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neverchecking · 1 year

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That Wild facesitting one was so good omfgjskdkk

It gave me the idea of what if reader thinks the Chain (don’t forget Sage) are just doing so great and wants to give them a reward/gift but doesn’t know what so reader asks what they want.

The Chain ofc are so excited cause THEIR GODDESS WANTS TO GIVE THEM SOMETHING??

As they all think of smt, a couple of them are saying something along the lines of “nothing as long as you’re here we’re happy :)” which ofc reader thinks is so sweet and gives them a hug (cue smug smirks at the other Links bc reader hugged them HA)

As they all mull over their options bc obviously they don’t want to mess up this opportunity, ONE OF THE CHAIN STRAIGHT UP JUST SAYS “Sit on my face” WHETHER INTENTIONALLY OR NOT, EVERYONE IS IN SHOCK AND BEFORE ANYONE CAN SAY ANYTHING— reader agrees red faced bc she loves her boys oh so much ;)

Cue everyone saying they want the same thing bc they would honestly happily die at the opportunity

So sorry if this is a bit much it just came to me

~💚

No-no, don't be sorry, I love requests like these bc the idea of Sage vs. the Chain brings me so much serotonin! Like Mhmmmmm-

Fun fact: someone flagged that post 😭Which you guys can find -> Here!

Sage is TotK Link if you didn't know!

Anyway, smut so MDNI! 18+!

Smut CW: AFAB! reader, face sitting with multiple partners, praise

・❥・So, we all know that Reader has the entire chain wrapped around their finger. No ifs, ands or buts about it.

・❥・Especially after Sage joins them.

・❥・While there is silent fighting between him and the others, they make an effort to show you a united front because you are who they are all fighting for.

・❥・As far as your concerned, they're all buddies. (that was so far from the truth it was laughable, but it kept you happy, so it was the assumption that would remain.)

・❥・That being said, when they're all together in Wind's Era (The boy was at home with his sister and Grandmother, leaving the adults to fend for themselves) and you're in ear shot, they do their best to be on their best behavior. Even if Wild and Sage are shooting the most passive aggressive insults at the other, since, as we've accomplished, Sage is adamant on knowing exactly where your food comes from.

・❥・He refuses to let that failure cook for you. Not when he can do so. He has a bigger repertoire of recipes and more skills to his name than the other does. That...man can barely get through a fucking swim without blacking out because of a memory let alone stay there long enough to ensure your food is as quality as it should be.

・❥・(AN: For legal reasons, I would never think of Wild like this, I absolutely love him with my whole heart. BUT Sage does think like this because he's an asshole.)

・❥・So, while the two are cooking, the others do their own things around the makeshift camp. Weapon maintenance, gathering firewood, admiring your perfect figure as you do nothing but read under a tree.

・❥・ Sage, of course, finishes your food first, settling beside you close enough your hips are touching his. You thank him, eagerly eating whatever was given you (They had to be sneaky about the fighting between himself and Wild, as you had no idea about the tension between them).

・❥・About mid-way through your meal, you set down your bowl, brows furrowed as a troubled expression muddled your features.

・❥・Which just would not stand. Was the meal not to your liking? Was there something wrong? Would they have to dispose of that blasted bastard who dared to try and impose on their territory that good for nothing pest-

・❥・"I feel like I owe you guys some sort of thanks for all of this."

・❥・Oh.

・❥・So he would get to live another day. Pity.

・❥・"You don't owe us a thing, Angel. We are happy to do it." Wars beamed, sitting on your other side regardless of Sage's snarl pointed at him. "No reward needed." The captain smirked, leaning into your space.

・❥・You didn't seem pleased by the answer, brows pinching further together. "...It doesn't seem right."

・❥・"Songbird, your presence is thanks enough." Sky piped up, eyes so wide and earnest, Sage feared he'd cry over you. Again.

・❥・"Airhead is right, Darlin'," The cowboy added, dropping a stack of logs near the fire. "It's a blessin' in and of itself being able to treat you like 'da Goddess you are."

・❥・Sage prided himself on know you though. He knew you well. And he knew you well enough to know that once an idea like this entered your pretty little head, it wouldn't leave. No, not without a fight in the very least. And that was a fight he didn't want to go through. Not with you.

・❥・He just had to pick something that would benefit you more than him, hiding it under the guise of thanking him.

・❥・"As much as it pains me to say this, they're right." Legend piped up, moving to crouch in front of you, easily redirecting your attention from where you were watching Warriors to look at him with his index hooked under your chin. "As long as your happy, we're happy, sunshine."

・❥・"But I don't wanna take advantage of you guys! That would make me no better than Hylia. I can't just ask these things from you without any form of thanks. That's not right." You cupped Legend's cheeks with your own hands, either not noticing or ignoring the way his cheeks lit up under your touch.

・❥・No, you had too much of a heart of gold to let this go. It was what made you so much better than that fraud that placed this destiny upon them in the first place.

・❥・Like a stroke of genius, it hit him. It was too perfect of an opportunity to pass up. While it would sound like it would benefit him, it really would all be for you. It would be perfect. A way to show his true devotion to you. His fidelity and dedication to you, his glorious deity.

・❥・"Sit on my face."

・❥・He wished he had the foresight to pull out his Purah pad to take a picture of your face, which lit up an absolute ruby red as your whipped around to face him. Sage merely shrugged like it was a reasonable request. In his mind, it was. What wasn't reasonable about it?

・❥・Shocked silence fell around the group, some angrily sputtering at the audacity while others had to question if that was a real option.

・❥・"You mooncalf! Have some class, would you?! Especially in the presence of-"

・❥・"Is that what you want?" Wars tirade was cut off by your meek voice as you pulled your hands away from Legend's face. The vet himself looked seconds away from crashing as he caught onto what you were hinting at.

・❥・Sage smirked, something sharp and devious as he cracked his knuckles in front of him. "Absolutely. I think it would be a pretty damn good way to thank me."

・❥・"You don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, Y/n." Hyrule quickly pipes up, stepping closer as he shot a glare too sharp for his soft features at the newcomer. How dare that filth sully you in such a way and how dare he think of it before he could-

・❥・You were silent for a moment, shuffling for a second before letting out a breath. "If that's what you want." You finally decided, and the group was descended into chaos once more.

・❥・Cries of 'that's an option?!' and 'Hey, wait! I want that too!' erupted as the others scrambled to separate you from that degenerate, but he had latched on. His smirk was wide and knowing as he pulled you from Wars and Legend, closer to himself.

・❥・"It's exactly what I want. Now, are you crawling up or am I gonna have to pull you up here, sun flower?" Sage nipped at your neck as your went from ruby to crimson.

・❥・"Right now?!" You squeaked, eyeing the other males around you.

・❥・"You asked, I answered." Sage didn't care. This was a way of staking a claim. Of showing them all that no matter what, he would win. That he would make you feel so much better than anything they could do.

・❥・Silence fell for a second.

・❥・"Dibs on going second!" Was Wild's sudden call before there was arguing once more.

・❥・"Ya can't call dibs!" Twilight barked. "This isn't some sorta playground game where you can call for turns-"

・❥・"Third." Time spoke solemnly, nodding his head slowly. Sage honestly forgot he was there.

・❥・Twilight looked scandalized at the single word before Four was calling his namesake for the turns. Realizing that he either called or went last (Which wasn't too bad of an option in his books), he quickly rectified his horror and instead went to shove Warrior's by the face to call for fifth.

・❥・ In the time it took for him to recover, Sky and Hyrule had already called sixth and seventh respectively. And, with a shake of his head, Legend smirked. "I'll go ninth then. Pretty boy can go in front of me. Besides, you know what they say about saving the best for last."

・❥・"That it'll be worth nothing since it could never top the first." Sage cheekily called back, pulling off his top throwing it to the side so his torso was bare for the world to see.

・❥・"Why are you stripping?!" Sweet, naive you squeaked, trying to advert your eyes. If only they weren't glancing back at the toned abs and chiseled pecs. Oh great golden Goddesses.

・❥・With a chuckle, Sage pulled you closer with firm hands locked around your calves, pulling them apart to slot himself between your legs. Your hips were pulled up onto his lap before he was leaning down, wrapping an arm around you with his hand resting in the arch of your back. He quickly fell back to you were sitting on his chest, your legs straddling his upper chest as he looked up at you with nothing but pure, devious intentions. "For one simple reason, my light." He chuckled pulling you further up his chest as he licked his lips.

・❥・"I don't plan on letting you go until the only name you can remember is mine."

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jazzyblusnowflake · 7 months

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I wanted to talk about a topic that is interesting to me at the moment-

when me and my partner @/keebokuun bring up the subject about J x Tessa for murder drones- alot of people bring up the dynamics that may need to improve- to which we say yeah- we dont ship them in the context of the show. Tessa is still very much biased and treating drones as her slaves that dont have rights as her since shes a human. whether its cuz of her culture, her trauma or whatever else. but in the context of a human au where they all grew up together- yeah that doesnt exist, or at least we have room to improve. and people have been polite enough about this and sharing their opinions and im greatful of that. yall are really cool and gave me ideas to improve my stories on 👌

but then some OTHER people come and say "but Tessa was a minor in the FLASHBACKS- oh AND- was also their MOM"

😐

to which... i say.... um.... So.... Tessa is a mom? [to a bajillion of those maid and butler drones that were not working at the begining of ep5] AND a minor? AAAND she asked her- CHILD DRONE- to pretend to be a RIPPING ROYAL STUD for her to practice flirting or talking with.... to yknow... HAVE A HUMAN RELATIONSHIP WITH-? [cuz correct me if im wrong- girls dont go looking for "ripping royal studs" just to stare at them autistcally right? they wanna talk and do human communication stuff with them right??] and uh... IM the one whos saying weird stuff here? hELLO???

once again. me and keebo will personally remove ANY INAPPROPRIATE content we have online if the creators come up and say "oh yeah that character is a minor"- i promise you all that. we are not degenerates- but first of all- yeah the thing i just said about Tessa being at least a late teen in the flashbacks for the whole stud thing- and also- she had toys in her room- for CYN! as we saw her playing with them- and she was referred to as a "robo child" ? i mean go back and watch the EP again and really look at Tessa, J and N and SAY they are at an age to play with a rocking horse and barbie/ken dolls [damn cyn was making those two naked ken dolls smooch fr]- look at me in the eyes and say a girl that big is at any age to play with those things. NO?? also- if yall actually LOOK at tessa- she has a very pronounced body/ heigh/ chest size even/ etc in the flashbacks. thats not a design youd give a MINOR. and by that logic then N and V having crushes on eachother should be incest because oh damn Tessa is the minor/teen mom to ALL those erroring drones and N and V are siblings omggg 😱!

if anything by this logic Tessa's first choice of going to J to pretend to be a hot stud for her [which probably works in my favor btw lmao] is def concerning jesus.

companies nowadays make it a point to make all characters above the age of 18 as much as they could to avoid these sorts of issues- lest i remind you all again of the fact that every classmate of Uzi in episode 3 has their age above 18 on their missing posters. companies wouldnt include shots like that unless they WANT people to know they are in the clear.

also.... being in a relationship doesnt always translate to "they are having SEX"????? you can be a kid and still hold hands and have crushes and hug and kiss-

not every couple french kiss or suck eachother off oh my God.

anyway thankyou for coming to my Ted talk- im willing to hear anyones opinions on this below cuz im genuinely curious 🤔

#murder drones #snow rambles #tessa james elliot #serial designation j #serial designation v #serial designation n #uzi doorman #media literacy

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queenshelby · 1 year

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Our Little Secret (Part Ten)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Brief Mention of Stillbirth

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

With your head over the toilet bowl, you violently threw up everything that had settled in your stomach earlier. After a few minutes, you stood up weakly, leaning against the wall and sighed.

You really did not want Cillian to see you like this but, since you were staying at his and Danielle's house, hiding from him was not really an option.

Eventually, you retreated from the bathroom and your cheeks flushed crimson as you caught sight of him watching you intently, concern etched on his face.

Suddenly aware of your appearance, you quickly glanced downward, hoping to find some sort of cover—only to discover that you hadn’t changed since last night.

"Are you okay?" Cillian persisted gently, stepping closer despite your attempts to remain distant. His voice held genuine worry, making it impossible for you to resist.

"Yes. I think I may have eaten something wrong last night," you responded, avoiding eye contact. Cillian studied your pale complexion with concern. Involuntarily, his hand reached out towards yours, brushing his fingers delicately over your arm.

"Do you want me to make you a tea?"

asked Cillian, offering a slight smile. His offer brought relief as you immediately realized the need for hydration. Despite feeling embarrassed, you hesitatingly nodded, grateful for his support.

Cillian swiftly prepared a hot cup of chamomile tea and handed it to you while Frank and your mother were in the guestroom, getting dressed for the day.

As you clutched the teacup, you gave him a small thankful smile. He returned the gesture with understanding, his eyes conveying sympathy.

Unable to contain his curiosity though as to whether there could be other reasons for your nausea though, he cautiously probed further.

"This might sound a bit weird, but you couldn't possibly be pregnant, right?" he whispered nervously your eyes shot wide in shock, almost knocking over the now empty cup in your hands.

"Pregnant?" you laughed scornfully, dismissing the idea.

"Well, we had sex on numerous occasions, so I was just wondering whether, you know, it could be a possibility?" Cillian confessed sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"I am on the pill, Cillian," you chuckled faintly, but inside you felt uneasy. Your heart raced faster than usual. Could it be possible? Nah, it can't be true. You reminded yourself sternly. You forced a brave smile, determined not to let this change your mood today.

After hearing you confirm that you used birth control regularly, he appeared visibly relieved and quickly moved on to another topic.

Meanwhile, Danielle finally emerged from the bedroom, yawning widely as she stretched her arms above her head. Her tousled blonde hair fell over one shoulder and, just as she approached you both, Cillian instinctively turned his attention elsewhere, unable to meet her gaze directly.

Her face bore traces of fatigue but beneath those tired features lay simmering resentment, barely concealed by polite conversation. It was clear that she sensed the growing distance between herself and Cillian lately, and she desperately wanted answers.

Unbeknownst to you and Cillian, the answers she sought were soon to be found - but they weren't going to be pleasant ones.

Later that day…

Hours later, Cillian and Danielle arrived back at their house in Dublin following their weekend trip to Cork with you, Sarah and Frank.

While Cillian spent some time playing with Max, Danielle unpacked their suitcase and hung-up their clothes in the bedroom. Upon hanging up Cillian's suit however, she noticed something unusual. There was something in his suit pocket.

Reaching inside to retrieve whatever it was, Danielle froze. Her heart skipped a beat, recognizing what she held in her trembling fingers—a small, delicate item. A black pair of lace underwear which clearly did not belong to her.

Confused and deeply troubled, Danielle struggled to reconcile the discovery with her knowledge of her husband's whereabouts during their getaway. He had worn this suit at his aunt's funeral and Danielle began to wonder whether he had slipped out without telling her, engaging in an illicit encounter elsewhere.

But with whom? Who could he possibly have slept with in Cork, and why would he leave such evidence lying around, virtually ensuring its discovery? Had he simply forgotten to remove them after his last dalliance?

These questions swam rapidly through Danielle's panicked mind, leaving her increasingly anxious and distraught. Involuntary tears filled her eyes, brimming with rage and hurt.

She felt betrayed beyond measure, and her husband's infidelity hit her hard this time after he had promised her so many times that he would stop cheating on her.

Suddenly, the walls surrounding their fragile connection appeared thin and vulnerable and everything fell apart in front of her very eyes.

Their marriage was built upon lies and deceits and she knew that a lot of this was her fault as she had pushed him away for so long. He had become like this because of her.

With that in mind, she clutched the lacy garment tightly in her hands, refusing to let go despite the pain throbbing through her knuckles.

She needed to know who he had been with while they were away and decided to confront her husband about it.

Danielle stormed down the hallway, intent on seeking answers from Cillian. Unbeknownst to her, he had seen the change in her demeanor from afar and feared the worst.

She called him inside, gesturing him closer with sharp motions of her hand. Trepidation welled up in him, gnawing at his insides as he approached her. Standing before her, he steeled himself against the impending confrontation.

Her voice quivered with anger and hurt as she demanded, "Whose are these?"

She flung the lace undergarments at him, watching as they fluttered elegantly through the air before landing crumpled on the floor.

Fear constricting his chest, Cillian found himself speechless, unsure of how to respond.

Finally, he managed to squeak out, "That's none of your business."

"Don't lie to me, Cillian. Whose are those?" Danielle growled, pointing accusingly at the scattered undergarments on the ground. Frustration boiled beneath her skin, threatening to spill forth into violence.

Cillian hesitated momentarily, weighing his options carefully. He could either come clean about his affair or continue denying, further damaging his relationship with Danielle. With regret, he chose honesty.

"They belong to someone I slept with," he confessed solemnly, his gaze cast low.

"So you keep them as a fucking trophy?" Danielle spat venomously, her usually gentle features contorted in anger.

Cillian winced at her harsh tone, shrinking under her fiery glare. He felt trapped, unable to find a suitable response. His mind raced wildly, desperately searching for a way to justify his actions – or perhaps escape them altogether.

"Who is she Cillian? Tell me!" Danielle yelled, frustrated by his evasiveness.

"No one you know," he lied

weakly, stumbling over his words. His voice wavered uncertainly, failing to meet her seething gaze. "Please believe me, it means nothing..."

Danielle laughed incredulously, the sound sharp and mocking. "Oh please, spare me the bullshit," she snapped, regaining control of herself. "You think I'm stupid enough to fall for that? You slept with someone else while we were in Cork and I know everyone who came to the funeral, so fucking tell me already who she is!" Danielle demanded. Anger mixed with jealousy coursing through her veins, igniting her temper more than ever as, suddenly, she became aggressive and threatening, grabbing hold of his arm roughly.

"Stop, Danielle! You aren't well right now, and getting angry isn't going to solve our problems," Cillian attempted to reason with her, trying to calm her down before they escalated matters further as, it would not have been the first time that she became abusive. Her anger occasionally caused her to become violent and aggressive, which was yet another reason Cillian knew to stay, for Max's sake.

Cillian's comment, however, only made her angrier and she turned towards him menacingly.

"Tell me who the fuck she is! Now!" Danielle shouted, her voice growing hoarse with fury and Cillian winced, his eyes widening fearfully.

She continued, raising her voice higher, "If you won't tell me, then I will make sure every person who knows us finds out about your indiscretions and the lies of our fucking marriage. Do you want that?" Her breath came faster and deeper, indicating she might be capable of carrying out her threat.

"I can't remember her name. She was a waitress at the restaurant we went to following the funeral," he lied again, attempting to cover his tracks.

Despite his attempts at misdirection, Danielle refused to give up. "Then describe her," she ordered curtly, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

Caught off guard, Cillian hesitated, mentally scrambling for details. "She had dark brown hair, maybe shoulder length, and hazel eyes. She wore a uniform – a white blouse and a black skirt." He tried to recollect as much as possible, hoping it would satisfy her demands and, luckily for him, she nodded slowly, seemingly accepting his answer, though there was doubt lingering within her eyes and she decided to hang onto the lace underwear, just in case with a view to bring it to Sarah’s attention.

In recent days, Sarah had become close to Danielle and since Sarah was in Cork as well, with Cillian’s brother Frank and you, Danielle believed that, maybe, she came to notice something.

Tags:

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@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you

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welcometoteyvat · 8 months

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fake ga-ming voicelines (prerelease, some more delusional, some less. please give more hcs about him)

edit: apparently voiceline leaks just dropped so PLEASE no spoilers <3 if these are wrong that's too bad they're canon in my heart!!!

About Yun Jin: Besides being a great opera performer, Sir Yun's taste in tea is impeccable! Although she keeps asking me to join her at Heyu Tea House... their tea just doesn't have the same flavor as the tieguanyin from Xinyue Kiosk. Speaking of her, one of our clients has just developed a new strain—I promised to bring some for her when I come back to Liyue Harbor!

About Xiao: You mean Senior Xiao! Hehe, so you know him too! Next time, can you bring him along with you to one of my performances in the harbor? I've been trying to get him to come for a long time, but he always refuses... oh, good idea! Next time I'll hold it at Wangshu Inn, just for him!

About Xiangling: That girl always by Guoba's side, right? Man Chai seems to like her a lot, especially the cornbread buns she makes! To be honest, some of the things she cooks are a little too spicy for me, but otherwise she’s an excellent chef with unmistakable talent. No wonder her companion is a minor deity… wait, what? A major deity?

About Keqing: Thanks to her invitation and sponsorship, our Mighty Mythical Beast performances have been getting more and more attention in the harbor! She's very straightforward and speaks her mind about everything, and always has novel ideas! Although we haven’t talked much, I really admire her mindset and determination. It’s not easy to forge your own path forward, especially for someone of her standing.

About Chongyun: I've run into him once or twice on the road to Liyue Harbor. He didn’t seem to like talking that much when we met, but I’ve heard he’s actually quite outgoing! He wields a greatsword too—maybe he can train with me as the suanni’s tail? Of course, I wouldn’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want; I'm sure he's already busy! It would just be nice to have a wushou partner for once.

About Xinyan: I managed to catch one of Xinyan's performances when I had some free time after work. There weren’t many people in the audience, but her music was so energetic it completely made up for the quieter atmosphere. Originally, I was thinking about asking her to join our lion dance troupe as a drummer, but I’m glad to hear she's made a name for herself since then! I should properly introduce myself sometime!

About Zhongli: He once asked me whether I've heard about the legend of the solitary suanni after one of Iron Tongue Tian's stories. When I said yes, he launched into a really detailed discussion of Chenyu Vale's local belief system, and even told me some stories I haven't heard about a carp adeptus. It's amazing that he has so much knowledge on all sorts of folklore, as a funeral consultant no less!

About Xianyun: ... Who? im sorry i was going to put something about the adepti here but gave up trying to think of something and now it's just a joke line. suggestions welcome tho 🫶

About Yelan: Ah, that lady—sometimes I see her lingering around Yanshang Teahouse. They place regular orders of tea leaves from Yilong Wharf. She's very polite and even petted Man Chai once or twice, although I feel like there's more to her than meets the eye... well, business is business, and they've never caused any trouble for Sword and Strongbox, so whatever she does isn't much of a concern to me.

very long notes:

generally i feel like what's mentioned in chara voicelines tend to have a lot less substance than the actual relationship, so in my head some of them are closer w gaming than i wrote.

always welcoming suggestions!!!!! PLEASE share the brainrot with me i'm dying here OTL please please.

i'd like to write an "about xingqiu" but i bully my richboy son and he's already had like 12 other people comment on him in canon it's fine if ga-ming doesn't know him

everything's just for fun etc etc. don't take it too seriously

watch all of these be completely wrong!!!

similarly if any of these end up being right, i will SCREAM

the only ones i really really want to happen are with yun jin and xiao if they don't have voicelines i'll die

senior xiao comes from my headcanon (copium) that they'll keep the mentor disciple relationship (?) from that one concept art if you know you know. it also comes from this absolutely delicious fic

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miuszn · 1 year

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Hi! I love ur writing sm and was wondering if you could do some,thing with Ellie where reader is maybe a little chubby (cause I relate😭) and gets a little insecure about herself or her body? Just Ellie comforting her but ofc if you don’t want to that’s fine!

hiii anon <3 first of all tysm im so happy to hear u like my writing 🥹🩷 n of course i can do that lovely !! just a heads up tho , since i don’t know what it’s like to be chubby this is just going to be a short drabble i hope u don’t mind 😭🩷 i’m just not rlly good at writing about stuff i haven’t experienced or struggled with ( i do have an idea of what it’s like to struggle w insecurities but due to diff reasons ) and i’m scared i’ll portray it inaccurately so i hope u get that hehe <33 that said , pls enjoy !!

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

ellie and you loved taking walks together. that was sort of your thing. walking through the overgrown fields, enjoying the fresh air and the warm sunshine. that day, however, you weren’t exactly feeling the best. you struggled a lot with your self-esteem due to the fact you didn’t exactly fit society’s standard of skinny, but most importantly, you were thinking about how a lot of the girls ellie had been with before didn’t look a lot like you. thin, fit, whatever way you wanna describe it. it had been in the back of your mind for a few weeks, but it was a thought you could mostly overlook. but you couldn’t ignore it any longer once you went out with some friends to grab lunch and one of them made the god forsaken “should you really be eating all that?” comment despite your meal being a completely normal size. the insecurities you r thought were now behind you were all coming back at once.

ellie noticed the change in your demeanor and looked at you with concern. "hey, what's going on? you seem a little down."

“it’s nothing,” you shrugged, not wanting to burden ellie with your troubles. but she could always read you like a book.

"hey,” she stopped and held your hand, looking into your eyes. “i know there’s something that’s troubling you. what’s wrong?”

you looked down, feeling embarrassed. "well.. i know i'm not exactly.. thin. it’s just i know all the girls you dated before were all so fit and skinny and i’m not and it’s just-“

“hey, look at me,” ellie cut you off. “you don’t need to compare yourself to them. you’re beautiful and i love you regardless of whether you fit some stupid standard or not. besides, it didn’t work out despite all that. i’m with you because i love you no matter what you look like, okay?”

although her words did make you feel a little bit better, at least with that specific issue, you were still feeling mostly down from the comment your friend made and the fact no one else stood up for you then. still, you tried not to show it, but as always, ellie could always tell.

“i know there’s something else on your mind, babe. spit it out.”

you sighed and explained to her what had happened the day prior and how none of your other friends said anything about it, some even laughed but tried to hold it in to not hurt your feelings.

“let’s sit down for a bit,” she said, and you could see her eyes full of anger. “listen to me, i love you just the way you are. i wouldn’t change anything about you. who do those fuckers even think they are anyway? as soon as i find them i’m gonna beat the shit out of all of the-“

“ellie, stop,” you cut her off. “you don’t have to do that. i won’t hang out with them anymore and i don’t want to cause any issues.”

“they caused the issue the second they thought they had the right to comment on what you were eating.”

“i know that but- please. it’s not worth it.”

she sighed in disappointment, but understood. although you were sometimes grateful for her habit of beating up anyone who crosses you, often times it could just cause even more issues and you didn’t want to drag her into anything else.

she wrapped her arms around you and held you close. “you know you can always talk to me about anything. and you don’t have to think about what anyone has to say. i love you no matter what. never forget that, okay?”

you nodded, and that’s when it hit you. she truly loves you unconditionally. a few tears welled up in your eyes but you hid it out of embarrassment. you so felt safe and happy in her arms, especially now that you know for sure you don’t have to worry about her leaving you for the way you look, and that she won’t hold you up to any standards. you weren’t exactly sure what you’d do with your friends when you got back, but all that mattered to you in that moment was that you had her, no matter what.

#arielle’s drabbles ୨୧ #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #ellie williams #ellie x reader #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou 2 #ellie williams x you #tlou x reader #ellie williams drabble

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pynkhues · 2 months

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Thank you for answering my Magnus question. That does make sense that the show will go there and yeah, I'm curious how they handle it too. I'd forgotten that it all happens on a bed in the book--that the metaphor, if it's even a metaphor, is that clear, and it makes sense that the show wouldn't shy away from that (I don't know how far they'll go or what they'll show, but I do think they'll make it clear that there's a sexual element). I'd forgotten the extent of the parallels with Claudia too -- that is fascinating and so sad. I wonder too if, from Lestat's perspective, ANY of his reaction to Claudia in that area is going to look different -- like from his perspective, instead of being purely callous, is it going to be concern that comes out wrong, or an attempt to "toughen" her because he thinks it's necessary? I wonder.

(x)

You're welcome, anon! It's definitely a complicated thing to explore, and y'know, probably something for people to prepare for in whatever form the show chooses to depict it in. I can't imagine they'll be especially graphic, given they haven't been, but I also can't imagine it'll be something they can easily shy away from either given Lestat's actual turning takes place during what is largely alluded to as rape, and the dialogue of that scene is so important they had Lestat literally quoting it in Magnus' tower in 2.08.

I think a lot of how they do it too will depend on whether or not they're still leaning into the interview format with s3? I'm inclined to think they will be, given that's the name they chose and stuck with, but what that actually looks like is anyone's guess at this stage.

With Claudia and Lestat too - - yeah, it is sad. I don't know what the show is intending to do, of course, but their dynamic kind of reminds me of a few recent studies around the conecpt of a perfect victim, and how survivors of violence, including and especially rape, can sometimes (and sometimes often) not believe each other, or diminish what happened to each other. It's such a destructive act, and there's this sense of like - - it happened to me because of x, and how could it have happened to this other person when x wasn't a factor for them?

Claudia and Lestat's assaults are so different, yet have so much crossover too - they both happened after they left the quote-unquote "safety" of a family home, they both happened when they sought to explore and experience a larger world, but Lestat was stolen from a hotel room, and Claudia briefly trusted a man who would steal her, and I think there's that element there between them, particularly given their relationship as we know it in canon, where they point the finger at each other as imperfect victims. Lestat could - wrongly! and I'm sure patronisingly! - accuse her of naivety and stupidity because of course that is something that could happen to her and didn't he teach her better, maliigning her as his daughter, just as she could - wrongly! and I'm sure also patronisingly! - accuse him of lying (which she does say explicitly to Louis!) because she only knows a version of him that is an abusive and controlling father who she refuses to share a real experience with, and ergo refuses to see as a person in his own right.

Like! It's tragic! But I also think it's tragically real, and I think there's some really interesting themes to explore there, especially with Louis as a satellite to this particular sort of trauma because while he's a man with many wounds, this is something outside of his experience.

#cw sa #cw rape #iwtv asks #claudia + lestat #welcome to my ama

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 11 months

Text

tuesday again 10/24/2023

this post and this series not sponsored by hellofresh

listening

caravan palace's new single MAD. genuinely the song i've had on loop while working but i had a very strong "ugh can't use that one it's cringe" reaction while drafting this entry and am trying to sort of sit with myself for a bit and go okay WHY is it cringe? how can we talk about it being cringe other than the fact that steampunk and electroswing are no longer fashionable? some weeks the policy of No Such Thing As A Guilty Pleasure is easier than others

i would not classify this song as electro or swing, and it's considerably jazzier than their more recent dancey pop stuff. more of a languid stroll with enough brass to keep my brain interested while i peer at spreadsheets? spotify

youtube

reading

Alexis Hall's A Lady for a Duke. i liked this quite a bit but i have some longer form thoughts percolating that require a reread. it was a tense but fun read, i do not know that mr hall achieved the goal he set forth below. in a broad initial stroke, there is certainly a great deal of internal conflict not helped by our trans lead’s difficulty seeing her trans self in a loving relationship.

how this conflict resolves did genuinely keep me on the edge of my seat bc i could not fucking figure out how she was going to do it

watching

Pandora and the Flying Dutchman (1951, dir Lewin). this is a movie where (in the immortal words of the switchblade sisters podcast) it’s not what happens, but how it happens. the movie opens with fishermen dredging up two star-crossed lovers. i will not be particularly concerned with spoilers here or in my letterboxd review.

age and a deft scorsese-backed restoration have been very kind to this sea-mist movie. cinnamon fucking topography, technicolor at some of its prettiest and best used. jack cardiff (also did Black Narcissius, The Red Shoes, The African Queen) you've fucking done it again. the restored version is on american tubi and it's so so lush and dreamy. the very first handful of scenes contains a church bell ringing wildly, giving you glimpses of commotion on the beach, and it just keeps getting better from there. the beach party, full of dutch angles and toppled statuary and debauchery and no one dancing the same, is exactly the same as every beach party i have ever been to.

james mason is at his hottest, wettest, and most brooding. not all of our main characters are as openly debauched as pandora, but all of them are just as selfish. i have a lot of fucking beef with some of the letterboxd reviewers, who are simply wrong. pandora is not supposed to be a likeable or redeemable character. i think one of the questions for YOU to answer is whether or not a flighty, homewrecking, irresponsible woman like pandora is redeemed through her willingness to die for true love-- this is generally an admirable quality in myths and fairy tales, but is it cancelled out as just another flight of her fancies that ultimately kills her?

also the people who don't "get" what the film's about and complain it's too slow. it's about insanity and the sea what's not to get!!!

youtube

thank u @dying-suffering-french-stalkers

playing

so we are mostly through the genshin 4.1 part 2 events. i am so tired of the past few battle events cycling through the same arenas; however, this is the first event where i read the directions and was like "augh that's too complicated we'll do that later" and did all my weekly bounties instead. speaking of bounties, i finally did enough to unlock the treasure chest locator and confirmed my suspicions that i have in fact picked over the region pretty well in the last ~two months. the liffey and research institute were at 85% and 95% respectively before i unlocked this thing, but i did almost immediately find two remarkable chests in the far south by the port. augh. would have bit me if they had teeth etc. i would prefer if the regions showed 100% when i have actually 100%ed them instead of whatever margin they have going now, but i recognize that i have brain problems.

making

im MAD bc i was given a singular hellofresh dinner by a friend going on vacation and it was fairly easy to make and tasted good and everything WORKED. and it was like a fun little after work project!!! and the directions said “here’s what to do to the peppers if you don’t want it super spicy” and it most importantly it all WORKED. this is a very expensive thing to have a sudden interest in. i feel like i fuck up most of the food i make and i know that's part of the learning curve but it's SO fucking expensive to fuck up food and i have such a limited amount of energy :<

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

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strangesthirdeye · 6 months

Text

CHAPTER 4: DIRTY PLANS

After you both felt that you were far enough away from Thor and Hulk, you suddenly stumbled forward and groaned in pain. Natasha quickly caught you before falling to the floor and slowly lowered you to sit on the floor. You groaned and arched your head up and let out a painful breath.

"what's wrong?" Natasha asked with a concerned expression on her face. Eyebrows arched together.

You groaned. "Don't worry, it's just my regeneration energy trying to heal the bruises and cuts that I have. I'm still in the 'cooking' state so it hurts a little bit. Probably there are some ribs and broken bones after the Hulk smacked me to the walls" You breathed out slowly .

Nat looked at you with concern. Her hands shaking probably her adrenaline has disappeared and now all panic and nervousness appear in her body language. She then nodded her head and sat next to you.

Then, your right hand starts emitting a violet-yellow light then it starts spreading to the spot that has bruises and cuts. You closed your eyes while Nat looked at you with wide eyes and amazed. As soon as the violet yellow energy had made sure that all the injuries had been healed, it began to subside. It's beautiful yet so confusing for her

Nat shook off her reverie and looked at you with wonder. "so, you really are an alien? What do you mean regeneration?"

you puffed a big breath. Relief after the pain in the body is disappearing. "You and your curious nature. Yup, Time Lord actually. Well for me it's Time Lady. It's cool, isn't it? Regeneration You see, what I mean by regeneration is that I can cheat from death with it. It could happen because of severe illness, old age, fatigue,or injury. It could also be invoked by choice, whether voluntary or involuntary. It also has a limit, you see every TimeLord/Lady their maximum life is 13 and this is my fourth life. I still have 9 lives left. However, I don't want to waste my life"

Nat just nodded a little as a sign of understanding and then she leaned against the big chest with horror on her face. Her hands were visibly shaking and that made you notice it.

You then slowly hold Nat's left hand and gently caress her hand trying to calm her down. "hey, you're okay. We're both okay.. We're safe. Yeah?" you lowly said to Nat trying to reassure her.

Nat is speechless and held your hand tightly. After that, you two were silent for a while. There is no sound around the two of you. But suddenly the Hellcarrier seemed to lurch to the side with a force that made you both jerk and slide to the side. You both gasped and managed to put your hands in front of you and managed to prevent hitting the metal walls.

You groan and pushed yourself to sit up. "whatever it is, it sure makes you want to curse at everything."

Nat grumbled in agreement. "it sure did make me want to curse at everything."

"you good there, Nat? can i call you Nat.. Just Nat because it's quite brilliant, you know."

"Yeah, I'm good. Doc" Nat replied.

You puffed out a small breath. "You know, right now I should still be running away from Sontarans and then The Tardis will make an unnecessary comments because I didn't listen to his warning and then Bounty will wheel around me and make some sort of noises as if he doesn't agree with the Tardis' comments." you chuckled.

"I didn't expect that I offered my help to Fury and it turns out like this" you added.

Nat looked at you confused by what you said. "You didn't expect to come to earth?"

"crash, actually. 15 jumping through space to space and crash to earth. Rough journey, as you say." you scrunched your face and blew your lips in boredom. "pretty sure the Sontarans are a bit grumpy right now"

Nat tilted her head slightly. "why? What's The Sontarans? "

"well," you sighed. "Well, it starts from Christmas day. Not Christmas day on earth but different planet and timeline. Me and Bounty are supposed to enjoy our Christmas in Orizon. A planet with two suns and two moons. Its inhabitants are like animals but at the same time like humans. So, Sontarans are war-hungry aliens who destroy anything that interferes with their path. They look like a rotten potato. A cruel rotten potato actually. So they came to the planet and destroyed little by little the life there. Luckily, I landed there and saved a village from being destroyed by them. So when they bumping into me again, they got angry and chased me and promised that they would kill me if we met again which I just ignored because I got a lot of death threats"

"You.. save a village..and planet? Alone?" Nat blurted out with a skeptical look on her face.

"well, not actually alone.. Bounty and Tardis are with me. So, not alone. It's teamwork" You replied cheekily.

"How long have you three been traveling through space?" Nat asked.

"longer than you think" you replied simply while fidgeting with your fingers. "not only space but time too"

"you're a time travel too?" Nat started to catch up.

"mhmm... sort of.. Just wandering around fixing some technical in the Tardis and traveling thinking it's a vacation turns out it's not.. I'm more of a 'wrong place right time person' as they say"you spoke lowly.

"why the Police Box, though? Like you clarified that the Tardis is a Time Machine then why does the Tardis look like a Police Box?" Nat commented.

"the chameleon circuit is a bit of a mess up at one point. He is supposed to disguise himself as any objects depends on a certain place but the circuit got messed up on one of my travels in London 60's and it stuck into a Police Box which I find it quite brilliant and fantastic though" you explained with smile writing on your face.

Nat stared at your face with astonishing and bewildered expression on her face. This is all quite new to her. As an ex assassin and full time Agent this is the first time she encountered aliens let alone meet one. Not to mention making friend with aliens in front of her eyes. She didn't expect you to look so human. What she expected was a green colour skin or an antenna on the head.

Although, she grew up in a place where children shouldn't grow up, so no wonder Natasha has different expectations than others. Apart from her expectations of aliens because everyone has the same expectations as her, only she has quite basic expectations.

"You look like a human" Nat blurted out her thoughts.

You looked at Nat challengingly while crossing your arms over your chest. "Funny, because I think it's my kind that looks like a human first"

Nat raised her eyebrows and tilted her head a little. "then what makes you different than human?"

"I have two hearts" you muttered simply and looked around.

Nat opened her mouth but closed her mouth again as she was now a bit bewildered by what you said earlier but then she just shook off her confusing state and kept quiet.

Your and Nat's heart seems to be in a normal beating state as the feeling of fear and worry has faded now that it has been replaced with relief after the marathon with Hulk.

The Hellcarrier seems to be in critical condition with how aggressively it is shaking. At any time it will fall to the ground and everything will perish. Let's just hope that everything will be okay.

For now, the two of you just sit and be silent as the feeling of relief deepens inside you. But still the feeling of awareness with the surrounding area is now in high alerts. If it's not the Hulk, someone else will appear so you both need to be ready.

Although, you're not very good at hand combat, you at least know how to throw a punch in someone's face. You just need a good target and aim. If it's not the face then the private area is enough. It's not like you like to hurt creatures or people, it's just violence doesn't suit you. You despise that.

Because you know, your previous life has crashed into many things including violence. So you just want this life a better and new as you say.

"It's Barton, he took out ours systems. He's headed for the detention lab. Does anybody copy?" Fury's voice was heard in both of your earpieces.

Nat came out of her reverie then tapping her earpiece to reply. "This is Agent Romanoff. I copy."

You looked at Nat with a determined look on your face. Then you put on your brave face and staggered to stand up from your sitting position and held out your hand to Nat. Nat then reached for your hand and got up quickly and ran while holding your hand tightly.

"Sāikō!" (Let's go!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Barton is walking along a passage catwalk. Natasha appeared behind him and he quickly turned and shoots a bow, which flies by her. She pushed his hand.

He charged her and she kicks him, then rolls underneath some pipes -- popping up on the other side of the catwalk,kicking him in the knee. He shoots another arrow, which she dodged by dropping across to the next passage. Barton followed her.

They fight along that catwalk. The fight is very even. Barton tries hitting her with the bow and she pulled on the string. They fight some more, headbutting and punching. They

both pull daggers.

Then that's when you come in behind Barton. Jumping behind his back and choking him tightly not enough to make his breath cut off just so he can be far from Nat. Nat then rushes forward and kicks Barton's hand that holds the dagger in his hand which makes the grip in his hand flinch and causes the dagger to fall from the catwalk.

Barton let out a grunt and violently he turned his body which you tightly gripped his shoulders strongly so as not to fall from him then Barton slammed your back on the rail on the catwalk so hard that you let out a pain grunt and you lost gripped from him.

You slid down to the iron floor with your squeezed eyebrows because of the great pain. Barton tried to knock you out but Nat quickly slapped Barton's hand and threw a few punches at Barton which Barton fought back seeing as he's the type who doesn't give in quickly.

Natasha grabs Barton arm and thrusts it back. He groaned as he throw another punch to his free hand. Natasha grabbed that hand too but he hoists it her against a rail. Barton grabbed Natasha's hair and pulls, exposing her neck. Romanoff sinks her teeth into his arm and he let's go Barton trying to force her down but then you tackled Barton to the rail with great force leaving Nat free from his hold.

Barton fell to the floor and groaned in pain then looked at Nat and you.

Barton then attempted to get up but could only kneel in front of the two of you. He looked at Nat with realization on his face.

"Natasha?" Barton muttered her name weakly.

Nat just kept quiet then she punched Barton's face hard until he was knocked out. You flinched when you saw the action.

Nat then looked at you sharply. You raised your hands in the surrounded sign and looked at Nat with wide eyes.

"I don't want to regenerate early" you exclaimed with hearts racing in your chest.

Nat let out a sigh of relief and leaned against the rail. You follow her action by leaning on the rail in front of her. You back is still hurting thankfully regeneration is still activated so the pain is fading. You winced painfully.

Nat noticed your face. "you alright?"

You waved your hand at her. "I'm fine" you winced as the wave of pain washed over you then disappeared. "brilliant move you did earlier"

"so was you" Nat commented.

"ngk- i just choked him then tackled him to the floor, that's all" you replied and cracked your neck hoping to pop some tense muscles in your neck.

You sigh. "it's been a long time since I did things like this. Usually I just confronted them by saying something clever. Never throw my punch around them"

"well, you better get used to it from now" Nat crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Barton who was still unconscious on the floor.

"We did good teamwork actually." you muttered and let out a tired breath.

A booming sound of footsteps started to be heard towards the two of you, making you both push yourself off the rail and prepare to fight whoever treats is coming toward you two, but then you both lost your fight stand when you found out it was just the medical team.

You both sighed in relief and went back to leaning against the rail. One of the medical team came to you both.

"you guys hurt?" the medical woman said while observing what injuries you both have.

Nat shook her head indicating 'no' same goes to you but with a quick smile.

"we're good." you assured her

the medical woman only nodded her head off then turned to look at some agents who dragged Clint's body.

Nat just stared at Clint as her mind wandered around. Her hard look face still on.

"Agent Coulson is down." Fury's voice began to echo in your earpiece.

You opened your mouth in surprise and looked at Nat who just stared at the empty space.

A wave of grief started washing over you as you felt the atmosphere there changing after the news was said.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Not long after, Steve, you, Tony , and Fury gathered at the conference table as the atmosphere here seemed somber and depressing. Everyone is quiet. Letting the mourning wash over them as they just lost an agent.

You fidgeted your fingers under the table in silence. Your head bowed in condolence to Coulson. Although you don't know who he is, you still honor him.

Fury who was standing started taking out a handful of cards from the pocket of his jacket and fumbling with it with his fingers.

"These were in Phil Coulson's jacket. Guess he never did get you to sign them." Fury then threw the vintage cards on the table causing the cards to scattered on it.

You looked up and looked at the cards that had blood stains on it. Steve leaned slightly and reached for a piece of upside-down card that also had blood stains on it. Not expected that the card he took had a picture of himself which was full of blood stains.

"We're dead in the air up here. Our communications, location of the cube, Banner, Thor. I got nothing for you. Lost my one good eye. Think I had that coming" Fury said lowly.

Tony just looked down grieving silently. You looked at the card with your hands clasped together and placed in front of your lips.

"Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number, although, because I was playing something even riskier. There was an idea, Stark knows this, called the Avengers Initiative." Fury walked around the table slowly.

Stark stared into space with no reaction after Fury mentioned his name. You looked at Stark and observed him silently. Fury reached between Steve and Tony and put his hands on Tony's chair.

"The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people, see if they could become something more. See if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could. Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea, in heroes." Fury added somberly.

Tony came out of his reverie and quickly got up from the chair without looking at anyone there, he walked out of there. You look down in thoughts. Fury was just silent when he saw Tony's reaction as he rushed out without saying a word. Fury looked down somberly.

"Well, it's an old fashioned notion."

"The Avengers is a thing that considers remarkable people as heroes. Do you consider me a hero if you yourself see me as a threat?" You asked suddenly.

Fury raised his head to look at you however, he was unable to respond to the question you asked him. He was stunned and didn't know what to say. However, he just kept quiet.

You stared at Fury for a long time and sighed heavily, you got up and walked out of there just like Tony without uttering any words.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You return to the laboratory on the Hellcarrier which is still in a state of destruction, but there are some ship assistants who are maintaining the destroyed laboratory. Some swept some materials such as iron, cement and glass on the floor and some lifted some rumbles that were there. Some people gave orders to their staff.

You walked as your eyes darted around the lab. So many things happened after you regenerated into this life not long after the things you went through before. All this happened at the same time. Every moment there is bound to be a disaster.

Just one normal day for you. Even one day is okay, at least you can relax. But that's the destiny of being a Time Lady. Running around and never stopped running. This is not what you expect after deciding to travel around the universe. What you expect is just to travel around with joy and without killing or violence. But you seem to be wrong.

You sighed briefly and walked towards where your TARDIS was parked. When you get to where the TARDIS is, you widen your eyes after you find that the TARDIS is not where he should be.

you anxiously looked around trying to find a glimpse of the blue police box but it wasn't in the lab.

"oh no" you put your hands on your head and ruffled your hair anxiously as you paced around the lab trying to find the TARDIS.

You then caught a maintenance staff there by gripping his hand. The staff looked at you with wide eyes and a scared face.

"Do you see the old blue police box parked here?" you asked him

The staff who still looked scared nodded while swallowing. "it's.. in suite 17.. lower suite on the ship"

"why did you put him somewhere else?" you released your hold on his arm.

"we have too, Ma'am. It's the place where all the things that shouldn't be put there" he stuttered.

You grunted and walked past him with a tired expression on your face. "thank you" you said to him before walked out of the lab.

After several steps and passing several rooms, you finally arrive at suite 17 where the TARDIS is. You then without any thought, entered the TARDIS and closed the TARDIS door firmly before leaning against the door and sliding down to the floor. You bring your legs to your chest and put your head on your knees.

You don't know why you suddenly feel down and guilty about the incident with Coulson. It's like something has been triggered deep inside you. Grief and sense of loss is what opens up inside you. Something you wished to forget but you can't. You are familiar with that feeling because your life before was a bit of a mess and you lost too many things you loved such as your own planet. Although it's because of you, you still feel the loss is quite big. Like you carry a big boulder on your back and walk around the world. Just like you bring that feeling to wander around a universe.

You should help them but why did it turn out like that? You thought your job was just to track the tesseract and know Loki's plan, but why does there have to be such an incident? No wonder Fury is still hesitant to trusted you.

You sighed heavily and hid your face between your legs and chest. The TARDIS' light starts to light up, meaning that the TARDIS has woken up from its 'shutdown' mood. Bounty wheeled towards you fast and excited as always but when he saw you, he frowned.

He makes a sound as if asking if you are alright or not. He wheeled closer towards you and gently he bumped himself into you. Trying to take your mind off the negative things you think. You lifted your head and watched him through your glossy eyes. Your face is red and tears stream down your cheeks like a river.

You then slowly put your hands around Bounty. You hugged his robot body tightly before letting out a sob. Bounty's robot hands stretch to become long and hugged your body tightly. He patted his hand on your back like a father persuading his child. He let out a comforting sound.

The TARDIS, which sensed the gloomy emotions, began to play his part by playing a song that made you feel relief. Lights began to illuminate the control console.

"Why do things like this have to happen? I didn't expect things like this to happen like this! I should have helped them but now. They have lost one of their friends. If only I could track the cube and prevent it from happening.. All this wouldn't have happened. Now Loki is gone and God knows where the cube has gone" you sobbed.

"You can't prevent things you don't expect. Sometimes you just have to let them happen" TARDIS hummed.

"but why does it have to be like this?" you asked "Why is it that every time I step somewhere there is bound to be trouble? Am I the bearer of bad luck?"

"no" the TARDIS denied. "You're not the bearer of bad luck, Y/n. If you were the bearer of bad luck, no one would call you a hero, instead they would call you something inappropriate. Trouble always follows you, yes, but you know what you're doing for it. You always save something that happens at the end of the day" TARDIS added sternly.

"But, their friend. I don't-"

"Death is one of the things we cannot prevent. Until someone dies, it means their life story is over. If death can be prevented, Gallifrey will definitely still exist" TARDIS said.

You are silent. Bounty parted away from your embrace and stared at your face with concern. He knows you like the back of his mechanical hands. You don't always break down this bad before. In the many regenerations you have gone through, this regeneration is the most emotional. It's like all the suffering things that you went through in the past regeneration are finally released in this regeneration.

He feels sorry for you who have to go through all those things every time you regenerate. It's not something we can live like nothing happened and make a new life, no. Instead it is something that you bring pain from the past to the present. Until the time it will be released.

"Whatever happened before, it's not your fault. It's never your fault. Everything happened for a reason. So get yourself together and fight it." TARDIS encouraged you.

You stared at the console with new found feelings in your chest. Something like passion and burning in your chest. Something you feel you can do without fear. You looked at Bounty who was still looking at you with concern. Bounty nodded with determination.

You shifted your gaze to the console again before wiping your wet face on your sleeve and standing firm. Your face is tight, eyebrows furrowed with determination.

"right, find Loki and finish him off" You rushed to the console and started pressing various buttons and pulling levers.

The TARDIS signature sound began to sound majestic and loud. Marking he is ready. Bounty bouncing around excitedly.

"Loki is the kind of guy who likes to press something that hurts everyone, especially something that makes that person breakdown. He is also the kind of guy who likes attention and pride in himself. He wants everyone to know who he is and what his position is in a situation such as now. He wants to rule the world. He wants to be king" you pulled the screen to your eye level, examining every coordinate above it.

"And?" The TARDIS interrupted.

"he wants an audience, he wants people to celebrate him, he wants servants and everything a king needs for himself such as a throne. He wants people to know his name and what his purpose is in a certain situation, he wants a big castle so that people know his wealth , he... oh" you widened your eyes after you realized something.

Something very obvious. Building, name, and power. The ugly Stark building like Steve mentioned before. It has the power that Loki needs to activate the Tesseract. You frankly pressed the TARDIS button quickly. The TARDIS wheezing and whoosing in every timeline before it landed in the middle of the room where Tony and Steve were. Tony and Steve were stunned to see the TARDIS suddenly appear in the middle of the room. Mouth agape, they backed off to give the TARDIS room to land properly.

The door was opened by you with a stern face. You quickly got out of the TARDIS and Bounty followed behind.

"STARK!" you shouted his name.

"Doc?" Tony replied confused.

"Isn't it a good day to visit your ugly building?" you give him hints.

Tony was silent for a while but after a few seconds his eyes widened and he looked at you with his mouth open.

"son of a bitch" Tony exclaimed.

#the doctor #doctor who x reader #doctor who #avengers #avengers x platonic reader #lost in time and space series #mcu x reader #marvel mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfiction #avengers 2012 #bbc shows #marvel

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gabessquishytum · 2 years

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oh i just had a dream/hob/calliope omegaverse idea and i need to share. so. dream and calliope are trying to have a baby (and this is maybe not a good thing! because they don't quite fit together, they're too intense with each other in the wrong ways, but on some level they're both hoping a baby will give them a place to direct their attention where it won't chafe the other, because they love each other and want their marriage to work, they really do). maybe female alphas have low to no fertility when it comes to carrying a child, maybe it's something else, but whatever the reason, they can't seem to get pregnant.

hob, meanwhile, is an unmated (or widowed) omega, close to finishing his phd but increasingly concerned about whether he'll manage before he burns through his savings entirely. he meets death out at a pub one evening, somehow the conversation turns to children, she happens to mention her brother and his wife are struggling to conceive. hob jokingly (but also not joking at all) says that he could be a surrogate, it's not like he's planning on using his womb anytime soon. maybe that would fix some of his money troubles.

he was decently drunk by that point, and he doesn't actually remember giving death his phone number... but he wakes up the next morning to a text asking if he'd be willing to meet her brother and his wife for lunch some time. no pressure, but they'd like to meet him -- if they get along and he'd be interested in actually being their surrogate, they'd take good care of him through the pregnancy and for a while after.

so obviously, they meet, they hit it off. they go on dates in between sorting out the surrogacy arrangement and moving hob into their house. they fuck him pregnant, of course -- both of them fuck him every night so either one of them could be the sire -- but they dote on him during the days as well. calliope helps him organize his thoughts for his phd thesis. dream distracts him when he's spiralling into frustration by pulling him into a debate on whatever comes to mind.

by the time hob's good and bred, dream and calliope are already getting along worlds better, because they have their sweet little omega to pour their devotion into. they absolutely adore him. and they're so, so excited to raise their pup with him.

-🐈‍⬛

Oh this!!! Is amazing!!!! It's already just perfect but I will add a few thoughts of my own <33

- Maybe Hob has already had Robyn (but he tragically passed away with Eleanor in an accident) so he knows for sure that he can safely carry a pup. He's the perfect surrogate, basically. And although nothing will ever replace Robyn, he wants to give the gift of a happy family to Dream and Calliope. He can tell that there's tension, but they're good people and Hob wants to help them. He firmly tells himself that he won't fall in love with them, he'll just be a friend and a fun uncle for the baby.

- As soon as he moves in with them Hob knows he's fucked (he's literally fucked, 3 times per day at least, but he expected that). He loves Dream and Calliope, together and as individuals. They're stubborn and silly and they get in the most ridiculous fights, but basically they're warm and gentle and in love with each other. Hob yearns. A lot. And enjoys living in their very expensive house and eating food from the posh farmer's market.

- Hob is pregnant, yay! And Dream and Calliope are so good to him. They literally dote on him 24/7, he's sleeping in their bed because he needs to feel them close by and they don't complain at all. He gets amazing massages from Dream, Calliope sings to him and brushes his hair. They still fuck him, which he wasn't expecting but God he needs it because the horniness is hitting different. He has to keep reminding himself that all of this is for the baby, not really for him. He won't get to keep any of this love and devotion.

- Calliope works out eventually why Hob is a little sad sometimes and she has to sit him down and explain that she and Dream consider him as their omega now??? If he'll accept them??? They just never mentioned it because alphas are dumb about communicating sometimes. After the baby comes they want to claim Hob for real and marry him. And Hob ends up crying in Dream’s arms while Calliope covers him in kisses.

- Fastforward a bit, and Hob is obsessed with his alphas (even though they can be SO stupid) and his newborn pup, and he has his PhD now!! Maybe they fuck pup number 2 into him after his graduation ceremony. Whatever happens, Dream and Calliope are a proper team, and Hob is always going to be there to set them on the right path. They're stuck with him now <3

#🐈‍⬛ anon #the sandman #immortal throuple #dream x hob x calliope #cw omegaverse

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slothquisitor · 10 months

Text

Heroes and Villains

"Astarion thinks he might have found these sorts of discussions compelling, once. In a time before, when it might have mattered. Morality is a luxury only afforded to those with actual choices. For so long, morality was just another obstacle keeping him from grasping whatever meager scraps of comfort were available, so he tried not to trouble himself too much about it." Recommended listening: Villain by Searows. Astarion x Liv, 4.7k.

Also on AO3.

____________________________________________________________

The Emperor is in her head, and it will not save Jaheira’s friend. She is tired, wounded from the battle, and Jaheira is yelling even as Minsc fights their tadpole connection. It feels as it always does, an invasion, a violation. Images and memories that are not her own flash through her mind.

She hates the way the tadpoles connect them all, taking memories and trading them around without thought or concern. She tries to fight it, but more memories come and she knows that Minsc is seeing her own as well.

She had never considered that the Emperor would say no to this, that the protection offered so readily to Duke Ravengard, to each of her other companions, wouldn’t extend to another. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t feel right . She is missing something, but she’s just not sure what.

“We need all the help we can get, you told me to gather allies. Please, just help him!”

“Don’t be foolish. He is too unpredictable. He will only be a hindrance to us,” the Emperor replies.

Jaheira shakes her head. “The mindflayer pours poison into your ear, I think. Tell it I will tear the prism from your grasp and throw it into the deepest lava pit I can find. Long after our bones are dust and ash, the walls of its prison will still be burning. Now help my friend!”

The Emperor believes Jaheira to be bluffing, but Liv doesn’t care if she is or she isn’t. She doesn’t agree with the Emperor’s assessment. Especially when its only argument is Minsc being too unpredictable, too chaotic. Having to coerce it into doing this leaves a sour taste in her mouth. There’s something familiar about the tone used, something she can’t quite place, but feels like she knows. In the end, it agrees, but the disappointment in her is palpable. As if she is the one in the wrong here. It is not the first time that she’s questioned this alliance of theirs, but it is the first time that she feels how fragile it might be.

But then, Minsc is saved and Jaheira is grateful, and Liv has helped . It is almost enough to banish her worries about the Emperor. But then talking with Minsc reveals the Zhentarim’s plot. They mean to overthrow Nine-Fingers, and Liv could kick herself for not realizing that the Zhentarim haven’t just thrown their lot in with the Absolute for profit, but have perfectly set themselves up for a coup since they’re the Guild’s fighting force. And if Nine-Fingers is in danger…that means Percy is too.

Like so many things, it’s not exactly their problem to solve, but no one questions her when she suggests they hurry to the guild hall. Worry gnaws at her the whole way. What if they are too late? What if Percy is caught in all of this?

When they arrive to the guild hall, it is sheer chaos. Fighting has broken out in every corner, wreathed by darkness it’s hard to tell who is who. But Liv rushes in anyway, determined to find her brother, to keep him safe, to help. She’s not sure exactly why she cares so much. The last time she saw him she had told him she wasn’t sure she even wanted a relationship with him, thought it would be better not to continue with any expectations.

She doesn’t regret saying it, putting that distance between them so that she could have space to figure this thing out, but there’s a part of her that worries that he won’t survive this and then she’ll never know whether they could have found some way to be a family. He knows the dangers she’s throwing herself into every day too, is it possible he has those same worries? It seems far too much to hope.

She and Minsc, Astarion and Jaheira wade into the the fray. She has to be careful as she targets her magic not to catch members of the guild unaware, but as she tosses flame bolts and lines up lightning, she catches the eye of several grateful folks, looking more than a little ragged. Nine-Fingers had said herself that the Guild was no fighting force, and it shows as the Zhentarim cut through their defenses. Nine-Fingers is caught in the fray too, throwing knives at the very force she’d brought in to protect her people.

Liv is breathing hard, racing up the wooden steps tossing magic as carefully as she can. At the top of the stairs, there is a group of Guild members unsuccessfully trying to parry the unwavering assault of a Zhentarim swordsman. Her lightning chains through him to another fighter, armed to the teeth with knives. They both fall, bodies twitching.

Beside her, a figure emerges from the darkness, as if they have stepped directly from the shadows. “What in the hells are you doing here?” Percy asks.

The relief that fills her is a short-lived thing, something she can barely focus on before throwing a shield up and hearing the soft thunk as an arrow plunks harmlessly off it. She’d seen the glimmer of the bolt just in time. “Saving your ass. What does it look like?”

Percy shakes his head in confusion. “How did you even know?”

Liv gestures across the hall towards Minsc. “Turns out the Stone Lord wasn’t really operating on his own free will. The Zhentarim are aligned with the cultists as well.”

Percy throws a knife with deadly accuracy at an enemy, barely looking at her. “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“I think the exit is clear, you can make a break for it,” Liv says, tossing a firebolt at an archer aiming for Astarion.

Percy glares at her. “These are my people. My friends. I’m not going anywhere until every last Zhent bastard is dead.” His words are laced with protective fury she didn’t realize he was capable of.

“Yeah, okay,” Liv says unsure how else to respond. “What can we do? You know this space better than me.”

Percy scans the room quickly. “Those archers are a problem.” High on the scaffolding, Zhentarim archers shoot down into the fighting, slowly picking off Guild members completely unchallenged. He turns to her and grins. “How’s your close-combat fighting?”

She’s got spells for that. “Fine enough.”

“Then let’s go.” Percy grabs her hand, and they step directly into the shadows. For a heartstopping moment, there is nothing but darkness around them, and then they emerge, as if out of a doorway, directly behind the archers.

She doesn’t hesitate, and neither does Percy. When the archers are dead, she and Percy return to the lower levels going their separate ways as they make their way across this makeshift battlefield. The tide is turning in the fight, and for that she is grateful.

The buzz of battle always feels somehow eternal, though Liv knows that’s not the case. But finally, the last arrow flies and the battle is done and quiet falls within the guild hall as if everyone is truly wondering if it’s really over. And then the cheers rise up like heat on a summer’s day, slowly at first, but then louder. The folks of the guild aren’t used to open battle like this, to working in synchronization with each other. There’s a comradery in the room that she didn’t notice before, the existence of a shared enemy uniting the disparate groups.

She watches her brother check in on his people, his friends. Watches the concern and the worry in every line of his face, and feels a wave of resentment rise up within her. Who are these people who deserve care and worry and concern from her brother? Is it unforgivably selfish of her to have wanted some of that worry and concern? He hasn’t even spoken to her since the battle ended. But then she was the one who told him that it would be better if they didn’t have expectations of each other. And yet...

“Are you alright?” Astarion asks as he approaches. His gaze roves over her, clearly taking stock of any injuries. He gently steers her out of the way of two guild members carrying another, his hand lightly on her back. “I lost sight of you for a moment.”

“Percy took me up to take care of the archers.”

Astarion frowns. “Strategic of him.” Astarion has been clear about his feelings in regard to her brother, her family, and there’s a part of her that doesn’t exactly disagree. There’s a part of her that wonders if he’s right, that maybe they shouldn’t have come here at all.

“Yeah,” she replies, still watching her brother move between groups, care and concern etched into every line of his face. Was he always capable of kindness?

There is something invariably depressing about this realization, that perhaps if she’d been different, more observant, said the clever thing, asked the right questions, left that house sooner. That she wouldn’t be discovering all this about her brother now. She wants to rush over to him, bombard him with questions. Where was this gentleness when her sister died? When she wept over the burns her mother’s magic left behind?

But it’s not the time. She cannot afford to fall apart now. Cannot afford to fall apart here. Later, perhaps she can be angry or sad or whatever these tangled feelings are, but she cannot do it now. So she tears her gaze away from her brother, sees Nine-Fingers standing across the hall. She is battle-bloodied and stone-faced, surveying the damage.

Her eyes fall on Liv. “Why don’t we have a chat in my office?” The words are filled with a quietly contained rage. It is not a request. She looks to one of her ladies and raises her voice loud enough that it booms in the hall. “Enough gawking. There’s a mess here to clean up.”

There is no hesitation from the members of the guild, from her court. Nine-Fingers stalks up the steps toward her office and everyone jumps to work. Liv, Minsc, Jaheira, and Astarion trail her up the steps and into her dimly lit office. The doors close ominously behind them.

Nine-Fingers stands at her desk, daggers still drawn. She turns to them as they enter, glaring at them all, challenge in her eyes.“The Zhent are down - just you and me now, Stone Lord. So if you mean to take my chair, you’ll get no better chance than this.”

Minsc shifts uncomfortably, but shifts easily into a fighting stance. “Minsc has no interest in your furniture, Nine-Fingers - only in the wicked rump that fills it!”

Nine-Fingers looks towards Liv, face twisted in confusion. “....What?”

“You have been a stone in this city’s boot for too long. And it will be no Stone Lord who reaches ‘twixt Balduran’s sticky toes to dislodge you - it will be Minsc!”

Nine-Fingers sighs and sheaths her knives, clearly deciding that despite Minsc’s threats, the fighting is done. “I haven’t got the slightest idea what he’s trying to say.”

“Proof that he is back to normal, no?” Jaheira interjects.

Liv jumps in to defuse the situation. “He was under the sway of the Absolute, tadpoled same as the rest of us. Everything he did as the Stone Lord wasn’t his choice. He’s protected now and the Stone Lord is no more.”

Nine-Fingers laughs, crossing her arms. “Good. I’d rather you die as Minsc the mad Rashemaar. It’s silly, but d’you know you were something of a hero of mine when I was young?”

Minsc shakes his head. “Even now, your tongue twists the truth. When you were young and ten-fingered still, Minsc and Boo- were stone estatuated in a city square!”

“Aye, I remember the spot - by a garden on the Wide. A soft thicket near the market, with ample pockets to pick. Celestia itself, to a street rat looking for shelter. You might not have been wrestling monsters, but...you kept the wind and rain off. Heroic enough for me,” Nine-Fingers shrugs. Liv can see the strategy here, but she suspects there’s some kernel of truth to the story.

Minsc shakes his head. “Bah! You try to dampen Boo’s eyes. Do not think you will be spared his teeth. Evil is evil…even if it once was…innocent.”

Nine-Fingers lifts up both hands. “Oh, I’m no innocent. But evil? You tell me. With the Fist, the watch, and the council itself licking the Absolute’s boots, who’s the only one left standing to protect Baldur’s Gate?”

Jaheira nods. “She’s right, Minsc. She’s been an ally down through the years. A friend, even.”

“A friend? Jaheira, Boo cannot believe his ears. Has the city fallen so far in our absence? Are there no heroes left?”

Nine-Fingers steps closer, eyes narrowed. “Heroes come and go, but the Guild has always been here, protecting the city. Until the Stone Lord came to break us.”

Liv looks between the guild master and the massive ranger, she’s had enough conflict today. “Minsc, the Guild will fight with us. We just have to let them.”

Minsc nods, but his face twists in sadness. “I am ashamed. Nydeska , unworthy to fight alongside my friends. Boo, what am I to do?”

Nine-Fingers has her opening and she takes it. “I can’t speak for your rodent, but I know something of debts. If you reckon you’ve got one to repay…well, we could always work together. We’ve got bigger enemies than one another. The city’s enemies. And, honest truth? You gave my Guild the wake-up call it needed. We’ve grown complacent, lazy. We never would’ve needed the Zhent if we’d had a fighting force of our own. Swords for the city, for when the Fist and watch fail us.”

Liv watches Minsc struggle with his ideals and accepting a deal with Nine-Fingers that fits within them, but eventually they do come to an accord. After dealing with the Absolute, Minsc will help protect Nine-Fingers, get a fighting force in shape. It means that Minsc will be keeping an eye on the Guild, and Nine-Fingers gets a better fighting force. Everyone wins.

Eventually, Nine-Fingers turns toward her. “With the Stone Lord off my back, I’ll be able to bring my people out of hiding. Cobble together a force, so we’re ready when you call on us.”

“I appreciate that.”

Nine-Fingers nods. “You have my thanks. Though I’m still not actually sure you haven’t made my life that little bit harder. Must run in the family.” The last bit sounds almost approving, but then Nine-Fingers sits down at her desk a little stiffly, the exhaustion clear, her mask slipping just a bit. “Now get the hells out of my office. You’ve brought me enough trouble for one day.”

As they exit, Jaheira steps close. “We shouldn’t linger. I don’t know that many know the Stone Lord’s identity, but I can’t imagine this alliance will go over well if anyone does.”

Liv nods. “Of course…I just…I’d like to talk to my brother before we go.”

Jaheira looks like she wants to argue but thinks better of it. “Of course.”

Percy is easy to find, he’s helping the injured into the tavern area where the Guild’s healers are doing their best to patch everyone up. It’s still surprising, so at odds with the person she thought he was. She’s not really sure what she’s here to say…only that she thinks that something needs saying.

He notices her approach as he finishes half-carrying a half-orc over to a chair. He sets the man down before approaching. “You heading out?” he asks.

Liv crosses her arms just to have something to do with them. “Yeah, but I wanted to check-in? Are you alright?”

Percy runs his hand over his jaw and glances around the room. “This is….uh…this is as close to a home as I’ve got, and Zhent attacked us in it today…so, no.”

That’s fair. It was probably a stupid question. “I’m sorry. We came as soon as we knew-”

He holds up a hand stopping her words. “I don’t doubt it. You didn’t have to, but you did anyway. Thank you.” There’s a heaviness weighing down each word, but there’s no double-talk, it feels genuine.

She wants to be better at this, at knowing what to do now. “I should go. Let you get back to taking care of your people.” She hopes he can’t hear her confusion, the bitterness she can’t quite seem to let go of.

He stares at her for a long moment before shaking his head. “Of course.” But then he steps close, for a moment she thinks he might reach for her. For a moment, she thinks she might want him to, might want the comfort of her older brother, whatever that might look like. Instead, he stops short. “I don’t know what Nine-Fingers promised you, but I’m with you. When you call, I’ll be there.”

It’s more than she ever expected; it’s not quite enough. “Thank you.”

He turns away then, going back to his people, to help them pick up the pieces. She leaves and tells herself it isn’t a retreat. Tells herself that it’s fine that this is something she might never see fixed.

The fire is bright and warm, and Astarion has a new book. He plucked it from a shelf in the Stone Lord’s little sewer hideout. It’s a romance, and a badly written one at that. It’s so bad it’s entertaining. He dog ears the pages with the cheesiest lines, intending to show Liv as soon as she joins him for the evening. She desperately needs a laugh after the day they’ve had, crawling through sewers and getting caught in power plays. And dealing with that brother of hers.

He’s not sure that they made the right call today, sticking their noses in the Guild’s mess with the Zhentarim. Seems like a good way to make enemies they won’t even know they have until it’s too late. But Liv had wanted to rush in anyway to save her brother. He hopes Percy realizes how lucky he is that she gives a shit. That she keeps handing him chances.

He doesn’t know what Liv was thinking today, but there was something about watching her brother after the battle that had shaken her somehow. He’s still trying to decide if she’s going to bring it up or if he’ll need to.

It will have to wait, as Liv has been waylaid by their new companion. Astarion doesn’t mean to be eavesdropping on their conversation, but it’s hard not to. Minsc’s loudness is perhaps only rivaled by Karlach’s. His voice booms out across the room, and whether Astarion wants to or not, he hears every single word.

“I wished to believe the Stone Lord’s evil was the worm alone, a-tainting my thoughts with foul dung. But I see now, the dung was within Minsc all along. So I wonder, if Minsc can be a villain, and Nine-Fingers a hero: must it be so with all creatures? Is there good and evil within us all? Heh. Boo calls this nonsense. Less thinking of bad thoughts, says he, and more breaking of bad bones. But still - I would hear what you have to say on the matter, my friend.”

Astarion thinks he might have found these sorts of discussions compelling, once. In a time before, when it might have mattered. Morality is a luxury only afforded to those with actual choices. For so long, morality was just another obstacle keeping him from grasping whatever meager scraps of comfort were available, so he tried not to trouble himself too much about it.

But now? Now he is free, truly free, and he’s not sure what he believes in. He’s not sure where he fits on the spectrum of hero to villain.

It takes Liv a moment to respond to Minsc, it’s clear that she’s considering her response carefully. “I think we all have the capacity for good and bad. I don’t think that it’s as simple as villains and heroes though, it’s a lot of shades of gray.”

Minsc laughs his booming laugh. “Minsc does not believe there are these ‘shades’ when it comes to evil. Evil is evil!”

“Maybe sometimes. And maybe sometimes we try to do the right thing, and end up hurting people instead.”

“You mean like with Minsc as the Stone Lord? Minsc tried to do a good thing, destroy the cult! Instead, he got tadpoled and puppeted around by the Absolute.”

Liv’s voice doesn’t sound entirely sure. “Kind of like that, yeah.”

Or perhaps she means that it is more like insisting on completing an infernal ritual that would have killed seven thousand people? He hadn’t done it, but he had wanted to, and do wants and desires factor into goodness or is it just actions? He doesn’t want this, these questions he’s not sure what to do with. He’ll go read elsewhere then, farther away in hopes that he doesn’t have to listen in, doesn’t have to question. Doesn’t have to find himself at a loss about who he should be now.

He snaps his book shut, and wanders over to the bed he and Liv have been sharing. The one he thinks of as hers, but not his. His is over in a shared alcove with Gale, and while his things live there, he almost never is. He supposes he could move them, but he likes the idea of still having his own space, a place to retreat to, even if he doesn’t necessarily use it. It feels like an extravagance, and he gets comfortable, opening up the book once more and trying to tune out the voices around.

It isn’t long before Liv joins him, looking tired. He smiles at her. “Sounds like you and Minsc were having quite the lively conversation. Tell me, have you figured out if the rodent is actually conversing with him or is he just mad?”

Liv gives him a hard look. “Be nice. We need all the allies we can get.”

Astarion feigns offense. “I’m always nice.” It earns him a smile.

“There was something…though…I wanted to discuss,” Liv says, words quiet and unsure.

He shifts his legs, making space for her to join him on the bed. “I’m all pointy ears, my love.”

She sits down, hands twisting together in her lap, but she doesn’t speak for a long moment. The silence drags on, but he waits her out. “Did you find it odd that the Emperor didn’t want to extend its protection to Minsc?”

It’s not the question he’s expecting, and not just because there are so many other things that happened today that he expected to be on her mind. They so rarely discuss the inhabitant of the Astral Prism, but he knows she doesn’t trust it. Hasn’t since she discovered that their protection is dependent on Orpheus’s continued captivity, that the dreams they shared and the protector they believed to be helping was really a mindflayer. He knows she feels watched like the Emperor is always listening in. They cannot change it, so they don’t discuss it.

“I hadn’t thought much of it,” Astarion answers truthfully. “But I suppose it does seem odd considering how quick it was to protect Wyll’s father. The rodent conversing aside, Minsc is a hero of the city.”

Liv looks relieved. “Okay, I’m glad I’m not the only one then. I just…I feel like I’m missing something. Something’s not adding up…and then there’s the Duke Stelmane thing…”

She had shown him the book she’d found immediately, about Stelmane’s condition, about a visitor that came to her rooms. They hadn’t talked about it, worried that deep in the Emperor’s old hideout they were being watched. Like many things these days, they don’t have much choice but trusting the Emperor, since their continued existence and people and not mindflayers is due to its intervention.

Astarion reaches over and untangles her hands, holding one gently in what he hopes feels reassuring. “Like you said, we need all the allies we can get. Shades of gray, hmmm?” He hopes she catches his meaning without coming right out and saying it.

She nods in acknowledgment. It is not so simple as heroes and villains. It never was.

“Is it still trying to get you to use the tadpole?” he asks. This conversation still feels precarious, but he wants to know. The Emperor has tried to make inroads with them all, but Liv has always been the sole recipient of its attention since it revealed its true nature. He doesn’t miss the dreams, the mysterious Guardian promising him power.

“Sometimes it reminds me of my mother,” Liv says, words careful. An innocuous enough comment for almost anyone but her. She’ll never touch the tadpole she was given. That was the Emperor’s first mistake: making it about power. Liv is terrified of power and of the way that it corrupts. He disagrees of course, but that’s a discussion between the two of them that never seems to go anywhere.

He pulls her into him, kissing the top of her head. “Don’t worry, we’ve got Minsc and a miniature giant space hamster on our side now. We can’t possibly lose.”

She laughs. “Don’t forget that the Guild too.”

“Criminals and thieves. Who could ask for better company?”

She doesn’t reply and instead leans more fully into him, and he is grateful for the simplicity of it, the comforting reassurance that though they don’t have all the answers, they do have each other.

“Did you mean what you said to Minsc?” he asks.

Liv twists a bit so she can look up at him. “What thing?”

“About everyone having the capacity for good and bad?”

“Yes. I meant it.” Her eyes are searching his, looking for something, but he’s not sure what she might find, he’s not even sure himself why this has become so important to him tonight.

“How are you so sure?”

It’s clearly not the question she’s expecting, her eyebrows raise a bit in surprise. “I…I suppose…” She pauses as she considers. “Because I’ve seen it. I’ve seen good people do bad things; bad people do good things. It’s…complicated, isn’t it? I mean, I try to be a good person-”

“You are.” He’s not sure of much, but of that he is sure.

“But I’m not always sure that I’m making the right decisions every day. Sometimes right and wrong aren’t quite as clear-cut as I’d like them to be. I don’t know…I guess that’s why I’m always giving people more chances than they maybe deserve.”

He considers her answer, it’s thoughtful, if a little rueful. So he offers up a truth of his own. “I’m not sure what I believe. I’m not sure I care, really.” The last part rings false as he says it. He wishes it didn’t. It would be so nice, not to care.

“When I left my family, I was so lost. I had spent so much time fighting against them, being consumed by their actions and thoughts and expectations…I don’t think I really cemented what I believed until I stumbled off that nautiloid and I had the chance to start over.”

The confession surprises him. Oh, she’s told him of her insecurities from those early days, but he hadn’t considered that beneath her unflappable exterior, she might have been just as unsure as he feels now.

“I would never have guessed.”

“I don’t think that’s as comforting now as it would have been to me then. The rest of it will come, Astarion. If it’s important to you.”

“If you say ‘give it time’, I’m leaving,” he says, but he’s not at all serious. He’s just tired of the same refrain, of needing time. He’s never been patient, but the more he discovers he needs to reclaim in his own life, the less he’s willing to wait.

Liv sighs. “How about, ‘if we all die to the elder brain, it doesn’t matter anyway’?” She says it with a smile, a sarcastic lilt to her voice. But he catches an undercurrent of something, a kernel of truth nestled in the joke. He wonders what she’s pushing down, what she’s holding off dealing with.

But he doesn’t call her on it, not tonight. Instead, he cups her face and leans down to kiss her. “And isn’t that the most comforting of sentiments,” he says, smiling against her lips.

But hells, he’s never wished more for her to be wrong.

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate fanfic #astarion x liv #bright lost things #slothquisitorwrites

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fruit-of-infidelity · 1 year

Text

♱ DIABOLIK LOVERS: Haunted Dark Bridal ー Sakamaki Ryuuto | Heaven 02 ♱

⌜ Scene: Balcony ⌟

Ryuuto: Strip.

Yui: Wh-What do you mean…? Out here!?

Doing that on the balcony… Ryuuto-san, I can’t!

It’s already so chilly being out here, but to get completely undressed? And not only that, but this balcony…

I’m in direct sight of that house, over there!

( Why would he want me to be in plain sight like that? )

Ryuuto: I don’t want to hear it; I only have so much patience.

ー Ryuuto tugs at her clothes, stripping her. ー

Yui: W-Wait…! At least let me cover myself!!

Ryuuto: That should be the least of your concerns right now, especially considering you reek of foul play, and of that person in particular…

Yui: ( “That person”? I wonder… Could he mean Laito-kun? )

( That doesn’t make sense, though. I haven’t evenーー )

ー There is a sploshing of water. ー

( …! Just now, a bucket appeared at Ryuuto-san’s side! )

( It’s filled with soapy water… )

( Uu, I have a feeling I know where this is going… B-But it’s so chilly out! )

Ryuuto: Leg’s apart, now.

Yui: What…!?

Ryuuto: Legs. Apart.

ー Yui has little choice but to do so. ー

Consider your bath privileges lost.

ー Ryuuto reaches for the sponge. ー

Yui: Ryuuto-san… I-I don’t even know what it is I’ve done.

Ryuuto: Is that so? Perhaps, then, it will come back to you once we’re done with your punishment this evening; Take a long, hard think.

After allーー

ー He wrings out the sponge. ー

If you are going to behave like a bad dog, you are going to be treated as such. From here on out, you will be washed outside, in plain view, by me.

Be thankful I didn't decide to hose you down.

ー As he speaks, he washes her roughly. ー

Yui: …!!

( H-He’s scrubbing so harshly!! )

Wait a m-moment, Ryuuto-san!

Ryuuto: Spit it out.

━─┉┈◈ Selection ◈┈┉─━

　　❈ I haven’t done anything wrong!

Yui: I haven’t d-done a single thing to warrant this!

Ryuuto: Arguing will get you nowhere; You have already dug yourself a hole.

You most certainly have something to warrant this.

Yui: B-But! I haven’t even been near Laito-kun, I swear!

　　❈ I’m sorry

Yui: ( Ryuuto-san seems deeply upset, so... )

I’m sorry… for whatever it was I’ve done.

Ryuuto: …Fufu, what a meaningless apology.

How on earth are you expecting to be forgiven if you have little clue what you’ve done wrong in the very first place?

Yui: ( Uu… He has a point. But, if I had to pin-point it… )

It’s because of Laito-kun, isn’t it?

━━─┉┈┈◈◉◈┈┈┉─━━

Ryuuto: Laito? It seems you’re incredibly mistaken.

This has nothing to do with that sort of person, so I wonder why would your conscious dwell on that? Instead, this is about that other person.

Richter.

Yui: Richter…!?

Ryuuto: His scent, it’s lingering, clinging to your skin and taunting me with its presence… I’m to clean you of that.

Regardless of whether it takes all night, or whether it includes taking the top layer of your skin with it, I won’t go easy on you.

Yui: O-Ow…!!

You’re scrubbing too roughly!

Ryuuto: You accompanied him to run some staffroom errands after class, didn’t you? Spending time in such close quarters with someone like that…

Yui: ( M-My skin… it feels so raw, it’s turning red…! )

( If I knew it would t-turn out this way, I wouldn’t have helped Richter… )

R-Ryuuto-san… I c-can’t!

Ryuuto: Although Richter was to keep a close eye on you whilst we attended the Academy, what possessed you to think that would be acceptable?

Yui: Uu… O-Ouch…!

S-Slow down!

( Ryuuto-san just isn’t stopping! )

Ryuuto: When we’re done here, you are going to stand here until you air dry thoroughly.

Is that clear?

Yui: “Air dry!?”

Ryuuto: Then you’ll spend the night by my side, impregnating your skin with my scent, dousing yourself in your Master’s fragrance.

Yui: D-Don’t… say it like that!

( That twinkle in Ryuuto-san’s eye… Like he’s enjoying my pain… )

( Deep down, was he always truly this possessive!? )

✥ TO BE CONTINUED ✥

─────── ≪ °♛° ≫ ───────

← [ ✥ Heaven 01 ✥ ] ⎥ [ ✥ Heaven 03 ✥ ] →

#Diabolik Lovers #dialovers #diabolik lovers oc #sakamaki ryuuto #ryuuto sakamaki #ryuuto sakamaki route #sakamaki ryuuto route #ryuuto route #haunted dark bridal #haunted dark bridal heaven #hdbryuutoheaven02

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softquietsteadylove · 2 years

Note

How about the 5+1 times thing? :D

5 times Gil protected Thena and one time She protected him

Up to you wich AU :)

It was his job to protect Thena. Technically speaking, it was his job to keep her safe and at an appropriate distance from anyone who could be a threat to her or any event tied to her or the label's reputation.

That was how his contract phrased it, at least. But his job was to protect Thena; that was how Gil phrased it.

And he took that job very seriously--always had. And there were different ways he protected her than just being her bodyguard, like most thought.

He could protect her image.

It was early on in his time working for her. They were at some awards show, and neither he nor Thena wanted to be there. But it was part of her job, which made it part of his, too. At least he didn't really have to talk to anyone, he could admit. Thena was forced to socialise with the odd interviewer or contact in the industry, much to her chagrin.

"Are you okay?" he frowned as Thena made the same pinched expression he'd seen a few times now. She kept rolling her shoulders in a way he'd never really seen her do before.

She scrunched up her mouth, obviously debating whether or not to tell him what she was thinking. They were still somewhat new to each other, after all. But she nodded him closer.

"I have to fix my dress, but these goddamn cameras are going to see every move I make."

Gil wasn't too proud to admit he blushed (just a little). He was...aware of how attractive Thena was--beautiful, really. That was part of her job, after all, and he wasn't breaching contract just by noticing that. But he didn't think of her in that way. She was a client, and also the boss of him, even if the label was technically in charge of them both.

Thena huffed quietly to herself, rolling her shoulders again.

"Here," Gil whispered, guiding her off to the side as a few other stars walked along the carpet ahead of them. He moved her in front of him, which was technically behind him, as far as the cameras were concerned. "Just hide behind me."

Thena gave him a questioning look for it, but he put his hands on his hips under his suit jacket, creating a curtain of sorts for her to fix the sparkly and skin tight dress she was wearing. He glanced over his shoulder too, just so she could have as much privacy as possible.

"Thanks," she whispered as she fidgeted with the bust of the dress. Or did whatever she had to do, because Gil was mortified at the thought of even looking at her in the moment.

He could protect her peace of mind.

"Thena, it'll be fine."

"Hey," Gil walked over to them, slipping his phone back in his pocket. Thena was on the defensive, arms crossed and angling herself somewhat away from the rest of the management team. "What's going on?"

Kingo held out a hand at her, "she just gets nervous about transportation sometimes."

Gil wondered what exactly was missing between the way Thena was acting and Kingo's vague statement. He looked at Thena, trusting that she would tell him more specifically what she needed and what had to happen to make it better. "What's wrong with what we've got?"

Thena shrugged, "nothing."

Kingo sighed, "Thena-"

Gil moved in front of her, which he could tell irked her manager/stylist greatly. But he focused on the singer folded in on herself. He nodded his head, asking her to speak in not so many words.

Thena squirmed and pursed her lips, like a kid who didn't want to go home yet. Or maybe wanted to go home right this minute. "The limo has to park on the main street. If we walk to it, there will be fans, and paparazzi, and-"

"And you can ignore them," Kingo suggested with a shrug of his shoulders.

But Gil held a hand out to him, which irked him even further. But he wasn't Gil's client (his priority), Thena was. "She's had a long day, man. And you know how they can get after a performance."

"Well, what do you suggest?"

Gil tilted his head, looking at Thena, who was both being very stubborn and trying not to make a big deal out of it. But her battery was completely empty, that much was certain. She looked ready to drop, and she probably was going to ask if they could go get greasy burgers or cheap tacos or something anyway.

"I've got an idea."

"What?" Kingo asked, but continued to go ignored by the bodyguard. He huffed, leaning past his massive shoulders to peek at Thena. "Just get home safe, and text me when you do, okay?"

She nodded, waving him and the rest of the team away. She looked at Gil, on his phone. "What did you think of?"

"You're hungry, right?" he asked her with a smirk. It stretched into a full grin when she perked up like a flower in the sunlight. "Ubers will take you through the drive-thru if they don't have another ride waiting."

That was one of the first instances of what had since become a tradition for them.

He could protect her physically.

He had done so plenty of times, obviously. He would always remember the first time that not only was he on the job, but rather when Thena actively sought him out for protection.

She wasn't even out as Athena: Goddess of Song. She was just out as Thena, with Makkari and Sersi. They were also in the music industry, of course, so it wasn't as if they could go around completely anonymous. But at the very least, they weren't at a music event, they weren't at a concert--they were just three friends out for drinks.

Thena had asked if he could be on call for the night, for when they had to get to and from different locations. He had easily agreed, not just because it was part of the job, but also because it was Thena; she would be socially exhausted by the third bar anyway. If anything, he was prepared to pick them up and get them all drive-thru on the way back to Thena's penthouse.

But Thena called him from the bathroom of the second bar. Apparently someone in there had recognised her and was being pretty aggressive about getting a photo - and her number - and meeting her friends. Without a proper escape route, she had called him.

And Gil arrived ready for a fight. The nerve of some creeps in this part of town astounded him. He easily found the guy, leaning against the wall outside the bathrooms, just as Thena had assumed he would be. Didn't the club have any security of their own?!

"Hey brother, I'm just waiting for my girlfriend t-"

Gil gave him a swift crack in the jaw, his fist sending the guy to the floor in the blink of an eye. He shook out his fist afterward, although his knuckles were well conditioned for impact. "Prick."

He knocked on the door, leaning his ear close, "Thena? It's me. Are you-"

She pushed the door open, nearly pushing it right into him. But she rushed right to him, her forehead pressed to his chest at the earliest opportunity. "Thank you."

Gil heard her loud and clear despite the head-rattling music from the dance floor. He folded his arms around her, knowing that no matter how much she didn't want to show it, that it was one of her worst nightmares to find herself in a situation like that. He pressed his cheek to her hair, "it's okay. I've got you."

He could even protect her from herself--in a way.

"Thena," he called her name for the umpteenth time, watching her pace the floor of her dressing room so consistently he was worried the rug would go bald. "It will be fine."

She wasn't listening to him. She wasn't listening to anything but whatever her head was screaming at her. And it was never kind things, Gil had come to learn.

She was picking at the cuticles around her press-on manicure, since she couldn't chew the fake nails. If she were sitting her knee would be bouncing a mile a minute. In not time at all she would start muttering aloud to herself.

"Thena," he tried again. He had been trying since he got her in the car, though. There was almost no winding her down from this point before a performance. Almost.

Thena grumbled as he planted himself directly in the path of her pacing. She tried to move around him but he trapped her in his arms against him. She huffed. "This is a little over the line, no?"

"So file a complaint," he chuckled, still holding her to his chest. He took a few deep breaths, deliberately letting his chest expand and contract against her.

Despite her attempt to remain cranky, she slowly fell into the same rhythm, her heartbeat slowing and her breathing becoming more even and more in sync with his.

"That's it," he whispered, running a hand over her hair. There was nothing he could say to comfort her in these moments. They would be as good as empty words to her anyway. The only thing that mattered to Thena were results. But to get the results she wanted, she had to be in the right mindset to perform in the first place. "You'll be great."

Thena sighed, dropping her head to his chin with a slight bonk. She would be burying her face right in his shirt if not for her full face of makeup. "You don't know that."

"You've got a pretty good track record so far," Gil shrugged. He didn't have to argue with her with false promises; Thena believed in results, and her popularity spoke for itself. "I'll be here waiting."

But his favourite part of the job was actually the part that was taking care of her. It wasn't actively protecting her from anything--maybe protecting her from burnout.

But it was things like carrying her after a long day in ridiculously tall heels when she was exhausted. It was knowing exactly what her order was at every fast food place in town, or coming over to make her breakfast when he knew she was sleeping until two in the afternoon after a performance. It was buying her medicine when she was sick; it was even running regular old errands for her.

He had come to like tucking her in when she was asleep and already snoring by the time he got her in bed (he had never told her she snored, just a little). He liked running hot baths for her so she could have a soak while he made a nice nutritious dinner for them (fast food was only for after performances). He liked that he spent more time at her place than his, these days.

He liked protecting her from the job.

Gil frowned as Thena's phone buzzed on the coffee table. She was in the shower, losing track of time as she sang to herself with the help of the steam stretching out her vocal chords. "Hello?"

"Gil?--I called Thena."

"Yeah, and I'm answering," Gil set down his breakfast burrito and got up for his own phone, left by the stove. "It's her day off--what's going on?"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry."

If he were really sorry then why was he calling?

"The label got a call from Ikaris' management team. Remember that piece she recorded with him?"

"Yeah," Gil murmured. He knew the piece personally--he had helped Thena rehearse it in this very spot.

"They want her to make a guest appearance at one of his shows he's doing on his tour--over in the UK."

Usually artists would just contact each other personally and let management figure out the details for them once they were or weren't in agreement over it. But then again, Thena and Ikaris weren't exactly friends. Friends through Sersi, and perhaps frenemies with a playful rivalry between them. But it made sense that Ikaris knew better than to slide into Thena's DMs. Not that she would know what that meant.

"We can talk about it tomorrow."

"Gil, come on, I wouldn't be calling if they weren't expecting an answer today."

"So tell them she's sick, or she's on vocal rest or some shit," Gil argued. He could hear Kingo getting frustrated with him. It wasn't that they experienced friction that often, and they were both part of Thena's team, and her friends. Gil considered Kingo his friend.

But if it was between Kingo or Thena, obviously he chose Thena.

"Gil-"

"Kingo," Gil pressed, his voice softening as he heard the faint fluttering of Thena's voice. She had left the door cracked; her trust in him was incalculable. "She's exhausted from the show this weekend. She really needs today to just...chill, okay? I promise first thing tomorrow, I'll get her on a call with his label. But today is all hers."

Kingo sighed loudly - dramatically - into his end of the phone. "You're a little too good at your job, you know that?"

Gil smiled to himself, "I take that as a compliment."

"I'm sure you do, Gil. Fine, I'll tell them she's on doctor ordered silence. Just make sure to bring it up in the email so it doesn't sound like uncorroborated bullshit."

"Will do," Gil promised before the call ended. He swiped the notification of it away. It was still in the phone's logged calls, but Thena never looked at that anyway. He set her phone down again, resuming his task of finishing his burrito.

"Who was that?"

Gil smiled, licking his lips as he finished up his last bite. "Just Kingo--nothing that can't wait until tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" she tilted her head, but she hadn't knotted up at the mere mention of work.

She had come a long way since he had first started working for her. "I'm sure."

She could even protect him.

"What the hell is going on here?!"

Gil was being visibly mauled by a horde of fans. They were mostly young, all significantly smaller than him, most of them appearing female. And of course Gil wasn't in the habit of fighting children.

"All of you!" Thena barked at them, storming over without a second thought to her initial desire to find their ride and go right home. "Get off him!"

Gil groaned as Thena pulled him from the grips of the crowd previously shaking and clawing at him. He even had a few scratches on his face.

"What the hell happened here?" she asked him, although the crowd around them was still rioting at them. She backed up with Gil tucked against her side.

"They're fans of Eros'," he sighed heavily, leaning against her. At least, he was until she moved him behind her. "Thena?"

"Get the hell away from him!" she bellowed, knowing exactly how to shout at them loudly and with a sustainable strength in her voice. "I cannot believe you would attack him like this!"

"He deserves it!"

"He punched Eros right in the face!"

"You should've had him fired!"

Thena's back raised, her shoulders tensing. She took a step forward, ready to get in a screaming match with a child.

"Thena, come on," Gil held her hand in his. He was spent from defending himself (which meant letting them tear a strip off of him and not fighting back at all). "Leave them be."

Thena all but growled at the gaggle of little monsters glaring at them. She had no concern what they thought of her. "You should be ashamed of yourselves for attacking an innocent man."

"He's the one who attacked an innocent man!"

"Come on," Gil urged Thena again, before she could argue that Eros was the instigator, which would be a pretty clear and direct breach of their agreement with his team to keep the whole thing quiet. "Just ignore them."

Thena did finally turn away from his assailants. She raised a hand to his face, brushing over a slightly swollen cheek, "what did they do to you?"

"Please," he chuckled, brushing off literally being mauled by a riot. "They're just a bunch of kids."

"If that's his most devoted fanbase, it does nothing to increase my confidence in Eros' character as a person," Thena scoffed.

"This will all blow over soon," Gil murmured, not that he was entirely sure that was true. He looked back at the crowd still booing him as they walked back to the car waiting for them. He walked closer to Thena, pulling her ahead of him--which was technically behind him to them.

Thena reached behind her, finding his hand naturally and slipping her fingers against his. "I'm sorry."

He gave her hand a squeeze in return, smiling despite the soreness of his swollen lip. "You have nothing to be sorry about."

"Still," she whispered, pulling him to walk beside her properly. She squeezed his hand even harder, "are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," he promised her, smiling genuinely despite his little scratches and scrapes. She frowned at him, openly doubting him. But he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "I'm sure."

#Thenamesh Bodyguard AU #so I got another ask #about Eros' fans getting to be too much for Gil #and I didn't know how to make it work at the time #so I hope it's okay I work it into this a little #Thena being protective of her bodyguard is cute #and of course she is #he's the most precious thing in the world to her #and obviously the feeling is mutual #also #when I mention Gil running errands for her #he is so the devoted boyfriend type #he has definitely run out to pick up tampons for her #and she's mortified at having to ask him #but he's a grown ass man he doesn't care #he comes back with one of those fuzzy pouches for a hot water bottle and chocolate and chamomile tea #because he's perfect like that

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snellyfish · 2 years

Note

(duck) w. what are your thoughts on drdt ch 2 so far

hmhmhhhmmmmm

I haven't seen the ttttttwo most recent videos I think, so keep in mind there's still some stuff I haven't seen yet, bc me and my bestie have been too lazy to watch them lately HAHA

ANYWAY........

2 unpopular opinions, which make me laugh because I love being passionately wrong;;

Absolutely cannot stand Teruko right now, she's pissing me off so bad it's embarrassing for everypony, but I'll get over it; I do look forward to what they end up doing with her character, but for now I await satisfying character development like a madman....... rip...... Babygirl stop being so edgy we get it. go to your corner if you must.

Unfortunately, I miraculously still love Arturo, I looove freak characters so much (no one is surprised!!) and I do genuinely think there's potential to come out of his...... err.......... What definitely reads like blatant in-character transphobia. LOL. Seeing this man doubled over in terrifying euphoria is truly all I could've ever asked for, so I can't complain.

In general, Arturo weirdly doesn't read like a character that will progressively get worse and worse until he's put down like ol yeller, I feel that he's got some sort of redemption ahead of him,, whether or not he dies afterwards or in the middle of said redemption. Maybe with an attempt to get genuinely close to J but it's rejected and heartbreaking for him, more spiraling but you feel a little bad for him somehow. Idk. Not to be delusional but I also have this idea, that I REALLY hope is somehow true despite every piece of contradicting canon information, that Arturo is transmasc too ..... because like ..... whatever.. crosses my arms.. you wouldnt get it .........

Not to Verturo on main but-- I smiled when Veronika was like "ok whatever ill just go play with Arturo then 🙄!!" I like to think it was super awkward when she did find him because he probably just infodumped about J the whole time. Veronika being like "can we talk about my day for once" GHHGFKJGHDF. LOVE WHAT VERONIKA HAS DONE THIS CHAPTER SO FAR IN GENERAL SHE'S SO SILLY SO YASS SO KIN

Ace is going fucking BATSHIT and I'm so here for it. GO GIRL BESTIE I LOVE YOUUUUUU SO MUUUCH. For the most part I generally don't care for Levi (just not my typea character ig, nothing personnel kid), so while it is a little YEESH that all of Ace's character rn seems to be driving towards Levi and their heads butting together, I am still a little intrigued by said interactions. They're like a chihuahua and a pitbull, ykno, ykno. Would not be surprised if Levi merked him but that might be too obvious of a kill so hmhmmhmhm.

Speaking of which;; they're also like waaaaaaayyyy playing up the possibility of either Whit and/or Eden dying soon. So I have a feeling they are safe...for now... maybe. Shrugs. I hope Eden gets another layer to her soon, either way, she is very sweet.... too sweet. Take that as you will.

.........Charuko<3

CHARLES IN GENERAL<3

With the tension in the air as it is now, I'm far less worried they're gonna pull another accidental blackened, since idk if anyone remembers but I was very concerned about that in the past. It's fine and fun for a first chapter, though! Gets things rolling I suppose :D Now everyone is incredibly scared and unbearably pissed off at everyone at all times, so yippee!

Fun motive, too, I think the whole secrets thing was a super fun concept in THH and I hope we get to learn everyone's secret at some point. PLEASE I BEG.

GOD. WEIRDLY SOOOOO EXCITED FOR DAVID THIS CHAPTER. REALLY REALLY HOPING HE DOESNT DIE. I WANT TO KNOW MORE HE'S SO SLAAAAAAYY. TWO FACED FREEEEAAAK DOING HIS BEST. PLEASE SNAP. YOU DESERVE IT. THAT IS ALL.

#🦆#anon #ask #drdt #danganronpa despair time #fanganronpa #not art

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kadavernagh · 10 months

Text

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The ME's Office PARTIES: Oliver and Regan SUMMARY: Ollie approached Regan online to ask about what was supposed to be his mother's autopsy file. Regan agreed they should meet to discuss it. But as they delve into the findings, things only get stranger, and the answers may lie in the lake instead of the morgue's file cabinets. CONTENT: Parental death

He’d been early. Which was a mistake, because now, now Ollie had to sit in the waiting room of a morgue. (Which was a ninth grade attempt at metaphor if he’d ever heard one. Which he had.) And pretend not to notice Marcy, the secretary, absolutely and unabashedly eyeballing him in some sort of way. As if he might keel over himself, and, by doing so, impose even more on her no doubt very difficult day. He should have brought coffee. But then he’d have to bring coffee for Dr. Kavanagh. Only he hadn’t thought to ask what she’d like, and to check last minute would seem unprepared, and he was already so, so unprepared, despite the notebook and pen and questions currently tucked tight against his side as he sat, and sat, and sat.

Not for that long. It wasn’t. Just felt that way. At precisely seven, those doors down the hall swung open. Ollie sat taller - regretted it, immediately, as his back twinged - and stood, head cocked, notebook and pen hanging in his much-battered, mid-”renovation” fingers. Until he shuffled his notes to the other side, quickly, politely, to offer a handshake to… who he’d presume was the medical examiner.

“Dr. Kavanagh? Hi, hello. Good morning.” Ollie managed a parent-teacher night sort of smile. That tired. Maybe more. “Thank you. Again. For your time. I hope I won’t be keeping you too long.” He really, really did.

Deirdre Eileen O'Rourke’s file was saturated with the name of another woman: Willa O'Rourke. The autopsy report was focused entirely on the decedent, of course, but Willa had left a trail of communications with the Medical Examiner’s Office, and was one of those next of kin who Regan would diplomatically refer to as “highly involved”. She was grateful she hadn’t personally dealt with the woman, though it looked like Dr. Green had not done so adeptly, letting her walk all over him. That didn’t mean there was anything wrong with the findings. Family dynamics could be more rotten than cadavers, and they could taint one’s grief. She had yet to determine whether Oliver had a true basis for his concerns.

Whatever the case, though, this would be interesting. Marcy had texted her saying an anxious man was waiting for her in the lobby, looking like he was lost in a grocery store. Looking at Oliver, Regan agreed with that assessment. She stared at his hand for a moment, and decided, after obvious deliberation, to give it a quick, polite shake. “Yes, good morning. Oliver O’Rourke, correct? You may come with me.” She started walking toward the door and did not look back to see if she was being followed. When she carded them through, she expected him to be behind her. “I have your mother’s file,” she said, pushing into her office. She waved him toward the chairs. “Seeing as you are next of kin, you may have access to the whole thing. I will hand it to you. But…” She frowned, a hint of actual sympathy crossing her face for a moment, before vanishing back to where it had crawled out from. “It may disturb you. Not the findings, in particular. The descriptions, and especially the photos.” She picked the file up, offering it, but hesitantly. “If you prefer I go through it with you, I will. Or you can read it and ask questions as you go. Your choice. But I take no responsibility for your reaction.”

He’d nodded, and an incredibly pale and unsettlingly cool hand had snaked out to meet his - lightly freckled, scratched, and scraped from all that work on the roof, and in the garden, and, and, and. (Could only moisturize so much of that away.) It was a very precise shake, Ollie would’ve said. Like her timing. Her overall everything. A very measured sort of person. It was a spectacularly good thing that she hadn’t dealt with Willa; his grandmother, with her dash-of-this and fashionably-late ways, would almost certainly have driven Dr. Kavanagh not just up the wall, but straight through the ceiling tiles. And out the other side, perhaps.

But Ollie simply kept pace, trailing after Dr. Kavanagh. This place only got colder, it seemed, and by the time he’d taken a seat across from her, he was very much regretting coming to the morgue in his shirtsleeves. This should be quick, though. Shouldn’t it? He did hesitate, though, as the actual folder appeared. Descriptions. Photos. His stomach - already coiled in on itself, for… a while - took another twist. Even an accident, or an accidental manner of death, as Dr. Kavanagh had emphasized, could be disturbing. Obviously. They hadn’t visited since… New Year’s? Just before. As awful as it was, his last picture of her had to be better than whatever was waiting in that file; it was unfair to her, to the both of them, but familiar. Not her fluttering around the kitchen with him, or delighted to show off her newest finds for the Museum - lovely candlestick holders she was tempted to keep, as if they needed more. (Sitting on the kitchen table, now. Not gone to the Museum, and not kept, either, not really. Seeing as it was all going.) No. The image stuck in his head, horribly, was the usual frenetic, circular not-talk they had every time he left town: roiling with that directionless dread, her eyes fearfully bright, her fidgeting hands laced tight enough together to stop her reaching.

Like his were, now. Ollie unwove his fingers, schooled his reaction. “Oh, of course not,” he half-laughed, or something like that. And swallowed, hard, jaw tight. “I would, yes, prefer you - please.”

Though part of Regan always thought those who couldn’t stomach what she did were weak-willed, it also took an impressive amount of self-awareness to know when to be deferential. When to not look. As the years stretched on, she was often leaning more toward it being better not to know certain things. Allow humans to be stupid and blissful in their ignorance like she herself could no longer be. But Oliver had lived ignorance for months and was deciding, now, that it was not so blissful. So Regan would oblige.

“Alright, then,” She said, pulling the report back closer to herself. It was probably the better call for Oliver’s mental state, though she made no indication that she was relieved by the decision. Regan began promptly. “Deirdre O’Rourke was a fifty-three year old woman. Cause of death was acute myocardial infarction, due to atherosclerotic coronary artery disease, in the context of essential hypertension. Manner of death was ‘natural’.” She turned the page. The death certificate was not especially interesting. Quite vanilla. “She ended up a patient here because she died in her home.” Regan explained, “We see many natural deaths. An autopsy does not mean there was any wrongdoing or that the death was unusual in nature. Often, it simply means someone died while not under the care of a physician or in the presence of others.” She looked thoughtfully at the report and then offered Oliver a glance. “This is a quick cause of death, in case you were wondering.” Regan didn’t even need to lie through her teeth and suffer the stomachache.

But they were here to look for inconsistencies, weren’t they? “Any history of cardiovascular disease in your family?” Regan asked, though an affirmative answer wouldn’t mean much. Common things were common. She turned her attention back to the report and continued. “Identity was confirmed via DNA analysis.” That was pretty good. Biological forms of identification were always preferable than just relying on next of kin. What would have been better was two forms of confirmation, like using dentistry or prosthetics. But that was not always feasible. “A toothbrush, apparently.” That was less good. Regan skimmed to other details, things Oliver may be able to verify. Or not. “No surgical implants, unfortunately, but a scar from a cesarean section. No occupational stigmata. A large number of moles on the upper arms, benign.” She paused, looking up from the file. Was Oliver handling all of this fine so far? More importantly… “Does any of that interest you?”

And there they went. Into the depths of a rather slim stack of papers, which was only what the story of this particular loss ought to be. Ollie had unfolded that notebook, laid it atop one of his knees, pen loosely in hand. As if there’d be anything to write down. Anything out of the ordinary. It’d give his fidgety fingers something vaguely useful to do, at least.

The pen tapped to the paper, but didn’t move, as Dr. Kavanagh recited the cause of death. An infarction; he’d watched enough Grey’s Anatomy reruns to dust off what that meant. Just a heart attack. Related to some sort of heart disease, which… he’d heard nothing about. Not the hypertension, either. Would she - no. She’d have said. Probably couldn’t have helped herself, fretting down the line on one of those calls, like she’d spun out that time she had to redo that blood panel because of “irregularities” that just couldn’t be a simple mistake, on the hospital’s part, obviously - anyway. People died of heart attacks. His mom had died, naturally, quickly, of a heart attack. His own, on the defense for months, sunk a little lower in his chest.

An accident, Willa had said, and, ridiculously, horribly, an image of something almost as awful as the “truth” she’d eventually told him had churned to mind: shattering, crushing, suffering. But people died naturally and quickly of heart attacks, at home. And his mother had been that lucky, at least. Hearing it, in the medical examiner’s perfectly even tones, was… well, the sensation wasn’t relief, exactly. Not only that, at least. It just - ached. A little. Less than it should and more than he’d expected, all at once. Like the smack of a not-too-full file folder, maybe, against a deep, still-purple bruise.

Ollie shook his head, slightly, when she asked about history. There wasn’t any; none of the O’Rourkes he’d ever heard of, and he’d heard of plenty. All that family he’d never got to meet, suffocated in mineshafts, lungs failing, cars skidded off the road, entirely-average-for-Wicked’s-Rest disappearances, and so on. Really, his mom was sounding like the least remarkable of all of them.

Not that this was sounding like his mom, anymore. At all. Ollie had started to stare, at some point, head tilting, that pen dragging a dark, directionless line into the note paper. He blinked. Did it interest him? “No, it’s - I mean, yes, but…” Because. Because, he lifted the pen off the page, clenched tight. “It’s wrong? She never had a c-section, for one thing, and - occupational stigmata, that’s…” so grim, if it meant what he was imagining. He’d looked to his own hands, slivered and jammed and paint-thinnered and over-washed, every lotion he’d ever tried in a losing battle with the art room. “Her hands were always a mess,” he began, quietly. “She worked at the museum, in conservation. Couldn’t stand gloves when she was fixing up anything too small. Too delicate. Which, well, that was most of the time, really...” Made her too clumsy for them, she’d insisted. All because of that one time, when she’d dropped a porcelain… not-bird, a Gripwing, she’d supposed, and it’d shattered entirely. She hadn’t ever forgiven herself, had she? Probably not. But. None of that was relevant, was it? Had to be efficient. Move right along, towards the next step, the next office, the next appointment. Towards that closure she’d hoped to give him. Even if it hurt.

It did. He could feel it, hurting, in the tight clench of his jaw.

“And she had freckles,” Ollie forced out, abruptly refocusing on the thing, the awful thing, at hand. On the details of it. All of the wrong, wrong details. “Like -” him. Dr. Kavanagh could see. No need to waste time pointing out the obvious, not when there was this to deal with. Quickly. Naturally. He could feel his heart, again; stuttering, now, slinking up the walls of his chest. “It’s wrong,” he insisted, entirely. “So, what, ah - what do I do, about that? Exactly. Please.” Please.

Regan didn’t have time to process her dad’s death before she had been whisked away by her grandmother. But even so, she had seen and understood just about every possible reaction to such a loss through next of kin. Disbelief, sorrow, rage. Faces flicked through each emotion in a matter of seconds sometimes and despite Regan being practically allergic to emotions, she had gotten pretty good at predicting just where people would land. Oliver had quickly moved from a deep despair to a curious disbelief. One Regan didn’t encounter very often. This wasn’t the type of denial that came with that nagging knowledge that behind it all, when everything was peeled away, reality was waiting to be confronted. This was different. He was suspicious. Not of her, Regan thought, but of something she’d said. And, indeed, he seemed to have good reason.

She listened, head cocked as she tried to wrap her mind around how any of this could have been mistaken on either side. She looked at the photo of the c-section scar. There was no doubt about what it was. There were internal photos, too. And the decedent’s hands were clean, manicured; signs of an easy life free of manual labor. “Very few freckles,” Regan mumbled, flipping through more photos. But it was unnecessary to keep going. She had already made up her mind.

She held the file stiffly in her hands and looked up from it, meeting Oliver’s eyes. She wasn’t sure what he had been expecting to uncover here, but it was not this. Regan sighed, which was about the best display of sympathy she could provide, though inside her chest, something ached for Oliver. Regan wrote it off as indigestion.

“Well, normally we would exhume the decedent to investigate further. Except… in this case, she was cremated.” Mistaken identification was a black mark against any medical examiner’s office – among the upper echelons of the most disgraceful mistakes such an esteemed entity could make. Despite that, it happened sometimes. Usually when decedents were too disfigured to visually identify with ease and there were no other, better indications that could be used. This was unique in that sense: they had done DNA testing. Was Oliver positive? Regan knew she couldn’t avoid showing him photos now. Perhaps he’d be more eager to view them if he held conviction that the woman in them would not be his mother.

She held the photos up, sparing him the ones of the woman’s organs. He wouldn’t be able to identify one heart from another anyway. “You should know that visual identification is relatively unreliable. People look different after they die. But if you say that this woman looks nothing like your mother – really nothing like her – I will believe you.” And that, of course, led the two of them down a trail of other questions, more difficult ones. Regan knew that as much as seeing a deceased loved one pained next of kin, that closure meant something. She was upending that for Oliver. “Dr. Green, the pathologist who did this autopsy, no longer works here. We cannot ask him anything about this autopsy.” That was kind of true – he had actually gone missing a couple of months after Regan started, but depending on how familiar Oliver was with Wicked’s Rest, he might even assume that. “There are two problems here. More, I suppose, from a legal perspective.” Like who was responsible for this. Regan had her own suspicions. “We need to find your mother, and we need to figure out just who this is.”

Exhume. A shiver crept up Ollie’s spine, but not far, at least. After all, awful as the idea was, quick as his imagination might be to unbury a barely-weathered coffin for him, nowhere-near-full of his mom, her nervous, worn hands gone bonier than ever, clutched tight in some state of lately-embalmed rot… well, neither of the stories he’d been handed had ever involved the option.

There was no grave, in the first one. When Deirde had died in an accident, she’d been cremated, too. So he’d had nowhere to go, to find her. Except that old house, in the way that old houses seemed to hold onto the echoes of their people: her rare laugh, the whistle of that stovetop kettle for tea, even her hardly-there footsteps, like she’d hate to do the floorboards any discomfort.

In the second? There was only the water.

He had those photographs in hand before he properly realized he’d even stretched out to take them. Before he could think his way into knots, coiling away from this. Ollie slid one aside, and another, eyes darting over the cold, morgue-lit details. Of an absolute stranger.

(The same sort of silhouette, maybe, the artist in him might’ve remarked; the same height, roughly the same weight, or close enough, presumably, and a smoker, too, with some familiar lines on her face. For the sake of matching whatever at-a-glance features Dr. Green might spy on any records he’d bothered to, well, glance at. He’d guess.)

But Ollie didn’t say any of that. He simply shook his head, again. Well, not simply. He was moving through rust, every joint stiff with it by the time he handed the thin pile back. As if he’d needed them all to know. Dr. Kavanagh clearly appreciated thoroughness, though. And just despised the lack of it. That might have been a flicker of comforting, if she hadn’t started to consider a legal perspective. Any legal perspective at all. His head tilted, like the medical examiner’s. Maybe too much? He blinked, and straightened, over-corrected the other way. Then looked down, at his somewhat scrawled-over notebook, the inky smudges gathering on his fingers. The pen tapped, counting out how far past way too long this probably sliver-sized pause felt. There was nothing else for it, was there? Nothing but wasting time, and more lies of his own to stumble through, more doubtful, more dangerous, by the minute.

“Please, believe me…” Ollie began, because that sounded believable, God. Seemed polite, at least. The pen tapped. “... when I say that I have no idea, at all, about - her.” Those photos got a jittery gesture. “I’m very sorry, for wasting your time. I didn’t think I would be, it should’ve…” Made sense. A different, more sensible sense. Too bad. That pen was clenched tight in his hand, curled off the paper. “I haven’t been exactly honest with you. I don’t know where she is. But I was told.” There was a difference, between knowing and being told. Especially here, when he knew so many reasons to doubt what Willa had been telling him. Very reasonable reasons. “I just, I wasn’t sure what to think?” He almost laughed, but the sound did some dying of its own, curling up quiet someplace high and sore in his chest. “My grandmother, she’s always had a way for, ah - making more of a story out of something.” It was her job, really. To look at the Flat and the freakishness of Wicked’s Rest and find something worth embroidering. “And she was old. And sick. And mourning. She keened, she had me take her to Hanging Rock, to… do that.” Alone. The way she’d looked at him, sadder than he’d ever seen her as he hung back, stayed silent, left some windblown space gaping between them. Just looked at him, like he should be joining in. Like he should know how. Willa never needed to know how to do anything.

Cover up a murder, for instance.

“She - the body might be in Silver Lake,” he rasped, suddenly. Far from sure that any of this had been a good idea, and unable to put it so bluntly as his mom, his mom might’ve been dumped in a lake. “Somewhere.” Or not. Then - Jesus. Best not to borrow any trouble. He was already in enough, just about writhing in the medical examiner’s office.

“You did not waste my time. I wouldn’t be a very good medical examiner if I wasn’t willing to discuss a case with next of kin.” But there was something else, wasn’t there? Some other reason why Oliver seemed to think he had something wrong. And there it was: he had withheld information. He looked too jumpy, too much like he might jump out of his skin like the degloved hands of her decedents, for Regan to be irritated. This was a curiosity more than anything else. A strange case about to get stranger. She listened with rapt attention, her eyes focused and intense while Oliver’s darted around the room like a frightened school of fish.

That was not information someone just conjectured. But even so, Oliver seemed uncertain. Or maybe the uncertainty was coming from the fact he was telling her at all. That he had reserved this information up until now, kept it locked up inside where even he might not have believed it.

“It sounds like we’re going to the lake.” Though Regan spoke with conviction, she was wavering. There were a number of logistical issues. First being how they would extract the body, if they found it (which, if it was there to be found, she would find it). The diving equipment, the boat, the machinery needed. Then there was the matter of her office and the police. Someone needed to be informed of this, but was it premature? All she had to go on was the word of a man who claimed this autopsy could not have been for his mother. She was inclined to believe him, because of the nature of the inconsistencies. However, next of kin made claims like that all the time.

“But…” Regan started. He knew there would be a but, surely. “You’re going to need to be honest with me, tell me everything you know. And we’re going to… scope out the lake, first, before we launch a full investigation.” Regan had a sinking feeling the lake held multiple bodies. “Let’s start with, why do you think she’s in the lake? Why believe your grandmother about this, after everything you’ve told me about her? And why is her name all over this file if she knows – why would she lie, orchestrate this?” Because that would need to be the case, would it not? If his grandmother knew the truth, then had interfaced with the Office of Medical Examiner about another decedent entirely, it was a casket full of lies. The word keen percolated through her mind. No, not a banshee. Right? “In my experience, there is only one reason someone would do something like this. And I think you know what that is.”

No, she wouldn’t be; still. What kind of a case even was this? What the hell had Willa done? There was a whole other body involved, now, a person who was missing from someone and somewhere, and… they were going to the lake. Ollie wasn’t spinning that ring on his thumb so much as ticking it back and forth, a quick quarter-turn, fast as the patter of his heartbeat.

(If anyone in his family - nevermind his mom - had actually died of a heart attack, he might’ve been worried. More worried.)

The thin, thankful smile he’d put together for Dr. Kavanagh’s kindish words faded fast at that but. Did he need to be entirely honest? Tell her everything? No; no, absolutely not. That’d be an even bigger mistake than all of this, so far. He was already shaking his head, fast. “Willa didn’t kill her. If you’re - no. Whatever went on, it wasn’t that.” Something a medical examiner had definitely never heard anyone be wrong about, before. “She - what she said, was -” he tried, paused, paring the so-called facts down into something sensible. “She said my mom was stalked.” Sounded more… human, than hunted. People had stalkers. “By somebody. Willa wasn’t sure who. Or how many of them. And Deirdre didn’t have enemies, or anything. Really.” That was honest. Everything, so far. “She was stalked, and attacked. At Lyssa’s Peak, while she was out -” being a giant snake monster, which she’d apparently become, “- and,” Ollie faltered, that ring held too tight to turn, “that’s - how she died. Out there.” Hiding away from whoever had killed her, like an animal curling up someplace soft and quiet to fade. In pain. Alone.

He blinked, quickly, throat working and not, jaw clicking aside and back. Christ. Ollie looked up, into the glare of the fluorescents overhead. Looked down, into the tight tangle of his fingers, with all their freckles and occupational stigmata.

“Then, well,” Ollie sniffed, and half-shook his head again, disbelieving, spitting out this story he just couldn’t swallow. “My grandmother decided the thing to do was wrap her daughter’s body in chicken wire and throw her in the lake! Right! Instead of tell the police, or me, or anyone. Because it was close to home. Because my mom had always liked it there. Because,” he took a lean in, the uneasy edge on his voice gone serrated, the craziness of it all catching on his tongue. “If whoever murdered her came back, they’d skin her. They would cut her skin off and -” rip out her teeth and her eyes and other things, Willa had said, with a seriousness he’d never heard, with all that certainty she usually saved for PSAs about vampires being compulsive counters and keeping homemade bread in your pockets so the fairies wouldn’t steal you, and other crap that didn’t deserve it. Unlike what had happened to his mom. What - taking a breath, a deep one, Ollie half-laughed into the next damn thing Willa had said. “And if they found out who she was, that she had a family, a kid, they’d do the same to me. For some reason.” Like being a giant, huntable snake monster. Obviously.

With that, Ollie… flickered some jazz hands into the dead-silent, empty air, with a grin as absurd as everything that’d brought the two of them together, today. The frantic energy of that not-quite-confession burnt out like touchpaper, though. Abruptly. Completely. He sat back, ashen. “I don’t believe her. I don’t want to. But now there’s this, and…” Ollie’s tired eyes fell to that folder, that wrong folder for the wrong body. “I - I have to solve what I can, here.” Which probably wasn’t much. And what would it mean, anyway? No amount of knowing would change any of what mattered. What mattered here. “Before I leave,” he tacked on. Like a promise, to himself. As if he needed the reminder. (As if he didn’t.)

Regan’s eyes narrowed into slits, and she had to buck back her mounting annoyance. Not only had Oliver come in obfuscating what he knew, he was as full of “facts” as a bloating cadaver was of gas. And, like that bloated cadaver, Regan wondered how much of it was putrid hot air. She had seen plenty of cases that had tested the bounds of what she thought humankind was capable of, but few were as complicated as this. TV loved a good murder mystery; the reality was that most of the time, homicides were straightforward, the only complicated bits being in the hands of the courtroom.

Now that Oliver was talking, however, he would not stop. And he struck Regan as the type who would ramble to his very death if no one intervened. So she would not (though she wasn’t eager to add a third dead O’Rourke to her plate). Finally, though, he seemed to burn himself out. Or thought he concluded. But Regan didn’t find it to be much of a conclusion at all. She rubbed at her temples and closed her eyes and when she sighed she half expected to take out a lightbulb, but the glass – and her sanity – held. “Alright.” She looked at him as he wriggled around in the chair, waving his hands around like he was ushering a plane in for landing. She’d match his frenetic energy with cool competence, which was sorely needed here. “What are you doing with your h– never mind. Alright,” she repeated, having processed… however much of that was in a form to be digested. “Correct me if I have misunderstood. You’re saying that your mother was being stalked, possibly by multiple perpetrators. Your family has no reason to have been targeted, as far as you know. They killed your mother on Lyssa’s Peak.” Okay. That part was… bizarre, but she could swallow it.

Regan continued. “Your feeble, moribund grandmother managed to wrap your mother up in chicken wire and dump the body in the lake, but was not responsible for the circumstances of her death. She neglected to tell the authorities but told all of this to you. Because your grandmother, who was perhaps senile, thought that your mother’s murderers would skin the cadaver. And you.” Oliver’s family was as twisted as this case. And Regan, despite how much all of this stank, was compelled by curiosity and compassion to investigate. And by the reputation of the Office. Which she cared about, stupidly, despite the fact she, too, was leaving. Speaking of… “When are you leaving?” She looked at Oliver, head turned like a whip, her brow furrowed. “I can’t allow you to leave town while this is ongoing, you understand.” It wasn’t official. Not even close. She had no authority to hold anyone. The police wouldn’t even be able to detain him like that, and he was so far from a suspect. But he was the only source of information Regan had, however unreliable he might be. So she needed him here, and if she needed to rattle him, she would. “You know details about this I wouldn’t expect. The chicken wire. The location. Do you know exactly where in the lake the body was dumped?” Her eyes locked onto his, determined. Regan wasn’t sure how much of Oliver’s story she believed, if any of it, but bodies did not lie.

God. He’d tried to make it even vaguely sensible. But it wasn’t. It just wasn’t. Ollie laced his offending hands back together, over-aware of the heat in his cheeks as Dr. Kavanagh ran the whole, ridiculous thing back at him. Mortifying. Like his family always was, even now. “I’m not saying,” he clarified, abruptly. A little desperately, maybe. “That’s - all of that, it’s just… what Willa thought. And she wasn’t feeble.” There was a half-beat, then, even quieter: “Not until she was.” At the end. So close to the end that it’d come as a surprise, somehow, when his grandmother had started to actually seem to be dying, at all. “Or senile. At least, I didn’t think - she seemed the same.” Which wasn’t necessarily saying much, but. What could he say? “You didn’t know her.” That was all the explanation Ollie could, or cared, to give. If you hadn’t known Willa O’Rourke, well. There was simply no explaining her. He couldn’t, not without saying things he might hate her and his mother and himself for. And things that would just fucking hurt.

And he couldn’t explain any of this. Not in any real sort of way. Willa and Deirdre, they’d never felt much need to offer real explanations.

“The rest is - yes.” The medical examiner had listened more than he’d let himself hope for, really. As for getting out of town anytime soon… he’d expected that. Only made sense. Better than arresting him for being an absolute pain in her ass, or a murder suspect! Really! Still, Ollie’s heart found somewhere even lower to sink to. When was he leaving? When, Christ, when was he finally going to get to put Wicked’s Rest in the rearview, for good? “As soon as possible. When this is dealt with, and the house is gone, and… everything else.” He bridged those laced fingers, half-nodding. Yes, he understood. Yes, he knew - not exactly. But. “The north end. Deepest part,” Ollie added, then: “There’s a gradient current, to the southeast. So I would expect there to have been some drifting, if -” She hadn’t got tangled up in who knew what? If it? What did you call your mother’s - God. “If nothing got in the way,” he settled on, flatly, cracking his knuckles one after another. Until he realized he was, at which point he wrapped them around the edge of that notebook. And closed it. “Is there anything else I can help you with, here? Or…” Could he leave this horrible, white-walled room, at least? Could he get that far away from this?

The way Oliver spoke of his grandmother combined with the heavy, needling hand Willa played all throughout the file sitting in front of her, lent Regan some understanding into the O’Rourke family dynamics. He couldn’t see such a woman as feeble or senile. It did not mean she wasn’t. But some women had an effortless way of wielding power, the figurehead of the family with wiles for each wrinkle who cast a shadow down the long trunk of their family tree. She knew someone like that. Exactly like that. And for a moment, she wondered if maybe, maybe, there had been some merit to her earlier thought. That she’d rejected it too quickly. Oliver could not be a banshee. But his mother, his grandmother? Willa’s grip continued past her death; Cliodhna’s reached far outside of Saol Eile. The stalkers could have been maoir. The death, a frantic scramble to hide what ought to stay hidden. “I think I understand your grandmother better than you assume I do,” Regan said, finally, nodding.

“I can’t blame you for wanting to leave. I’m not long for the town, either…” She twisted her lips. Every day, it seemed like there was more she added to her pile, more things she needed to finish before letting Siobhan take her. How long could she put off her departure? She wasn’t sure. So best not to dawdle. Fortunately, Oliver knew far more than he’d initially let on. Down to the part of the lake. Regan would have been stunned if it wasn’t already obvious this whole obfuscated mess was covered in O’Rourke fingerprints. Three lofa generations. “Alright,” She sighed through grit teeth. “From now on, you tell me everything. Understood? Before I even ask. Anticipate what I will ask. And then tell me the information I need to know.” Her eyes glinted. His sweat glinted more.

Was there anything else here?

“Not here,” Regan said, head tilted, knowing confidence on her lips, trying to drag Oliver toward the conclusion she craved and he needed. “At the lake”.

#writing #c oliver #parental death tw

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