on the drive here, I'll go take a nap before I have to deal with mainlander logic,” Luche reported and walked away with a nod.

“When did he gain such a mouth?” Pelna wondered half-jokingly.

“I just found out he has a sense of humour last week,” Nyx shrugged.

“No gossiping like dithering sinehäri. Off to the hospital with you three. I hope I don't need to hold your hands for you to actually do it.” Ladone stared at the Pelna, Crowe and him with flint stone eyes, and they all shook their heads. “Good. Pelna, Crowe, catch some sleep afterwards. Makti-oir Ulric, I cannot tell you what to do, but my advice would be to go see Ethin of the Sarcina Clan after a hot shower and a meal.”

Dumbfounded, Nyx nodded. He'd been yearning for that shower and something to eat since he had woken up. He didn't need Ladone to tell him that. But why Ethin Sarcina? He was one of the best tailors of Galahd. And not only because he could kill you with a needle in two seconds flat.

He exchanged a look with Crowe and Pelna as Ladone sauntered off, her new trident slung over her back. Both shrugged, and together they made their way into the hospital.

Before they had even reached the nurse manning the reception, she held the telephone receiver to her ear and started speaking. Not even five minutes later, Nyx found himself shaking the hand of a man who introduced himself as the assistant medical director, who would do Nyx' examination himself, if he didn't have any personal preferences for a physician, that was?

Mutely he shook his head, because what the fuck?

The normal check-up for slight injuries was done by an assistant physician who looked like she wasn't paid enough for the work she was doing, and not getting enough sleep. She was pretty alright, managing to smile through Tredd's temper, Luche's standoffishness and Kepho's flirting.

This assistant medical director was a slender man in his late fifties, who must have been the sporty type in his youth, with dyed brown hair and such perfect teeth, they must be every dentist's wet dream.

Sharing a baffled look with Crowe and Pelna, all three of them followed the doctor past the military wing that took up eighty percent of the hospital and into the wing that was reserved for nobility. The three dirty Glaives stuck out like sore thumbs.

Both Crowe and Pelna were asked to wait in a very fancy waiting area that only had one other occupant at the moment. The man looked utterly scandalized as the two Glaives sat down. Nyx followed the doctor down the hallway until they reached an examination room.

It was spacious, near half the size of Nyx' dingy apartment, with a very comfy looking examination table, something that looked like a wooden floor, a big desk and cushy chairs. Nyx could see his medical file on said desk.

Feeling utterly uncomfortable in this room, Nyx followed the doctor's instructions through the whole examination. At last the man was professional.

“Thank you, Sir Ulric. I'll prescribe you a potion regimen for your injuries. The slight concussion should be gone after the first dosage and the lacerations on your side should be healed after two days at most. Please take this prescription to our in-house apothecary. The nurse there will answer any questions you might have.”

Nyx left the room, feeling strangely dazed. He watched Crowe follow a nurse out of the waiting area and sat down next to Pelna, who had his nose deep in a gossip rag.

“Find anything interesting?” he asked to keep himself from thinking too hard about why he had been examined by the assistant medical director of all people.

“Yes, actually,” Pelna affirmed, leafed through the magazine until he found what he was looking for, and held it out to Nyx.

There, in big, bold letters the headline read:

Hidden Royalty of Galahd?

Beneath is was a picture of himself as he walked down the streets of Little Galahd. There was a slight smile on his face as he looked down to the child that was tugging at the hem of his tunic to get his attention. It must have been taken shortly after his election to makti-oir and at a great distance, because he hadn't noticed any mainlanders near at the time.

“What the fuck?” breathed Nyx.

“This is the newest issue. Apparently they're now really convinced you're a king. There's an interview with a society expert who claims to have 'taken an extensive look' at our social structure. It's utter garulacrap. The guy just tried to give everything a Lucian stamp, it's actually pretty hilarious,” Pelna grinned, though his eyes were sympathetic.

Nyx stared at him. “You're so weird.”

Pelna shrugged, utterly unrepentant.

“Sir Khara?” a nurse asked from the doorway.

Pelna put the magazine away and stood up. “You should go, too. Take a shower, you can't turn up in the throne room stinking like you haven't washed in four days and rolled through a sewer.”

“I don't smell that bad!” Nyx protested.

He didn't really mean in however, because he knew he really did smell pretty bad, even if none of the nurses or doctors here had reacted to it. They were probably used to worse things than a smelly human being.

He left the hospital after a brief visit to the apothecary, where he got his potions. Reading the print on the box, he nearly did a double take. These were the good ones. The stuff he normally wouldn't be able to afford a single vial of, with a month's salary. For a few moments he stood on the walkway in front of the hospital, staring down at the box in his hands, until he forcibly shook his head and headed towards his apartment.

All the way there he was followed by the curious stares and whispers of Lucians. One time he could have sworn he had heard a little girl ask their mother if he was the king. After that he had thought it prudent to take the shortcut over the roofs via warping.

Warping with a sword instead of kukris was strange, but manageable. Especially with the right motivation.

Freshly showered and after a quick meal, he was out on the streets again and on his way to Ethin Sarcina, of all people. The old tailor had his workshop at the edge of Little Galahd's market street. It was an old stone building that must have been decent middle class before the city had grown another layer.

The storefront showed two large, arching windows in which mannequins were artfully arranged and dressed in colourful tunics, trousers and dresses. As Nyx opened the door, a bell chimed through the saleroom.

“I'll be there in a moment!” called a voice from further inside.

Nyx looked at the rolls of fabric lining one wall, and the finished pieces meticulously hung on racks on the other side of the room. The floor was made of planks of wood that were probably just as old as the house itself, and across from the entrance was the counter, topped by an antique looking register.

A young woman – a girl still, really – stepped through the open doorway behind the counter.

“Welcome to the tailor's shop of Clan Sarcina. How may I- oh.” The girl's eyes grew huge as she recognized him. Hastily she stepped around the counter and crossed her wrists. “Ohlro ar fahl Eohsas, makti-oir.”

“Rid ohlro ar, fohrnfilkar Sarcina schiwelk,” Nyx answered with a smile.

He wasn't really in the mood to discuss how he wasn't a fan of all this formality at all. The girl was already exited enough.

“Please follow me, makti-oir. Oirkar Sarcina is waiting for you,” she instructed and guided him through the doorway behind the counter and through a narrow hallway, into the back of the house.

The girl knocked on the only door in the hallway, and opened it after waiting for a second. “Thuirahn, Makti-oir Ulric is here.”

“Send him in!” came a voice from behind a workbench.

With a nod and a quiet thanks to the girl, he stepped into the cluttered workshop. She closed the door behind him and probably went back to man the counter.

“Welcome to my workshop, makti-oir,” boomed Ethin Sacina as he stepped towards Nyx with a wide smile.

He was a man of medium height with a mane of grey hair that was bound out of his face by a series of braids. His green eyes sparkled with a youthful energy that belied his growing age. They clasped each other's wrist in greeting.

“It's an honour to have you here, makti-oir. Namakar Najad commissioned something for you. She said with how things are going, you might need it sooner or later.”

“Truly?” Nyx asked, astonished. “And no need to call me makti-oir. I know my own title well enough.”

Ethin laughed. “True. But you shouldn't let other people forget.”

Nyx gave a slight frown, but said nothing. This wasn't a conversation he thought he would have right now. He knew titles were important to some extend, they made for an ease in communication and decision-making when times were dire. Or, they were supposed to, at last. Nyx had never needed to stand this high in the social hierarchy of Galahd, nor had he ever wanted to. It was a daunting task, and he didn't know if he could do right by the people that were now his responsibility.

“Come, sit. My grandniece will bring you some tea, while I'll fetch what was commissioned for you,” Ethin said and motioned towards an armchair in a corner of the room.

It stood next to a small table and was an island of order in what seemed, to Nyx, to be a chaotic room full of scraps of fabric, sewing machines, needle cushions, pattern samplings and mannequins. Right after Ethin finished speaking, a knock sounded. The door opened and a woman around Nyx' age entered with a tray balanced in her hands.

He was astonished to recognized her. She was the woman he had surprised by jumping down on her windowsill. He could feel his cheeks grow hot in embarrassment.

She greeted him with a mischievous smile and sat down on a stool to serve the tea. It was limeschti. A kind that smelled strongly of rose petals and pepper.

“Be welcome,” the woman intoned as he took the traditional cup from her hands. “We grant you safety in passage through our lands, and a place at our hearth for as long as you wish to stay. No harm shall come from me and mine. Fire and sun as my witness.”

“Lumo varistos. May your hearth burn strong and bright. No harm shall come from me to you or yours, during my journey through your lands. Fire and sun as my witness,” Nyx responded, raised the cup until it was level with his eyes and then took a sip.

The tea tasted as floral as it smelled with a spicy edge to it. It was pleasant.

The woman reciprocated the gesture. Together they sipped their tea in silence until they set the cups down with a silent clack.

“I am named Athina of Clan Sarcina,” she introduced herself after protocol had been observed.

Athina was a woman blessed by the sun, Nyx noted, her eyes a warm golden colour that squinted slightly as she smiled. Her skin was dark, as was typical for most of the Sarcina and her hair was a warm hazel colour. She wore her Clan braids on both sides of her head and the rest of her hair was swept up in a clean bun held together by sticks with which she could probably murder someone.

“It's good to meet you. I am named Nyx of Clan Ulric. Please, call me Nyx,” he answered with a nod and a slight smile.

Athina returned his smile with an impish tilt to her mouth. “This is better than dropping on my windowsill unannounced, is it not?”

Now Nyx was blushing for real. Athina laughed. It was high and tingling. Nyx had to fight not to stare at the way her eyes sparkled and her whole face seemed to glow.

“I am very sorry,” he managed to say somehow.

Athina dismissed his apology with the wave of an elegant hand and a grin. “Don't apologize. It was the highlight of my day. After all, it doesn't happen everyday that a good looking man basically drops into your living room with a cheeky grin and a wink.”

Nyx couldn't help but answer with a wide grin of his own. “I'm glad I could be of service.”

She opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted as Ethin came back, carrying a large wooden box in his arms.

“I'm glad to see you young people get along so well,” he said with a knowing grin. “Athina, be a dear and help me with this.”

“Of course, granduncle,” she said and stood up.

The box was set down on the stool Athina had just stood up from. At Ethin's prompting Nyx pulled open the lid and gaped in surprise. Inside the box, wrapped in rustling protective paper, lay a set of clothing. Of course it was clothing, Nyx admonished himself. He stood in the workshop of Galahd's best tailor, after all.

Carefully, he pulled out the colourful cloth laying on top. It was rectangular, at least two metres long and one metre wide. The main colours were blue and purple, one colour slowly flowing into the other, first blue, then purple and then blue again. Painted on it were a series of intricate never ending knots depicting a scene. Within the blue, white sea serpents coiled around each other and within the field of purple a coeurl roared. It, too, was white, and Nyx could have taken the image for the Great Coeurl, Lady of the Beasts and Queen of the Jungle, if not for the Ulric blue eye. Next to its raised paw floated a knife in grey and green.

It was the last white coeurl. The one who had skinned himself to become human and married Adrastea Ulric.

Nyx could do nothing but gape undignified, as he held the cloth aloft. It was light in his hands, near weightless, but solid and flowing.

“Summer silk,” he breathed.

“You're right,” Ethin proclaimed proudly.

“But... how?”

Summer silk was a kind of silk only produced on Galahd. It was made out of a mix of arachne silk and silk of the Galahdian native spider silk tree. Not even with two years worth of his salary would he be able to afford this. Not since Galahd had fallen.

“We have our ways,” the old tailor winked.

Nyx swallowed. “I... This is priceless, I cannot accept this.”

“You can any you will, Makti-oir Nyx of Clan Ulric,” Athina asserted firmly. “We already dyed and painted the silk. It's finished and cannot be changed now. Not to wear it would mean wasting all our effort.”

An uncomfortable pressure rose in his chest as he again stared at the piece of painted silk. Both members of Clan Sarcina waited patiently as he visibly fought with himself. He was not worthy of this. But maybe, Nyx thought as his fingers followed the knotted lines depicting the coeurl, maybe, if he worked hard enough, he would one day be.

“All right,” he managed to say around the lump in his throat. “For hearth and home.”

“For hearth and home,” Athina echoed, face solemn.

“Come, you need to get dressed. You cannot go to the Lucian King in that,” Ethin sniffed and started to herd Nyx towards a folding screen.

“What's wrong with my uniform?” Nyx blinked.

“Politics, makti-oir. Politics,” Ethin explained sagely.

#ffxv #born into the wilds #nyx ulric #blue mage!nyx #worldbuilding #a whole lot of it #I can't control myself #galahdian culture #galahdian history #my fics #geist writes

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theentiregdtime · 5 years ago

Note

If you are still taking fic requests, maybe some inebriated overly-cuddly CharMac? (Bonus points if it includes them trying to pick each other up amd falling into a giggling pile.)

“Uno!”

Charlie cackles triumphantly and waves a single card infront of Mac’s face, reveling in his victory.

“Wait… How do you only have one card?”

Granted, Mac is pretty slammed on tequila, but he reallydoesn’t think that’s right…

He glimpses down to the cards flayed out in his hand andsquints in careful contemplation at the cartoon goldfish on them.

“That’s the game, Mac!” is Charlie’s rebuttal. “You don’thave to be mad because I’m, like, way better than you, it’s okay to be aloser...”

Mac has at least three matches spread out in front of him onthe floor, and Charlie has none. In fact, it looks like he’s been stacking hiscards on top of each other for a while. How long have they been playing this? Howlong have they been on the floor of the office? What time is it?

“Dude, I… I think we’re playing Go Fish.”

Charlie raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Yeah, so are you gonnatake your turn or not, man?” He flops his last card back and forth. “’Cause I amabout to destroy you, and- and I think you’re just scared.”

“You’re supposed to have the most cards, Charlie.”Normally, Mac would argue with him, but he’s too drunk- they’re both toodrunk- to care. He snorts with laughter instead, tossing his cards onto thefloor. “You know what? Fine. You win.”

Charlie slams his last one down and throws his hands up, eithergiggling or hiccupping- Mac’s not sure- until he stops gloating and topplesbackwards onto the floor.

At first, Mac assumes he’s browning out, until he pats thefloor beside him and mumbles something incoherent. He takes it as an invitationand flops down beside Charlie like a drunken fish out of water.

Charlie points at the ceiling with a wobbly hand, as if it’staking all the strength left in his body to hold his noodle arm up without it collapsing.“Show me the pictures… like we used to do in your room.”

“It’s not a popcorn ceiling, Charlie.”

He seems confused by that, and Mac isn’t sure he has theenergy to explain to him that he doesn’t mean literal popcorn. Luckily, that’snot the response he gets.

“Well, then… use the stains.”

There are a surprising number of stains on the ceilingtiles. They should probably clean up there more often- well, Charlie should,that’s Charlie work for sure- but they have a habit of doing the bare minimumand hoping all the deep cleaning shit will work itself out when the placefinally burns down.

Mac gestures to a particularly nasty one in the corner thatsort of resembles the yuck puddle in the bathroom.

“What is that, dude?” he asks, more of an accusationthan a question.

Charlie clicks his tongue. “One of us has to dealwith the roaches, okay?”

The shudder that creeps up Mac’s spine and down hisshoulders is visceral. He’s surprised Charlie even bothers- he’s basicallynamed all the critters at he and Frank’s apartment. The way he lives is… Whatwas that word Dennis used? He can’t remember, but it’s gross, and that’sa good enough description.

“So, what is the stain?”

“Honey, dude, but that’s not-”

“Honey?”

“That’s what they say! You know, you catch more roaches withhoney-”

“None of what you’re saying is right!”

“Just- Just show me the pictures, Mac!”

Mac resigns himself with a long, dramatic sigh. His breathfeels syrupy and reeks of agave. He rolls his teeth over his bottom lip andswallows the rock of sea salt he finds there. Fighting with Charlie is usuallyuseless, and he’s too sloppy drunk to put up a fight, anyways.

He scoots closer, making sure his hand is in Charlie’sfield of vision, so he can see clearly as he traces an outline around the splotch.How much honey does it take to make a stain like that, anyways? Thatthing is a monster.

“Looks like a squid…” -he points to a smudge in the cornerof it- “holding a samurai sword.”

Charlie snickers to himself like it’s the funniest thing he’sever heard, shuffling and burying his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “Hecould hold way more than one sword, though,” he remarks, but doesn’t disputethe idea otherwise.

They used to do this all the time, when they were kids. Forsome reason, Charlie always had trouble picking the images out of the ceilingpopcorn- it didn’t come naturally to him. They’d lay in Mac’s bed and he’d tellCharlie that looks like an alien eating a pineapple or that lookslike a cat on a sailboat and he’d have to take his word for it. To him, itwas all just white blobs, but he liked the stories Mac made up for him, anyways.

They stay like that, side by side on the floor, Mac paintingpictures on the ceiling by ghosting his finger over them, and Charlie chiming inhere and there to comment on his storytelling. It’s surprisingly disgusting upthere, and it’s probably even worse on the floor, but they’re both too plasteredto give a shit. When Mac comes up with a whole plot about a smear that looks like a skeleton being in love with the particularly feminine stainin the corner, but getting cucked by the squid because he has more skin,Charlie laughs so hard he snorts and falls into Mac’s shoulder. His breath islike the spit bucket at a wine tasting, but instead, it’s a nasty mix of cheapbeer, tequila, and Bloody Mary mixer. Mac doesn’t complain, though.

“What time you think it’s, man?” Charlie asks, and the wordsaren’t exactly right, but he gets the point across.

Mac lifts his arm in front of his face and stares at hiswrist. He’s not wearing a watch- he’s not sure he’s ever worn a watch,actually.

“Pro’lly late.” He hoists himself up and his stomach churnslike a washing machine full of tequila and salt and lime juice and corn chips. “Oof.”

Mac tugs at Charlie’s shoulder, but he doesn’t budge.

“C’mon, you should go home,” he insists, “or Frank’s gonnathink you’re dead and replace you with a Build-a-Bear or some weird shit.”

Charlie squints at him like he’s an offensively bright light.

“What’cha gonna do, drive me?” he chuckles. “Dennis tookyour car, like, hours ago.”

Oh, yeah… Mac was supposed to text him. He’s probably asleepby now. Whatever, it’s fine, he’ll figure it out. They just have to get off ofthe floor first.

He wraps his arms around Charlie’s shoulders and tries to lifthim to his feet, but his muscles feel like jelly and Charlie’s all slippery anduncontrollable like a feral cat.

“Come on, dude,” he groans. “Get up, bitch.”

Mac gets him a couple feet up, but he loses grip, andsomehow, they both end up rolling back down onto the floor together. His headslams onto Charlie’s chest and Charlie’s arm wraps around Mac’s neck and,before they know it, they’re both laughing so hard they can barely breathe.

“You’re not strong enough, dude,” Charlie teases, pattingMac’s deltoid. “S’all for show.”

“Hey, I could so lift you!” he retorts childishly. “I’mjust too tired right now! Also I’m, like, real drunk.”

“Sure, whatever yousay, Mac…”

The laughter diesdown and they make themselves comfortable, ignoring the cobwebs and the dustand the mysterious stickiness on the floor. It’s actually kind of cozy, onceyou get used to it. It’s cold and hard and smells like gym shoes, but overall…not bad, as far as beds go.

“This is fun,”Charlie mumbles, eyelids fluttering as he scoots into the curve of Mac’s arm. “Justyou an’ me.”

Mac realizes, yeah,it’s been a long time since they hung out- only the two of them. Sometimes Macforgets that, before all of this, before the twins and the bar and Frank- itwas just Mac and Charlie against the world. They’ll always have each other’sbacks, though, and they’ll always have their totally-not-white-trash fun- nomatter how much things change, no matter how old they get, no matter how theirlives end up. They get each other. They’re like family.

“Yeah, it is,” Macchuckles and thumps him on the shoulder. “Night, Charlie.”

Charlie’s alreadysnoring, and it isn’t long before Mac follows. His last thought, before hedrifts off to sleep (or possibly a drunken blackout), is that they definitely need to clean the ceiling in the morning.

#i'm not super happy with this but i hope you dig it!!#it's always sunny in philadelphia #it's always sunny #iasip #charlie kelly #mac mcdonald #charmac #fics #my writing #asks #anon

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ghostyprince · 6 years ago

Text

TITLE: We Got Drunk In A Haunted Asylum

word count: 2.694 rating: T fandom: BuzzF. Uns. relationship: Ryan B./Shane M. summary: Ryan only agreed to do this video, because everyone told him the alcohol would make him feel brave, and he'd want to punch the ghosts in the face, and it would be really funny, people would love it.

In reality, it just made everything worse.

author’s note: i’m pretty sure this was either based on a prompt i saw over at @shyanlibrary or it was a conversation between people on my dash, i honestly don’t remember it’s been so long since i actually started this.

[READ ON AO3]

or read more here

”In today’s video, we’re going to spend the night in the Hollydale Mental Hospital, while drunk.” Shane and Ryan were both sitting in foldable chairs in front of a camera, one six-pack beer in both of their hands. ”You may ask, why? Well, why not?” Shane shrugged, nonchalant. Like getting drunk in a maybe (probably) haunted place was the most natural thing.

The video started, it was just the two of them, left to their own devices. The others were ready to pack up and leave in the next hour or so.

They slipped into their natural banter immediately, it was even easier to forget about the camera running. It just felt like some of their usual drinking nights, somehow rarely running out subjects, and if they did, the silence was comfortable, not awkward.

Ryan already felt pretty drunk, he was down to his last unopened drink, Shane was doing a little better, he still had three left, but he definitely seemed buzzed already.

He said even weirder shit than he did sober, and Ryan laughed even harder at them until his stomach hurt. Ryan didn’t even remember why he was so opposed to making this video. While the idea itself is pretty dumb, Shane insisted seeing how Ryan would react something spooky while drunk. Both of them expected him to turn into a mini-Shane, screaming at the ghosts to fight him, and rip out his spine, or something ridiculous like that. And Ryan had to admit, he was curious too, how the alcohol would affect his braveness.

He didn’t have to wait too long.

A sharp bang echoed through the empty room next to theirs, like someone smashed a big rock against the floor, scattering debris all around the cement. Ryan let out a yelp, stumbling backward. The back of his head bumped into Shane's chest, and at the same time, a quiet little whimper hit his left ear. What the fuck.

Ryan immediately tensed up, he rushed to take two more steps back, fully pressing himself against Shane this time, he didn’t even care. He grabbed his friend's arm instinctively, desperately trying to ground himself. That’s something he may be embarrassed about later.

"Hey, Ryan, it's okay. It was just a rat, or an owl or something. I bet there is a lot of those here."

"N– no that wasn't a fucking bat! I heard something right beside me, I swear!" Ryan's grip tightened on Shane’s arm, nails digging into his shirt and gently piercing into his skin. He scanned the room frantically, but couldn’t see anything out of place in the dim lighting.

"It could've been me. Relax, little buddy!" Okay. Yeah. He's right, It could've been Shane. Alright. Nothing is there. It's fine, Ryan.

Just as the thoughts formed in his head, a small rock came tumbling down the concrete stairs to their left, every little thud echoed through the empty room, until it stopped at the bottom, eerily still. Like it got caught on something.

Ryan was properly freaking out now, shaking and gripping Shane's lower arm with such force, his friend quietly hissed.

"Ryan, calm down! There is nothing there. Ghosts aren't real." he said, tone gentle, it’s the one he usually used to calm his friend down.

"No no no, there– things like this, these don't just happen, dude" Ryan cut his rambling off as his breath hitched. His lungs couldn’t fill up properly, no matter how many times he tried. It feels like he's choking. Like icy, pale hands wrapping around his throat, trying to choke him to death.

He can't breathe.

He will die, holy shit he will die.

No. He needs to calm the fuck down. Ryan let go of Shane’s arm and screwed his eyes shut, somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware of Shane calling his name. Calm down, calm down, calm down. You’re just drunk, Bergara.

He still got no air, when he opened his eyes, his vision was blurry and tears threatened to fall from his eyes. He made a useless attempt at taking a shaky breath, chest painfully constructing. It just amplified the ever-present pressure on his chest. OK not good, not good.

It's a ghost.

It has to be a ghost.

Or worse, a demon.

He has done his research, the little shits do this.

And they will strangle him, he's sure of it.

Ryan blinks away the tears, trying to see clearly, but his vision was surrounded by a border of inky darkness. It’s like the demons were closing in on him. If he looked more closely, they had eyes too. Hard to make out, but they were there. He made a sound at the back of his throat, averting his eyes, so he doesn’t have to look at them. Instead, he stared at the filth around them and the beer bottles. He counted them, multiple times in his head. One, two, three, calm down, calm down.

Four, five, six, breathe.

Ryan heard a quiet murmur, but he couldn’t quite make out any words. It was pretty soothing though.

Seven, you’re safe.

"Ryan, you’re safe. I’m here.”

The murmur, Shane's voice faintly breaks through his intrusive thoughts, it feels like he's underwater. Every sound is distant, except the loud, constant buzzing in his ears. It made his brain hurt. And then someone or something touched his shoulder, and he yelled, blindly swatting before recoiling. He wrapped his arms around himself, fear and panic bubbling up in his stomach again.

"OK, no touching, got it. Listen- Look at me, Ryan." Shane's voice finally reached him, still pretty faint, but he actually understood the words this time.

Shane.

He's there.

He won't let anything hurt him.

They locked eyes, Ryan's teary-eyed gaze was still panicked, his whole body was shaking uncontrollably.

"Breathe with me. Slow and steady. Do you understand?" Shane says slowly, voice wavering slightly and he starts guiding Ryan, who joins in a few seconds later. ”That’s it, you’re doing great!”

The pain in his lungs slowly drifts away, filling it with air. Dirty, asylum air, but for Ryan, at that moment it was the best fucking air he ever tasted. He's okay. He's okay.

They stayed like that, several minutes passing by, Ryan ended up sitting on the ground, and Shane kneeling in front of him while his friend gulped for air, shivering violently. Ryan felt sick, and a little dazed, like someone had hit him in the head. His throat was impossibly dry and raw, too, he would've killed for some water.

"Shane…" it came out more raspy and quiet than he intended to, but Shane's attention was already on him anyway. Now that Ryan's eyes focused on things properly, he took a look at his friend, who seemed just as terrified. He never saw Shane like that before. All wide, worried eyes and shaking hands, lifted up, itching to touch Ryan, but not wanting to scare him again. It was an awful sight and Ryan immediately felt guilty, so without thinking, he grabbed Shane’s hand.

Trembling fingers slipping around each other, looking for leverage and comfort. Both of their drunken haze was long gone by the panic attack, leaving nothing behind but pure exhaustion and the beginning of a dull headache. Ryan never sobered up so quickly in his goddamn life. He closed his eyes for a moment, and God, he could fall asleep right there if the images he saw wouldn’t haunt their mind.

"You good now? Can you stand?" Ryan nodded his head and looked up at Shane, who hauled him up, and put his arm around Ryan’s shoulders, to support his balance. Ryan wasn't protesting, silently grateful for the help. His legs felt like jelly, unable to keep him up properly.

"Let's get out of here."

When they were standing in front of the building, Ryan took a deep breath of fresh air and it burned his lungs a little, but it felt so good.

It meant he was alive.

He’s been holding the sleeve of Shane's jacket since Shane helped him up and Shane let him, without batting an eye. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Feeling the rough fabric between his fingers kept his mind clear, it made him feel real. He could be more brave, knowing Shane was there with him. If demons were gonna fuck with Ryan, they'd have to know he and Shane are a package deal.

"Everything alright?" TJ approached them, while two other crew members disappeared into the building, to get the chairs and empty bottles.

"I need some water," Ryan said and cleared his throat to make the raspiness go away. He thanked TJ when he handed him a full bottle and chugged at least half the thing in a minute. TJ gently patted him in the back, Ryan felt the warmness of his hand even through his shirt.

He was alive.

Back in the hotel, Ryan flopped down on his bed, exhausted. He just wanted to sleep. The hotel’s energy was so much lighter than the mental hospital’s, he noted. He didn’t see the ghosts, demons whatever they were, anymore when he shut his eyes either. That heavy feeling Ryan started drifting off to sleep, Shane was having none of that, though.

"Get up, and take a shower, man. You can't just sleep in full gear and filthy." He tugged on Ryan's arm, who let out a whine he will be embarrassed about later. No way he’s leaving this bed for several hours.

"M'tired."

"You can sleep after. Come on, shower! You’ll feel better." He added softly, squeezing Ryan's arm encouragingly.

"Fuck you." Ryan huffed, no annoyance in his voice, and got up anyway. He felt gross, and honestly, he was gross. All sweaty and dusty, both from the panic attack and the asylum’s floor. Why did they even agree to this? He should've known that's how he'll react with the alcohol. It was stupid and the video is completely ruined now. They can’t publish him freaking out like a baby, and Shane looking so panicked himself. Ryan never wants to see him like that again.

Why does he have to freak out all the time? I mean sure, people love to watch him scream, but this wasn’t funny in the slightest. Maybe they could go back tomorrow, redo the whole thing. Ryan hated the idea of stepping one foot in that place again, but he knew, he had to take one for the team.

He quickly finished the shower, actually feeling much better than ten minutes earlier. Of course, Shane didn’t need to know that. By the time he got dressed, Shane slipped into the bathroom, to clean himself off too. Ryan faceplanted one of the beds, only being aware of the fact that it was the one Shane laid on while waiting for him after getting a whiff of his deodorant.

Maybe, he should move, the other bed is just two big steps away, it wasn’t really that much effort. Ryan groaned, and buried his face into the pillow, breathing in Shane’s left-over scent. Yeah, okay, he doesn’t wanna move anyway.

The walls were thin, so he could hear the sound of the water spraying from the bathroom, Ryan’s brain provided him with images of what Shane looks and might look like naked. He groaned because it wasn’t something he wanted to deal with right now. It was for nights when he was a little too hyper or they were at a location, and sleep wouldn’t come. So he’d stare at his bedroom walls, or the silhouette of Shane in the sleeping bag and allow his mind to wander.

To think about how it would feel like to slide closer to Shane and have his stupid long arms wrap around him. It would probably make him feel safe and he could have a good night’s sleep at a location for once. Shane’s very presence calms him down, usually. Ryan would tip his head back though, to look at him. And just like that, they’d be kissing.

It was always an initial shock, to wake up from that daydream, sometimes it felt so real it left Ryan’s chest aching. Like he was just ripped out of that reality, and thrown back into this one. Even after months of pining, it hurt just the same.

He never did anything about it, the fear of ruining their bond loomed over his head every time Ryan felt like he was finally ready to tell Shane.

Ryan was certain he was already half-asleep, but then the bed dipped right next to him, like someone, something was sitting next to him, and suddenly he was wide awake. He bolted upright, ready to sprint out of bed and the whole room if it was some demon that followed him home, but he came face-to-face with Shane. Oh.

”It’s just me!” Shane held up his open palms in front of him to assure Ryan he’s harmless. His face was pinched into a worried expression. ”I thought you were sleeping. Wanted to put some blankets on you, it gets chilly here.”

”Oh, alright. Thanks. This is your bed, sorry.”

”It’s fine, Ry. Are you okay?”

”Yeah. It was the alcohol, and I got scared. Just– don’t worry about it, alright?” Ryan tries to shrug it off. He’s a little cranky because Shane disturbed him drifting off. Not to mention the daydreaming about kissing him. He felt vulnerable like Shane could see right through him.

”But I am worried about it.”

”Why, Shane? Why do you care so much?” Ryan finally looked up, already regretting his words coming out so harshly. It’s not Shane’s fault, none of this is.

Shane was frowning, but that fear Ryan saw earlier was in his eyes again. He looked like shit too, just as tired as Ryan felt.

”Not to make this about myself, you know I wouldn’t, but I was fucking terrified, seeing you like that. And I just want to make sure you’re okay, and you won’t get a heart attack or something while I’m sleeping three feet away from you because I’m not sure how I’d survive that.”

Ryan’s irritation immediately dissolved, feeling brave, stupid or simply sleep-deprived, he put his hand over Shane’s on the cover. ”I’m fine, I promise.”

Shane exhaled, shakily and stared at their hands, Ryan expected him to pull away. Instead, Shane turned his hand around and gently squeezed Ryan’s. Suddenly he felt a lot less sleepy. Maybe it’s time to take the first step. Maybe the universe gave him a sign in that fucking piece of rock. Ryan would be a fool not to take it. And if Shane will reject him, well, tomorrow-Ryan will deal with that.

They were already sitting pretty close to each other, so Ryan didn’t need to strain himself too much to lean in, and press his lips against Shane’s mouth. The angle was a little awkward and he felt Shane tensing up, so he got ready to be pushed back. Shane didn’t push him away, instead one of his big hands ruffled up Ryan’s hair on the back of his head, pulling him even closers, and pressing back against him.

Ryan’s stomach did a flip, and Shane slightly pulled on his hair, probably not even on purpose, but it made him gasp regardless.

They were just looking at each other now, a little too close, both breathing heavily. Shane was the one who spoke first, softly, not wanting to disturb whatever’s hanging in the air between them.

”So, are we a thing now?” Ryan had the audacity to snort.

”We could be a thing. Do you want us to be?”

”I very much would like us to be a thing.” Shane was grinning now, and apparently, it’s infectious, because Ryan found himself doing the same.

And then they were kissing again, knocking their teeth together a few times and they both laughed, which really only resulted in it happening more often. They could talk about what ’the thing’ means tomorrow while having a coffee and maybe some breakfast too, that sounded nice.

#shyan #skeptic believer #shyan fic #fanfiction #my fanfiction #it was just sitting on my laptop collecting dust #so i thought i'd finish it #not my best work tho #but #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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itsclydebitches · 6 years ago

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Diving Deep

Hello, @badluckcharm-exe! It’s finally done! Sorry this took forever and a day. Inspiration decided to take a vacation for a while... Regardless, I hope you enjoy this. I’ll be sure to get it up on AO3 tomorrow 💚

Prompt was for a Mermaid AU.

“Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream! Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily life is but a dream. Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream—”

“Holy shit, kid, you’re twelve. Don’t you know any other songs?”

Oscar blinked, finally drawing his gaze away from the aquarium. The hallway they stood in had water on both sides as well as above, a dome that never failed to leave Qrow’s stomach queasy because good god what happened if that glass ever broke? Oscar had no such reservations. He pressed right against the barrier—things with teeth passing him by—until the water rippled off his skin and there was a green tint to his eyes.

“I’m fourteen,” he said, head cocked strangely against the glass.

“That’s worse.”

Oscar shrugged. “I like it. The song I mean. Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream. If you meet the kelpie’s eyes then don’t forget to scream.”

…What the actual fuck?

It wasn’t the first time the kid had said something totally off the wall. Qrow leaned on his mop, watching Oscar tap the glass until, coincidentally, a bright orange fish swam up to where he stood. Qrow had worked at Atlas Labs nearly a year now and knew that, no matter what Ozpin claimed, they were only surrounded by a bunch of dumb animals. You couldn’t train a fish to come when called, no more than he’d been able to train Oscar to be marginally less annoying. Honestly, what the ever loving hell was a kelpie?

“Hey.” Qrow tapped his boot until Oscar finally looked his way. The fish immediately swam off. “If you’re just gonna stand there how about you help me wipe down the glass?” That way Qrow didn’t need to go near all that nonsense. “All boys your age should have chores. Builds character. Or something.”

For reasons unknown to him Oscar’s eyes strayed to the bucket full of water next to Qrow’s feet. He split into a grin.

“Nope! Tell Dad I said hi!”

And Oscar scurried off, boots squeaking on the tiled floor as he disappeared around a corner. He’d left smudges on the glass and a scuff where he’d stood. Great.

Another bug-eyed fish bumped against the glass parallel to Qrow’s head. He scowled.

“What the hell are you looking at?”

***

Atlas Labs. Renowned world-wide for their cutting advancements in marine biology. Not exactly the sort of research that got Qrow all hot and bothered, but what could he say? People were weird. Apparently while most looked to the skies for answers to Earth’s problems, the real scientists were turning to the many mysteries of the seas. Our origins, future, even a chance at immortality—all of it was hidden somewhere beneath the waves. At least, that’s what Ozpin claimed.

Not that Ozpin was any less weird than his son.

“Your brat says ‘hi.’”

Lithe and tall enough to hit his head on the occasional hanging lamp, Ozpin Pine presumably had his picture printed next to the dictionary definition of ‘eccentric.’ Qrow had never seen him in anything other than a wrinkled green suit (not the same one every day… surely?) and a lab coat stained with all sorts of things that he never needed identified, thanks. A mop of white hair looked perpetually windblown despite the fact that the man rarely stepped outside and Oz wore these teeny tiny glasses that couldn’t possibly help a flea see, let alone a grown-ass man. He wore rings on his fingers, a long line of earrings, and had hidden tattoos that Qrow sometimes caught peeking out from beneath the cuff of his shirt. It hurt to look at him. In the same way it hurt to look at an ongoing car wreck while being blinded by the sun. Ozpin was, simply put, an oddball.

And Qrow would have laid down his life for him.

Heh. Not to be dramatic or anything, but there weren’t many world-renowned scientists in this place who’d design to speak kindly to their janitor. Or speak to him at all. His first day Ozpin had slipped a sweet from his pocket into Qrow’s hand, made some horrendous joke, introduced Oscar as “My much beloved offspring” (what?), and capped it all off with the warmest smile Qrow had ever had the privilege of soaking up. Those scraps of kindness would have bred devotion on their own, but Ozpin genuinely seemed to like him, as ridiculous as that seemed. Qrow had thought this job was going to be the worst of the many he’d grabbed in the last three years. Instead it was…

Interesting. Yeah. It was something alright.

Ozpin had no inkling of Qrow’s inner judgement. He was too busy comically looking around the floor, or roughly around the height where a pint-sized teen might stand.

“My brat?” he asked, smiling so wide the florescent lights glinted off his back teeth. He took another candy from his pocket and munched it, seemingly thoughtful. Qrow had heard the other scientists bitching about Ozpin bringing food into the labs, claiming that it would attract animals. Like they weren’t already surrounded by animals. Duh.

Qrow eyed the tank in the far corner of Ozpin’s office. Like every other room in Atlas it was a space with aquarium tendencies, though this tank wasn’t listed on any of the public tours. The fish in there were clearly some special experiment of Oz’s, with bright neon strips on top and transparent bodies below. Qrow caught a glimpse of fish skeleton and swallowed back a gag.

“Yes, your brat. He kept bugging me while I cleaned the entryway. Don’t you have a leash for him or something?” Qrow started emptying the trash bins while Oz watched, gaze so focused it seemed to sizzle a hole in the back of his uniform. He did a lot of that. Watching. Qrow had also heard the other nerds complaining about Ozpin’s overly observant nature, saying he wasn’t just intense, but downright creepy.

Weren’t science types supposed to be curious about everything though? If Ozpin wanted to examine the slope of Qrow’s ass, then by all means.

He bent a little farther while picking up the next can, just in case that really was what Oz was interested in. Gray slacks and beige boots weren’t exactly the height of style, but Qrow was confident in his ability to work even the saddest of outfits. Besides, it wasn’t like Ozpin had room to judge. Today he had a stack of jelly bracelets on his left wrist and an octopus pin on the collar of his coat. The man was a hodge-podge of strange adornments, wearing each and every one like they were actually fashionable.

Months he’d been at this job and Qrow was still trying to figure out if the man was just that dense or just that indifferent. Besides, none of this even touched on Ozpin’s tendency to—

“I’m afraid not. I tried a leash of kelp once and Oscar slipped right out of it. He always was such a nimble little fry.”

—say weird shit.

Like father, like son. Apparently.

Qrow paused in the act of dumping five billion used tissues into his cart. He pinched the bridge of his nose. It was 10:00 at night and he didn’t have the energy to tackle whatever the hell a kelp leash was. Instead Qrow raised a single finger, letting it flop. “Nimble fry? Should I serve Oscar up with ketchup tomorrow?”

Which resulted in Ozpin throwing his head back and laughing—literally, like something out of a cartoon. His desk was a mess of papers covered in rainbow highlighting and the bookcase next to that was organized by color rather than genre. Or heaven forbid, last name. Between those and the fish (and his iffy fashion sense) Ozpin was surrounded by color in the otherwise sterile room. It was like this wherever he went. Ozpin blended in with the vibrant life of the tanks around them; always looking like he was more at home with the water just out of reach. Qrow supposed that was a good thing for a man who’d devoted his life to marine biology. It did make one wonder about stupid, sappy things though. Like fate maybe. What kind of man was born with eyes the color of sand and a smile that lit you up like a glimpse of the horizon?

Sometimes Qrow wondered if he’d hear waves if he listened for Oz’s heartbeat. Would he taste salt on his lips?

Right now Qrow had neither. All he could smell was trash.

“A fry is a juvenile fish,” Ozpin said, still wiping tears from his eyes. “Ah, but you’re a fry too, aren’t you, Qrow? So very young. I wouldn’t expect you to know such things.”

Ozpin came up and actually gave his cheek a pat, like some doting grandmother humoring her young charge. Qrow got a close look at his unlined face and could see how soft his hair was, with none of the wiry texture that usually accompanied gray strands. For a man who loved teasing him about his age (not nearly as young as people tended to assume), Ozpin didn’t look a day over thirty himself. It was just one more of his oddities. Qrow had stopped bothering to count them long ago.

Instead he leaned into Ozpin’s touch when his hand decided to rest on his cheek a moment, like some rare bird designing to visit. Ozpin’s fingers were cool as their pads lightly took in the texture of Qrow’s skin. He thought he saw Ozpin’s pupils dilating, blowing black against brown, though that may have just been a trick of the light.

“Is anyone gonna let me do some actual work around here?” he finally groused. A moment longer and Qrow might not have let Ozpin go.

“You should be very proud,” he said, voice carrying a touch of awe that didn’t sit right with the rest of the scene. Ozpin was looking at a bio waste bag. “You have such a wonderful job.”

Qrow stared. Then he looked down to make sure that yes, he was still a janitor and yes, those were drops of day-old coffee on his shoes. A smear of something vile-smelling on his sleeve. Everything else was disinfectant.

“I do?”

“Of course! Why, it’s a service. You keep things neat and sterile. You help make sure my family has a lovely home to keep coming back to.” Ozpin rested his hand on the tank and all the fish congregated around his reflection. Must think it was time for food or something. Qrow was used to the term ‘family’ getting thrown out when Ozpin was speaking and slimy, big-eyed fish were involved. That hardly fazed him nowadays.

The idea that someone found janitorial work impressive? That was something out of left field. Qrow could feel the blush now staining his cheeks.

“Guess I’m not the worst at it,” he muttered, taking up his bag again because damn, he couldn’t look Ozpin in the eye when he got like this. He was expecting another non-sequitor into the new book he was reading, or maybe the fact that Oscar had started collecting forks again (don’t ask). Instead Qrow felt a touch at the crook of his arm, as gentle as when Ozpin had touched his cheek. He stepped closer.

“You truly are marvelous,” Ozpin whispered.

“…Do you hear the stuff that comes out of your mouth?”

“Oh yes. Sometimes I’m the only one who hears. Except Oscar, of course…and you. You’ve always heard me, haven’t you, Qrow? Tell me, do you enjoy the music?”

Must just mean music. In general, like. Qrow suspected that Ozpin was foreign, slipping articles in where none where needed because there certainly wasn’t any music playing now.

…Right?

He wasn’t holding the trash bag anymore. It was thrown haphazardly across his cart, now replaced with Ozpin’s cool, surprisingly smooth hand. Qrow stared down at the appendage, reeling, wondering when that had happened and why. How many times was the man going to touch him tonight—freely—when he’d kept some sort of distance all these months before?

“You do hear,” Ozpin murmured, seemingly to himself. “And Oscar is so very fond of you…why, we both are.” His contemplative look suddenly split like ripe fruit, revealing a blinding smile beneath. “Come, Qrow. Let me show you.”

“Show me what?”

Don’t ask too many questions. You’ll spoil the fun. Ozpin had said that to him once when Qrow had feigned an interest in all his nasty fish, figuring that maybe he’d have some sort of chance if there was a shared interest between them, even a faked one. Instead his words had been rebuffed, Ozpin seeming to stare through him to the lie beneath, finding it all very humorous. Qrow wasn’t surprised that his questions weren’t answered now.

Instead Ozpin led him down the long corridors of Atlas labs, their steps echoing and their breathing overly loud. The aquarium around them shifted with dark blues and greens. The fish seemed to follow, waiting.

It occurred to Qrow then that they were the only ones here. He was the late-night janitor. Ozpin was the workaholic who never seemed to sleep. The only thing that broke the isolation was Oscar’s voice drifting faintly down the hall as he sang that insistent song. Row, row, row, your boat. Where to though? They were the only ones here and suddenly that seemed as much a possibility as a threat.

Don’t forget to scream.

Qrow opened his mouth, but all that came out was a soft, devoted sigh. He stepped into the water.

…water?

“There you are,” Ozpin said. It came out as a coo. “Quite lovely, isn’t it?”

He’d taken him to one of the wading pools. Into the wading pool, where the wildlife swam free, providing the scientists with a place to get up close and personal with their research. A tiny part of Qrow’s mind expressed surprise that Ozpin had stepped in with him—he and Oscar had always had such a strange aversion to touching water, despite their love of it. Filled boots. Wet pants sticking to his ankles, now his thighs. A slightly larger part of him was sending off panicked signals, claiming that he never ever wanted to be this close to a bunch of fish. There were little guppy things scurrying about. Rays with long tails. What might have been a small shark. Everything circled around them as they moved forward, a whirlpool of all the things Qrow had wanted to avoid since taking this position.

Except for Ozpin. Qrow waded deeper, moving towards him and him alone.

“You heard, Qrow. Do you see too?”

Dumbly, Qrow stared down at their still clasped hands. There were membranes between Ozpin’s fingers now and when he smiled his teeth had grown sharper. He’d grown more.

There was a ledge where the pool connected to the tank, a space between the two worlds just large enough for the kinder animals to slip through. Or perhaps two men. One man and… Ozpin; who pulled Qrow under with a forceful, determined tug.

He’d always thought it would be boring under the water. All dark and silent. Far from it though. When Qrow first jerked in panic Ozpin was there, his tattoos, his scales bright within the pool’s gloom, casting little prisms between them. His tail pulled Qrow close while his pupils narrowed into slits. There were tender, clawed hands bowing his shoulders.

There was a moment of suspension then, poised somewhere between bobbing and swimming. Qrow caught Ozpin’s gaze and gave himself up to drowning in those eyes.

Well done, they seemed to say. A mouth filled with teeth and fierce possession leaned in for what might have been a kiss.

Qrow had always taken his chances. He met Ozpin halfway and what do you know.

He tasted salt.

#rwby #ozqrow #rwbyfic #mermaids #badluckcharm-exe

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t-a-l-i-n-a-l-a-n-i · 6 years ago

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How to bind fortune

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter Chapter 1 ___________________________________ Writers note: Hey my lovely friends and welcome to my new Loki Fanfiction :) I really hope you will like it! Feel free to reblog it and please don´t hesitate to give me feedback, so I know how you like it! <3 If you want to be tagged just let me know! :) It starts kind of boring but I promise it will get better! ____________________________________

For almost 3 years Alma is part of the Avengers now. Her powers? She is some kind of a witch. Honestly! Alma can cast simple spells and brew some potions. But her specialty is healing-magic. That's the only thing she's really good at! That's why Tony wanted her for the Avengers. In fights Alma is indeed not useful, but certainly to eliminate the damages afterwards. And she is almost 120 years old! She has done surprisingly well, which is probably part of her abilities. She looks like in her twenties and most importantly: she feels that way, too. It is still pretty early in the morning, she is a morning person ... and a night person ... only in the middle of the day she feels mostly tired. But usually nothing happens in the middle of the day , so it doesn´t really matter. Alma stands in front of the mirror in her apartment in Stark Tower. Yes. She has a small apartment here. Just like the other Avengers. Totally awesome! She plucks at her dress and examines herself. Long black hair, slightly wavy, so neither curly nor straight. Gray eyes, who like to change the color, sometimes more green, sometimes more blue and sometimes even a little bit purple. Skin that looks like it has never seen the sun. 'Natural basement tan' Tony had said and laughed. But he is right. Every dead person is more tanned than she is. Besides, she was pretty small. Every other Avenger was taller than her. Alma's gaze wanders further down. Lips. Pretty normal somehow. Not slim, not wide. Just normal lips. Her eyes wander down at herself. She was wearing her favorite dress today. The others always make fun of her a bit and say she looks 'like a real witch', but it was still her favorite dress. Black, to the knees, little neckline, long sleeves up to over the hands. A very pleasant fabric, not so warm. Warm is bad. Alma is pretty heat sensitive. And if we are honest ... Cold is better! When it's cold, you can cuddle up comfortably in a blanket. The other way around ... when it's hot, you can undress, but that usually does not help and at some point you're naked and it's still hot. She laughs at the thought. Her thoughts often wander off and take on absurd features. Once, in the middle of an Avengers meeting, she had to laugh out loud, thinking about what it would be like when pigs could fly, and that made her think about how her scrambled eggs with bacon suddenly grow wings and tried to flee from her. It was a bit embarrassing to explain to the others why she had to laugh suddenly during a rather serious topic (Loki was attacking Earth). But the others had already gotten used to the fact that sometimes she is kind of strange. 'Old woman' and 'getting senile' are just some of the things Alma hears more often. Then she mostly pouts. Thor is much older and nobody calls him an 'old man'. Just like Loki, who now lives here for almost a year. Thor had brought him a year ago. Apparently, Loki had changed and should now remain as a kind of punishment on Earth and help protect it. He was allegedly forced to attack earth, thats what Thor said. At first it was kind of strange and the atmosphere was tense, but after a few weeks everybody relaxed a bit. By now, everyone can sit at the same table without the situation escalating. Loki got used to it and the others got used to the fact that maybe he was not as bad as they always thought. Sure, a joke here and there, but nothing dramatic. Much worse was actually Alma's absentmindedness. It usually did much more harm than Loki did with his pranks. Once she had accidentally lit a fire that could not be extinguished or suffocated with water, and three floors of the Stark Tower had burned down until Alma found out that the flames only go out when she sings a lullaby to it. Everyone was mad at the witch for weeks. Or the one time when she wanted to mix a healing potion, which should have made one invincible for some seconds and the whole thing ended with everyone who came in touch with it got hiccups, which stopped only after a week. And tongues in different colors. But with her latest experiment, she wanted to impress everyone. It was a potion that brought fortune! Or at least it should be, she still had to try it out. The idea was to make a potion like 'Felix Filicis', the fortune potion from Harry Potter. Of course, Alma knew that Harry Potter was not real, but the idea was good in itself and she had spent a lot of time learning how to brew this potion. It had taken her nearly two weeks to finish brewing. Now all it has to do was to cool down. Alma ties her hair into a ponytail and nods to her reflection on the mirror. She scurries quickly to her door and makes her way to the communal kitchen. From a distance she could hear voices. When she enters the large kitchen, she discovers Natasha, Clint, Bruce and Loki. Natasha and Clint are talking, Loki is reading a newspaper, and Bruce is standing at the kitchen counter, making some coffee. "Hey guys, good morning!", Alma waves happily and sits across from Loki, who nods briefly in greeting and 'hm-hm' d.

"Hey little one." You are almost synchronously greeted by Nat and Clint and Bruce waves to her cheerfully. "Do you want coffee, too?" He says pointing to the cups he has already put in front of him. Alma shakes her head, she was never a fan of coffee. "Tea? If it does not matter!" Bruce nods. "Tea would be fine.", Loki grunts without looking up from his newspaper. "Three spoons of honey." He was probably no morning person, very grumpy. But as Alma knows Bruce, he doesn´t let himself be impressed. "Alma?", Bruce looks at her questioningly. "Honey sounds good, I also take three spoons, please," she smiles softly. She likes Bruce. He is always very polite and the only one who never makes fun of her. "Oh, it looks like we're going to have to buy new honey soon, but it's enough for you." he observes and places the empty container in the sink. Lost in thought, Alma stares at her hands until Bruce puts down a cup in front of her. "Ahh ... thank you!" She twitches. The tea smells delicious. Herbs. Bruce drops the other cup of tea in front of Loki and the cups of coffee are for Nat, Clint and, of course, Bruce, who sits down next to Alma after handing out all the cups. She puffs gently a few times and then takes a small gulp carefully. Unlike Loki who just takes a big sip of scalding hot tea and doesn´t even flinch. Alma blows her tea again and then takes a bigger sip. "Hmm ...." she hummed. Bruce looks at her questioningly. "Everything okay?" "Um ... yes ... just tastes different than usual." she says quietly and knits her eyebrows together. Carefully, she takes another sip and rinses it in her mouth. And suddenly she opens her eyes wide in shock. She swallows hard at the tea in her mouth. Panicking she looks at Bruce. "Bruce .... the honey ...." Alma jumps up and Bruce looks confused after her. She runs to the fridge and tears it open. At the same moment, she hears something big falling to the ground, followed by a "What the ...?!" Panic! She searches something in the fridge. "Bruce !!!", she turns to look at him. Totally breathless. "...?" They all stare at Alma and she realizes that Loki has obviously fallen off the chair. He lies on the ground about two meters away from her and looks confused. "Bruce that was not honey !!" Alma cries out. It was her 'Felix Felicis', from whom she had put a glass in the fridge to cool down. She runs back to Bruce and grabs him by the shoulders. At the same moment she hears a thud and when she turns around she sees that Loki - who was still on the floor - obviously has his head bumped against the table. Gloomy, but confused, he looks at her. "Witch!" He growled, rubbing his head. "Witch! WHAT was it when it wasn´t honey?" Alma froze. Oh no. "Um .... a potion?", She stammers and tries to breathe calmly. "And WHAT exactly does this potion do?", Loki was obviously busy trying not to explode. "Um ... well ... actually it should bring fortune ..." and the stammering continues, now she also began to sweat. "I would not describe it as very fortunate that I am torn off the chair and then hit my head against the table ..." he really did try to not kill her on the spot. And she appreciates that. "Honestly ... I have not tested it yet." "WITCH!!" "I ... I'm sorry, I put it in the fridge to cool it down!", Alma squints and smiles apologetically. She jumps as Loki suddenly jumps up and walks off. Until she is suddenly torn off her feet and Face-First falls to the ground and is dragged a good meter behind Loki. He stops his steps and looks at Alma, aghast, while she is obviously more than surprised by the sudden fall over her face. The kitchen is very quiet. "Oh shit ..." whispers Alma as she realizes what's going on here. Loki also seems to be thinking and cocking his head before taking two generous steps back and watching Alma pull after him. She squeaks in surprise and tries to hold on to the ground, but it doesn´t work. The power which pulls her to Loki is stronger. She swallows hard. So she had failed again. That was definitely not what she wanted to achieve with the potion.

Alma gets up slowly, her legs are a bit like Jelly. She bows slightly to Loki. "I'm so sorry!" She could only hope that somehow he would take it with humor instead of killing her here and now. "WHAT exactly are you sorry for?", He did not really sound like he would think it funny. "Well ... well ... funny story .... looks like we can not get away from each other Ha..ha ..." Alma explained fake laughing in embarrassment. The look on Loki's face was really difficult to interpret, but obviously he tries to process what the witch just said. Jerkily, he takes two steps back and just as jerky Alma flies two very big steps in Loki's direction and manages just like that to stand on her feet. That was quite surprisingly. But this game can be played the other way round, too. So Alma starts and jumps two big steps in the other direction, whereupon Loki is almost torn off his feet and stumbles in her direction. Two meters seems to be the range. Natasha, Clint and Bruce could not say anything. As if spellbound, the three stare at the other two, half amused, half horrified.

To be continued ......

tags: @drakesfiance @buttercuptea @lividpenguin @btrlover211 @antidiva @fairlightswiftly

#Loki #loki laufeyson #love loki #loki (marvel)#loki imagine #loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki x oc #how to bind fortune #chapter 1 #part 1 #talinalani #roommate adventures

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benefits1986 · 6 years ago

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Lista Ng Mga Mainstream Spots Na Ayoko EP 02

Medyo hindi pa ako matahimik sa listang ito kaya ipagpatuloy natin. Pagkagising ko today, ayaw niya akong tantanan so go! Sayang naman. DISNEYLAND + OCEAN PARK, Hong Kong Sa Disneyland, 1 hour pa lang bored na talaga ako. Sa totoo lang, kaya ko lang naman gustong pumunta ng Disneyland noong bata pa ako para makabili ng pencil na hugis Mickey Mouse. Napaka babaw. Everything about it is just too made up. I tried looking for the hidden Mickey pero wala e. Ayoko talaga ng mga tourist spots na manmade. Isa na naman ‘yan sa mga biases ko in life until death. Sa Ocean Park naman, simula pa lang, naaawa na ako sa animals. Jusko. Bakit sila ginagawang accessory to capitalism? Bakit kahit na isipin ko na they are well taken cared of, ang sakit-sakit pa rin ng puso whenever I see them? Bakit ang lupit ng tingin ko sa business model ng Ocean Park pero, hindi ‘yun nagma-matter kasi suportado ng government ang tourism na generated ng Ocean Park (just like Disneyland). May sariling station ‘yung papuntang Ocean Park. Hindi ko na nga gustong tumuloy noon kaso sayang ang entrance fee kahit kasama siya sa iVenture card na sobrang mura na naman like crazy. Sinubukan kong tumambay na lang para mag-yosi pero hindi makatao ang locations ng smoking area sa Ocean Park compared sa Disneyland, kaya I failed. Nag-enjoy naman ako ng slight sa penguins and jelly fish pero ‘yun lang talaga. Jusko. Gusto ko na lang umuwi. Mag-bike sa city side and mag-photowalk tapos sumakay ng ferry. VICTORIA PEAK, Hong Kong Hindi ko magets why tourists need to go to The Peak. May pa-wishes pa sa taas at may pro photographer para macapture talaga ‘yung view kahit gaano pa kayo karami. In fairness, mas na-amaze pa ako sa skills ng photographers kasi kaya niyang tumayo just on the beams ng stairs para maitawid ang picture-perfect shots.

Hindi ako nagsulat ng wishes. Hindi rin ako masyadong nag-picture. Napatigil lang ako sa idea ng smog na matinde. Nakakasad kasi with progress ba talaga comes a huge cost na endangering the sustainability of a rich and vibrant city? Bakit ba ganun iniisip ko ano? Hindi ko sure pero kasi totoo naman. Saka ‘di ko talaga magets ‘yung ganda ng artificial things.

STREET ART, Hong Kong Medyo torn ako dito kasi maganda naman ang idea ng artsy finds sa tabing-daan, pero kasi ang overrated lang talaga. May mga napansin akong street art na tucked in hidden corners na higit ang ganda sa mga go-to spots like Hollywood Road saka ‘yung sa Elgin Street. Noong una kong punta doon, ‘yung kasama ko sobrang hype niya ‘yan pati yung Central Mid-Levels Escalator pero natawa lang ako noong andun na kami. Maganda siya sa picture, pero kahit mahilig ako sa snaps, mas gusto ko pa rin ‘yung mga spots na mas maganda sa personal. Honestly, gusto ko ‘yung breath-taking in real life na nasasabi kong photos and videos do not do justice to the places I visit level. Ganyan. ‘Yung swelling ‘yung insides ko na pakiramdam. ‘Yun.

Go for exploring the city on a bike and via ferry and bus. Tapos ride all the colors ng cab, too. Gusto ko rin ‘yung Ngong Ping trip. Then, hanap-hanap ka ng mga small art space sa Central. Merong malapit sa Little Bao. Parang First United sa Escolta siya pero ‘yung mas organized and mas progressive. Too bad na hindi ko binili ‘yung wooden musical box na handmade na Little Prince. Sigh. Daming artists sa HK. Try mo rin ‘yung mga free tours nila depending on the season. Kung swerte ka, worth exploring din ‘yung film scene nila especially during film fest season.

RUINS OF ST. PAUL, Macau Probably one of the most disappointing landmarks na pinuntahan ko to date kasi though super steal ng deal na na-score ko from HK to Macau both for transpo and tour, hindi talaga siya makatarungan in ALL aspects.

Daig na daig ng Intramuros and kahit na ‘di ko bet and overrated for me ang Corregidor Island, wala e. Pero mas malapit sa Intramuros ‘yung lugar sa tingin ko lang naman. Hindi naman kasi madamang ruins siya. Tapos wala kang ibang gagawain doon kung ‘di magpicture then super saglit na roam around and visit sa museum. The place gets easily congested kasi nga maliit lang siya tapos wala ka pang mapag-stayan to chill and people watch.

Go for exploring ‘yung mga old world feels ng mga kalsada ng Macau lalo ‘yung mga hindi matao.

RECLINING BUDDHA, Thailand Hindi talaga ako fan ng mga temples and mga museums in general though I like history. Hindi ko alam kung bakit kasi they are supposedly co-existing pero thing is, ang dalang kong makatagpo ng museum and temples na authentic ang vibe. Minsan iniisip ko if yung mga relics/artifacts e tampered na or worse, replica na lang. And the reclining buddha is not an exception kahit na I hoped na sana ‘wag ganun. First stop, ang daming tao and ang gulo-gulo which is very unbecoming considering na temple siya. Noong nakita ko na ‘yung statue I was like, eto na ‘yung pinunta ko dito? Eto lang? Bakit name-mesmerize ‘yung mga tao sa ganito lang? Grabe lang ba expectation ko? Hindi ba realistic, pero sana kasi maramdamin ko man lang ‘yung solemnity or at the very least, the calmness of the place, but no. Plus, nakita ko pa ‘yung mga jars/vases na may paandar na lagyan ng coins for good luck or wish or whatever. Grabe. Dinaig pa wishing well na kahit magkano lang ibato mo, good to go na ‘yung good luck or wish mo. I really cannot stomach it. Go for the less known temples. Similar naman ‘yung architecture nila so maganda pa rin magpicture and all pero madadama mo ‘yung break from the bustling city sa mga medyo mas hindi kilalang temple. Actually, we just stumbled upon a temple nung killing time kami for the famous/infamous crab omelette spot nearby. Hindi pa kasi bukas because we did not have any reservations. We were so lucky that we were able to climb the temple all the way to the top. Had the chance to reflect and feel that calmness. Plus, I got to see the non-stereotypical na mga monks. One of them pa nga had a large tattoo in full color. Was so tempted to ask if I can take a snap/video of him pero sabi ko I had to temper myself kasi monk e.

CHOCOLATE VILLE, Thailand Gaganda ng mga shots sa lugar na ito pero underwhelming sa totoong buhay. Effort pang puntahan kasi medyo in the middle of nowhere siya at wala ng ibang katabing mga spots. Seems like ginawa lang talaga ‘yung place para puntahan for photos, so, lels and luhs. So, go ka if ang gusto mo e isang series ng feed na pangmalakasan pero walang nakakabit na kwento at quotes lang ang panlaban mo.

Go for a cooking class under Chef Liz instead. Sobrang sulit and to be honest, ‘yung mga niluto namin sa class na ito beat the shit out of the restaurant food na magaganda ang reviews sa TripAdvisor or mga blogs or vlogs combined. Best ever sticky rice to think na ang sasarap na ng mga sticky rice be it sa tabing-daan or sa classy restos. ‘Yung rice kasi ang nagdala since ‘yung paggawa niya is not mass produced plus ‘yung coconut cream is made from scratch as well. Rice was cooked traditionally as well and was served hot and that elevated the satisfaction level even more. Sobrang passionate pa ni Chef Liz and her school helps girls to finish their studies.

ERWAN HEUSSAFF’S THAILAND FOOD TRIP, Thailand Fan ‘yung kasama ko ni Erwan. Ako hindi. Sorry na lang kasi hindi ko talaga ma-dig ‘yung mga ginagawa niya kahit ilang beses kong subukang i-appreciate. Will definitely go for recos nina Mark Wiens and Mikey Chen, instead. ‘Wag na isama si Anthony Bourdain kasi given naman na ‘yun. So, we tried some of his recos and sakto lang. Underwhelming.

Go for the spots na medyo shady man e frequented ng locals. As in ‘yung medyo tabi ng estero, nasa tagong pasilyo or nasa weird location like in between ng mga automotive supplies area. Puwede ring mag-scour ng food courts sa mga maliliit na shopping centers. Isa sa pinakamasarap kong food trip e ‘yung sa mga street vendors na suki ‘yung mga salespeople ng unknown shoppping center. Nevermind na marumi kuko ni kuyang taga-ihaw. Legit na ang sarap. Tapos ‘yung chicken na parang Hainanese style sa isang weird na weird and shady spot malapit sa hotel ko, malamig ko na nung kinain kasi busog na ako pero ang sarap pati nung kanin. Sauce pa lang ulam na! Basta, go where the locals go. Bring lang your own water bottle para mas may safety blanket ka and Loperamide if mahina tummy mo, but I did not have a queasy tummy naman ever sa trips ko so far.

CHATUCHAK MARKET, Thailand Ang init noong punta namin is hotter than Divisoria levels. Ang to be honest, any clothing na tiangge find worth 200 PHP is pricey na for me. Wala ring wow factor sa mga stalls so I got bored easily --20 minutes to be exact. ‘Yung mga tindera pa doon sa mga pinuntahan namin e napakakikinis at napakapuputi so nakakahiyang tumawad for me. Iniisip ko lang paano nila na-achieve ‘yung ganung level na kakinisan and kaputian in life.

Skip the shopping and go for a food trip. Ang daming masasarap na street food doon. Better get a Grab/Uber na rin kasi ang hirap kausap ng mga cab drivers. EGG COFFEE, Vietnam Got my fix in Giang Cafe, ang OG na creator ng egg coffee sa Hanoi. Maganda ‘yung lugar kasi very old school siya. Maganda rin ‘yung spot ko kasi overlooking ‘yung kalsadang puno ng mga motorbikes and gabi pa so mas putok na putok ang prod-like vibe. Pero ‘yung coffee itself, okay lang. Nothing special. Hindi man ako fan ng coffee, whenever I go to new place, I always taste coffee kasi it reflects culture. Go for the weasel coffee in hazelnut. Since naligaw ako kasi ayokong mag-local sim sa ngalan ng first ever solo trip ko and solo trip ko na rin sa labas ng Pinas, push ko ‘yun. Hindi ako magaling magbasa ng maps din so, liko-liko lang sa mga kalsada then nakita ko ‘yung maliit na coffee bean store na may weird packaging. May hayop na nakapatong sa coffee beans ‘yung logo. I was asked to sample it ang sinabi nung good-natured owner na weasel nga daw ‘yun. Sobrang mura. May libre pang coffee dripper kaya sold na ako, solve pa. Plus points kasi hindi rin ako fan ng hazelnut, but it tasted so good.

HA LONG BAY, Vietnam El Nido 5ever, mumsh! Nadali ako nito kasi UNESCO-approved ito. ‘Di ko napagtanto na four hours ‘yung one-way trip dito so basically, isang buong araw ‘yung nakain sa stay ko. Nakakatawa sa cave kasi para maganda ang look, nilagyan nila ng mga ilaw which made it so pretentious. Our tour guide was really full of effort pero no deal. Points for the old world looks ng boats and napaka walang hassle na pag-tour na walang kahit anong mababasa sa’yo unless mag-kayak ka. May lagoon pa na meh na meh. ‘Yung tubig hindi super blue so ako, ano ba uwi na ako ‘yung pakiramdam ko.

Go for biking around the city and nearby places. I had one very early in the morning. I arrived in Hanoi at 1:30 AM then rachada na ako ng 5:30 AM. Hindi mabaho ‘yung mga palengke nila and ang sarap lang manood na nagu-unfold ‘yung city. Wonder how it looks ‘pag gabi on my bike.

Pansin ko lang mas masaya talaga ako na wala ako sa mga spots na touristy. Mas rusty is trusty ang peg ko sa life. Looking forward to more trips na walang itinerary masyado and more focused sa interaction and immersion with locals for a more authentic experience na surely one for the books and hindi confined sa feed goals. Oh, the roads less traveled! See you.

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