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highwaymanstories · 2 years ago

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Highwayman. Part One

Pearls Before Swine

It’s their honeymoon, I think. The couple stands, hand in hand in hand in hand, at the front of their luxury cruiser, staring off at the gleaming, distant stars of the cosmic Elsewhere. The cruiser’s a rental. At least, I hope it’s a rental. This sort of two-crew personal ship, with Ley capacity no less, cost about as much as a matched pair of human kidneys on the Githem gray market. But based on our quarry, they can afford it.

They were Perchlor in the FIS, which made them easy targets. Not too many four-armed humanoids in these parts, save the more insectoid chimeras. Bring a bottle of Itoan hooch to the customs guy who works nights out of the Githem North-Central travel depot, and ze’d give out a goddamn Com-Pop star’s hotel room number. Easy enough to get the travel path of Lucy and Reggie Proper. They were taking the scenic route to Vybes in the Appenzell Canton, heading to one of those coastal resorts by the planet’s South Pole. Fancy. Expensive. And they were bringing their wedding presents along with them.

From my perch inside the Nickel, I activate remote access and refocus the security camera on Lucy’s face. Handsome Perchlor, not our type — my type— but a strong jawline can make anyone look good. I’d been told Lucy Proper was the child of an old nightclub crooner and a picture star, and I could tell. Ve has on those wraparound shades that the Perchlor all wear, but had lowered them enough that ver top eye is visible. Vivid blue, blue that almost makes me think ve can see me when ve glances up at the camera.

But then Reggie takes Lucy’s hand in zirs. The couple turns, looks at each other. I can’t read their expressions behind those glasses, but that doesn’t make the thoughts behind that glance any less obvious. Hominids are so oozy.

But, they are distracted. So I tap a few keys on the retrofitted QWERTY and deactivate the shields on the cruiser. Neither lovebird notices the tiny blinking light on the console. So far, so good. I take another look at the real-time map simulation. The program takes a few minutes to process the information, but it’s running off a processor ripped from and old ‘167 Soviet gaming console, so I try not to be too harsh with it. As the CRT prints the model, I thank the old motherboard. It does good work, best it can at least. I relate to that.

I examine the render: a wireframe of the ship, with spots of density shaped out in dark colors. The cruiser’s light on security, shields deactivated, cargo kept in a compartment under the sleeping suite. That should be where we’ll find the target. Client told us it’s a pearl, gifted to the newlyweds as a present, but taken from them without rights. So, we’re getting it back for them. At a fair price, of course.

The sleeping suite’s a bit cluttered, but static on the render, with no security system, not even cameras. Probably smart to take the cameras out of the honeymoon suite. I trace the path from the airlock into the suite; it starts in the cockpit, where the locking couple had intertwined the fingers on both sets of hands and were pressing close together. Physical proximity indicates romantic relationship and emotional intimacy for nearly every sapient species in the Somewhere; it’s one of the few things they all have in common. Except the Gyo. I have — we have — they have, on the homeworld, no concept of intimacy, the same way fish don’t have a concept of water.

But a clean path, just a couple cameras. I do a visual check on the hallways, cycling through the cams. No turrets, no tripwires, not even a smoke alarm. Almost too easy. I start up a second scan, just in case the first missed something, but I think we’re good to go.

I run the tip of an arm over the QWERTY, settling on the J. I love the little bumps humans leave on the QWERTYs, to remind themselves where their fingers are supposed to go. I could have replaced the interface with a touchscreen, but the QWERTY is so tactile, so physical, so extant. It feels like I’m doing something when I press those keys.

The J is my favorite key, so I mapped my favorite control to it. I feel the nub under my arm and press down, activating comms.

“Path’s clear,” I say. “Lovebirds in the cockpit. I got eyes on everything except the suite. Get ‘em, cowboy.” Then I switch cameras back to the cockpit and watch the show.

Dime hisses as it hooks onto the airlock, pirate screws overriding the latches with a satisfying clunk. Reggie’s too lost in lust to notice, but Lucy looks over at the airlock, surprise plain on vir face. Ve can almost get out the words, “What was —“

Then the airlock opens, and you step inside, guns drawn. You grin, like a madman, like you always do, and tell them, “Reach for the sky, friendos.”

Wyatt Hobb, you are my favorite person. You say those words every single time. “Reach for the sky.” We are in space. The sky is everywhere. It’s stupid. Everything about you is stupid: your stupid hat and your stupid boots and your stupid long jacket and your stupid little face that folds into a perfect pout when I don’t laugh at your jokes and just — I have never met another person like you, and that thrills me like you cannot believe.

Reggie and Lucy freeze. Reggie looks about ready to vomit. The sight is almost comical; the two Perchlor must each be nearly seven feet tall, and here’s little five-foot-nothing you, and they’re piss-terrified. But these two have never been in a fight, probably never even thrown a punch. I can see that clean across their faces. They definitely have never had pair of Colt six-shooters pointed in their faces, not least because that gun hasn’t existed in a usable state for two, three hundred years now. And these aren’t antiques. These guns kill people.

But you don’t like to kill people. So you cock your head to one side and give them that little smirk, the same smirk you gave me two years ago, the first time we met. And you say the same thing to them you said to me, too.

“Now empty your pockets, nice and easy. Don’t want no one to get hurt. I certainly don’t, and I doubt you kind folks want that either. So no funny moves.”

Reggie glances at Lucy, looking for confirmation. Lucy’s steelier than vir spouse, I can see that on the monitor clear as day. But ve still nods and pulls a wallet out of vir jacket pocket. Reggie follows suit, and the two of them toss down wallets, keys, the little CommSlabs the Perchlor use for wireless communication. No weapons, of course. You give them an easy smile, tip the brim of your hat.

“Thank you kindly,” you say, and you sound like you mean it. I’ve never heard you lie. You say things that aren’t true, sure, say things that aren’t true all the time. But out of your mouth, they don’t feel like lies, just truths from another timeline. Like I all I would need is your perspective, and I’d get it, bones and all. You have a voice that begs people to see things your way. “Now,” you add, holstering one gun and pocketing the wallets and CommSlabs, “I’m just gonna ease on past you, get what I came here for. You don’t make any business for me, I’ll have no business with you. Sound amenable?” Reggie looks at Lucy again, and Lucy nods. “Y’all on your honeymoon?” you ask.

Lucy speaks up now. “Yes,” ve says, and damn, if you weren’t you, you’d probably fall in love with just that word out of vir mouth. Parents were a crooner and a picture star, no fucking kidding. “We don’t want any trouble,” Lucy adds, and I believe vir. “We’ll do what you say.”

That just makes you smile wider. “Got a feeling we’re gonna be real amigos, then. I trust y’all, which you should wear as a badge of honor. Now, I just want one thing from y’all, and then we can part ways, never the twain shall meet again. Sound clean?”

I can tell Lucy has no idea what you’re saying. I don’t either, usually. But ve just nods vir head.

“Neato.” You move past them, cool as cream, and into the hallway. I switch cameras, follow you through, and turn on comms again.

“Starfish to Cowboy, can you hear me?”

“Cowboy to Starfish, nearly home and clear. Now, where’s that pearl?”

“Should be in the sleeping suite. Render tells me there’s a cargo space loaded with goods under the floorboards. Those are probably the gifts, and if so, the pearl will be among them.”

You look up at the camera and grin and I just about melt. “Damn, Mai. You’re a goddamn treat. Don’t know how I did this before you.” I can feel my core flush, my arms twitch a little.

“You did it well, Wyatt. Now let’s finish this job and hit the Lines. Door on your left.”

Just as I say that, the second scan finishes, and the render prints out on my monitor.

Something’s wrong. I see it immediately. Inside the suite there’s an innocuous little lump, I thought it was piled blanket maybe. But it’s moved.

I jam my arm back onto the J.

“Wyatt, stop, something’s wrong.”

But it’s too late. You opened the door already. Still you touch your ear, activate your comm.

“What —“

Then a tiny, fluffy ball of rage flies out of the room and knocks you to the floor.

It can’t be more than thirty pounds and two feet long, but this little monster digs its claws into your chest and you scream like your soul’s been ripped out by the devil himself. The gun drops from your hand, clattering on the floor.

The creature is dark gray, four-legged, with tiny, pointed ears and a long, thin snout with tiny razor teeth. Its claws don’t look sharp, but they’re long and ragged and carve a gash across your arm as you lift your hands to protect your face.

“Shit.” I hit the J. “Wyatt, what’s happening? What is this?”

“Fucking dog!”

I have no idea that what means. Judging by the tone in your voice, though, you don’t like it. And it doesn’t seem like you’re making any progress at removing it from your limbs. I grab my nullSuit, slipping my arms into the nine sleeves and closing the zipper around my core. The helmet fogs up around my eye before I turn on the systems manager, which floods the suit with oxygen and clears the glass.

Before I jet off the Nickel, I glance at the security feed again. You’ve managed to stand up, though this… dog… is latched around one of your ankles now. You’re shaking your leg, trying to fling it loose, and I’m momentarily reminded of the “square-dance” you showed me that night we found a half-full bottle of Soviet Kentucky Whiskey on a junker.

Then something glints around the dog’s neck. I bring my arms back to the QWERTY, zoom in the camera, run and artificial enhancement filter.

It’s a collar, and a tag. There, engraved in cursive lettering, is a word, a name.

“Shit,” I say, again, and hurry to the back of the ship, pull myself through the zero-gravity and into the airlock. I double-check the seal, then jet out into the void.

This isn’t the first time I’ve had to do field work, but still, I get a little chill each time I head into the fray. My job is dangerous, you won’t let me forget that, but even so, my perch in the Nickel feels removed, shielded from the violence, and the elegance, of the work. On site, with the targets, it feels like I’m in the mud. Most of me hates it, wants to get back to the Nickel as quickly as possible. But there’s a little sliver of me, a tingle in one of my arms, that loves it.

And the journey across the gap between our ships is something else entirely. Out here, floating past the endless lengths of the Somewhere, the distant Elsewhere stars twinkling faintly, I truly feel alone. It’s the greatest feeling in the world.

I land on the Dime, a little jet pod hooked on the cruiser’s airlock like a tick. I pop the access hatch, wriggle inside, shut it behind me. Instantly, the raiding ship pressurizes. I hurry through the airlock and into the cruiser.

Reggie and Lucy still haven’t moved. But then they see me scramble onto their ship and I can see Reggie flinch. It still bothers me. It shouldn’t. But, even though the Gyo have been around longer than almost any other spacefaring sapients, I guess it’s hardwired in the hominids to recoil at the sight of a four-foot-tall, nine-armed starfish. Evolutionary design. Doesn’t make it sting any less. But that’s something I love about you, I guess. You didn’t even flinch the first time you robbed me.

At least they don’t try to stop me as I roll into the hallway. You’re on the ground again, dog latched onto your arm, biting through the coat. You look up and see me, and the relief on your face almost knocks me flat.

“Mai!” You say. “Thank heaven. Get this feller off me ‘fore he rips off my goddamn hand!”

I’m honored you think I can do that. But I’d like to keep all my limbs today, thank you, so I hurl myself into the sleeping suite to search for something to help. It’s a big, round, pink room, with a seven-sided bed I recognize as the symbol of love on Perchlorate. I find the spot in the floor where the cargo showed up on the render and pry the hatch up.

Goddamn decadent. The gifts in this compartment must be worth more collectively than I’ll make in my lifetime. Platinum necklaces. Massive, raw gemstones. Kitchen gadgetry that could run half of Mars’s computing needs.

And a small plastic cage, just the right size for the dog-creature.

I grab the cage and drag it back out into the hall. You’re on your stomach now, the murder-fluff trying to tear though the small of your back.

“Wyatt!” I say, “I found a cage.”

“Great,” you say, through gritted teeth. “Now grab the little shit, lock him up, and throw away the key.”

I set the cage down and open it. I look at the fuzzy little animal and say, “Dog, go into the cage.”

The dog does not go into the cage. It doesn’t seem to notice the cage is even there.

You stand up now, the dog scaling your leg, claws digging into your skin. I can see tears of pain welling in your eyes.

“Mai. Please. Just grab the dog, and put it in the cage.”

I creep forward, reach toward the dog. Then it turns, and snaps at me, and it looks in my eye and I look in its eyes and I know this miniature demon could rip through my nullSuit like tissue paper and would do so without a first thought, let alone a second. So I retreat back into the sleeping suite.

“Maiiiiiiiiiii.” Your voice whines after me, but I’m not abandoning you. I’m regrouping. I dig back into the cargo hold, searching for something to distract the dog. But I still barely know what a dog is, let alone what it might like. Maybe shiny things? I grab a few gemstones and fling them into the hallway. Nothing. So I grab everything: electronics, jewelry, statues, antique books, every last gift, and fling them at your flailing form.

But the dog doesn’t seem to care about anything except getting to your throat. And it’s getting close, and you’re getting tired, and the dog isn’t.

There’s one thing left. I lift the chunk of solid rubber out of the hold. It has an odd shape, a long cylinder with two lumps on either end. As I cradle it in my hand, the center compresses slightly, and it lets out a squeak.

The dog suddenly stops growling. I turn and see the dog staring at the chunk of rubber. I hold it up, and the dog’s eyes follow it. I squeeze it again, and suddenly the dog has its tongue sticking out, its tail wagging as it hops off of your arm and to the floor.

You collapse back against the wall, gasping, exhausted.

“Looks like you found its toy,” you say.

I slowly approach the dog, then squeak the toy again. Suddenly, the dog sprints at me, mouth wide, slobber dripping from its fangs.

I want to flee. I want to drop the toy and jet out into space. Instead, I stand my ground, and wait. And just as the dog is about to leap at me, I toss the toy into the cage, and the dog follows it inside.

I slam the door shut, close the latch. The dog doesn’t seem to notice as it curls up in the back, gnawing on the toy.

You stumble over next to me. “Thanks, Mai. Saved my hide there.” I try to act nonchalant, but inside I’m brimming with pride. You look around at the smashed and scattered presents. “Well,” you say, “there doesn’t seem to be a pearl here. Hope we don’t have to take off one of Reggie’s toes to get its location out of those two.” I laugh, and you give me a look. “What’s so funny?”

“Check the collar,” I say. You crouch down, peering into the cage.

There, glinting in a sliver of light, is the dog’s name written on the tag: “Pearl.”

You chuckle and step back, then put your hands on your stomach and let out a deep, guttural laugh. I love your laugh, so much. You don’t laugh like a Gyo, or like any sapient I’ve met, other humans included. You laugh like you want the whole entire Somewhere to know how pleased you are. It’s contagious, so I start laughing too, and now we’re laughing together, until a voice calls out from the cockpit.

“Can we move now?” asks Reggie.

You scoop up the cage and I follow you back into the cockpit. You grin at the loving couple, tip your hat.

“We’ll just get out of your hair,” you say, “and take this with us. Honestly, we’re doing y’all a favor. Congratulations on the matrimony, and here’s to a long and happy union.” You bow low, taking off your hat and sweeping the floor with it. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you, and it drives me mad. But I stay quiet and follow back into the Dime. Reggie and Lucy stare at us as we leave, and I wonder how long they’ll stay together, now that they’ve met you. You tend to break hearts without even trying.

Back on the Nickel, we crash in the lounge. Pearl sits in its cage on the table, still gnawing at that bone. You stare at the dog, brow furrowed. “Funny,” you say, “Client could’ve made things a hell of a lot easier, they clarified what kinda pearl we was searching for. Still, if they had, I might not have taken the gig. Not really a dog person, always preferred cats.”

“I don’t think I’m a dog person either,” I say, and you laugh like you know a secret I’ll never understand.

“Guess not.” You stand and stretch. The hem of your shirt rises up, exposes a thin strip of skin along your midsection. I don’t know why, but I’m fascinated by this part of your body. Is it a human thing, or a Gyo thing? Maybe it’s just a Mai thing. I’d be happy if that’s the case. I like having my own things. You give me a look and a smile. “Ready to jet?”

“Sure.” I swing up onto my perch, rest my arms across the controls. I don’t know how anyone does this with just two hands. I turn off the gravity anchor and set the thrusters.

You take a seat in the cockpit and lower the light shields so you can see through the windows. No matter how many times we shift into the Ley Lines, you love to watch it happen. “We’ve got to see Ramos to get our pay, so mark out for Skelter. Ready?”

I punch in the coordinates, then open the protective case around the deactualizer and wrap an arm around the switch. “Ready.”

You lean back and grin. “Then hit it.” I pull the switch.

Outside the windows, we can see the stars of the Somewhere, mapped space. And beyond them, the stars of the Elsewhere, the rest of universe, home to the great mysteries of the cosmos. And then the lights double, as if layering a semi-transparent image of space over itself. Then space doubles again, and again, until the black between the stars is blotted out by light, until the deep dark void is gone and all that’s left is blinding white and we shift from reality to unreality, from physics to philosophy, from the universe into the Ley Lines. And we’re here, and we’re together, and we’re free.

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wthtorke · 3 years ago

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Kofi Match up for @devotionage !

The info:

I’m an INTJ, 5’6 and athletic, kind of like Margot Robbie: thin with a wide rib cage. Bi and goes by she/her pronouns. Long blonde hair that I like to make wavy.

I love being artistic with makeup and nail art with nerdy designs like Pokemon balls and the TMNT. I’d draw more if I had the time and discipline.

I love working out and doing yoga for stress relief and fun. I love horses and dogs and my favourite food is sushi. I used to do gymnastics (still very flexible from it) but I switched to martial arts after I got a concussion. I have a black belt in Tae kwon-do and I absolutely love sparring and weapons training. I’m really good with the bo and sais.

I’m definitely a closeted nerd. I cosplay. I love Sci Fi and fantasy based tv series/ movies / games like Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Star Wars, and Star Trek. Aliens of any species have always fascinated me. I loved reading horror/ fantasy books. My absolute favourite things to do with friends are panic rooms and laser tag, anything competitive or challenging with a team.

Personality wise: I'm pretty outgoing for an introvert. I like my alone time but I need intimacy from the people closest to me. I'll talk about anything and will try anything at least once. I'm an ambitious and academically focused person, school and my career are my #1 priority. I’d say my flaw is being a perfectionist which can lead to anxiety and make me overly critical of myself. Overall I’m a passionate person who wants to know more about the big universe she's in."

I match you with Fugitive!

Every strong aspect of yours complements Fugitive's beautifully. From being a closeted nerd to doing well socially but still need your own space.

Everything about you interests him. When he thinks he knows all of you, you come through the door with pokemon nails and he can't help but stop for a second because that shouldn't be nearly as cute as it is.

Fugitive knows more about human culture than the average yautja does. A lot more, he could say; so getting to watch and talk about movies, series and games with you is the one thing he didn't know he needed. Fugitive had never really played games before, at least nothing like the human ones you show him. His favorite is Dragon age, he loves slaying dragons in the game but never leaves a side quest behind, finishes the game 100%. While the controller might be too small and the pc keyboard too fragile, he loves getting to spend time with you, even if it means not playing while you both wait on for a custom made controller for his size, he will gladly watch you play (while also giving his input on whatever you're doing, call it hunter's experience)

Another thing that Fugitive loves about you is how willing you are to try things. Number one; because he's an alien, and no average person would just accept him like that, and also because he himself is not afraid to try anything new. Fugitive had never eaten sushi before, so when you introduce it to him, he's curious. Definitely breaks the first set of disposable chopsticks that comes with the food on accident, is grateful for the hardwood ones you own

Fugitive loves engaging in the activities you do, the tae kwon-do black belt sure did both impress and intrigue him in the best way possible. He can't help but feel some sort of pride watching your moves and just how well you can find for yourself, he asks you about your techniques and tries to mimic them, you draw the line of your little training session when he kicks a tree too hard and breaks it in half

Loves playing wrestling and sparring with you, and while it may seem impossible to play wrestle with a yautja, with Fugitive it's not only possible but also fun! Plus it does lead to more...strenuous activities because of all the manhandling going on

All in all, Fugitive would love to know you and all these layers that make you more and more interesting and fun to be with while you do the same thing to him! You bring out the best in each other in a way that he hadn't ever expected happening, he falls hard for you!

#hope you like it ;;#yautja #predator #alien #yautja/human #the predator #human/yautja #yautja x reader #alien vs predator #yautja x human #fugitive predator #kofi match up #headcanon #alien relationship #yautja boyfriend

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s0ulm8s · 4 years ago

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boys like you (1.0)

✿ summary : alone and left in a mansion with nothing but your canvases and the dust slowly collecting on the window sills - a commission and a call from a childhood friend completely changes your life.

✿ genre : ot7 x f!reader, poly au, hybrid au, soulmate au, deer!seokjin, black panther!yoongi, great dane!hoseok, wolf!namjoon, calico cat!jimin, tiger!taehyung, bunny!jungkook

✿ warnings : mentions of death, maybe some mentions of assault, some fluff, reader is described as small (i.e smaller than jimin), slight age gap (reader is younger than jungkook)

✿ word count : 2.2K

✿ author’s note : i am inexperienced in hybrid aus, smut, and series so pls bare with me (not proofread yet)

✿ series masterlist! | 2.0

making yourself buckle down and work on the piece in front of you had proven to be more of a task than you had originally anticipated. the wide expanse of blank canvas you had stretched yourself 3 weeks ago, mocked you from the the sun room. it was only four days before you had to deliver your piece that you had really forced yourself to pick up a paint brush and do something useful.

the endless days spent alone in the vast building you now called home was doing a number on your psyche. the sheer loneliness seemed to eat away at not only your sanity but aided to your artist’s block - it was truly a gruesome cycle. locked away in an beautiful estate that you never asked for.

not only that, but working from home and having an all but nonexistent social life in a country you only permanently moved to a year prior was a fate worse than you had imagined.

you huffed, finally setting your small brush down on the easel, stepping back to assess your final draft. despite being so unmotivated and plum out of ideas, you were still proud of what you created - you had promised yourself long ago that you’d never sell a piece you abhorred, and you’d remained true to that promise thus far.

a blaring ring ripped you out of your critical trance trained on the landscape in front of you, startling you as your heartbeat quickened in pace.

“hello?” you answered, soft voice flowing through the other end as you anticipated the response from the unknown caller.

“yah! y/n! is that you?” the voice that responded was loud and excited, the baritone of it something you could never forget. a staple soundtrack from the summers you spent with your father in south korea.

“mingi? how’d you get my number?” you asked, a genuine smile flooding your face at the sound of his familiar laugh on the other end.

of course, the two of you had stayed in brief contact since meeting as children. but as you grew, you saw less of each other. three years ago he and his boyfriend, yunho, had successfully started their own rehabilitation and adoption center for hybrids. the first year was hard, but the business quickly gained popularity and as the creator - he’d been exceptionally busy since her permanent move to south korea. they had two permanent doctors on staff, kim hongjoong and park seonghwa, along with a 24 hour staff. the workers were really exceptional, but you had only ever met their core group when the business first started. which included: choi san, jung wooyoung, choi jongho, kang yeosang, the two doctors, and of course the two owners.

“you were commissioned by a friend of mine! which is actually why i wanted to reach out.” he answered happily as your breathing evened and heartbeat finally settled.

“it’s good to hear from you, really. what can i do for you?” you asked sweetly, and mingi only briefly thought about teasing you for your soft tone and giving nature.

“would you be able to come to the adoption wing today? i’m working here all day as we’ve some new hybrids ready to find a new home. maybe in about an hour? you could join me on my rounds and we could talk. i’d like to see you, anyways. i’ve missed you.” mingi spoke professionally, but his admission made tears prick at your eyes. he almost sounded like the sixteen year old boy who had stolen your first kiss when visiting your father that summer and the memory of when things were simpler stung in your chest. your cheeks flushed. mingi smiled at your silence, knowing he had flustered his best childhood friend. you narrowed your eyes briefly, as he had tried to convince you many times in the past to adopt a hybrid of your own - but you had declined, not entirely convinced that you could provide an exceptional life for another being. because even though your knowledge on hybrids wasn't nearly as advanced as mingi’s, you still knew the basics. they weren't just animals, they were human. and there was no guarantee there. there never was with humans. you hesitate.

“y-yes. i can come by, i’ve just got to swing by and deliver my painting beforehand.” you answered as you both agreed on the meeting the time. “oh, and mingi? i’ve missed you, too.” you said genuinely as he broke into a toothy smile. it had been ages since he’d seen you, and though he knew he could blame it on his work - he didn’t know how to face you after the death of your father. he couldn’t bring himself to be there for you, to see you so broken, and he had blamed himself for that everyday. it was a relief to hear you say it. you had always been so forgiving, sometimes to a fault.

after bidding your goodbyes to the tall boy on the other side of the phone, you quickly changed clothes into something not completely ruined by the muted pigments of your paint, loaded up in your small suv, and you were off.

the delivery of your piece went smoothly, no heckling or disapproving gazes from the wealthy couple, which made your trip to TWILIGHT that much faster. you pushed open the double doors connected to the building in the right wing, clearly labeled ADOPTION.

the smell of roses and lavender was strong in the reception area, the scent was welcoming and calming as you walked up to the front desk.

“y/n!” the dark haired boy behind the computer called, finally rolling away from behind the screen. kang yeosang. “it’s so good to see you!” he exclaimed, eyes scanning your face as he made his way around the counter and pulled you into a soft embrace.

“likewise, yeo! it’s been a while hasn't it?” you ask rhetorically as you stare up at his daunting height.

“mmm” he hummed with a nod, releasing you. “i'll let mingi know you’re here.” he called, returning to his place behind the sleek desk, paging mingi, and then proceeding to catch up with you.

the small conversation didn’t last long before a pair of heavy footsteps drug your gaze to the wide staircase, mingi barreling down them.

you braced yourself as the giant scooped you up into a bone crushing embrace, spinning your small frame around in a circle as he let out a happy laugh. your arms snaked around the man’s neck to secure your place and return the hug.

you giggled happily as mingi finally set you down in your original place, looking down at you excitedly. had he gotten taller? impossible. maybe you had shrunk?

after an exchange of excited greetings, mingi gestured to his clipboard before finally asking, “you ready?”

you nodded softly and followed close behind as he guided you down the halls of the adoption center. he gave you the rundown of their center, showing you the wide expanse of spotless rooms sealed in by plexiglass to show the hybrids ready to be rescued. he explained that most hybrids were separated by predator, prey, species, breed, etc. but many were grouped together with their respective packs. the rooms were quite lavish, but not very homey. but what could you expect from an adoption clinic? the point was to find homes.

you passed many show exhibits, watching intently at the small dogs or tall humans sitting in the rooms patiently, playing with one another or napping quietly. you cooed at a few.

“so i asked to see you because i’d love to have your art displayed in our business.” he propositioned, leading you into an empty room as the automatic doors opened and shut behind you. you nodded, heart lurching a bit as you recalled your artist’s block. you shook the thought away as you observed the room. it was large, littered with scattered pieces of nice furniture and random toys. “ideally, i’d love to have your pieces throughout the whole establishment but this is my main concern.” he finished, gesturing to the empty space on the large wall, the one you’re faced with when first entering.

“are you wanting a mural?” you ask, voice now stable and a bit louder.

“i'd like the piece to cover the majority of the wall, but i’d rather have it on canvas if that’s doable. in case it needs to be moved.” he explained as you nodded, taking in rough measurements of the space as mingi explained his vision for the space - effectively helping you circulate a few ideas on what you could create. you accepted his offer as he discussed payment and supplies with you, adding in an extra cost at the large measurement of the canvas you’d need custom made.

the air in the room grew a bit thick at the sound of a small beep, alerting the two of you to another door opening. your skin was now a bit hot and you suddenly became very aware of your surroundings. your fingers tingled a bit. usually a foreign feeling such as the one you were experiencing would send you into a panic, but it didn’t. if anything you felt quite calm as you looked on inquisitively at the distant thump coming toward the two of you.

“ah, it’s look like some of our hybrids are finished with their check ups.” mingi announced as you nodded lazily. he turned to you. “we usually send them into the lounge area for about an hour after routine check ups. helps them calm down.”

suddenly, you could pay no mind to mingi’s words as a black bunny rounded the corner, back foot slapping the tile exceptionally hard every so often as you smiled down at the creature happily. it stopped in it’s tracks as it’s gaze landed upon you, rearing up on it’s back legs, and tilting it’s head innocently as it examined you.

you knelt down to greet him, the bunny immediately approaching you and sniffing your hand before accepting you and nuzzling into you closer. mingi was taken aback as he observed the usually reserved and nervous rabbit.

“hello.” you cooed, stroking the bunny effortlessly, careful to avoid his ears and tail, briefly recalling how sensitive they could be. “what’s your name?” you asked as mingi coughed.

“this is jeongguk, he’s one of our younger hyrbrids. the youngest in his pack.” he told you as you picked the bunny up and set him into your small lap. mingi almost gasped at the interaction between you and the rabbit as you pet him happily.

your trance was interrupted at the light purr and brush of a small calico next to you. you instinctively reach out to pet him, as he rubbed into your hand. “and who might you be?”

“this is jimin, the two are in a pack.” mingi attempted to explain, trying to understand the absence of jimin’s usually protective behavior and unable to tell you the full story before you asked him something he was not expecting.

“and they’re ready to be adopted?” you asked softly, not even looking up at mingi as he stuttered. the idea of adopting a hybrid didn’t seem so far-fetched now at how taken you were with the two animals in your lap. you could handle the bunny and cat, without a doubt.

“y-yes but we only adopt out entire packs together and -”

“of course, i wouldn’t dream of separating them. is there anyway i could meet them properly, as soon as i possible i think -” you interrupt. starting to gush a bit, voice hushed and excitable.

mingi cut you off, “no, y/n. you aren’t listening. they aren’t just a pack of two.” he sighed, as your gaze finally met his. “in fact they aren’t just bunny and calico, they’re pack also includes that of a wolf, black panther, deer, great dane, and tiger... their pack has been hard to adopt out as it’s so rare for such a large mix of predators and prey... but they found each other and experienced a lot together... it was only inevitable. and we can’t separate them, we refuse to. and they won’t leave one another.” he finally finished explaining as your expression fell. you let out a breath. seven hybrids. all male. and three apex predators, at that. the thought of suddenly thrusting seven knew faces - seven new men - into your home was intimidating to say the least.

you looked down at the two animals in your lap, the bunny almost looked cresfallen. gauging your reaction as his big brown eyes stared at you expectantly. as if he knew you’d reject him. mingi continued rambling on about how many adopters had expressed interest in at least one of the pack but were never willing to bring in all seven. it hurt your heart as you watched on the bunny and calico.

the estate your father had left you was empty, though. begging to be occupied. you had more than enough room and were blessed with an untouched inheritance. maybe this is what you should use it for. you had always felt too guilty to spend it. but nothing seemed more right, which was a shocking realization to someone who never thought they’d adobt a hybrid.

“could i meet them? the seven of them? i’d at least want to give them a chance... truthfully, i dont think i can leave them behind.” you admitted softly, the bunny and cat both perked up, ears raised and twitching.

“of course. i can arrange a meeting and speak with them tonight... i’ll gather their files for you to take home tonight. can you make it back in again tomorrow?” mingi asked after a deafening pause of hesitation, mouth hanging agape before coming back into reality.

“i’ll be here.”

#bts fluff #bts #bts fanfic #hybrid #hybrid au #smut #bts smut #soulmate au #poly #poly bts #poly au #ot7 #bts ot7 #ot7 bts #bts drabble #bts imagines #bts icons #hybrid bts

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erimeows · 3 years ago

Note

Could we maybe get some Sentinel falling for a human and hating it headcannons/scenario? The human is just really nice and very smart! An ex Sumdak scientist who moved in with the bots and Sari after Sari got kicked out? They help them find the AllSpark? Magnus has a lot of respect for them as they've helped find the All Spark shards and done a lot of research on autobot and decepticon history and found out weaknesses. Sentinel is so angry cause Magnus clearly favors them over other humans so he has to get used to that and them? Maybe Optimus likes them and that sets Sentinel off?

Sure thing! May have twisted this a bit, but hope you enjoy!

Oh my God, he hates it with everything in his entire being.

It starts simply enough. When he arrives on earth, he notices that, like the tiny rude organic known as Sari, you’re around the Autobots all the time. Like... All the time. Helping them find All Spark fragments, doing research for them, helping Isaac Sumdak with his creations, taking care of Sari.

So, since you’re a tiny adult human and he has unchecked mental health issues that he likes to take out on others, he starts off trying to be mean to you.

The first time, he trips you while walking past you in the hallway. You don’t notice it was intentional, but fall pretty hard and scrape your hands up so badly that you’re tearing up. Sentinel refuses to apologize or acknowledge that he’s in the wrong but feels oddly guilty and decides to help you take care of your hands. You’re very thankful, offering him a hug, which he denies and runs off because of, spewing some half-assed insults on his way out.

He can’t get you off his processor after that. He feels like a shitbag for not even owning up to being the one who tripped you and feels like a loser for helping you. You’re an organic, he hates you like the rest of them, he doesn’t feel bad for you.

Next time he sees you, he tries again to be mean to you, making a comment on what you’re wearing and asking what trashcan you dug it out of. Most humans get frustrated and yell at him or insult him back when he talks to them like that unprompted, but you only shrug him off and asks if he’s feeling alright or wants to sit down to cool down for a moment. Uh. Huh? He’s confused at first, utterly perplexed that you might think he’s weak, upset, or hurt, or... Something, but then his confusion turns to anger, and again, he storms off, unsure of how to handle someone who’s not angry at or annoyed by him.

You pay a lot of attention to him after that and he hates it; always trying to offer him things, share smalltalk, take him places, etc. He hates it even more when he notices just how much everyone else loves you, too; Sari was fine, and so was Optimus and his stupid pile of scrap metal that he called a team, but ULTRA MAGNUS? Oh, it had him fuming from his exhaust pipes. Even Ultra Magnus was charmed by you and looked for whatever excuse he could get to talk to you on earth.

Okay, whatever. Everyone and everybot likes you, so Sentinel is convinced he hates you for that and for having a holier-than-thou attitude that won’t allow you to retaliate against him when he’s rude to you even though all he wants is for you to feed into it. Totally.

That is until he starts getting... Jealous, namely of Ultra Magnus and Optimus Prime for talking to you so much. The embarrassing thing is that he can’t even pinpoint it at first; all he knows is that he gets pissed off when he sees Optimus giving you a shoulder rub after a long day and having a conversation with him over dinner (for you) and energon (for Optimus) and gets pissed off when he sees you, a human, walking by Ultra Magnus’s side and casually conversing with him like he’s your equal.

“I don’t get it, Jazz! Why is she talking to both of them like that? Why is it making me so mad?”

“Could it be... You aren’t so much mad that she’s a human who’s close with Ultra Magnus, but that you’re jealous of O.P. and Ultra Magnus for being so close to (y/n) when you’re not?”

The conversation with Jazz had been impromptu and a big mistake, as he blew a fuse immediately after and had to be taken to Ratchet for some minor repairs. Everyone is concerned, no one has any idea what’s going on, but he’s stuck in Ratchet’s medbay for a day and you’re asked to watch him overnight since you’re the most qualified to do any fixes should he have any issues, and Ratchet needs to recharge.

“So... What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it! Primus, you humans are always so nosy-” Sentinel starts scolding you and moves to get up from the medberth, but you place a gentle hand on his servo and he can’t help but freeze in place.

“I’m not doing this with you tonight, Sentinel Prime. Recover and let me stay by your side to make sure you’re okay.”

“Just leave! I’ll be fine, I’m a member of the-”

“I know.”

“Then why do you care!?”

“Because I know you can be kind, and whether you want to or not, you need to rest and have someone monitor you over night! You blew a fuse in your head, and while that itself is a minor injury, if you do it again it’s going to be harder to fix and you could blow more. I’d rather not extent your stay in here.”

Naturally, he asks what you, as a human, could possibly know about robots/Cybertronians and their health. After getting him to lay back down, you tell him about how you used to work for Isaac Sumdac as a scientist before you started taking care of Sari when he disappeared, and that right after the Autobots arrived on earth, you studied them closely enough to figure out most of their anatomy and received some training under Ratchet to act as a second medic for them.

Oh. That makes sense. Sentinel feels a bit foolish but doesn’t say anything and waits until he can fall into recharge, but when he wakes up the next morning, you’re sitting on a stool by his berthside, passed out with your head resting on his thigh.

He doesn’t have the heart to wake you up and pretends to still be resting with his optics shut until Ratchet comes in and wakes you up himself.

He’s released with a clean bill of health and immediately goes to find Jazz.

“What do you mean by that!?”

“Uh, slow down before you blow another fuse, S.P., but you know what I meant,” Jazz laughed at him, and naturally, Sentinel took a few to process what had been said the previous day.

Jazz was implying that Sentinel wasn’t mad at you for being a human and interacting with Optimus/Ultra Magnus, but that he was mad at Optimus and Ultra Magnus for interacting with you because...

Oh. Sentinel realized that he was jealous, and in not being able to be mean to you anymore, he found himself watching you a lot. You were intelligent, kind, attractive... The opposite of him, to be honest, but when it hit him all at once, he ends up having a melt down of sorts.

Locking himself in his berth on Ultra Magnus’s ship for days on end, not drinking enough energon, going between sleeping to escape his feelings and pacing around doing nothing but dwelling on them, Sentinel Prime is a mess when he realizes that he has a crush on you. It makes sense, but... Why did it have to be an organic? He can’t even cope with it.

Eventually, he snaps out of it and decides that he’s going to take the logical approach with this; ignore his feelings and push them deep, deep down in his spark so he doesn’t have to acknowledge or deal with them. He shouldn’t like you anyways, right? You’re just a stupid human!

Except... You’re not. You’re beautiful, you’re brilliant, you’re caring, and a million other things he cares not to admit. So he’s stuck. He won’t confess his feelings to you or really think about them because he knows all he’s ever done is be mean to you, and honestly, he doesn’t deserve you and is afraid of you rejecting him.

Things stay stagnant for a while, but he’s a little nicer to you. Still rude, still making unnecessary comments about you being a human, but hey, he doesn’t try to trip you anymore and is always defending you when anyone/anybot brings up your name behind your back. Every other Autobot catches on to what’s happening but just doesn’t say anything because they know Sentinel will try to pummel them LMAO.

But then... Valentine’s day rolls around. For whatever reason, he decides to hang around earth that day and learn about the customs since you and Sari seem excited to teach him and the other Autobots about it.

A day of romance where lovers give each other gifts... Okay, so basically, nothing to do with him, but he notices that Sari, Bee, and Bulkhead decide to go see a movie since they don’t have anyone/anybot to do anything with, and Ratchet goes off to work in his medbay, while Jazz and Prowl suddenly disappear to do their own thing and Ultra Magnus is preoccupied with work on his ship. That just leaves Sentinel, you, and Optimus.

The amount of frustration in him when Optimus hands you a bouquet of (f/c) roses is something he can’t even comprehend. So, when you walk off to go find a vase to put them in, Sentinel turns to his old friend with a glare.

“Who do you think you are? How long have you felt that way towards her?”

“Uh, Sentinel? (y/n) and I are just really good friends? I know she’s what her species would refer to as “single” at the moment and I didn’t think you’d do anything for her, so I got her those to make her feel special tonight.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” Sentinel exclaims at Optimus’s bold assumption that he wouldn’t do anything for you for Valentine’s day... Which was totally true. He didn’t have the guts to buy you flowers or chocolates or any of the other things that Sari said humans liked for the occasion, but apparently Optimus did, and while he now knew that Optimus didn’t have any romantic feelings towards you, it still hurt.

“It means that even though you’ve been obsessed with her since the Elite Guard got here, you treat her with no kindness whatsoever because you’re too prideful to admit your feelings and want to cover them up,” Optimus puts a hand on his shoulder. “Now, I’m going to go spend the rest of the night with Ratchet so he isn’t by himself, but I’ll leave you to figure this out. Good luck, old buddy.”

Optimus walks off, and the words hit hard. Sentinel knows that what his friend said is right, so when you get back with the roses in a vase to set down on the table and ask him where Optimus went, he decides it’s time. Without dwelling on it too much, he grabs your hands to hold in his servos, standing in the middle of the living room and spilling his guts out to you before telling you “Happy Valentine’s Day... Or whatever,” and pulling you in for a kiss.

Thankfully, you reciprocate.

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writtenjewels · 3 years ago

Text

Lethal

The angara had to be the most lethal species in the known galaxies. If the kett were smart, they would just harness that honest passion and energy into a weapon and they'd conquer the universe. Of course that passion wasn't always positive when directed at the Milky Way settlers. Some were openly distrustful or hostile. In a way that was almost better, because the ones who were open and welcoming were far more dangerous.

Especially Jaal Ama Darav. The voice would be enough to get hearts pumping faster, but he also had to be intelligent, earnestly kind, strong, passionate, and he even smelled good. What the hell was that all about? Scott noticed it the first time they met. Every time they were close he noticed it, too. Finally he asked SAM about it.

“Angara often use salves and perfumes in their personal hygiene,” the AI explained. “When first joining the crew of the Tempest, Jaal provided the Pathfinder with a list of ingredients for these items. Would you like to see them?”

“No, that's okay, SAM.” But really, what were the odds that an alien perfume would be appealing to humans?

On top of all that, he just enjoyed being around Jaal and talking with him. Their interests complemented each other: Jaal liked taking things apart and Scott liked building and putting things together. Jaal customized his own weapon; Scott did the same with a surfboard.

“And what is a 'surfboard'?” Jaal asked when Scott told him this. Scott found it difficult to put into words so he pulled up an image. Jaal shifted closer to get a better look, a move which made Scott's pulse pick up even though he was sure Jaal wasn't doing it on purpose.

“These boards are strong enough to hold a human's weight but buoyant enough to stay on top of the water. Finding the right board is like an art: it has to be the perfect length and width. I eventually just decided to make one myself. Took me days shaping the material the way I wanted it, fitting on the skegs, doing the paint job. The day I took it out to ride the first wave was incredible. Weather was just right. I paddled out and caught the surf, and my board was perfect.”

He hadn't meant to go on for so long but when he looked at Jaal, he saw the angara was listening intently to every word.

“We do not 'surf',” Jaal said at last.

“I don't think I'd be able to describe it properly. It's just something you'd have to see. I'm looking forward to when I can go out on the water like that.”

“You enjoy it,” Jaal observed.

“I love it,” Scott confirmed. “It's such a rush. Hearing the roar of the water around me, guiding the board with my body. If there was a way I could surf the stars, you bet I would try it.” Jaal chuckled softly. The way the angara looked at him made Scott nervous.

“You make it sound so beautiful and wild. Much like you.”

“I...” The comment hit him hard in the chest, knocking the air out. Damn, these angara and their directness. “You think I'm beautiful?”

“I do. Your mind, your heart, your strength. You are beautiful, Scott, and I enjoy you.” Scott nervously scooted back to get some space. He didn't know what to do with this messy bundle of emotions he was feeling. “If I find a place for you to surf,” Jaal spoke up, “would you show me how it works?”

“Yeah, of course.” His voice was shaking a little. “But I'd need to make another board first. I like doing other things on the water, you know. Sailing, swimming, or just laying out and letting my body drift.” Jaal pondered this for a moment. Someone called Scott's name and he reluctantly looked away to see who needed him.

“Go on,” Jaal urged him. “I will think of something and let you know.”

“Oh. Okay.” Scott didn't really want to leave, but someone was asking for his help with something. “Stay clear, Jaal. Did... did I get that right?”

“You did,” Jaal confirmed with that smile that had Scott melting on the inside. “Stay clear, my friend.” Scott took a breath and tried to focus on what needed to get done next.

Angarans. Absolutely lethal.

#scott x jaal #scott ryder #jaal ama darav #mass effect andromeda

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thewildwaffle · 4 years ago

Text

Humans are Weird - Birthdays

Another prompt from a lovely user on ao3

When humans throw a party, they don’t mess around. Or well, they do, that’s like half the point of their parties most of the time. What they don’t mess around with is the planning, preparation, and all-out general excitement and energy that goes into their parties. Scarsels, they'd only gotten halfway through the setup and decorating for Human Dana’s party and it seemed like it would be almost as much fun as the party itself! The special occasion this time was to commemorate the anniversary of Human Dana’s birth. When Peterrias was first told about the party plans, he'd been a bit blown away by just how much of everything there was. His people celebrated the anniversary of their hatching day, sure, but it was usually more of a happy acknowledgment of the day itself and of the life lived to that point rather than a formal festivity. Excited to be a part of such an important Earth culture custom, he had volunteered to help get things set up. There was a lot more that went into a human birthday party than he realized. At first, he'd gone with Human Jackson to help make the refreshments and treats that would be available to guests. He'd spent a little bit of time cutting up fresh vegetables that were edible for everyone on the crew to eat and arrange them on a colorful platter. That didn’t take long to do, but by the time he had it done, all the food preparation tasks that involved working with “safe” ingredients had already been taken. Not wanting to be in the way of preparations there, Peterias had wandered back to the main rec hall where the party decorations were at that point well underway. The humans had requisitioned party supplies the last time they’d stopped in a port with a half-decent market. Earth wares, as popular as they’ve become, were pretty easy to find, even very specific items like balloons, streamers, and a large pack of funny-looking conical hats.

Garubi sefra and human Jieun were setting up the streamers now. They twisted the thin strips of colorful paper into beautiful, swirling, drapes that swept from one side of the room to the other. He paused to take in the sight for a moment. There was something familiar about it all, but he couldn’t figure out why. Anyway, it was a lovely scene. Humans really did go all out. Or maybe this was just a good outlet for them to vent any pent-up creativity and partying they’d been holding in for the past few partecs aboard the ship. He suspected a combination of both. “Is there anything I can do to help here,” he approached the decorators. Human Jieun was having to climb up and down a step ladder to reach high enough to place the streamers. Peterias was one of the few crewmates aboard that stood taller than humans. That with his long arms and great reach, this seemed like the perfect job for him. With a little explanation, a few hijinks that went on while figuring out how to not get the tape to stick to him, he had the entire hall “decked out” as Jieun declared. There was still about half a roll of the decorative paper leftover. He watched it as he bounced it in his hand, smiling as it dawned on him why it looked so familiar to him. It looked just like a popular candy he enjoyed when he was a young hatchling. Wouldn’t it just be like humans to use pretty sweets as decorations? He had to admit, it was kind of a fun idea to multitask like that. Making sure no one was watching, he snuck a tentative nibble at the paper. It was absolutely disgusting. Definitely not a sweet ribbon! Oh, by the stars, it was so bitter! “Did you just try eating the crepe paper?” Jieun clapped a hand on Peterias’ shoulder as he came up from behind. “I’d guess from your face that it wasn’t very good!” “Pleah! Pleh… I… uh, you… you saw that?” He figured Jieun’s laughter was enough affirmation. “To be fair,” Garubi came to Peterias’ aide, “when I first saw the streamers, I thought they looked like large rolls of sweet ribbon as well.” Jieun’s smile remained as large as ever. “Yeah, but you didn’t try eating it!” Garubi took the remainder of the streamer roll from Peterias and went to put it away. “Not when you were looking,” Peterias heard the sefra mutter quietly before he got too far. Even though the room was already looking very festive, humans do not mess around when it comes to throwing parties. He helped Jieun and a few others set up some games and activities for the party. Once again, many hands might light work and the only thing left to do, so Jieun said, was blow up a few more balloons. “Thanks for helping set up though, I really do appreciate it. Dana’s going to love this! She has no idea we’ve got this planned, I can’t wait to see the look on her face!” “Glad to be included in such an important celebration of life,” Peterias closed his eyes and nodded to return for Jieun’s smile. “I am also very excited about the party. If I may ask, do you know how many years Dana is marking today?” “Uh, well, she’s turning thirty-seven in Earth years. I’d have to do the math to convert that to galactic standardized. I know doing that would make it a fraction of some sort.” Peterias tilted his head trying to recall what he knew about Earth. Their day cycles fell into an average length among inhabited homeworlds. The way they divided their days was a little funny but close enough that many humans had no problem converting to galactic standardized times. Years though, years seemed a little long to him, though he couldn’t remember the conversion rate right at the moment. Still, even if they weren’t too far off of GS time, thirty-seven was quite the number! He hadn’t realized Dana was a senior citizen! “That’s amazing,” Peterias’ voice was excited but respectful. “Do you think she’ll stay on the crew much longer then?” “Uh, yeah, I mean I don’t know what she’s planning, but I’d think so. I mean, why wouldn’t she?” “Well,” Peterias wasn’t completely sure how best to say this without sounding offensive or rude. He’d heard humans could be touchy about their ages later on in life. “Won’t she… won’t she want to retire soon?” Half of Jieun’s face scrunched up to make a funny expression. “Retire? Why would she want to do that?” “Um, well, you know… as most species age, they find this line of work to start becoming… uh, well a bit too demanding on… uh… elderly bodies?” Jieun stared at him without saying anything that Peterias started worrying that he had broken some human taboo about talking about getting old. “Dude. Dana’s turning thirty-seven, not eighty-seven. And even if she was, I still don’t think she’d retire. Have you seen her on duty? That lady loves blasting asteroids.” Jieun chuckled as if recalling a memory as he grabbed a rubber balloon and began forcing air into it through his mouth. As Peterias watched the blue shape grow in size, something Jieun said finally clicked. “Wait, eighty-seven? Do humans live that long?!” Jieun removed the balloon from his lips and tied the end so the air wouldn’t escape. “Well, I mean, with proper diet and exercise, a bit of good luck and good genes, yeah. I mean nowadays, it’s not too crazy to see people living and even being fairly active into their hundreds.” “What?!” Jieun had to be joking. Humans loved playing practical jokes. He kept waiting for his crewmate’s face to break into a wide grin and laugh at his attempt to “pull his leg” as the human saying went. As the tiks went by though, Jieun didn’t back down from his bold statement and instead started blowing up another balloon. “Oh,” Peterias shook his head. “Oh how silly of me. I forgot about the year ratio. Earth must circumnavigate it’s star fairly quickly. There for a bit, I thought you were saying humans could live for over 100 galactic standard years.” Jieun opened his mouth and let the half-filled balloon propel itself around the room wildly. “Uh, yeah, we can. Easily. I think the ratio is like, uh just a little over two-thirds of an Earth year for every galactic standardized year. Something like that? If we’re talking SG years, 130 is around the average life expectancy. 180’s getting up there. I think the oldest living human right now is pushing 195 SG years or something like that.” Shivers ran down Peterias’ whole body. He felt the proto-feathers along his spine rise up. He felt like he was frozen in place as his brain used 100% of its capacity to try to process what he’d just been told. There was no way. He’d have known about this before, right? Of all the rumors that flew around about humans, this would have been one of them, right? He kept waiting for a punchline, for Jieun’s nonchalant facade to drop and for him to start laughing at the hilarious joke he’d been trying to get Peterias to believe. But it didn’t happen. He wasn’t joking. Instead, Jieun held out his hand. “Let me see, I guess that would make Dana....” His fingers went up and down as he calculated, “Oh, a little over sixty I guess. In SG, that is.” He then went to retrieve the balloon he’d let escape before and proceeded to blow it up again, tying it off this time. Peterias just stood there, still frozen. He watched the human continue to put the final touches of decorations around the room. How old was Jieun? He saw human Jackson enter the room, being helped by several other crewmates as they carried in platters of prepared party snacks. How old was he? How old were any of the other human crewmates aboard the ship? How much had they seen and how much life had they lived even before they stepped aboard the ship? He was finally pulled out of his frozen state as everyone scrambled to hiding spots. Realizing he was still standing in the middle of the room, Garubi came up behind him and led him to a spot where he could crouch behind a chair. “Come on, they said part of the celebration is to jump out and surprise the birthday celebrant when they arrive at their party.” Peterias allowed themselves to be pulled along and even made sure to tuck their tail in closely so as to hide better behind the chair. It was futile, he was too large, but thinking on that right now seemed beyond his capabilities. Dana was indeed surprised when she arrived. She screamed, out of shock at first, then in delight. There was a lot of laughter, music, and talking, and a surprising amount of very bad, off-key singing to a very repetitive song. It felt almost like visiting a harvest festival back home, so happy and celebratory! Except unlike the festivals, this was for one person. Before, it might have seemed a bit excessive, even by human standards. Now he realized that with this celebration of life, there was a lot of life to celebrate. The planning and preparation that had gone into the party was well worth the effort. Peterias hadn’t had as much fun in some time. It wasn’t any one particular game they played or amusing story that was told that made it so much fun. It was more just, how happy everyone was. The humans, especially Dana, just seemed to radiate a warm happy energy that was particularly infectious. Peterias smiled as he watched Jackson get animated as he recounted an adventure he’d had as a youth on Earth. It was, of course, a story about him doing something dangerous and how he got out of it, and he had several delighted crewmates hanging onto every word. Peterias, chuckled as a thought came to him while watching the scene. Humans live such long lives. He’d had no idea. He supposed that some, after hearing Jackson’s story and knowing what ridiculous antics humans got into on the regular, might postulate that humans live so long because death itself is hesitant to claim them. As he looked around the room though, he caught eyes with human Dana who smiled that strange warm, and slightly scary way that humans do. She held up her hands together to form a shape that he’d been told was a symbol of love and mouthed the words “thank you” to him. Peterias nodded and smiled back. His mind started wandering again. Somewhere in his brain, the new information of human’s life spans was being put together with other tales and warnings he’d ever heard about them like puzzle pieces. That’s why everyone’s always worried about offending humans. They have such long lives that they could hold grudges for what would be lifetimes for other races. That’s why they’re so good at multitasking or will often come onto crews with multiple advanced skills. They have plenty of time to hone their talents. That’s why they can be so forgetful at times. They have a lot of life stored in their memories. There was a large collection of gasps and laughter from the crowd around Jackson as he finished up his story. Soon, Dana took over as the next storyteller about one of her own fool-hardy enterprises she’d had once. It wasn’t quite as much of an adventurous tale as Jackson’s had been, but it was a good story and she told it well. Peterias smiled as he listened in. He was glad humans lived so long, for a lot of reasons. Maybe those who half-joked when they said that death was afraid to claim humans were right. They certainly were a handful in the realm of life, they’d probably continue to be a handful in the realm beyond. In any case, whatever the reason may be, he was glad he’d have his friends around for a long time.

#humans are weird #humans are space orcs #humans live a long time #space #aliens #writeblr #ao3 #prompt #original writing #birthday #sci-fi

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wildlyglittering · 4 years ago

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A Love for all Seasons Part 1 (Winter)

I said that I would write a piece for Nessian Month to be posted each Sunday so here is the first!

I’d hoped to have this up earlier but hey ho. I ended up scrapping 8,000 words of something that I’d previously done and re-wrote this in a day. It’s barely edited so I can only apologise for dubious quality and numerous spelling errors.

I asked for prompt requests and this one is based on ‘modern au, Nesta as a ballerina.’ You’ll probably see that it’s not entirely modern au because I just can’t write modern au - sorry!

I’ve decided to link all 4 prompts received together as a 4 part series. Not all other sections will be as long as this one. Probably. I mean, I’ve not written them yet so....

***

Velaris at Solmas was a magical time and Nesta wasn’t thinking metaphorically – Solmas was literally a magical time.

Solmas was a blend of both fae and human traditions and, as a time for celebration, this meant spirits were up and magical shields were down. Active magic rippled through the air as did the leakage from those who had magic but never used it.

No one truly remembered when the lines between fae and human’s merged and there was the possibility the fae had decided to adjust the truth in collective memory to make it seem like they had always been part of the city.

Perhaps they had. Perhaps they hadn’t. Not a human amongst them could tell and not a fae amongst them would.

As centuries passed, or decades - no one was quite sure after all, the fae evolved to blend in. They shed talons, claws and teeth, and moulted wings and shimmering skin.

That wasn’t to say a good deal of them didn’t have remnants of their previous lineage; there were still those who had wings and those who were always followed by a mist. Some slipped from human form like their flesh was a dress.

There wasn’t a fae who didn’t have some magic, however small. But then, so did Nesta and her sisters, Feyre and Elain.

At some point in their collective past, the fae decided they liked the humans and vice versa and so romantic liaisons were not an uncommon occurrence. Despite a few differences, both species were compatible and that was how magic managed to bleed into some human veins. As Feyre said, they were human but with ‘added spice’.

Sometimes all that magic, especially at this heightened time of year, was damned irritating.

That morning Nesta had been in a café, reading her book when a lady biting into a gingerbread man had to stop on account of her baked good starting to scream.

Then, when she’d left to make her way to the ballet, she’d been caught in a snow flurry where the snowflakes took the form of small fairies and danced around her. She’d slapped them away, ignoring their outraged cries.

The walk which should have been ten minutes from her favourite café down into the theatre district ended up taking forty after some enchanted horses pulling sleighs decided to protest and caused a blockage across three streets, causing numerous detours.

When she finally reached the theatre, the peace of her day shattered, Nesta stormed into her dressing room and slammed the door. “Fucking fae.”

Nesta didn’t hate the fae. Technically, you couldn’t. Anytime anyone had a negative thought there was a haze which descended over people’s minds to remind them how much they loved the fae and how pleased they were to live beside them.

The magic in her blood meant the haze was a pithy little thing which Nesta mentally told to shove its pleasantries up its non-existent asshole leading it to drift away, pretending it wasn’t offended.

No, she didn’t hate them but she found them so inconvenient.

Nesta had settled at her dressing table when her door opened following a knock. A head peeked round, long ruby-red hair streaming downwards. One of the fae Nesta did like.

“Nesta?”

“I’m here.”

“Viviane said she’s going to turn a portion of the Sidra into an ice rink later, fancy coming? I might also take an ice-dive. Good for the pores!”

Gwyn, the production assistant at the Velaris City Ballet Company was fae but was classified as a water nymph. Nesta had only discovered this when they took a trip to Adriata the beach city the previous year for a ‘hot girl summer’ and she realised Gwyn had a set of gills accompanying her lungs.

Nesta met Gwyn’s eyes in the mirror and raised an eyebrow.

“What? I can’t help myself; you know that. I take it the ice-rink is a no?”

Nesta shook her head in response as she began on her hair but smiled. Despite herself she really did like Gwyn and Viviane, and a lot of the production company too even though the company was riddled with nepotism and bias.

Few humans managed to win a place in the ballet. Arts and creative pursuits were hard to break into when you were auditioning against fae. The only reason Nesta was as successful as she had been was because of that drop of magical blood.

She reached for the headdress resting next to her make-up. The Solmas production was The Nutcracker which their performance director, Eris had choreographed and screamed over for weeks.

“Tchaikovsky was a close, personal friend of mine,” he’d bragged. “He was fae of course, well – half-fae, but then no one can be perfect.”

Nesta had rolled her eyes and ignored Eris’ glare, not at all intimidated since they both discovered she immune to glamours and spells.

Nesta hadn’t been able to score the prima ballerina role for the production but then she hadn’t for years. How can a human compete with fae who spun in the air and flew on invisible, gossamer wings?

She’d auditioned for the role of Sugar Plum Fairy and wasn’t offered the position on account of the actual fairies also auditioning. If Nesta had managed to win the role then she wouldn’t have lasted a week before a surprise accident befell her, regardless of the amount of protection charms she wore.

The role she had won suited her fine, the dance being one of her favourites – the Illyrian dance. The steps weren’t complex but the performance was all about attitude and frankly, Nesta had that in spades.

When she’d been offered the dance, Gwyn took her aside in the corridor, a frown on her face. “Are you sure you want to perform this Nesta?”

“I know what you’re going to say, the dance should have gone to an Illyrian and you’re right – it should have. I’ve been trying to petition Eris for years now about Illyrian ballerinas but he’s always up to his typical high-fae purist bullshit.”

Gwyn had given a nervous laugh and looked around them, making sure Eris wouldn’t somehow leap out of the wall at the comment. It was a fair suspicion; he’d done it to performers before if they had any critique of him to say.

“Just do the dance cultural justice.”

Nesta swore she would.

On the scale of species hierarchy, full humans remained at the bottom. They were aging mortals with no magic and poor immune systems. The fae laughed themselves silly at the concept of chicken pox and the common cold. However, it didn’t mean every fae species was revered.

High fae like Eris were basically royalty while lesser fae were their middle-class cousins. Nymphs were considered useful and the majority of other fae fell someplace in between.

Illyrians were almost a side step from the hierarchy.

As a species they were immortal, eternally youthful and ripe with magic as powerful as some of the high fae. Some of their bodies were like machines with what they did with them and they would have been able to perform ballet for days on end without breaking.

They also had those vast jet-black wings which were terrifying and enthralling at the same time. It was a shame Illyrian Air didn’t do well, but then there were far too many customer service issues.

The only reason they weren’t on par with the high-fae (in the eyes of the high-fae) was that they weren’t elegant enough. They moved with a violence underneath the surface of their flesh like their blood was fire.

They also had complex histories which no one understood because Illyrians refused to discuss anything about Illyria and their heritage with anyone who wasn’t an Illyrian.

She once asked Feyre about them to be told Illyrians had spent their entire lifetimes being looked down upon by other fae so when those same fae demanded Illyrian secrets, they refused to comply.

Feyre had said, “Cassian told me, ‘Why should we give them anything when we have to fight for everything,’” and Nesta conceded he had a point. Possibly the only point Cassian had ever had but a point nonetheless.

Why was she thinking all this now? Why was she thinking of her baby sister’s stupid friends? She knew very well why.

Gwyn had stepped into Nesta’s dressing room. “Isn’t tonight when your sister and her friends are coming to the show?”

Yes, that was why.

Gwyn leant against the wall, in Nesta’s line of sight in the mirror and Nesta shrugged keeping her voice nonchalant. “Yes, unfortunately.”

It wasn’t unfortunate Feyre was coming, Feyre who loved anything to do with art and ballet but Nesta wasn’t looking forward to the rest. Rhys, Feyre’s half high-fae, half Illyrian boyfriend had all the arrogant superiority of the high-fae and the volatility of the Illyrians with none of the manners.

Nesta was painfully aware Rhys didn’t like her.

The rest of the group were also non-human with Feyre seemingly abandoning humans completely, preferring the exclusive company of Rhys circle of fae friends. Elain was the opposite, living outside the walls of the city in her cottage, wanting nothing to do with fae at all.

Feyre had told Rhys a bunch of stories from their childhood and Rhys didn’t quite comprehend how human sisters worked, didn’t quite comprehend how complex their relationship had been.

The spit of magic in their blood had made things all the more difficult as humans were not the best containers for magic. In Nesta’s eyes what made it worse were all the tattoos Feyre had inked into her skin; amplifiers mostly.

Anger had been born from Nesta’s worry and her worry was from her love.

Feyre understood the root cause of Nesta’s peevishness even if she didn’t like it but Rhys saw disapproval and returned it in kind.

At the thought of some of the attendees Nesta’s heart started doing something change, fluttering away like it was a bird trapped in a cage. She remembered when Ianthe, one of the ensemble, had shown them the pet bird she’d brought.

“Isn’t it lovely?” she’d said, her eyes glittering as her fingernails grew sharp. “Such a pretty pet for me to love.”

Nesta remembered the poor thing desperately trying to fly out of its cage, smashing its wings and beak against the bars.

Ianthe ended up eating it. She’d sobbed she hadn’t meant to but she hadn’t grabbed her protein bar that morning when she’d left her apartment and she was starving.

They couldn’t help it; it was in their nature to consume. The fae were like locusts that way, consuming land, lives, birds. Hearts.

Gwyn’s smile at Nesta’s response stretched into one which took up most of her face and Nesta refrained from shuddering. Nymph embodied the gentle and the harsh of their element. Water nymphs had the ability to be as tranquil and soft as summer rain or as vicious and deadly as a shark in deep water.

“Uh-huh. Will Cassian be attending?”

“I don’t know, probably.”

“Are you nervous about doing the Illyrian dance in front of Illyrians?”

Yes. Terrified.

“No,” she said, “I’ve done my research.”

Eris’ choreography for the dance was lazy and aggressive, rooted in his high-fae misperceptions of Illyrian culture. Nesta convinced Eris to let her put together her own steps and when he let her, not giving a damn about the dance, Nesta sought out the sole Illyrian choreographer in Velaris - a woman named Emerie.

At least the dance would contain authentic steps, she’d just never performed it in front of any Illyrians who weren’t Emerie before.

Gwyn’s grin was still wide.

“Oh, go away would you,” Nesta said with a scowl. “I need to focus before the matinee.”

Gwyn laughed at Nesta’s scowl and Nesta knew Gwyn understood Nesta’s words were harsh but her meaning wasn’t.

“Fine, fine. I’ll see you later, my little witchy dancer.”

Nesta glared at her friends departing back. I’m not a witch, she wanted to say, just a human whose great grandma caught the eye of a high-fae and had at it.

The matinee performance went well. Performances at the Velaris City Ballet Company always went well. The city made it so, drawing in an audience like moths to lamplight.

For all its splendour, Velaris was ancient and small. What was once a human village at the base of the mountains with the Sidra River running wild aside it, grew in population and glamour once the fae came pushing through the veil.

Human technology and fae magic combined to turn the place into something unique which rippled out to other human towns and dwellings but Velaris remained the first and the original.

While other cities grew, Velaris kept its quaintness. Old buildings built from red stone were covered with trailing ivy which bloomed with different flowers depending on the inhabitants’ moods. Rooms would change their size and shape according to the number of people within and wallpapers would shift when required to become something new. A piece of furniture could be a chaise longue in the morning and a mahogany dresser by nightfall.

Outside was no different. The cobbled side streets were slightly off kilter and you could look back, having walked up a steep street only to realise the path you’d walked was now heading a different direction and upwards, not down.

The ballet house was one of the oldest buildings and contained concentrated magic the way a bottle contained liquid. It also meant, much like liquid, if the bottle was shaken then there would be spillage.

Truth told; they’d had some difficulties with previous performances.

The first performance of Sleeping Beauty had left the majority of the audience passed out in their red velvet chairs while thickets of thorns grew up from the stage floor, encompassing the dancers. Nesta had to hack through several vines to reach her dressing room to grab her apartment keys.

The Snow Queen last Solmas followed suit. Viviane had been their prima ballerina that year and was in her utmost element. That had been the worst winter Velaris had ever experienced with uncharacteristic heavy snowfalls and biting frosts. The less said about the temporary missing children and ominous women in sleighs, the better.

Aside from when Eris turned actual rats into human sized dancers and the whole city was put into a three-day long lockdown while fae exterminators went to work, The Nutcracker was going fairly well.

Magic whirled the audience through each act and they heard and tasted and smelt everything being shown to them. Music would drift into their ears as performers danced fluidly across the stage. Some of the audience sobbed, overcome by the magic which sank into their skin.

The experience took some time to get used to if you were human. The first time Nesta had performed ballet in Velaris she was dizzy with nausea and slick with sweat. Now she even managed to use some of her own dormant abilities to counter the effects, or even to add in some of her own.

Before the evening performance began, her phone beeped with a message from Feyre.

Can’t wait to see you dance! Catch up with you afterwards!

Nesta groaned. She’d agreed to go for a drink at the in-house bar with Feyre and the rest but now she wished she was going straight home.

The stage melted away from the dance before hers into Nesta’s scenery as she waited in the wings for her cue. She eyed up the boxes, knowing Rhys had sponsored one for Feyre but didn’t have a clue which one.

The Illyrian dance had a sparse stage, to demonstrate the Illyrian steppes but the painted backdrop was one of Ramiel, the revered Illyrian mountain. Despite the sparsity, the set pulsed with a dry heat; the scent of crackling wood fire and spice filling the air, the sensation of warm winds tickling her skin.

When the music started, she danced on, determined to prove to Illyrian eyes in the audience she would do it justice.

Nesta drew on the same magic which ran in Feyre and Elain’s bones, the same magic Feyre had permanently etched on the surface of her skin. When Nesta leapt, she cast imaginary wings on her back which carried her further forward and higher. When she pirouetted, she was spinning on ice. Her arms were graceful and her legs sharp.

Nesta formed herself into a blade of dance as she undulated her hips and curved her spine. She swore the heat under her skin caused the air to burn around her.

She finished to rapturous applause and resisted eyeing up the boxes again although she wanted to know if any particular hands were clapping.

In the wings Gwyn was waiting and handed her a towel and Nesta realised she was glistening with sweat, droplets highlighting her cleavage.

“Very nice,” Gwyn said, clapping. “A small fire broke out in one of the stalls.”

Before Nesta said anything, Eris walked by with a low whistle. “Great performance, Nesta. I now have a raging boner.”

The women shrieked in disgust and Nesta threw her towel at him. “Animal.”

Eris grinned, “You know it” and his eyes shone as he caught the towel. Nesta made a mental note to ask Elain for more rowan to put around her dressing room door.

Nesta watched the rest of the performances from the wings until curtain close. Usually she never dawdled, always wanting to remove her costume and dress into civilian clothes as quick as possible but tonight she took her time, idly drawing out each minute until she couldn’t avoid her fate forever.

Audience members with children, fae or human often left first, clearing the way for those who wanted to remain behind in the theatre bar. When the fae discovered alcohol a new set of problems arose. Regardless of what species you were, once you were drunk you did stupid things.

The bar was below ground level and took up a vast amount of space. Overstuffed seating was positioned around tables in compartments, each draped with their own set of thick, crimson red curtains with gold tassels. If the occupants wanted privacy, then they had it.

Nesta shimmied past groups; fae, human and mixed, who laughed and clinked their champagne flutes, none recognising her as a dancer they’d watched earlier.

Feyre was likely to have a private booth booked along with the theatre box as Rhys had so much gold he likely melted it down and bathed in it. The last time Nesta met up with Feyre, her little sister had been wearing a diamond encrusted corset top.

Ahead of her stood two figures, both leaning against the open fronted bar and deep in conversation. Cassian and Azriel. No one was able to miss them even if they tried to blend in. Illyrians were known for their size and their wings and not exactly known for their love of ballet.

Almost as though he sensed her arrival, Cassian stopped talking and turned, strands of his black hair falling from his messy bun. Her eyes met his and she felt how she always did whenever they glanced at each other – a little bit anxious, a little bit horny and a little bit excited.

Nesta was worried if she opened her mouth, a thousand butterflies would float upwards from her stomach.

The look on his face, one she couldn’t place, slipped into something familiar as she drew nearer. Cassian smirked at her and followed it up with a slow, obvious glance from head to toe.

“Hello, Nesta.” He drawled his words, husky and deep. His voice was a baritone which always had her itching to dance across his words. Illyrian magic wasn’t the strongest but those who wielded it were.

What Illyrians wielded their magic for was anyone’s guess but if she had to, Nesta would have guessed it was for making panties drop if the turning heads of the crowd and little sighs was any indication.

There had been occasions where she too was driven with the need to show him more skin of hers then he deserved, to beg him to lay her down and cover her body in honey before licking it off with rasps of his tongue.

Must have been magic.

“Cassian,” she said with barely a nod and turned to his companion. “Azriel.”

Azriel nodded back a polite hello while Cassian leant against the bar directly facing her, wearing a grin as sharkish as Gwyn’s. She was like a lamb on the ground being circled by a taloned beast.

“Interesting performance.”

Azriel coughed at Cassian’s words, spluttering on the beer he was drinking and Nesta frowned, heat flooding her cheeks. Was he mocking her?

If he was, she wouldn’t give his smugly handsome self the satisfaction of getting to her and instead she ignored his words asking who else was here and where her sister was.

“Feyre, Rhys, Az and me. Amren came to watch the ballet but didn’t stay for drinks.”

“And where’s my sister and Rhys now?”

Cassian jerked his head over to the direction of the compartments. “They’re having a private ‘conversation’ behind closed curtains.”

Nesta’s face twisted in disgust. Fucking fae. Always fucking.

“Why didn’t Amren stay?”

“She never sticks around after The Nutcracker. Says it’s derogatory and insulting and she only comes to refill her well of rage.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, what was it she said Az? That the performances were brimming with cultural appropriation?”

The heat on Nesta’s cheeks turned into furnace. It wasn’t as though Cassian explicitly referred to Nesta’s performance but his words had to crawled under her skin. Feyre’s fae friends weren’t fans of Nesta’s, not after Rhys had spilled to them everything Feyre had told him.

For a group so ancient, they acted like spoilt human teenagers. Nesta would take the high road and try and find dignity in silence.

The bartender brought out another beer for Azriel and a glass of dark liquor for Cassian. A glass of wine from the Rosehall vineyard was handed to her and she was surprised someone had the foresight to order for her before she arrived, and with her favourite drink.

“Did you not like it then?” Nesta asked after taking a sip, her voice light. Azriel coughed again and this time Cassian shot him a glare, his rough-hewn face growing solemn before sliding into his more casual expression.

“There were some authentic Illyrian steps involved which is impressive. Didn’t realise old Eris had it in him.”

“It wasn’t Eris,” Nesta said, “It was me. I found an Illyrian choreographer in the city and she taught me some steps.”

Cassian’s face stilled for a moment, motionless like stone before letting out a roaring laugh which reverberated around the bar. The lesser fae behind him jumped and splashed his drink on the counter, quivering in fright.

“Well, that explains it!”

Nesta’s flesh prickled, her skin chilling in the overly warm bar. Goodness knows what she’d been dancing. Some dance of self-mockery probably. Her throat was burning and she didn’t understand whether she was upset because she thought Emerie liked her or upset because Cassian had seen.

Nesta’s fingers clenched the stem of the wine glass and she took a gulp of her drink, downing almost half as her hand wavered and her eyes watered. Cassian immediately stopped grinning.

“It was a beautiful dance,” Azriel said from her right and she turned to him, his face serious. “Other performances of The Nutcracker have the Illyrian dance as the violent, hostile war dance. Yours was the best one I’ve seen. Cassian liked it very much.”

Nesta whispered her thanks, looking between the Illyrians standing at either side of her who were now glaring at each other. She was out-flanked next to their bulk and she wished her sister was done doing whatever the hell she was doing so Nesta could say her hellos and goodbyes and get out of there.

“There’s only one Illyrian choreographer in this city,” Cassian said, his voice softer as his fingers trailed around his glass rim. “No other Illyrian would ever bother with this place.”

Nesta looked around the theatre at its gilded gold décor and red curtains but somehow knew Cassian was referring to Velaris as a whole. Illyrians never came to the city to visit, let alone live.

She glanced at him and found his smile was gentler and his hazel eyes, which always bordered on lascivious, were kinder somehow. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to mock her, perhaps he realised his raucous laughter had hurt.

He had no reason to care if he’d hurt her feelings and she shouldn’t have cared either but there had been a sting to his words which sunk deeper than she’d liked. She wasn’t opposed if he wanted to soothe over his words.

But she wasn’t about to let him know that. Instead, she fixed a bored expression onto her face. “Oh,” she said, looking into her glass as she swirled her wine around, “and who would that be?”

Cassian, still leaning against the bar, mirrored her by looking into his own glass before taking a sip.

“A friend of mine from the old country moved here a couple of years ago because her attempt at bringing ballet into the township was less than successful. You know her human name as Emerie.”

Cassian was still leaning against the bar, now looking into his own deep amber coloured liquid before taking a sip.

Nesta’s head snapped up to find Cassian now looking intently at her. “Yes, that’s her.”

“Figured,” Cassian said with a chuckle and took another long sip.

His mood seemed less jovial than before, more pensive and Nesta glanced around to discover Azriel had gone from her side. She looked around the crowds but didn’t see sight of him. How she lost an Illyrian of his stature she didn’t know but when she whipped her head around to the booth Cassian gestured towards earlier, the curtains were still closed.

She didn’t even have it in her to be irritated. The whole night was a wash-out and because of the stupid enchanted horse incident earlier closing streets, she was now adding additional time to her walk home.

“Well, then,” she said. “It’s been a long day and I’m tired; I have another two performances tomorrow and I want to head out and avoid any festive idiots.”

Cassian stood upright, alert and facing her, his glass sloshing the liquid violently as he placed it back onto the bar a little too hard. His wings flexed. “You haven’t seen Feyre yet.”

“If Feyre wanted to catch up with me then she wouldn’t be playing hide the fae penis with her boyfriend right now.” Her tone was sharp and she glared at Cassian. “It doesn’t take much to say a quick hello to your sister.”

Did Nesta care if Cassian thought her rude? Not a fucking bit. Despite Elain living an hour outside the city and Feyre only living on the other side, a journey which took less than a minute travelling by Winnow Express, Feyre was the sister Nesta saw the least.

“If she comes out at any point,” Nesta continued, “tell her I’ll call her.”

It wasn’t a lie when she said she was tired. Two performances a day took it out of her let alone when magic clung in the air at Solmas and let alone the fact that Nesta had used a tiny amount of her own as some kind of performance enhancer.

Whatever energy reserves she had was depleted, the glass of wine making her feel like she’d drank the entire bottle.

Nesta didn’t bother saying goodbye to Cassian, just left her empty glass on the counter and spun around.

Being a ballerina was on her side as she wove through the crowd and up into the foyer which was blissfully empty. Sadly, the world outside the doors was not so much and Nesta took a breath before wrapping herself in her stole.

The statues guarding the entrance waved her a goodbye, one with a human Santa hat adorning its head and the other with a fae garland wrapped around its waist. Nesta rolled her eyes. Human and fae decorations were put on everything so management could say they’d met their Equal Opportunities criteria.

Nesta stepped onto the pavement and looked down the street of the theatre district.

She couldn’t deny Velaris at night was beautiful.

History books stated the first fae who settled in the city were night dwellers and while they were able to survive in the sun, it was under the starlit sky where they thrived. So, the stories went that they made the night spectacular.

The ink black sky was painted with whorls of galaxies and splashed with stars. At first glance everything appeared white but when Nesta looked closer it was clear they were silver and gold and the purest, palest blue.

Feyre had once told her fae eyes saw more colours than humans and the stars were a multitude of colours – the rainbow and beyond. One of Feyre’s tattoos was designed to allow her to see what the fae saw.

The theatre district was still buzzing with humans and fae alike. Because of the nature of the city, it was usual for the streets to be filled until the early hours of the morning and after any performance in the theatre district there was no time for relaxing.

There was always residual magic left over from the ballet. The ballet theatre was the largest of the theatre buildings and so the magic started strongest at the end Nesta now stood before dissipating the further away you walked.

Snowflakes and flowers alike drifted down from the empty, cloudless sky. The Waltz of the Snowflakes and the Waltz of the Flowers often combatted against each other for prominence in their audience’s minds and refused to give in to each even after the show was done.

Thankfully, the Land of the Sweets didn’t involve themselves in this battle. They had done one performance many weeks ago and when chocolate rained from the sky it was delightful. Boiling hot coffee? Not so much.

Nesta navigated her way though the cobbles and crowds as petals landed in her hair and snowflakes melted on her eyelashes. She heaved a sigh of relief when she made it to the end past the gathered individuals who spilled out of the smaller theatres and theatre bars.

She turned left to go into a side street and stopped, almost tripping over her own feet.

Leaning against the wall, silhouetted against the streetlamps and fae lights was the hulking shape of an Illyrian.

“What are you-? How did you-?”

Cassian laughed as he used his elbow to propel himself from the wall and stride towards her. “What am I doing here and how did I get here so fast?”

“Well... yeah.”

“Wings,” he said, jabbing his thumbs in the direction behind him. “They come in useful from time to time. I thought I would fly you home.”

Nesta eyed up the wings behind him, remembering all the news reports of Illyrian Air. “No thank you, I like the walk.”

“Ok, then I’ll walk with you. Make sure you get home safe.”

She frowned. Nesta had lived in this city all her life and despite the occasional fae related incident which was brought on by personal vendetta, unavoidable prophecy from birth or magic spell gone wrong, Velaris was a safe place.

It also helped that Nesta had that splash of fae blood herself and a glare which froze bones. Literally. There had been an incident with an ex-boyfriend but she’d filed an explanation with the police and it was never brought up again.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t need babysitting.”

“I know you don’t but I’d still like to walk you. Please.” The last word was said so softly she almost didn’t hear it but she caught the imploration.

Cassian stepped further into the light of a streetlamp, a few pale pink petals falling from his shoulders, desperation in his eyes.

Nesta sighed. “Fine, but I’m on the other side of the Sidra. The quickest route is over Mermaid Bridge.”

Cassian paused for a moment, “Mermaid Bridge? There won’t be any actual mermaids on it right?”

“Not at this time of year, the water’s too cold and they travel south.”

“Thank god, one of my ex’s was a mermaid. They are terrifying.”

Nesta shook her head, not able to imagine a creature of his size being scared of anything. They started walking in companionable silence. The further away from the city centre they strode, the more the crowds thinned.

Some shops remained open, including the café Nesta sat in earlier and groups had gathered around tables to laugh over mugs of frothy hot chocolate which overflowed with cream. Cinnamon, gingerbread, and candy cane scented the air.

As they walked, humans and fae alike paled when they crossed paths with Cassian and many darted out of his way. One lesser fae flattened himself against the red brick wall while another gave a quiet yelp and ran down an alley.

Nesta glanced up at Cassian but either he was pretending he didn’t notice the running onlookers or he didn’t care.

“What do you do?” she asked. She knew nothing about any of Feyre’s friends in any detail. “For that matter what do any of you do?”

Cassian laughed. “Rhys has a lot of inherited wealth, Amren trades precious stones – we think from the old dragon mines, and no one has a clue what Azriel does. I’m a bounty hunter.”

Oh.

“Caught anyone I’d have heard of?”

“Heard of the Tooth Fairy?”

Nesta grimaced, quickly swooping her tongue over her teeth. “Yes.”

“He was one of mine. So was the Bone Carver, the Weaver and Lanthys.”

Nesta’s eyebrows shot up. “Lanthys? The gold miner? What did he do? Wait, I don’t want to know. He asked me out once.”

Cassian glanced over at her; his own eyebrows raised. “Yeah? Did you say yes?”

Nesta pulled a face. “Good grief, no. He kept sending me telepathic dick pics. It’s bad enough being sent dick pics across dating apps.”

They approached Mermaid Bridge, which was, as Nesta said, devoid of the creature it was named for. Lights twinkled on the other side of the city, the residential side where Nesta lived. There were shrieks of delight further up the river in the dark and Nesta wondered if Gwyn was ice-diving next to Viviane’s ice rink.

Cassian coughed. “You’re on dating apps?”

“Not many, I thought I’d give them a go. My sisters are busy, I only have a few friends and I need something other than work in my life.”

“Yeah, I understand. ‘All work and no play’ make Cassian a dull boy too. The play part of life is fun,” he looked at her from the side of his eye and winked.

Nesta felt the blush spread across her cheeks and she willed it down with whatever force she had left. She wasn’t a virgin so she wasn’t about to start blushing like one.

They climbed the steps to the bridge and walked across. Of all the bridges which connected the two halves of the city, this was Gwyn’s favourite. Nesta’s human eyes couldn’t pick out the colours at night but in the day the railings glittered gold and shimmered with turquoise gems.

“Do you date?” The words slipped out before she stopped them. “You mentioned a mermaid ex so....”

Cassian’s laugh was more a breath and he started to smooth down non-existent knots in his hair. “Yes. Well...no. I did but work is busy and I’m sort of interested in someone and I guess until I purge them from my system, I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“How long have you been interested in them?”

“A while.”

“Why don’t you ask them out rather than eradicate them from your options?”

Nesta wanted to slap herself in the face. Or pitch herself off the bridge into the black, ice-cold water. Even as she was speaking, she wanted to not be but it was as though her mouth and mind had fallen out and no longer wanted anything to do with each other.

Cassian shrugged, “I guess. They just never struck me as someone interested in dating fae.”

They came to the end of the bridge and Nesta looked upwards at the sky. On this side of the river without the city lights, the stars were clearer to her eyes, more defined. One shot across the sky.

“You should go for it,” Nesta said, “you might be surprised.”

“Maybe,” Cassian sighed. “She’s kind of intimidating though.”

“You’re over six foot tall with massive wings and can use magic. I’m sure you’re more intimidating.”

“Me? Nah, I’m sure she thinks I’m an oversized bat.”

Nesta cringed. Those had been her words once a couple of years ago when she was first introduced to Feyre’s new friendship group and the Illyrian’s within. She didn’t think they’d heard her say it but then again, fae hearing was something exceptional along with fae sight.

The streets they walked were now quieter, the hustle and bustle of the inner-city gone. The chill settled in easier on this side of the river and Nesta knew she’d wake to frost across her window panes in the morning.

They were silent until they reached her apartment building, halfway up one of the steepest lanes. It was a small four storey which wasn’t spacious or modern but it gave her brilliant view across the river and Velaris and most importantly, it was hers.

“This is me,” she said, stopping outside the steps leading to the red entrance door. “Thank you for walking me back.” It was on the tip of her tongue to invite Cassian in for coffee but she held back.

He smiled, his eyes warm and shining. “Honestly it was my pleasure.” He leant forward, the sheer bulk of him covering Nesta and for a moment she thought he would kiss her but instead he took her slim fingered hand in his larger one and brought it up to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand.

“Goodnight,” he said, “I hope you have a good Solmas Day when it comes.”

Cassian was no ballet dancer but he sure moved like one, letting go of her hand and swivelling to face the direction they’d walked in from, marching down the slope of her street while Nesta stared at his retreating back.

He was clad in black and would have easily blended into his surroundings if not for the red jewels he wore at his wrists.

Nesta gaped down at the back of her hand, her mouth open. She still felt his lips, warm and soft, on her skin.

“Wait!”

Cassian turned back to face her, tilting his head.

“I’m sorry if my performance in the ballet was offensive. I know Azriel said it was beautiful and that you liked it but if that was a lie to save my feelings, it’s ok. I went to Emerie because I wanted to make it authentic. I should have left it alone.”

Cassian smiled but it wasn’t mocking. He took a few steps back up the street towards her. “You know I said Emerie was a friend from the old country?”

Nesta nodded.

“She’s a really good friend. I like her a lot. She’s no nonsense with a great heart. I was trying to set her up with Rhys’ cousin Mor and in the process we got talking about dating and relationships and she asked if there was anyone, I was interested in. As it happens, I discovered this evening that she knows the person I was talking about. I’m sure she saw this as her opportunity to do some matchmaking of her own.”

“Oh,” Nesta said, her throat dry.

“Yeah. I also happened to tell her in one conversation I would be watching The Nutcracker this year on account of it being Solmas. So, there you go.”

The butterflies were flittering in Nesta’s stomach again and Cassian’s words were taking shape in her mind and building a story. “The steps Emerie taught me for the Illyrian dance – was that an invitation?”

Cassian’s smile stretched wide and he tilted his head back and laughed, the dark column of his throat shining in the starlight. “Oh yes, a very specific invitation. Emerie must have had the day of her life when she pieced everything together.”

The flittering in her stomach was now pooling in her chest. This type of conversation should have her fleeing up the steps and racing through the foyer until she threw herself into her cold bed to hide under the covers.

Nesta wanted to know what she’d inadvertently done without meaning to. Not that she minded whatever it was she’d done.

“What did I dance then, Cassian?” Her voice was lower than usual and rich like the overflowing cream in the café.

Cassian’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hazel eyes were almost black. “The dance you performed half naked on a heated stage was most definitely an invitation, Nesta.” He smiled at her again, soft like before but there was something behind it. Suddenly he was a wolf and she the lamb again. He was all claws and teeth and animal.

A shiver of anticipation ran through her. Her pulse beating in her throat, drawing Cassian’s eye.

“Oh, Nesta,” Cassian said, his voice almost a growl. “You performed an Illyrian dance of seduction.”

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 3 years ago

Text

Not to me. Not if it’s you.

Ao3

Summary: Logan was, regrettably, rather accustomed to unpleasant accouters in public. They were an android, such things were always happening for their kind. But that was before they had Remy. Content: Injury, non-graphic violence, talk of bad/abusive parent (not exactly a parent but same concept), murder threats (not carried out), people being jerks to androids because people are jerks, it’s actually pretty soft, non-binary!remy, non-binary!logan Pairing: Losleep Notes: remy’s pronoun set is ay/em/air/airs/emself

Remy had always hated people. Too often they tended to be rude and cruel and vicious and selfish and just plain mean. And it was to air immense displeasure that ay was technically a part of that species.

(Sometimes, those few people Remy considered passable would joke that’s why Remy started dating an android, that ay could never have found it within emself to settle with another human being. Remy would always snort at the joke before shaking air head. “I would’ve made an exception for my sweetheart.” Ay’d say before grinning. “It’s my luck that I didn’t have to.”)

The one thing to be said for humans, at the very least, was that they usually stuck to being verbal bitches, at least with strangers- which was a whole ‘nother thing, but Remy digressed. Most people didn’t start anything physical unless someone was drunk or someone was protective.

‘Usually.’ ‘Most.’

“Murder, I’m going to commit murder.” Remy muttered under air breath, trying not to completely lose air focus. Logan’s wrist was still sparking at the break point, metal and wire revealed beneath split artificial skin, and Logan needed that fixed before Remy could go off on air killing spree.

Logan laughed lightly, taking this all much too well in stride, in Remy’s opinion. Granted, they had already turned off the sensors in their injured arm, the lack of any sort of pain likely taking away from the regular level of stress such an event would cause, but still. “That seems a bit extreme.”

“He broke your wrist!” Remy protested, glaring at the wrist in question. The asshole was lucky he had only broken the skin and tweaked some wires- had the metal in the arm been damaged at all, Remy would’ve just killed him on the spot. “Just to prove a stupid-ass point he didn’t have any business proving.”

“Technically, he can not break my wrist in the manner humans typically mean.” Logan pointed out, offering Remy an amused smile when ay shot them a look. “You already, as you may say, ‘returned his favor’ in double, my love. Going back for murder is excessive.”

Remy took a moment to revel in the recent memory as ay carefully moved all the wires in Logan’s wrist back to their regular positions. Logan’s skin had made an awful sort of cracking noise as it broke open, and as soon as Remy had heard it, ay had jumped on their attacker. His first wrist snapped against the metal of Logan’s, and the second Remy twisted right into a brick wall. “I’m just saying he’d deserve it.”

“Perhaps.” Logan sounded amused. They fell into an easy silence as Remy continued air work, adding a new protective coating to the wires that had gotten theirs torn open and double checking that everything was in place as it should be.

“You have done it better than I believe even I could.” Logan commented softly as Remy examined air work.

“I meant it when I said I’d take care of you, doll, all of you. Fights and repairs included.” Remy replied, equally soft. Logan wasn’t a factory-produced android, instead one custom-made by yet another sucky human who had dropped them off in the nearest dump as soon as Logan was no longer ‘new’ or ‘interesting’ enough in their awful eyes.

The night Logan had given Remy their blueprints, it had been with a rueful smile, explaining that they weren’t expecting Remy to actually look at them, just that ay should have them in case something did go horribly wrong and some engineer or mechanic needed to know how to put them back together.

Two days later Remy had them memorized. Like hell would ay ever let someone else fix up air Logan, whether it be for a total system failure or a tiny skin break.

Remy folded the artificial skin of Logan’s wrist back into place, gently rubbing a glue-lotion over the tear. Satisfied that air work would hold until the skin wove itself back together, Remy wrapped it all up in a brace. Only after gracing it all with a kiss, of course.

“And now that that’s done…” Remy paused for a moment as ay put away air joint first-aid and repair kit, “how are you feeling?”

“I am perfectly alright.” Logan answered, seeming uninterested in the emotional turmoil Remy was fairly certain they should be in as they watched their fingers move.

Remy frowned. “Some asshole tried to snap your wrist because you refused to split your chest open and prove you were an android. That sorta pain ain’t just physical, babe.”

“It is hardly the first time I have been accosted in public.” Logan said dismissively, though the bittersweet smile they offered Remy betrayed more than they were saying.

“That doesn’t make it easier, or okay.” Remy shifted further onto the bed, slipping behind Logan to lean them against air chest. Instinctively, Logan tucked their head back against air shoulder as Remy’s arms slipped around their waist. “Talk to me.”

A quiet sigh. “You are correct in saying it does not become okay simply because it has occurred repeatedly. Nor usually would it become easier. But, I must admit, in all honesty… having you has made it so.”

Remy hummed encouragingly for Logan to go on as ay pulled air fingers through their hair. The texture was soft, the edges jagged from where Logan had defiantly chopped the symmetrical ends off- one of the many reminders of their creator’s tainted ‘perfection’ that Logan had wanted nothing to do with. It truly was their hair, and Remy loved it.

“When I was accosted during the time I was still with my creator, they would force me to bend to any human’s odd whims. Should an attack occur, I would be left undefended, and only occasionally assisted in the aftermath.” Logan explained. Their voice didn’t break, but Remy could feel the way they stiffened as they recalled the memories. Ay pressed a kiss against their temple, willing emself to remain focused on Logan and not how dearly ay wanted to put a rusty pipe through their creator’s throat.

“When alone, I would rarely be able to fend off those… particularly determined persons, and I would have no one to assist me in the aftermath.” Logan paused as their gaze shifted back to their wrist, their uninjured hand moving to rest on top of the brace Remy had put on. “They were bad times. I often felt rather alone, or even pathetic.”

The arm Remy had left around Logan’s waist tightened. “I don’t ever want you to feel like that again, darling.”

Logan chuckled, once more relaxing against Remy. “Precisely my point. Before I had you, such events as today’s were not simply stressful in and of themselves, but also in their build-up and aftermath. With you, well…”

And then Logan laughed, and Remy was very happily reminded of just how dearly ay adored air partner. “You broke his wrists! And you attended to my injuries with more care than- well- anyone ever has. If you intend for this to be the standard of dealing with my public disruptions, I do not think I have to be as distressed by them as I once was.”

“So… what I’m getting here… is that you’d actually be thrilled if I headed back and took out that asshole?”

Remy didn’t need to see Logan roll their eyes (affectionately) to know that they had, Logan turning their head to press a kiss to air cheek. “Maybe next time.”

“Rain check accepted.” Remy joked, settling air head on top of Logan’s. In a sweeter and genuine tone, ay added, “I’m more than happy to make sure you never have a bad interaction go unpunished and unattended ever again, my dear dork.”

“My queer bodyguard.” Logan murmured in reply, smiling when Remy laughed. “I am immensely fond of you.”

Remy kissed their forehead. “I love you a lot too, sugar. Wanna cuddle while we watch trash?”

“With you? Always.”

So, yeah. Remy hated people, a viewpoint ay felt was wholly justified. But Logan wasn’t a people. As far as Remy was concerned, in air gay-centered mind, Logan wasn’t even an android.

Logan was Logan, and Logan was perfect.

#losleep #ts logan #ts remy #ts sleep #sanders sides #fanfic #nb!remy #nb!logan #android!logan #h/c #look at me... writing again....#im actually really happy with this #espec for still being rusty on writing #please enjoy :)

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prof-peach · 4 years ago

Note

If you could cross over two of your favorite games, which would you choose? Please explain, why that crossover would be a good match.

Oh you’re going to regret asking this one, I’m bout to GET SERIOUS.

So Pokemon, obvs, I love the whole world it’s built in, but the games imo are REALLY boring, I haven’t enjoyed one a lot since gale of darkness, the main ones just are a little too linear obvious plots, pretty standard setups for story and style. Speaking of style, the games lack personality, the models aren’t animated well, moves have no dynamic energy or visual difference at times, and the turn based battle style just feels kind of, I don’t know, old? Slow? Just doesn’t suit what I enjoy personally, gives me a FInal Fantasy vibe and I just cannot stand the speed at which things happen in those games, plus not into 3rd person ‘let’s build a team of people’ much, but that’s a problem for another time. With this all in mind, the game I wish would happen is like gen20 Pokemon, far future sadly, I doubt I’d see it in my lifetime but god I’d be happy if I did!

Ok so take the newest Zelda graphics, the visual treat that was BOTW, open world, puzzles, not JUST combat, you got side missions, hunt the chickens, find missing pets, parcels, items, whatever. Love it! The horse taming?! Amazing you funky little game. Now take the bad guys and beasts from that. And put Pokemon in instead. Give them the diversity, the life and believable natures that BOTW gave the animals, I followed a frog in BOTW for 15 minutes, and it was a great experience, it felt like it was believable. Above world spawning, ACTUAL difficult gameplay, rare spawn rates, make dragons hard to get again, cmon, it’s too easy now, make it so we need a certain set of Pokemon for certain tasks. Water types big enough to carry you will be able to get you to new areas, rock types that can help you climb mountains faster, or break through blocking boulders. Actual towns with more than 4 houses in them, shops, barns, farms, homes. Like little link with the heat, maybe ice types would struggle in volcano areas, or bug Pokemon not be so comfortable in gale force winds. Give the weather more of an effect on your partners. Mounts, don’t even get me started that Pokemon Let’s go had you able to ride any of the larger species, but swsh did not???? Bitch please, give me my rideable Pokemon. The wild area too was far too closed, limited, online was laggy and a mess, camping is limited, let me do more with my team. Pokemon for me is all about the actual creatures, how they live with humans, and the many wonderful things they’re capable of. Yes of course it’s cool they can fight, but like what else you know?

I’d love a game that lets me buy a plot of land, maybe plant things, custom build things. I’m a sucker for the fallout4 settlement builds when they’re modded to hell and back, they’re fun! It can be a really calm and creative process. If I could do that and skip the main campaign and all the battles for a bit? Amazing, it sound perfect for me. I am that distracted hoe collecting flowers while the kingdom burns in the background. Side quests are everything to me. Let me give homeless people enough money to get them in a home? Let me adopt Pokemon that are stray around the town? Plz oh plz bring me a Pokemon game that allows me to work WITH my team to do more than KO other species. I want to save and buy a plow for my buddy gogoat, and grow amazing foods to sell to get currency to spend in decorations, to spoil my team. Give me actual game consequence, if I ignore that sick and injured Pokemon I find in the wild, later maybe it’s family don’t want to help me out with a different problem, too stricken from grief. I am all about the average bits, the old women who need help, the lost pets board in town, the general day to day stuff. Let me get cosmetic items for the Pokemon I keep, cute outfits, special gemstone items, let me actually live with them, or even feel remotely like they’re realistic.

Ok so in game, if it’s looking like BOTW it’s pretty beautiful but also stylised, I’d have it so you can send out a maximum of 3 Pokemon from your 6, using bumpers and such to throw them out. If you hit the trigger you switch from controlling the human trainer, to the Pokemon you’ve targeted with a standard lock on targeting system. You then can be the leader, but be the Pokemon. You could technically defeat the game without a human if you wanted, which incorporates the mystery dungeon games I think, and caters to that crowd. I’d love to see the use of attacks out of battle, things like using water gun to grow plants, using ember to start a campfire faster and stave off the cold. There’s no consequence to Pokemon anymore, and I think that’s where it’s lost me. I have to admit I miss the days of a poisoned pokemon fainting if you don’t heal them soon enough, I miss gym battles that were actually tough, damn, try picking charmander in red and beating brock without grinding in viridian forest first, it’s not easy. And I loved that. Yes it’s a child’s game, it will never be difficult again, but god it’d be nice to have a bit of a challenge, or maybe a difficulty setting, so some could play it with hostility turned off, great for kids, or you can be n adult like I know so many Pokemon fans are, and play it on expert mode and ACTUALLY have to work hard to beat the game. Alternate skill trees anyone? Train gun a fire type to ACUTALLy combat water moves?? Please! Cmon! It frustrated me that every challenger has pretty much a systematic set of moves to use to win. Grass opponent? Fire attack spam until you win. It’s dull, so at least with very difficult tricks to either find or learn in game would make it more achievable if you can send that fire type in and I don’t know, train them so much the heat evaporates the water mid-battle and you suddenly have a shot at winning. Pokemon has taught me that if you work hard enough you can achieve something, but the games just have such strict ways to win. Feels wrong.

In terms of battling, let us BE the Pokemon, let us learn to dodge, train our speed, train our defence, make a team of truly tough Pokemon instead of just, average? Some species have a cap on their skills, a squirtle has lower stat points than a Charizard, but you can’t ever change that? Let me choose the Pokemon I believe in, and let me work with them until they’re just as good, if not better than the game tanks. This would also make online battles more interesting. Everyone picks the top trio. Fairy, dragon, legendaries. And yknow what? It’s boring. That one IRL fight with the monster Pacharisu that won in the world tournament with follow me and the situs Berry? Unbelievable, I love that little rat so much because of this, so let us all have a chance to build a team that’s strategically viable, strong, and potentially a winner formula, even if they aren’t fully evolved, or the biggest Pokemon in the world. Yeah maybe you have to grind way harder with your unevolved Pokemon, but you get to the end game and win, because you put love and time into species that you enjoy, not just good fighters.

Unfortunately I am beholdent to Todd-idiot-Howard, and I love the Eldrescrolls and fallout games (before they got dumb, not that I don’t play the new ones. 76 I’m looking at you, you big asshole game.) honestly I hate online games, so none of that junk, just a good old fashioned open world sandbox game is plenty. Games for me are an escape from others, not an invitation to socialise. To each their own of course, and I do play online games sometimes, just pretty short lived ones, over watch and rdr2 for example. Would they be sometimes better on private servers? Yes of course, fallout76? Want to play with others? No. I do not. Please leave me alone. And if you buy a private server you’re feeding the monster that is Todd Howard, the man the myth the asshole, then we’ll get more bad games like 76. I just so desperately want the Pokemon company to see what a beautiful potential game they’ve got on their hands, that could be suitable for far greater audiences, but instead they’ve focused on the kids. It’s fine, it’s functional, but it’s lost to the fans from day 1, that are all 20+ years old now and want something meatier to play, something far more broad and inclusive. I also hate that there’s no wheelchair option in any Pokemon game. Like cmon, it’s not hard to include that.

In short, BOTW + Pokemon, with a sprinkle of open world sandbox to it, less fighting, more fun. Or, at least both options. Sure, go fight everything, great, but I want to farm carrots over here with 6sunflora, plz let me have some peace.

Edit: I forgot about harvest moon, chuck some of that in there too.

SECOND EDIT: someone in the comments mentioned to put this in Unova? Plz love yourselves, this game would be ALL MAPS. Stuff one singular location, this is the ideal game, put every map in it, join them, put islands in, make them more explorable, more detailed!

#pokemon #not peach #OOC

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vhenadahls · 4 years ago

Text

the remnants of the life i used to live here in eden

After Tali is exonerated, she decides to give Pippa Shepard a tour of the Rayya.

G, 2600 words.

“Tali’Zorah, in light of your history of service, we do not find sufficient evidence to convict. You are cleared of all charges.”

Admiral Raan’s voice is still steady and professional, a proper admiral’s voice, but it’s lighter than it’s been the entire time they’ve been on the Fleet. Tali sags forward against the railing in front of her and Pippa, relief exuding from her entire body. The garden plaza erupts with a buzz of chatter, blotting out both Raan’s and Shepard’s next words - not that Tali is sure she would’ve heard them anyways, her own heart is beating so loud. She hasn’t been exiled, and Shepard hasn’t revealed her father’s treachery, and when she woke up on the Normandy today she definitely had not expected this to be the way her day went.

The admirals end the trial, and people start to stream out of the garden plaza, still buzzing with conversation and gossip and thoughts and theories. Tali drags Pippa over to speak with each of the admirals, pointedly keeping the conversation with Admiral Xen blessedly short, and to thank Reegar and Veetor yet again for speaking up for her. Eventually they make it back to the corridor outside the plaza, Garrus trailing behind them. Looking up at the achingly familiar patched-together entranceway, she makes a split-second decision. “Garrus, you go on back to the Normandy. We’ll catch up.”

Garrus looks at Pippa for confirmation. She glances back at Tali, who knows her body language is telegraphing her excitement but that Pippa and Garrus won’t know what it means. After a moment Shepard nods, and Garrus walks back up the corridor to the docking bay the Normandy is in.

Pippa turns to face Tali full-on, a wide grin visible through the viewscreen of her helmet. “Well then, Miss vas Normandy, what’s got you so excited?”

Okay, maybe Pippa’s not so bad at quarian body language as she thought. She pushes that aside and bounces from foot to foot “We’re on the Rayya. It’s my birth ship. I thought I’d take you on a tour.”

Pippa’s mouth drops open behind her viewscreen - Tali’s learned this one, a display of shock or awe for many species, not just humans. “A tour? Really? Is that allowed?”

Laughing, Tali links her arm through Pippa’s and steers her towards the trading plaza. “Probably not, but I doubt they’re going to say anything after today.”

The trading plaza, just a short walk down the corridor from the garden plaza, is also achingly familiar and almost just as she remembers it. The people and items in it are different, of course, but it’s the same design as always. Bank of lockers on the back wall, all different sizes, all full of things someone didn’t need but someone else could use. Rows of desks for anyone to hawk wares, services, whatever it is they can do or make or trade that others might want. It’s loud, crowded, full of people speaking Khelish, people she can still understand if she turns off her translator. A wave of homesickness washes over her, even though she’s standing right in the middle of the ship she grew up on. She won’t live here again, not on the Rayya, even if she does come back to the Flotilla.

Trying to disengage from that feeling, she turns back to Pippa, whose grin has spread even wider. “Where are we now? It looks like a market.” Her eyes dart back and forth across the plaza, head turning so rapidly she looks like a top.

“Kind of,” Tali says, leading the way to the stall of a quilter she remembers from before her Pilgrimage. “We don’t use credits within the Flotilla. Needs like food, water, and medicine are doled out as needed, and you trade for other things. Trade your work, your surplus supplies, information, whatever you have. That’s what this is for - this is where people trade what they can. The lockers on the wall,” she points, “are for people to leave items they don’t want anymore, and someone else can take them. Other people make things to sell here. Quilts, suit adornments, and so on. And musicians and storytellers and dancers can show off their skills.” She points again, to a musician and a dancer attracting a small audience in the opposite corner.

“No credits? How?” Pippa slows, trying to watch exchanges between traders and customers while continuing to follow Tali. “Even when I was a kid on the streets, creds were king. That’s what will for sure get you food in your belly and a safe place to sleep.”

Tali’s heart squeezes painfully, the way it always does when Pippa mentions her childhood before BAaT and the Alliance. She’ll have to ask about that someday. “We don’t have to worry about food and shelter - everyone gets food, everyone gets shelter. You know that’s why we don’t have an incarceration system and our highest punishment is exile - we can’t support those who don’t work to provide for the community, because everyone is given those things by virtue of being quarian. But this sort of thing - things that aren’t necessities, things that make your life happier or easier or the like - those we trade for, because what better thing to offer than something else we value?” They’ve reached the quilt-trader, and Tali holds up her hand in greeting. “I’m Tali’Zorah, and this is Pippa Shepard.”

The quilt-trader nods. “I remember you, Tali’Zorah.” She turns to Pippa, holding out a hand with her palm facing forward, fingers slightly bent, so Pippa can interlace her own with them - a first-time greeting. “Welcome, Pippa Shepard. I am Chenah’Ayyal.”

Pippa looks back at Tali, probably confused, but holds her hand up - Tali would never have doubted she’d be a good sport. The quilt-seller interlinks their fingers, and Pippa won’t be able to tell, no matter how good she’s gotten at reading quarian body language, but Tali can almost feel the approval wafting off Ayyal.

“What brings you to the Rayya’s trading plaza, Shepard?” Ayyal asks, pointedly re-fluffing one of the quilts on her display. It’s reminiscent of Rannoch, qorach and canyons and wide-open sky, in shades of blue and purple.

Rather than answering, Pippa shoots a sidelong glance at Tali. The meaning is obvious - she’s going to let Tali do most of the talking, let Tali choose how others will see a human wandering around one of the Fleet’s most precious ships. She can spin this however she wants.

“I’m taking her on a tour,” she says. No spin. “I want to show her where I grew up.”

Ayyal’s stance becomes guarded, but not angry or mistrustful. Honestly more than Tali had expected, and her stomach unclenches just a bit. She draws one finger down the neat and even stitching of the Rannoch blanket. “This is beautiful. Your stitching is every bit as lovely as I remember. I’ve never seen it fray.”

With the disgusted sound Ayyal makes deep in her throat, the air clears even more. “How can you say that?” she asks, dragging the cloth from under Tali’s hand. “See here, the stitches are off center - everyone will notice! How am I supposed to be happy with anyone displaying this in their quarters? I’ll be a laughingstock!”

Tali tries her very best to muffle a laugh, and the hacking cough suddenly afflicting Pippa spells the same. “Just like a craftsperson,” she says, unable to contain a final huff of laughter. “Thank you for talking with us. Until I return.”

“Until I see you again,” Ayyal replies, and holds up her hand again to Pippa, who readily interlaces their fingers again. “And you, Pippa Shepard,” she adds, and Pippa’s answering grin could power the Flotilla for a week. At least.

Grinning too, Tali links her arm back with Pippa’s and steers her back out of the trading plaza and into another corridor. “So that’s the trading plaza, obviously. Most of what’s right around here is also community areas - a school, an infirmary, you saw the garden plaza, and those sorts of things.” She points out the places they pass as they go, places where she spent her childhood and adolescence. “Schools are clean rooms, because children don’t have suits yet. They’re bubbled - like Raan talked about - but when there’s that many children together, it’s better for the space to be clean too. Infirmary too, for obvious reasons, so those are usually right near each other for efficiency.”

“Name of the day on a ship, any ship.” Pippa peers in through windows when they exist, nodding at each quarian they pass. Tali’s heart skips yet another beat as she watches her. The Rayya might be one of the Fleet’s most important ships, but it’s still dingy and patched-together and shabby compared to the least Alliance ship, let alone the Normandy. But Pippa doesn’t look out of place or uncomfortable at all. She looks excited, interested. She looks like she fits in.

There’s only one reason Tali could be worrying about whether Pippa fits in on the Flotilla, and she is not ready to interrogate that quite yet. Instead, she pulls Pippa down a side corridor, so suddenly that Pippa yelps from being knocked off balance. “This way is to hydroponics - the reason these are called liveships.”

Pippa might be an entire handspan shorter than Tali, but she sure can walk fast when she’s excited about something. “Oh, man! I know I’m not going to understand any of it. But it’s so cool! You figured out how to grow enough food to support seventeen million people in space! Three hundred years ago!” She’s pulling Tali now, stopping dead when they reach an intersection. “Which way?”

Their footsteps echo on the metal floors, familiar and comforting, as Tali leads Pippa through the maze of cobbled-together corridors to the hydroponics observation deck. When the doors open, Pippa hurries over to the windows, pressing her faceplate against the glass to peer at the leafy green plants below. “Look at it! That’s all food!”

Laughing again, Tali joins her at the window. “We all take turns volunteering there, not just those of us who live on the liveships. So everyone has a chance to be part of how and where food comes from and is distributed and all of that.” She gestures to a corner on the far end of what they can see. “I always worked in that corner over there. Helped plant, check irrigation systems, whatever needed doing.”

“Wish I’d had something like that.” Pippa’s smile this time doesn’t actually reach her eyes. “Didn’t really think, as a kid, about where food came from before I nicked it.” Her voice is wistful - the opposite of nostalgic, whatever that is. Tali squeezes her hand, and Pippa turns away from the window.

“Show me where you used to live?” she asks. “If you want to.”

“That was my plan. It’s a deck down, so we’ll just go through here…” she lets her words trail off as they head back into the corridor maze, find the stairs, and go down to the deck where she spent most of her life. The designs painted on the walls, the quilts hung to muffle sound, someone in a familiar suit in literally every corner of the ship - it’s almost like she’s stepped back in time.

She stops in front of the door to her family’s apartment, the apartment that was her home until two years ago. The blank door beckons, but she doesn’t knock. “It belongs to someone else now, another family. They moved my father once I transfered to the Neema, gave him a space more conducive to one person alone and gave this to a family that needed more room.” Her voice is as devoid of emotion as she can make it, trying not to let Pippa hear how draining this is to be back in these spaces that hold memories of her father. And her mother.

Pippa’s hand appears on her shoulder, and Tali looks down at it, trying to let it pierce the haze of remembering. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s alright to be upset.”

It’s alright. Tali snorts. “My father wouldn’t agree. We don’t have time for sentimentality. We didn’t have time to come here at all, honestly. He would’ve been upset with me for letting my feelings overcome my duty.”

“Hey.” The hand on Tali’s shoulder slides down her arm to interlace their fingers together, three and five. “You’re allowed to care. He cared about you. He didn’t know how to show it, but he did. You care about him, still. You care about your people, about our crew. And that’s a good thing. That means you’ll do what you can to protect as many of them as you can.”

“They didn’t want me to come home.” An unfamiliar person emerges from the apartment door, looks between the two of them, and heads off down the hall without a word. Tali moves back up the corridor, Pippa trailing behind, so they won’t be right in front of someone’s door anymore. She tries again. “They didn’t want me to come home. They were using me as a prop, a piece in someone else’s game.” Her voice is rising, and she doesn’t care to stop it. “They stripped my ship name, Shepard!”

“I know. But you don’t have to accept their reasoning for it.” Pippa leans against the wall below a sign in Khelish telling her not to do exactly that.

Tali narrows her eyes. “How do you mean?”

“The ones who voted to strip your ship name wanted you to feel like you didn’t belong. Like you had no home, no one to stand with you. But you do, Tali, you have so many people who stand with you! And multiple homes!” So quickly she looks like she’ll topple over, Pippa stands up straight away from the wall, hands spread for emphasis. “Raan did what she could for you, Reegar and Veetor spoke up for you. They gave you the Normandy in your name in quarian fashion - that’s not a thing any other species does, you know that. You belong in both places. Both, and. Not neither.” Embarrassed, like she wasn’t expecting that speech to pop out of her, she leans back against the wall.

You belong in both places. No one’s ever made it sound like that could be possible. You go on Pilgrimage, you come home and you stay home. Or you don’t, and you never come home again. But Pippa - the same ridiculous human that Tali followed by chance two years ago, who’s come back from the dead at the hands of a terrorist organization Tali couldn’t hate more if she tried - Pippa thinks it doesn’t have to be like that. She can have a human ship name, an entirely non-quarian crew...and still belong to the Fleet. Two homes.

It’ll take some time to get used to that idea.

“You stood for me, too.” She nudges Pippa with her shoulder. “Don’t forget yourself.”

Another blush spreads across Pippa’s pale cheeks. “Well, yeah. I thought that was a given. Or at least, it’s a given to me.”

“It means a lot, though.” Tali takes a deep breath. “I’m glad to be part of your crew.”

The blush deepens. “I am too, Tali. Um, glad you’re part of the crew.” She looks back at the apartment door, closed now. “You ready to go home? Wait, shit, sorry. You ready to go back to the Normandy?”

Five minutes ago, Tali would’ve appreciated the correction. It still grates a little. But…

“Let’s go home.” She can have both. Or at least she can try.

#mass effect #tali'zorah #shepard #shepard x tali #shali #pippa shepard tag #otp: memories you bury or live by #logan writes fic

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