#but i still had these two panels all nice and drawn up so........... ye thanks for captioning it l o l 🙏🙏🙏 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

afterdeck-ace · 2 years ago

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Killing me softly with these ch. 590 panels ahah but YES. Exactly.

I don't think Shanks ever lost sight of the One Piece and the whole Laugh Tale business but he certainly didn't take it as seriously as Buggy did. Not to mention Luffy: their meeting, the eaten Devil Fruit (does Shanks know about Nika? He's cosy with the Five Elders) and then the sacrificed arm. Shanks betting on Luffy to maybe make it and achieve his goal of being a great pirate and becoming the Pirate King even.

I just don't get why he's making his move now. Does he feel Luffy coming closer? Or the threat that is Teach? Is he still curious enough to want to be the first to reach Laugh Tale?

But I digress. There's a very nice meta/comparison out there about Shanks being powerful while his fleet is pretty weak while Buggy is weak but with strong allies.

And that's absolutely why I think Buggy took Roger's death and Shanks' refusal to sail for Laugh Tale the hardest.

When you're strong among strong people you don't idolize them that much, you respect them, you want to be like them but ultimately, you're on equal footing. Shanks had that to a certain degree with Roger's crew.

Buggy didn't. Buggy felt their differences in strength and power and witnessed how the crew cared for Shanks. That panel in 1082 about "I knew I couldn't measure up..." where he sees Roger patting Shanks' head from afar... It hits right in the feels because you can see the (perceived) inadequacy. And you can understand why Buggy chose to let go of his dream to follow Roger and Shanks instead. How pointless it seemed to him to fight for something that was so easily within their reach.

And I think that also says a lot on the type of relationship each of them had with Roger. Shanks the closest but also the most detached of the two because they're nakama, because he has the certainty of his own power and thus his value and place among that crew. Not to mention his jovial nature, mirroring Roger's.

And you're absolutely right about that. Shanks is more pragmatic whereas Buggy is much more emotional and they both react accordingly. Following Roger's death, Shanks wants time, to grow stronger and plan whatever was next for him at the time. Whereas Buggy craved a very concrete action and an immediate reaction from the man he came to view as the next Pirate King. (Thus setting himself up for some major disappointment) (Because he sacrificed his dream without ever telling Shanks he put him on such a high pedestal)

Whether Shanks knew about Ace's lineage before the Marine disclosed it is unclear. In the Ace Novel, he connects the dots once Ace is sailing away after meeting with him to thank him for saving Luffy. It's not in the manga. And we know Roger didn't run away from the Marine but turned himself in because he was sick and wanted to launch a new era of piracy and (up to debate:) protect his unborn child by calling in a favor from Garp. But does Shanks know all that? Or does he simply wish Roger would have just run away after disbanding the crew to enjoy what little time he had left however he pleased? Anyway, his thoughts right this instant and your analysis are equally true and heartbreaking: yes, up til the very end Ace was Roger's son and (unknowingly) behaved as such, refusing to run away and let Akainu's slander slide. But I digress. Again.

Anyway, yes, I've been thinking about it lately, but I'm pretty sure that Usopp is what Buggy would have become had he followed Shanks when he first offered him to join his crew. Lots of parallels can been drawn between these two!

knee jerk reaction (shanks and buggy)?—One Piece 1082 Spoilers

***

So Buggy wants to and wanted to go after the One Piece:

Much to the consternation of Crocodile and Mihawak but with the full support of

Buggy's men. And I had to include Croc and Mihawk's reactions there. You can imagine Mihawk saying, "You dastardly rat, you" (or cockroach or clown).

And why? Because he seemed to have thought that Shanks wasn't going to go for the One Piece at all, despite Shanks saying that he just wasn't ready for it yet.

And Shanks had said that he and Buggy were gonna get to Laugh Tale together.

He uses 'our' in the English. There's no exclusion, and Buggy sees that Shanks shines brightly, but I don't see Shanks

saying that he'll be the one, nor that he needs to exclude Buggy, just that he needs to

wait. Maybe for Buggy to power up or come into a realisation of his own power / worth, which is a wily beast indeed? Anyway, Red is on the move as Buggy says:

Maybe with a different right hand man (I love Beck too). But maybe that's the point, he and Buggy might meet as equals

[caption: Shanks prior to getting the road poneglyph and others from the Kid Pirates]

And they're not gonna claim the One PIece together, cos' that's Luffy's job, but maybe they will try together (competition is fine too, though).

As an aside, this frame about Luffy and Bartolomeo and Bartolomeo replacing the Red Haired Flags with Luffy's own from chapter 1054:

I don't know if I'm reading this right, but Shanks doesn't go after Bartolomeo because he replaced Shanks' flags with Luffy's, and because they were Luffy's flags he's letting it slip, OR that seeing Luffy now without dealing with Bartolomeo first might imply that Shanks agrees with the actions (and maybe he does), OR that they're going to hurt an ally of Luffy's, or that they need to hurt him so that Luffy doesn't think that Shanks is humouring Luffy.... I'm not 100% sure, but anyway I'm leaning towards the idea that the One Piece might be found by both Shanks and Buggy, but its truth worth lies beyond that, and that is what Luffy will gain.

Messy analysis, sorry. BUT, if Buggy had been patient, would things have gone differently? Would he have joined Shanks' crew if he'd gone straight for the One Piece, or did he imagine they'd sail as comrades of an equal standing (maybe not, due to his description of Shanks' potential, but that might've been Buggy-generated). A friend has said Buggy's a candidate for Conqueror's Haki and he's probably right.

This meta meandered. Sorry.

#one piece chapter 1082 #buggy #shanks #op meta #I missed doing that <3 #Buggy perceives a lot of things most of them twisted and/or untrue ahah

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just-my-fandom · 4 years ago

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Reader being the one to fight Matt and they reunite!!

Request 2: Hi. So uh, can I request a Voltron story? Where the reader used to date Matt Holt, but after he disappeared reader changed from the nerdy quiet girl she was to like a badass, and starts dating Keith. Thank you. Have a great day.

Request 3: any thing Voltron where reader gets hurt!!!

Summary: Now that Matt is back, he can’t help but feel that his (ex) girlfriends teammate is taking her away from him. Reader has to break to Matt that she has moved on after his disappearance and is now with the paladin of the black lion.

Date started; February 2, 2021

Date posted; March 1, 2021 (Jezus)

Warning(s); Cursing, fighting, blood, jealousy, angst.

Was not proof read.

Matt and reader have a past. This story is a Keith x Reader.

A/N: We’re slowly but surely getting things posted. Life’s been a bish lately so I haven’t been motivated to write. I had absolutely no idea how to end this, so it just cuts off.

Tagged; @boiled-onionrings

“What is this?” Your eyes narrow in thought. Narrow at the footsteps that close in behind you. Widen when you turn, and a man is swinging his blade straight at your head.

Your body is quick to push back, into the control panel so it flickered and powered off, your hands pushing off in an attempt to roll to the side.

Your hand pulls your bay-yard from your belt, twisting in time for your weapon to collide with your opponents, both grunting at the impact.

The figure shoves forward so you fall onto your back, gasping as your bay-yard slides feet from your reach, pushing to sit up and reach for your weapon.

The quick swipe of the males blade causes you to hiss and clutch your shoulder, lifting your foot high enough to kick him backwards, into the control panel like he had done to you prior.

You reach out and lift your bay-yard, slinging your arm out so it hit your opponent in the jaw, knocking his mask off and over his shoulder.

You lift your head, jaw clenched and weapon drawn, eyes widening as your lips part in a gasp, when you meet the gaze of your opponent,

“Matt?” You squeak, dropping your bay-yard so it clattered on the metal floor and quickly retracted into its holder, free hand pressed hard to where your fingers slowly held blood,

“Y/N,” Matt breathes, his body pushing to stand up from where he fell to his knees, arms pulling you tightly into his chest so you hissed a second time, his hands holding your arms as he leans back, examining your injury,

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” He exhales, your head shaking as tears burned your eyes from behind your helmet,

“Oh my god,” You heave, bloodied hands pulling your helmet off so he could fully look at your face, “Oh, god, you’re alive,”

“I’m alive,” Matt nods, hands caressing your head so he could lean his forehead to knock against yours, your eyes pinching shut before you lean back, opening your eyes.

“Just wait until Pidge sees you, and-and Shiro,”

“Wait, they’re with you?” Matt knits his brows together, as you glance down at the blood through your amor. It’ll be fine.

“Well, on their own mission,” You exhale, “Any chance you’ve heard of Voltron?”

“Of course I’ve heard of Voltron,”

“Well,” You repeat, smiling shyly as you look up at him, “We’re all Paladins,”

“No way,” Matt shakes his head, “That’s so cool!” He reaches forward to twirl you around, pausing when noticing you flinch at the movement of your shoulder.

“Come on,” Matt pulls back, hand at your arm, “Let me fix your shoulder,”

“Actually,” You lift your helmet off the floor, placing it over your head, “I have somewhere we can go,”

“HEY, look, Y/Ns back!” Hunk and Lance turn at the white lions appearance, the team of five moving forward as the lions jaw opened, your figure stepping out with a hand on your shoulder,

“Whoa, what happened to you?” Pidge asks, eyes narrowed as she moves up to you, but you smile, her brows pinching as footsteps sound behind you, her gaze looking over your shoulder and widening at Matt’s figure,

“Matt!” Pidge gasps, your smile softening as you step to the side, Shiro crossing his arms as he moves up to you,

“How’d you find him?” Shiro asks, calmly, your eyes flicking up to him.

“That so called secret base?” Shiro nods, “It was Matt’s. He returned as soon as I went in. Started fighting before we realized each other,”

“You did a good job,” Shiro smiles, and you nod, looking over at Pidge and Matt pulling out of their embrace, “Does he know?”

Shit. No. He doesn’t. He hasn’t even met Keith yet. “No,” You murmur, sighing as you turn, “I don’t know how to tell him,”

“That might be something you talk about in your own time,” Shiro raises his eyes from your shoulder to your eyes, watching you nod and brush past him, missing Matt’s worried glance.

“FOCUS, Keith!”

“I am focusing! You’re the one not focusing!”

“Now you’re just fucking with me,”

Matt stops at the doorway of the training deck. By now he had gotten a feel of where each room was located on the ship, which lead him to sneak off and search for you.

He watches silently as you slung your bay-yard at the red paladin- Keith, Matt thinks- leading Keith to jerk back and knock his own weapon to the metal, pushing you away from getting a hit on him.

It’s a quick tuck and roll as you duck away from Keith’s swing, your foot hooking around his leg to knock him on his back, your teammate grunting loudly at the impact his body made.

Knees pinned at his sides, your hands pin his shoulders down, lips pulling upward in a snort as Keith rolls his eyes, head dropping against the floor in defeat,

“You win,” Keith huffs, hands at your thighs as you raise your eyebrows, eyes flicking between his.

“Nice,” You grin, dropping one eyebrow, “Rematch?”

Matt frowns as Keith lifts his head, lips nearly against yours, “Absolutely not,”

“So you admit I’m better than you,” You lean back, sitting up so you were sitting on his legs, “I’ll take it,”

Keith narrows his eyes, gaze then shifting to the side, so you turned and your smile dropped.

“Matt,” You call, when the dirty blonde turns and exits the deck. You send a short glance down at Keith, pushing to stand up, “Matt, wait,”

Huffing at his refusal to turn around, you fasten your pace, “Matthew Holt, look at me!”

“Oh, so now you care?” Matt turns, sharply, arms crossed as he watches your brows furrow and footsteps stop.

“Matt, I always cared,” You breathe, shaking your head, “You’d been gone for years. I had to do what was right for me and move on. I should have told you when you first came back, but I didn’t know how,”

“So you two?” Matt’s eyes flick to the door of the training deck, and you nod, gazing down.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” You say, lifting your gaze, “As the paladin of the white lion, my main focus has always been saving earth. Im not the girl you once knew, who only read books and was afraid to talk to anyone outside my little circle. I’m a paladin now. I save people,”

You glance to the side, silently moving back to the training deck where Matt frowns, jaw clenching in defeat. He had lost you, years ago.

“ARE you two okay?”

Lance and Hunk skid to a stop into the abandoned ships control room, both breathing heavily through their helmets, “We’re fine,” Lance heaves, “But we need to get out of here, now!”

“Why?” Pidge rushes, “What happened?”

“It was-,” Hunk pauses, shock still in his system, “Monster- blue flash- I had rotten food goo,”

“Wait,” Lance stops his teammate, eyes narrowed in thought, “Where’s Keith and Y/N?”

YOUR eyes scan the empty hall. Galra bots float, lifeless, Keith and Kosmo floating beside you, “Hello?” Keith calls, Kosmo growling in defense,

“What are you?” The robotic voice of the remaining Galra bot causes you to pause, eyes squinting. The bot repeats his question, Keith raising his flashlight to the bots face,

“My name is Keith,” Keith starts, head barely tilting towards you, “This is Y/N. We are Paladins of Voltron. Paladins of the Black and White lions,”

“Wait,” You speak, “Yordum Bering Exus. Is that you?”

“Where are the rest of the Galra?” The bot asks, your head turning to look at Keith,

“They’re still on Planet Ryker. Why?”

“Planet Ryker,” The robot repeats, before it pushes forward, your eyes widening at the large monster behind it.

“Keith,” You alert, reaching to grab his arm so he tugged you into him, sharply, avoiding the sudden purple blast ray that the monster- Sentry- send, his shield coming up to block the second shot, shoving you and him both into the metal wall beside you.

You grunt out in pain at the impact, Keith pushing you to the side so you rammed into Kosmo, who quickly teleported next to Keith, Keith grabbing your hip protectively as you vanish.

“Keith, Y/N and I were in communication before we got disconnected,” Pidge explains to Lance, hearing Matt in her earpiece ask in a panic,

“You lost contact with them?”

“Keith and Y/N can hold their own together,” Allura breathes, “We need to figure out what that thing is,”

You reappear in the control room, gasps wheezed in fear before you push away from Keith, eyes wide, “What the hell was that?”

“What?” Pidge rushes, “What did you guys see?”

“Some- monster!” You heave, hearing Matt’s voice glitch in your earpiece as it gained connection,

“Oh thank God,”

“The base you sent this fleet to plunder, was it Warlord ranveigs?” Keith rushes, flying up to Lahn.

“Yes. It was,” Lahn answers, shortly, Allura glancing at you in alert.

“Keith, what’s going on?”

“The creature on this ship is a superweapon designed to destroy the Galra, and only Galra,” Keith starts,

“Warlord Ranveig would never create such a thing,” Lahn hisses, Keith shaking his head.

“Ranveig found the creature in the Quantum Abyss and experimented on it with Lotors Quintessence,”

“How do you know so much on this, Keith?” You ask, floating up between Pidge and Allura.

“Krolia and I let it lose so we could escape Ranveigs base,” Keith sighs, eyes fluttering shut, “This is all my fault,”

You shake your head, ignoring the glare Lahn sends your teammate, “Pidge, can you set a protocol that could self destruct this place? We need to get rid of the ship, and that monster,”

“Once I set it we’ll only have two minutes to leave the ship,” Pidge rushes, fingers pressing buttons, before she turns, waving a gloved hand, “Go. Go!”

You turn, jaw clenching at Sentrys appearance at the side door, “All Galra must perish,”

You yelp as the monster lunges forward, darting to the side before flying up with your jet pack, rushing for the door. Your front slams into the now shut door, fist curling to punch the metal before you look over, realizing Keith, too, had been trapped.

“Guys!” You shout, eyes wide in terror as you face Sentry, pulling out your bay-yard as he flew forward, you and Keith dodging in different directions so Sentry slammed into the doors front.

You hiss as Sentrys tail wraps around your body, pinning your arms at your sides, your gasp cut short as his tail flicks, hard, sending you into the metal wall feet away.

Your vision swims black, growing blurry as your lungs gasp for air, the sudden pain in your ribs causing you unable to move. Keith looks over as Sentry roared, rushing to you, Keith’s body protectively shielding yours as his shield protects himself, shoving you both into the wall a second time.

“Stay awake, Y/N!” Keith demands, rushes, arm at your lower back keeping you from floating away from him. His bay-yard shifts into a large gun, blasting at the monster before he turns and aims, shooting a hole into the locked door.

“Go!” Keith demands to his team, jet pack activating as he rushes forward,

“What happened to Y/N?!” Lance rushes, looking back at the distant explosion, where his eyes widen at the fire rising.

With a heatwave, the team of seven are thrown into space, the black lion quick to catch you and Keith so Keith landed on his feet, looking out his front visor where the white lion floated in front of his own.

“Let’s get her to the castle,” Keith demands, looking down at where your hand pressed to your rib, blood at your lips, “Stay with me, okay?”

You whimper, head tilting back before it leans to the side, dropping onto his shoulder.

“WHAT happened?” Matt and Shiro move forward towards their friend, Keith moving past them with you in his arms,

“The thing we had to destroy, attacked us, twice,” Keith hisses, teeth bared as he bends down to stand you on your feet inside the healing pod, stepping back in time for it to zap shut,

“She only seemed to be in danger around you,” Matt seethes, Keith looking over his shoulder to glare at the dirty blonde,

“What was that?”

“Do I need to dumb it out for you?” Matt steps up, ignoring Shiros call, “You’re the reason she got hurt. You’re the reason she left me!”

“Y/N left you because you ran off into space,” Keith snarls, Shiro and Pidge both jumping between the two so Keith stepped back, jaw clenched.

“Now is not the time to be fighting,” Shiro orders, Pidge nodding then shaking her head as she points to your unconscious, healing figure,

“Y/N needs you both right now, as much as you might hate it. So shut up and be here for her when she wakes up,”

Matt’s eyes shift from Pidge to Keith, Keith firmly crossing his arms over his armored chest before facing the healing pod.

Matt watches as Keith’s eyes drift to his bloodied gloves, glare faltering before looking back up to you.

Pidge exhales a heavy breath and follows Shiro, reluctantly, out of the med-bay, Matt crossing his own arms and scanning his eyes across your face.

“I’m sorry I came out rude,” He starts, Keith barely side glancing him, “It just, sucks. Coming back from being in space prison to find out your girlfriend moved on,”

“Y/Ns a lot different now than she used to be,” Keith reminds, “When I first met her I was an asshole and she was quiet. We didn’t click right away. But I found a meaning to my team and she’s apart of my team. It just- happened,”

“She’s definitely different,” Matt chuckles, Keith raising an eyebrow, “When I ran into her, I didn’t know she could fight like that,”

“She didn’t learn from me, that’s for sure,” Keith smirks, which instantly falls as the heal pod beeps, opening so Keith’s arms shot out to catch your leaning figure,

“That was quick,” Matt mutters, Keith shooting him a glance before you lift your head, brows pinched in discomfort,

“What happened?” Your eyes shift from Matt to Keith, who’s muscles visibly relaxed to see you up and moving. Matt noticed.

“We’ll tell you about it later,” Matt steps up, smiling lightly, “I’ll let the others know you’re okay,” Matt’s eyes meet Keith’s, his nod short before he steps back and out the door.

Maybe, just maybe, Matt forgave him.

#keith kogane one shot #keith kogane imagine #keith x reader #keith kogane x reader #Keith imagine #voltron #voltron one shot #voltron x reader #voltron imagine #Matt Holt #Matt Holt x reader #Matt Holt imagine #Matt Holt one shot

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sumsebien · 4 years ago

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by design pt.1//Prince Friedrich

prologue // series masterlist

summary: the journey from london to sanssouci is long. what will y/n and friedrich do with all this free time?

word count: 3.4k

warnings: none

a/n: hello i am sorry for being so late with this one. the next ones will also be a little further apart than you’ve come to expect from my last series but i think this quality-wise will be improved (hopefully)

The carriage was spacious enough so that Friedrich could sit without bumping his knees against whoever sat in front of him. Right now, that was you. Heinrich was next to Friedrich, briefing him about the itinerary for the day. And Friedrich tried to pay attention. He really did but his eyes kept landing on you every couple of seconds.

You sat quietly. Your face turned away from them as you gazed out of the windows. But then, he heard the faintest of sniffles. He turned to Heinrich. His valet stopped talking.

And then, he heard it again. This time, Heinrich heard it as well, laying the map down in his lap. Their eyes directed towards you.

You were crying.

The two men gave each other a look.

Friedrich hadn’t a clue what to do. He could not recall the last time he had had to comfort someone in distress. He figured it was because a Prince was not the most ideal person for people to confide in.

Heinrich, on the other hand, had three little sisters. Therefore, he was way more knowledgeable. He nudged the Prince’s shoulder, tipping his head towards your figure and mouthed ‘Do something!’

Friedrich shrugged. ‘What?’

‘Just do something!’

The silent conversation and stern looks Heinrich threw him forced a few words out of his mouth. All of them formed without any forethought. “My lady, would you like a handkerchief?”

His voice startled you. You quickly wiped the back of your hand under your eyes and shook your head. “I’m alright. Just something in my eyes,” you said, a weak smile on your face.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, a little bit too quickly for someone who was actually telling the truth. “It’s just been a long day. That’s all.”

You thought they didn’t notice or perhaps at the least would ignore it if they did. You obviously thought wrong. How you wish you could swing the window open and flap away.

It was a completely normal thing that all girls must go through at one point. You should be thinking of yourself as lucky even. The ladies of the ton would happily die to be you right now, moving to Prussia with your husband, the Prince. That was what you kept telling yourself.

Tears began to prick at your eyes again as you thought about a life that was foreign in every sense of the word.

Maybe life in London was not all that bad. Sure there was a certain face you had to keep up at all times but at least there was your best friend Olivia. You never thought you could ever miss the horrible balls and tea parties, the cruel gossip and the contemptuous looks. But as London disappeared behind you, the thought of never returning frightened you.

You inhaled a shallow breath, afraid of alarming the Prince and his valet. They probably thought you weak and pitiful now.

“Shall I get you a blanket? We still have quite the journey,” said the Prince.

You shook your head, not even dreaming of requesting anything from him. “I will just admire the countryside for now. Don’t worry about me.”

You promised yourself that you would stay awake. One of the things your mother managed to say to you in the carriage ride to the abbey was to not fall asleep as “it might put your husband off” in her exact words. She always made it a point to tell you just how ungraceful you looked when you were sleeping. And perhaps you should take her advice. The last thing you would want is for your husband to find you ungraceful just after your wedding ceremony.

Of course, not long after that, you fell asleep.

When you woke up, everything was pitch black. The last thing you remembered was trying to keep your eyes open. But the repetitive sights and the quiet droning of the Prince’s valet made it too difficult to resist giving in to the heaviness weighing on your eyelids.

As you blinked and regained your vision, you noticed that you were alone in the carriage. The blinds had been drawn on all windows. You felt yourself panic. Was something wrong? Where was everyone?

As you began to think up millions of ways the trip could have gone wrong, the possibility of a raid came up.

You drew a shaky breath and moved. That was when you realized that you had someone’s coat covering you this whole time. You held it up to the little sliver of light peaking through the curtains and recognized the navy blue color. It was the Prince’s.

Just as you were holding the coat, the door was opened. You nearly froze when you saw Heinrich on the other side.

“Your Highness,” he bowed, “you’re awake.”

The title threw you in a bit of a loop in your drowsy state. It took you a moment longer to realize that he was referring to you. It was going to take a while to adjust.

You masked the initial shock by clearing your throat. “Yes. What time is it?”

“It’s 9 pm, ma’am. Would you like to board the ship now?”

You nodded, picking up your skirt and making your way down the steps. He took the coat for you and held your hand to help you.

“You should wear this, your Highness. It’s a little bit cold.”

The night breeze sent goosebumps up your arms and you carefully draped his coat back on, now noticing the citrusy scent clinging onto it. You held onto the lapels of the coat and followed Heinrich.

The sailing ship was anchored just by the dock, a couple of steps away from where the carriages stopped. It was an absolute beast with towering sails for wings, a strong body made of wood and a long pointy bow spirit as a fearsome horn. The sails flapped in the wind, wanting to stretch free of its frames and fly off into the night sky.

As you and Heinrich made your way up the stairs to the main deck, you could hear the commotion happening before you could see it. Thumping footsteps, shouts and grunts as the crew got ready to set sail.

They did not care that you were here and you liked that. Being invisible was nice. Heinrich, however, did not enjoy it as much. He seemed a bit anxious to have you witness all of this and quickly led you away from all the noises down one flight of stairs. You could still hear heavy footsteps but they were muffled, less prominent than before now that you were one floor below.

The air heavy with moisture and salt filled your lungs as you made your way down a lengthy and narrow hallway. Not too far away stood two ladies. Heinrich confirmed that it was in fact your room.

“These are your lady’s maids-Lea and Ilse. Should you need anything, they shall help you.”The girls curtsied at the sight of you and each nodded at the mention of their names.

You studied their faces, trying to cling to certain features so that you would not forget their names. Both of them had perfectly combed blonde hair, although instead of just a simple bun, Ilse’s hairdo was a little more intricate with the way she wrapped her hair. Lea was a little taller and seemed a little tougher than Ilse with her strong eyebrows and tall gait. Ilse, on the other hand, was bright-eyed and more youthful, reminding you of Olivia.

“Thank you, Heinrich.”

He nodded and bowed his head. But before he could walk away, you called him, prompting him to spin around again.

“May I ask where the Prince is?”

“His Royal Highness is speaking to the captain of the ship, ma’am. Should you like me to call for him?”

You shook your head firmly. “No, thank you.”

When he was out of sight, you suddenly remembered you were still wearing the Prince’s coat. But he had gone too far for you to call him back again now.

You sighed quietly, turning to face the door. Reaching out your hand, you were just about grab the doorknob but found that Lea was already there too.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” you held your hands up to your chest, allowing her to open the door.

“It’s alright, your Highness,” she said with a smile.

You took a moment to admire the room before you. Almost everything was made from walnut wood-the walls, the floors, the furniture, covering the whole room in a rich chocolate brown color. The candles washed the room in a soft orange glow, accentuating the warm earthy tones and setting a completely different mood from the shivering wet deck.

You wandered inside, running your hand along the wall panels, delighting in the little crevices on the surface.

“I hope you don’t mind. We’ve drawn you a bath, your Highness,” Ilse said.

You shook your head. “No, of course not. Thank you.”

“Would you like us to assist you with your dress, ma’am?”

You shook your head. “I shall be quite fine. You can take your break now, ladies.”

You expected the two of them to leave right away. After all, it had been a very lengthy day and even though you intended on getting to know the both of them, now was simply not the time for sharing childhood tales. But they lingered on by the door, prompting a “Yes?” from you.

“Would you like supper brought to you, ma’am?” Lea asked.

“I can do that?”

Both of them nodded, probably finding you the oddest lady they had ever served.

“Well, if it is not too much trouble, I’d love it.”

The girls curtsied and left the room.

Now completely alone, you let out a long, tired sigh. It was a terrible habit of yours and you were well aware. You always thought too much whenever amd wherever you could, especially when you were left on your own. Your mind instantly ran over every little detail, picking out anything that might have left a bad impression on your new husband and staff members.

There were simply too many.

With a sigh, you shrugged the coat off of your shoulders, carefully placing it on the bed. If you must admit, you missed the comforting weight of it on your shoulders and the faint smell of orange and cinnamon. You then thought of him. The Prince.

For reasons unknown, you felt intimidated by him. So far he had been nothing but kind and he had done nothing that could warrant such a feeling.

Something inside you just wished you would not disappoint him like you did your parents. It was difficult because you had no idea what his expectations were of you. All you knew was that Miss Bridgerton was who he really wanted. And if that was the goal, you found yourself far from ever reaching it. You might have been born into a higher born family but you lacked the charm that she had. She was always the older ladies’ favorite when they were small. Even now, she had the favor of everyone she met.

You prepared different conversational topics for when he would come into the room eventually. There was nothing less attractive than a tone-deaf lady and you made sure political icebreakers were left far far away for the night. Maybe you could talk about the weather or music. They seemed to be perfectly proper matters of discussion for a lady. Far better than overly formal issues currently happening.

The bath you took wasn’t as relaxing as you had hoped for. Not even the slight sear of the water and the faint lavender scent could rid your mind of thoughts. You decided not to sit for long, your legs growing a bit restless in the water. Just as you finished tying your dress robes, you heard a knock and a voice from behind the door.

“Your Highness! We’ve brought you supper!”

“Yes. Come in!” you called.

At the sound of approval, your maids brought in a tray with silver dish covers on top. They opened the covers for you, revealing a piece of steaming roasted salmon and pudding. You then realized that you were starving. The piece of bread you managed to shove into your mouth earlier today was definitely long gone.

“Would you like some wine, your Highness?” Lea asked.

You shook your head. All you wanted was to sit down and eat everything. And as helpful as they had been, their questions at this moment was not. “No thank you. This shall be perfect.”

“Should we bring you more food?” Ilse added.

“No. I am happy with this. Thank you.”

They finally left. But you had barely sit down when there came another knock on the door. You groaned to yourself. Again?

“What?” you poked your head out, expecting your maids and more questions. But the last time you saw them they didn’t wear blue and there were certainly two of them.

Oh crap.

It was the Prince of Prussia.

Blush crept onto your cheeks as you became aware of your curtness. “Your Highness!”

He had his brows raised at the curious sight of you poking only your head out, leaning against the door rather inelegantly. He stepped away almost immediately. “Oh, am I interrupting you? I apologize-“

“No! I apologize, your Highness. Would-would you like to come in?” You stood up straight, opening the door a little wider. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest, wishing to break free from your ribcage.

He shook his head. “I am just here to ask you if everything was alright.”

He didn’t want to come in?

“I am alright. Thank you for asking, your Highness.”

He cleared his voice. “Good. Well, it’s been a long day for you. You should get some rest. There will be a lot more traveling for tomorrow.”

“Oh thank you. So should you. Oh-and before I forget.”

You disappeared into the room. In the meantime, Friedrich managed to catch a quick glimpse of your room. He had assigned the largest one to you, his was half the size. But it did not matter where he was. After all, he wanted the best for his bride, no matter who she was.

You appeared again moments later, thanking him for lending the coat to you. He held his coat in the crook of his elbow. “Good night.”

You leaned against the door, your back landing on the surface with a dull thump. You were relieved that he didn’t come in because you were not ready at all. Yet, you could not help but feel the clouds of dread forming over you. Was he being thoughtful or did he want nothing to do with you?

...

The next morning when Lea and Ilse came into the room, you could practically hear their thoughts.

Lea was a bit better at hiding her surprise while Ilse had to look away, turning to the curtains for an escape. As they got you ready, they distracted you with their millions of questions about what you would like for your hair, your dress and your food. But what all three of you were thinking about was the reason why you were alone on your wedding night.

“Do you know where the Prince is?” you asked, finally tired of dancing around the topic.

Ilse gasped, no longer brushing your hair. “Your Highness, was he not here?”

“Ilse, I mean no offense but you are a terrible liar.”

Your comment made Lea choke back a laugh. Meanwhile, Ilse’s face grew bright red as she began to comb your hair again, laughing quietly. “I apologize, your Highness. I just cannot see why he wasn’t here with you. You’re beautiful!”

“Well, I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“I don’t think that is the case, your Highness. Maybe you just don’t know each other,” Lea added, putting on a diamond necklace for you. “You still have plenty of time for that until you arrive at the palace.”

Perhaps she was right. But whether right or wrong, you felt some weight lifted off your shoulders. You felt that way with Olivia too, back in London. It gave us great comfort to know that at the very least you and your lady’s maids would get along perfectly fine.

“Will you two be with me then?”

“Of course!” Ilse assured you, placing the comb down, happy with how your hair looked. “Right, Lea?”

“Yes and there will be another lady too. Your chief of staff.”

You had finished getting ready but your appearance was the last thing on your mind right now. You turned in your chair, curious as to how the Prussian court worked. “Oh?”

Ilse was more than glad to pass around the gossip. “Rumors have it that the King had someone in mind for you. But we left before he made the decision. I bet Heinrich knows.”

...

It was definitely not a good time to ask questions.

When you and your maids got off of the ship onto French soil by noon, there were new carriages that awaited you. Just as you were marveling at the beautiful paintings on the side of the carriages and the gold ornate trims on the wheels, your attention was quickly drawn to the people standing next to the largest carriage at the front.

It was the Prince and Heinrich.

They were in quite a heated discussion when they noticed you looking and promptly paused their conversation.

“Your Highness,” Heinrich bowed.

You looked between the two of them, sensing the tension but did not dare ask for the reason. The Prince offered his hand and helped you into the carriage wordlessly.

Outside of the window, Heinrich got on horse, charging away before your carriage even began to move. It was awfully curious.

“Did you sleep well?”

You tore your eyes away from the window, deciding to focus on him instead. Inside of the carriage, the Prince was a completely different person than he was a mere second ago. He was sighing, his brows knitted, his hands waving about as he spoke to his valet about very important matters surely. But now, he had a friendly grin on his lips, his gaze soft as he engaged in small talk with you.

“Yes. Thank you for asking, your Highness.”

That made him laugh. You did not know just what it was that he should be laughing about though. “You know, you do not have to call me that.”

“I-I don’t?”

He shook his head. “Call me Friedrich. We are husband and wife, after all.”

You nodded. “Well, then, please call me Y/N.”

“We have a deal.”

Silence fell on the two of you after that.

Friedrich looked out of the window, observing the French countryside in the distance, the sound of waves crashing ashore was mere memories now.

You had always been a little impatient in these awkward pauses, never quite sure what to do. You had been rehearsing for this moment in the bathroom yesterday. But perhaps going by a first-name basis gave you the boost of confidence you needed to be the one to break the silence, without the help of scripted conversations.

“Is Heinrich not joining us?”

Friedrich shook his head. “He will meet us at the train station. There was just a little something that needed to be checked.”

As soon as he said it, he regretted it.

“Is there anything wrong?”

“Just a mix-up with the train schedules. No need to worry though. We will just have to switch the rooms around a bit.”

That was a lie. And you’d find out the truth eventually when you got to the train station. Heinrich seemed pale as a ghost when he saw you and Friedrich emerge from the carriages, rushing towards the both of you. He did not seem to mind that you were there to listen, frantically speaking. “Your Highness, the state train is not coming.”

“When did this happen?”

“I just checked. Apparently, they cancelled it from Potsdam.”

You had no idea what was happening but from the sigh leaving Friedrich’s lips you knew it was not good news at all.

“So we’ll take the standard then?”

“I am afraid so, sir.”

It was exactly what he had feared.

His father was mad and now that they were about to enter Prussia, there was no escaping his wrath. Friedrich did not mind, in particular. He was quite used to his father’s tantrums by now.

Whenever his father lost, he would make sure no one could win.

When Friedrich made the decision to marry you in England, he had prepared himself to face the King once they arrived at the Berlin Palace. He just felt bad for you having to get the wrong end of the stick because of him.

“I apologize,” he said, “I am afraid there is no other way.”

You waved your hand. “It is fine. I don’t think it is a big deal at all. I shall be good with anything.”

“Heinrich, see to it that you book her highness the room. I’ll sit where ever.”

You held up your hand. “Wait, excuse me?”

“There is only one room on the standard train, ma’am.”

“I-I will sit with my maids. I can’t-”

Heinrich looked to the Prince who was looking at you, his lips parted.

He shook his head furiously. “You are the Princess of Prussia. I will not allow you to sit in the back.”

There was only one solution.

Simple and straightforward to all of your current troubles. Friedrich did not want to suggest, he knew you were forced into this mess as much as he was. He was not going to make you do anything. And he was quite ready to sit with his staff, giving you your privacy when out of the blue...

“Then-then we’ll share the room.”

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reineydraws · 2 years ago

Text

the pencilscratchins comic

look ppl actually left some captions 🥺🥺 thank u 💖💖💖

what are they saying?? (no seriously, give em ur best caption!)

#dc comic #comic #batfamily #added comments #brb imagining batman in crocs #i wonder what jibbits he would have. would they all be bats.#OMG WHAT IF HE HAD A JIBBIT FOR EACH KID #somehow he gets a pride and prejudice book cover jibbit and jason sees it and cries #cuz it's tangible physical proof bruce still thinks of him as his son #steph's would be a bright purple gem #im trying to think of things that wouldnt be incriminating for their real identities lol #like i wanna say that cass's would be a ballet shoe and dick's would be a circus tent but that could be telling #maybe dick's could be an elephant! would dami's be a dog or a sword lol #i digress #anyways yall thanks for adding things #i had a joke in mind & it was a screenshot of someone else's post but then i visited the blog for a source link and i was like YIKES #and then i couldnt in good conscience actually link the blog lmao and since i try to source what i can i decided not to post #but i still had these two panels all nice and drawn up so........... ye thanks for captioning it l o l 🙏🙏🙏#that pencilscratchins comic is godtier #thank u for the rec omg

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shinygoldstar · 3 years ago

Text

Fireflies - part 1

Ectoberhaunt: Swamp

AO3 | Part 2

no warnings for this chapter; Not Beta Read

ho ho hotaru koi

Bright sunlight reflecting off the barren landscape burned into Danny’s eyes. Danny looks out the window listlessly as the dry scenery passes them by, blurring into endless shades of orange and browns. The car engine hummed in the background. It was a three-day weekend. Instead of spending it with his friends in a three-day movie marathon he’s here travelling with his dad on a father-son bonding trip. Danny tries not to be salty but he and his friends had been looking forward to it. Still, they all knew that ghost fighting had really strained the Fenton family and quietly accepted Danny’s apology when he had to skip out on their slumber party. Jazz was away on a university trip with his mom so this trip is just him and his dad. So, with many goodbyes and promises from his friends to watch over Amity for him, he left with his dad for some destination only his dad knows.

The gravel crunched under the RV tires as it slowed to a stop with a sharp whine. Clouds of dust rose up, casting the view outside the window with brownish tint. Danny looked out the window dubiously.

“Dad, are you sure this is the place?” Danny asked doubtfully.

It was a plain looking small town with several people walking about carrying banners and carpentry tools. A young boy pulled along a docile cow on the dusty road. It looked plain, ordinary. Nothing that would attract someone like Jack Fenton to the place.

“Of course, Danno! This is the place! See?” Jack pulled out a well-worn pamphlet containing a poorly drawn map with X marking the location. “See this is the place your great grand Aunt Bertha marked when she last visited the place. According to her notes, there should be will o' wisp sightings around the lake here at night.”

Jack wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, “Whoo! This place is tough to find.”

He leaned over to pick up the water bottle from the rack, “We came out here to check out Aunt Bertha’s map back when we were in college with Vladdie but couldn’t find it by the end of the day”, he paused to take a deep gulp of cool water and continued “Must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere.”

Jack stretched then removed his safety belt, prompting Danny to do the same.

Jack continued his story, jumping out of the door to unload their luggage at the back, “We also came here again when you were a babe but no luck. It took me three times but the third time’s the charm! Wait ‘til I tell Maddie I found the place! I knew the map was real. She didn’t believe me. Oh! Photos! Yes, photos!” Jack turned to Danny, “Danno! Can you grab a camera for me? It’s in the back of the car in the left side panel. Yes, that's the one.” He leaned over to grab the camera Danny held out for him, “Thanks Danno. Let’s go hunt some ghosts!”

Jack looked out from the RV back door, reading the banners that were being hung up around the town, “Spirit Renewal Festival. Hoo-boy! Spirits! Ghosts! It seems luck is on our side.” “Dad? I don’t think they mean ghosts-” Danny tried to say but Jack continued on without interruption, “A three-day long weekend with a new Fenton invention to test is waiting for us, Danno! Let go! Banzai!” Jack pushed the back door wide open with a great heave, the door banging loudly as it slammed against the car. He swung out with a leap, lifting up another cloud of dust, and strode into the town center. Danny carefully closed the door behind him and ran after his dad.

“Welcome travelers” droned a bored looking receptionist.

“Hi there! This is a really nice place ain’t it? Do you get visitors often? It’s tough trying to find this place!” Jack greeted the receptionist with his usual enthusiasm.

The receptionist ignored Jack’s question and asked his own, “One or two rooms? Your names please.” Jack deflated a little at the bland reply but answered the receptionist.

The receptionist nodded and pulled out two sets of keys, “Here you go sirs. Keys for your room. Breakfast starts at 8 and ends at 10. No lunch, find your own dinner. We lock the doors at 10 pm so watch the time unless you want to spend your night sleeping outside. Any questions sirs?” Jack shared a look with Danny. Danny shrugged. Taking that as a no question, the receptionist continued, “Then if that is all, thank you for visiting our inn. We wish you a great day.” The receptionist turned back to writing in his booklet behind the counter.

Jack cleared his throat, “Sorry, forgot to ask, can you help recommend us events and tourist attraction sites? The ones related to ghosts I mean. When does the Spirit Renewal event start?” Jack clarified.

Without pausing, the receptionist replied, “Check the right corner of the room next to the couch facing the window for the tourist brochures. The first event for tonight is at 6pm, visit or don’t.” He continued to write in his booklet as if there was never any interruption.

Awkward silence filled the room as the duo stood there waiting for more details but none came.

“So…” Jack, with much effort and cheer “let’s check it out then Danno”. He strode over to the lounge area, scanning the brochure stand for ones related to ghosts. Danny grabbed a random brochure out of curiosity. It described the town’s classic tourist attraction sites: the town center, the food stalls, etc. There was nothing of interest so Danny placed it back. While tucking it back in its slot, another brochure fell out. Danny knelt down to pick it up, reading its title. ‘Spirit Renewing Festival’? He flipped it open.

… some generic symbolic sacrifice for the wellbeing of the people, good health and long life... Special food to cleanse the body and spirit. Made with locally grown herbs unique to this town. A must try.

“Danny? Are you done?” Danny nodded, placing the brochure back in its slot. Jack smiled, “Let's place our luggage upstairs and go explore the town”

The father son duo thumped down the stairs, or at least Jack did. Danny’s footsteps barely had any weight to it, a habit formed from countless nights of being free from gravity’s hold. They’ve dropped off their luggage in the room. Jack took out the latest Fenton ectoreader for a test trial. The still unnamed device, already decorated with a green F sticker claiming it as part of the Fenton invention series beeped almost happily as it scanned the area for ambient ectoradiation. A solid 0.5 reading. Danny eyed the machine warily but otherwise didn’t outwardly react to its beeping. Jack frowned but didn’t comment, turning it off to conserve its battery.

Walking through the lobby, Danny paused. The lobby smelled of dried flowers? Herbs? Something you’d find in an old styled house. Potpourri? Maybe. Danny doesn’t recognize the flowery herbal smell. Perhaps if Sam came with them, she would recognize it. It tickles his nose. He sneezed.

“Danny? Let’s go” Jack called from the door. Danny rubbed his nose, looking around the room, taking in the new additions that weren't there earlier. Red garlands were hung above the antique fireplace along with other homemade paper decorations.

“Danny?” came Jack’s voice.

“Coming Dad!” Danny called out, taking his eyes off the new decorations around the lobby.

“Hurry up Danno! The sun’s gonna set before you get here” Jack said jokingly, pushing the inn’s front door wide open.

The bell above the door chimed together with a muffled ‘Oomph!’ from behind the door. Jack quickly pulled the door back in and carefully poked his head out to look, one hand holding the door from swinging outwards by accident. A man in overalls and plaid shirt stood to the side behind the door, rubbing his forehead and nose. His cream fedora hat lay askew on his neatly trimmed hair.

“Sorry sir” Jack apologized sheepishly. He turned to look at Danny who just walked up to him.

“Danny, can you go ask the receptionist for a bag of ice?” Danny nodded and turned back but the man interrupted them.

“I’m fine, don’t worry sonny. No need to get me an ice bag.” The man rubbed his nose. “I'm good, I’m good.” He looked up at the people in front of him then brightened.

“Why hello there! You’re new here to the town?” Jack and Danny nodded.

“That’s great! Have you visited the town’s best spots yet?” they shook their heads, confusion in their eyes. “No, we’re just about to go touring Mr.….” Jack trailed off waiting for a name.

“Oh sorry! I haven’t introduced myself yet have I?” the man said rhetorically, “Hi, I’m Andy! Nice to meet you both!” The man eagerly brought his hand out to shake hands with Jack and Danny.

“It's great to see you two. We don't really get visitors here you know." the man- Andy commented, "Well, now that you’re here, why don’t I take you on a tour around town?” he suggested. “I’ve been said to be quite a great local tour guide”, he proudly added.

Jack looked at Danny. Danny gave him an ambivalent 'up to you' shrug. Jack turned back towards Andy, "Sure why not!"

Andy grinned, “Splendid! I just need to have a quick chat with the manager then we’re good to go. Be back in a jiff!” He sidestepped around the two Fentons who moved out of the way and strode into the inn.

The Fentons spent the time taking in the scenery of the town around them. The noon sun is high in the sky, its harsh rays scalded the ground, causing heat waves to rise up from the ground. Already, beads of sweat were forming on their foreheads. The town people glanced up at the newcomers before turning back to their work. It's a busy day for everyone in town.

Sounds of footsteps approached them. Andy returned, smiling. “Sorry for the wait! Let’s go” and they were off.

“So, what brings you here Jack?” Andy asked, once they’ve been acquainted. The trio are at the city hall, looking at the photos and old articles recounting the history of the town. Pictures of people in old fashioned clothes smiled at the viewer.

Danny read the description on the wall next to an old sketch drawing of a group of people in front of a smaller but still recognizable town, half listening to the conversation next to him. ‘Our people descend from the great ancestor Alton who brought his family and retainers to this patch of land in 1668…' His eyes traced the years labeled next to the pictures. The pictures were all hand drawn sketches, the styles varying under each artist's hand, all imparting echoes of life within the artwork. The town grew. What started out as a couple of houses in the middle of nowhere slowly expanded until it became a town. Danny walked along the hallway looking at the pictures. 1870, 1880, 1890. He's reached the end of the pictures. The area on the wall next to the pictures is blank in preparation for new additions but it remains blank. That's strange, Danny thought idly but is pulled out of his thoughts by the conversation behind him-

“Ghost stories huh. We don’t really have ghost stories here... Hmm...” Andy hummed in thought. “Oh, I know! I’ll take you to the Wailing Well. Yeah, it's a terrible name. The kids named it and the name stuck. Who knows, you might be able to find ghosts there. Let’s go”

The well, in lowercase 'w', is an ordinary old rusty well. The ectoreader- Andy raised his eyebrows at the strange invention- beeped steadily, reporting a solid 0.5 ectoradiation in the area, nothing out of norm compared to the rest of the town. Danny peered down the well out of curiosity. The well echoed the sounds of his shuffling around its rocky edge, the bottom of the well is dry. The rusty metallic pulley creaked when wind blew through the area telling them how it got its name.

Jack frowned, tapping the machine lightly.

“That’s strange. Ambient ectoplasm should’ve been around 1.” Danny looked at his dad quizzically.

“Shouldn’t normal places without ghosts be around 0 Dad?” He asked.

Jack shook his head “No son, ectoplasm is part of the atmospheric composition in trace amounts. How else do you think ghosts can form on Earth without access to the ghost zone? We’ve calibrated all our devices to measure the baseline ambient ectoplasm as level 1 ectoradiation. Amity was around level 3 when we first moved there, which was one of the main reasons why we chose to move there. Amity is now around level 6.”

The afternoon sun' bright rays reflected harshly off the off-white colors of the town as the trio walked back into the town center. Danny raised his hand to block out the light glares, squinting.

“Nice weather isn't it? “Andy remarked idly as they walked along the sides of the road, “Just perfect for tonight. Looks like the sky will be bright and clear for the next few days too.”

Danny slowed down to duck under a strand of red garland hanging loose from a balcony. He sneezed. People are bustling about, sweeping their front porch, decorating their houses with red garlands. The houses along the roads are decorated in numerous red garlands and paper decorations.

“The children helped out with the decorations. The paper decorations? Their handiwork. Pretty aren’t they?” Andy said proudly.

Danny looked at the children who were also helping their families with the cleaning and decorating. As if noticing his stares, they paused to look at him. Some waved at him, smiling. Most of the children though, remained silent, staring at him with a strange look that he can’t place. He looked away but he can still feel the silent stares from the children. There’s just something about that glint in their eyes that unnerves him. His dad shuffled slightly in discomfort, having been subjected to the same stares.

Andy glanced at them, “Oh, don’t mind the kids. They just haven’t seen newcomers in a very long while.”

Changing the topic, Andy continued, “Since everyone’s busy with the preparations, why don’t I tell you the story of how the festival began?”

“See now,” he began, “we used to have drought. Lots and lots of drought. People suffered. We pleaded to god. Pleaded for rain, for water on this barren land. And they've answered at great cost. One of us stumbled upon a swamp in the woods. The water was murky but we drank it anyway. Water is water. And we were very thirsty.”

“The swamp water made us ill. Luckily one of us accidentally discovered that the plants that grew along the swamp can cure the sickness. From then on, we thrived. We dug a trench from the swamp to our town so that we can have better access to water. We have food, we have water. The herbs we found also kept us healthy from other illnesses. To celebrate our survival, we host the Spirit Renewal Festival, for it has given our lives back as if being renewed, and eat the herbs that had kept us healthy.”

Andy looked up at the sky, “Oh it's way past noon, have you two eaten yet?”

“Ah- not yet but it’s fine-” Jack began to say but Andy interrupted him.

“So sorry for holding you up, I’m such a terrible host, not looking at the time.” He shook his head, “Here why don’t I take you to the best restaurant in town? It’s on me.”

He turned right around a block and motioned them to follow him. Several blocks later, he walked into a diner and knocked on the counter, catching the attention of a mid-aged woman wiping a glass.

“Hey Margaret! We’ve got new guests! Bring out the chef’s menu!”

The woman grinned, “Welcome travelers! Have a seat, I’ll be with you shortly.” she turned to Andy, “Hey Andy! Did you bring it? We need ‘em yesterday!”

Andy fumbled around his pockets, taking out a small packet wrapped in paper, “Yes, yes! Here-” he held it out to her. “By the way the twins will be going back into the woods later today for another quick run. Let them know if you need anything.”

She nodded, pocketing it, “Good, good. Thanks, I’ll let them know if I need anything.”

Margaret then turned to stage whisper to the Fentons, “It’s our local specialty ingredient. Keeps us strong and healthy. Delicious to boot! Come by our event tonight for free food, we serve ‘em to everyone!”

Andy looked at the old clock on the wall then winced, “Sorry folks, looks like I’ve got to go now. Margaret? Put it on my tab please. Thanks. Gotta hurry now.” he placed his hat back on his head and strode over to the door pausing. “Don’t forget to come by for the event tonight!”

Margaret turned to look at her new customers, “Sorry dears, we're a bit busy right now. I hope you don’t mind having a quick sandwich.” she said while turning back to gather the ingredients, “Come by our stall tonight and we'll serve you some hearty meal!” She gave them a winning grin as she slid the sandwich plates onto the countertop.

“Thanks Margaret!” Jack said, taking a bite, “Mmm, this is delicious. It has that tangy flavor that sorta reminds me of my granddad’s food.” Danny took a cautious bite of the sandwich. It tasted a bit too sharp for him. He settled for nibbling the bread.

“By the way Margaret, do you know what else we can do here while we wait for the event?” Jack asked.

She hummed, “Where have you guys already visited?” Jack listed out the locations.

She hummed again, “Hmmm, that’s pretty much most of the things you can do today. Everyone’s busy preparing so other activities are out. You can go into the woods to check out the fireflies but it’s still too bright out to see them.” Jack nodded.

“I guess we’ll be going back to the inn then.” he said, then looked at Danny who just finished his sandwich, “You good to go Danno?” Danny nodded.

Jack and Danny stood up, “Thanks for the food Margaret! See you later!”

Margaret waved, “See you at the festival!”

Jack fiddled with his ectoreader. Despite resetting it several times, the ectoreader continues to measure ambient ectoradiation at 0.5. Jack scratched his head. Maddie is always the better of the two when it comes to working out the kinks in their designs. Jack is the inventor, coming up with new ideas while Maddie fine tunes it. He was so sure he got the calculations right this time when he set its ectoradiation baseline count. He turned the machine off, flipping it to the back to unscrew the back lid. Time to recalibrate it.

“Dad?” came Danny’s voice. Jack paused, turning to look at his son who looked bored out of his mind. “Yeah son? What’s up Danno?”

“Can I go take a walk around the town? I’ll be back before the event starts.” Jack looked at the time.

“Sure, go ahead Danno. Don’t forget to take the Specter Deflector too. It’s in the bag right beside the door.” Jack turned back to examine the wires poking out of the device. Where was the sensor check again?

“Got it.” The door closed behind Danny. Jack squinted at the tiny panel in the device. It’s a shame there’s no ghost activity for them to bond over something fun. Maybe they could go fishing tomorrow? Perhaps they could go check out the swamp?

Danny walks around the town bored. He and his dad had already visited all the tourist attraction sites in town (he could count them on one hand and still have fingers left over) but waiting in the hotel for evening activities is even more boring. The only place with internet connection is the RV and he didn’t want to return to the RV yet after being cooped in it for 6 hours straight.

There's nothing to do in town. Everyone in town is still busy with cleaning their houses and getting the final preparations done. Not to mention the kids are still staring at him. It's starting to creep him out. He wasn’t hungry after the light sandwich so Danny decided to explore the man-made creek next to the town.

The creek was the only place they haven’t visited yet. Danny stopped at the edge of the town. The shallow stream ran parallel to the town, framing it from the east side to the back of the town. Water burbled gently as it lapped against the flat rocks jutting out from the water. Dense woods lay on the other side of the stream. Testing the rocks for firmness, Danny gingerly skipped across the rocks to the other side of the shore.

Small greyish pebbles lined the shores of this side of the stream, shifting loudly under his feet. Danny looked at the stream and the town then turned back towards the woods. Danny looked up at the sky, it’s still light out. Plenty of time for him to explore the woods before the evening falls.

Green foliage brushed his legs as he ventured into the woods.

It was quiet.

As he trudged deeper into the woods, sounds of water from the stream faded behind him. The only sounds were the rustling of the leaves against his legs and the squelching of his shoes on the muddy ground. Sweat dripped down from his forehead, stinging his eyes. Tall trees reach up towards the sky, their top most branches looming above from the canopy, blocking off the sunlight, rendering the woods in a perpetual dimly lit half dream like world. The squelching of his shoe echoes in silence.

It was strange. Aside from the small insects he can see skittering around on the ground, the woods seemed lifeless. Danny trudged deeper into the woods. The further he got, the muddier the ground. The gravel on the stream shores have transitioned into loose sand then a muddy mix of sand and soil. Good thing he can go intangible, Danny thought, looking at the flecks of mud that splashed on his shirt and jeans. He sneezed.

The movement had caused his shirt to get snagged on a branch. Tugging it back, his arm knocked into something behind him. Sharp pain zipped up his arm. He hissed, quickly yanking his arm back, turning around to look at what it was. That pain felt familiar, almost like-

In his haste to back away, Danny’s foot tripped on something. He fell backwards.

and rolled

down

and down

Frowning in concentration, Danny tries to steer his body so that his legs are pointing downwards to stop the rolling.

There's a slope, Danny dazedly noted,

as he continued to roll downwards.

He managed to tilt his body halfway upwards when his unplanned slope rolling ended with a splash.

#ectober month 2021 #danny phantom #ectoberhaunt 2021 #ectoberhaunt treat #fireflies au #that first line is your only hint if you get the reference #goldpost

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makeste · 4 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 282: Aizawa Defeeted

Previously on BnHA: Oh my god do we even care about that at this point. Tomura made a speech; Gran Torino died; Deku lost his shit and tried to strangle Tomura to death with his bare hands; Ryuukyuu came back from Wherever She Was and tried to grab Tomura but he punched a hole through her giant hand; and now he’s grabbing his Quirk-Be-Gone bullets and is ready to cause some mayhem okay?? That about sum it up?? Is anyone even reading this?? CAN WE JUST GET ON WITH IT I’VE WAITED AN ENTIRE WEEK.

Today on BnHA: Well I guess let’s start with what doesn’t happen: Bakugou doesn’t lose his quirk. HE LUCKED OUT!!... for now, anyways. Because, thanks to a near-impossible-to-predict series of events (seriously, raise your hands if you had “Aizawa gets shot but goes full World War Z on his own ass” on your bingo card), Tomura has seemingly regained his regeneration powers, which means that his other quirks are probably back online as well! So we’ll see how that all goes. Anyway so in the meantime Shouto’s back, looking very mad that everyone temporarily forgot he was a main character. And Gigantomachia is back as well! Or almost, anyway. Also, you’ll never guess who broke another one of his arms! Go on, guess. But at least he still has the arm, though, which is more than we can say for certain other people’s limbs. Poor Aizawa is literally on his last leg. He and Tomura really got off on the wrong foot. He chopped his leg off, is what I’m saying. It’s that kind of chapter folks.

you guys I’m losing my whole fucking mind. I straight up deleted the tumblr app off my phone for 24 hours so that I wouldn’t be tempted to log in and risk potentially being spoiled. and I’m happy to say that it worked! so here we are now, completely spoiler free, and let me just say that if Horikoshi decides to cut back to Gunga Mountain now, I will either cry for hours or abandon the series forever and go do something more productive with the rest of my quarantine like learning how to play sad songs on the guitar

all right. here goes

so we’re opening with Deku, who is currently comprised of 100% rage and 0% mercy, and is doing that thing where only the whites of his eyes are visible. and basically he’s just thinking “I’VE REALLY GOT TO HOLD ON TO THIS GUY AND MAKE SURE HE DOESN’T DO ANYTHING ELSE HOMICIDAL.” which is a solid game plan, but perhaps not so easily accomplished

-- oh my god this poor kid is still in denial, I can’t. why are you doing this

is there even still a Gran Torino to tend to at this point? after Tomura bulldozed a hole through his torso, and you went and finished the job with your own fucking attack? sob

but I guess the law of Tragic Shounen Mentor Deaths mandates that Gran’s should be at least as drawn-out as Nighteye’s was, though. so he’s probably only Mostly Dead, which is still Slightly Alive if I remember my Princess Bride correctly, and I think I do

so now the rest of these stooges are finally catching up with us here

yes, my friends. a bullet. WELCOME TO MY LIFE FOR THE PAST FUCKING WEEK. anyways I have a LOT of pent-up energy here just fyi. there may be a lot of unnecessary screaming in this recap

FUCKING WYOMING SMASH Y’ALLSSSS

I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT JUST HAPPENED SOB. DID HE JUST HAMMER FIST TOMURA’S HEAD INTO THE GROUND. DID HE SNAP HIS FUCKING NECK AT 100%. IN AN IDEAL WORLD HE WOULD HAVE JUST CHOPPED TOMURA’S ARMS OFF WHILE SOMEHOW MANAGING TO AVOID BREAKING ANY OF HIS OWN BONES IN THE PROCESS, BUT I HAVE A FEELING THIS SITUATION WILL NOT BE RESOLVED IN ANY KIND OF MANNER ONE WOULD CONSIDER “IDEAL”

(ETA: fun fact: this attack did absolutely nothing except make things approximately 100x worse. but you tried Deku. you tried.)

THE FUCK KIND OF PORTENTOUS BULLSHITTING TITLE IS THIS. OH MY GOD, I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT EMOTION I’M HAVING RIGHT NOW, IT’S JUST A LOT OF LOUD THOUGHTS

anyway so if you’re just joining us, Tomura just pulled two bullets out of his pocket, the good guys finally noticed, and then Deku did a smash and everything exploded. the radius of this attack actually looks wide enough to have potentially involved Aizawa, who probably does NOT want to get any debris in his eyes right now, and also Gran, who probably doesn’t particularly want to be hit by another deadly attack for the third time in the past ninety seconds. anyway so I guess what I’m trying to say here is WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THAT YOU LITTLE GREEN LUNATIC

AHHHHHH

he got the one!! the one that was in Tomura’s right hand!! but what about the one in his left ahhhhhhh

(ETA: lmao at Kacchan being the one to blow up the same bullet I was so sure he was going to be shot with. saw the writing on the wall, huh kid? what do we say to the god of foreshadowing?? ‘NOT TODAY.’ ...except that we’re still not actually out of the woods yet so you still better watch yourself lol.)

...

based on the font here, these are Tomura’s thoughts. which he is thinking immediately after getting the lower half of his jaw very painfully cronched by the VERY homicidal sixteen-year-old still clinging to him. anyway so Tomura’s thought processes are as inscrutable to me as ever lulz

and Deku’s arm looks broken again, yaaaaay. but at least it’s his left arm and not his right! so that’s nice. now they can match

[SHRIEKS]

HE YEETED IT. IT HAS BEEN YEETEDED. HE DID A YEET. [sobbing] he DiD a YeEt oH my GOD

DID IT HIT SOMETHING!?!?!?

my reading process here is as follows: 1) scroll down exactly one panel. 2) scream even though absolutely nothing has happened yet. 3) WRITE THAT DOWN 4) REPEAT

DKSFJLKHSDLGKHLI

DID IT HIT HIM!?!? DID IT GET HIM IN THE LEG SOB ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS. JUST LIKE THAT?? BOOM GUN BULLET LEG!!?

YOU GUYS IT REALLY HIT AIZAWA AND NO ONE DID A GODDAMN THING?? it wasn’t even drawn out or anything??? it just HAPPENED, within like four pages??? NO SLOW MO?? NOT EVEN A REACTION PANEL WHAT THE FUCK

son of a bitch I would so dearly like to grab Manual and RockLockRock’s heads right now and just conk them together real hard. YOU STUPID FUCKS sob YOU HAD ONE JOB!!! IT REALLY WAS JUST ONE!! AND YOU WERE SHARING IT!! SO IT’S MORE LIKE HALF A JOB!! AND YOU STILL COCKED IT UP IN ABSOLUTELY NO TIME AT ALL OH MY GOD

(ETA: they should blow this panel up and make it into a t-shirt and make Manual and RLR wear the shirts every day for the rest of their lives. half a job, you guys. please go away I cannot even look at you right now.)

FUCK MY EVERYTHING

(ETA: I still can’t figure out if this horrific angle is due to the earlier damage from the Noumu, or if Tomura really just flung the bullet THAT hard. honestly I’m surprised it didn’t just slice right through him with that kind of velocity. “no thanks because then I wouldn’t get to write a scene where he chops his own leg off” oh okay well when you put it that way, Horikoshi.)

if I recall correctly this is the leg that he said was “twisted”, no? yeesh. might just want to chop it off real quick, then. s’not like it’s doing you any more good. does anyone know if zombie rules apply or not with this sort of thing?? shit

?!?!

“THANKS”?? okay what. did it hit him or not??

-- oh my god WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT

I WAS -- I WAS JOKING I -- FFFFFFFFKJK

jesus fucking christ. when I said “might just want to chop it off real quick” literally FOUR PARAGRAPHS AGO, I can tell you that the one thing I did NOT expect was for Aizawa to be all, “you know what, that’s a good idea”, and then YOINK OUT HIS TRUSTY HERO SHANK AND GO FULL 127 HOURS ON THIS BITCH. "LALALA WE’RE GONNA DO IT RATIONALLY TEEHEE” like excuse me, the fuck

anyways. I don’t even know what to say. thank you Aizawa’s leg for your sacrifice, and for always supporting him. literally. oh my god I came here ready for my son to enter a new phase of character development, and for the manga as a whole to enter a new phase of glorious, glorious angst. no one told me I’d be sitting here making puns instead. what a fine, confusing day

anyway though let’s just fucking hope it worked. and side note, if Aizawa Shouta really did chop off his own fucking leg just now and somehow STILL managed not to fucking blink, I think we might as well just go ahead and hand him the Biggest Badass In The Series award right now because no one is ever going to top that. nope. not happening

it is truly a testament to Shigaraki Tomura’s unfathomably mysterious sexy villain energy that he still somehow manages to look hot with only half a face

also no one in this manga actually feels pain, do they. not Deku, not Aizawa, not Tomura, no one. no wonder none of them have any self-preservation instincts to speak of

did someone just randomly explode just now. at this point it might as well happen, right

oh it’s the shockwave from Deku’s Wyoming attack, apparently. how nice of it to have a delayed reaction for absolutely no reason

anyway so Deku’s being flung back, but he’s grabbing onto Tomura again with Blackwhip. but oh shit you guys, if Tomura escapes Deku and Ryuukyuu’s clutches and still has any bullets left in his pocket, we may still be able to salvage this Bakugou quirk situation after all. would be nice to be able to actually do something with all of these “happy quirk losing day” balloons that I ordered

(ETA: actually, believe it or not I honestly like this better. Tomura using AFO was always the more dramatic option anyway. and now that we’ve done the bullet thing everyone has presumably let their guard down again, which, good.)

I love how Tomura apparently hasn’t noticed that Aizawa’s just amputated his own leg? to be fair he’s probably distracted by all the explosions and such

also gotta love how Deku’s arm-breaking attack seemingly just made everything worse for no reason. and also how Manual and RockLockRock are once again just standing there doing absolutely nothing

SO NOW GUESS WHAT’S HAPPENING

I MEAN IT! GUESS. BECAUSE YOUR GUESS IS AS GOOD AS MINE LOL

OH WELL OKAY THEN

just like we all saw coming!! ...

so is this Endeavor’s attack?? Bakugou’s?? either way, hot damn. fortunately for Tomura he is apparently operating under the same guidelines as the U.S. Federal Reserve, in which mutilated bills may still be exchanged at face value if more than 50% of a note identifiable as United States currency is present. basically as long as roughly half of him is still vaguely Tomura-shaped I assume he’ll be fine

(ETA: in hindsight I should have immediately been able to identify this as a Shouto attack based solely on how murdery it was lol.)

OH MY GODDDD

KRANCH?!?

OH MY GOD LOL WHAT. LOL. REMEMBER EVERYONE’S THEORIES FROM LIKE TWENTY YEARS AGO LOL. SHOUTO WHAT THE FUCK. DID YOU STOP FOR DRIVE THRU

AND MEANWHILE DEKU’S BACK ON THE SCENE GIVING ARGUABLY EVEN LESS FUCKS THAN BEFORE, IF SUCH A THING IS EVEN POSSIBLE. SO FAR THIS CHAPTER HAS PRECISELY ZERO THINGS THAT I ACTUALLY EXPECTED IN IT, WHICH IS VERY IMPRESSIVE

IT ALSO HAS A LOT OF SMASHING

a LOT. of smashing, guys. feels like... 60% smashing, 20% severed legs, 20% Kranch

-- oh no oh SHIT oh shit oh shit

(ETA: um so I really can’t tell how far that wound extends and whether or not Aizawa still has his right eye, shit.)

first of all how did Deku get here next to Aizawa when he was just over there with Tomura, what. and second, I think Aizawa just blinked, oh shit. probably on the verge of passing out after CHOPPING HIS OWN LEG OFF which STILL hasn’t been acknowledged yet?? did I just completely misinterpret all of that back there or what

(ETA: there was seriously so little attention called to this that I scrolled back up to confirm it probably like half a dozen times. apparently Horikoshi thinks that THE MOST BADASS THING TO EVER HAPPEN IN THE MANGA should be completely downplayed. whereas if it were me, there’d be an entire two page spread of JUST THE LEG. WITH MUSIC PLAYING. EVEN THOUGH IT’S A MANGA.)

YEPPPPPPP. fuck

look at him though. he’s so happy. this is why I can’t stay mad at you no matter how deranged you get you little maniac

so is quirk-stealing back on the menu then or what. don’t think I’ve been lulled into any kind of false sense of security by any of this lol

-- ARE WE SERIOUSLY CUTTING AWAY

so Todoroki really went after them ALONE. the better to put his dad right back up at the top of the Lose Your Quirk Sweepstakes finalists. well... second-to-top, maybe. like I said I will not be lulled

yuh-oh

why do I feel like the odds of Gigantomachia arriving to herald the end of this chapter just shot up DRAMATICALLY

so the next page is almost entirely just a list of cities that the news anchor is telling people to evacuate because they’re in Machia’s path. along with a bunch of dead heroes lying around everywhere, and Ochako being all ominous

(: weren’t they, though? heh. this is going to be so, so bad (: (: (:

-- fuuuuuuuuuuu

aaaaaand that’s it. hahahaha. okay then let’s summarize

Bakugou defied all expectations and kept his quirk (FOR NOW)!

Aizawa cut his own fucking leg off and it WASN’T EVEN REMOTELY ACKNOWLEDGED FOR REASONS I CAN’T UNDERSTAND (R.I.P. AIZAWA’S PRECIOUS LEG. YOU ALWAYS PUT YOUR BEST FOOT FORWARD)

Kranch showed up after 157 years and is probably wondering why the heck I keep calling him “Kranch” now. THINGS CHANGE WHEN YOU’RE MIA FOR A WHILE MY LITTLE STARBUCKS CHRISTMAS CUP

Deku broke his arm for the 78th time

Tomura regenerated but seems to think Aizawa’s quirk is actually gone for good, which I’m pretty sure it’s not. so if they can keep him from destroying everything long enough for Aizawa to turn it back on again, we might possibly still survive this

and lastly, Machia is about to kill all of these stupid people frolicking around outside of this fitness club who are probably so proud of themselves for not being glued to their phones 24/7 because they prefer to LIVE LIFE IN THE MOMENT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. well that’s on you my friends. at least it’ll be a quick death. ffff

#bnha 282 #aizawa shouta #shigaraki tomura #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #sorry for all the leg puns #it's in my nature #I can't help it if I find this kind of situation humerus #...oh no wait that's arms #dammit

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my-shields-are-down · 2 years ago

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Ashley being back infuriates me.

They’ll lose fans if they keep the love interests around too long. We saw that a fair bit in S4. Social media was rough. If she’s around for long, Chenford fans will stop watching. They were on the verge of cancellation last season for The Rookie. They can’t really afford to fuck up now.

People are fed up. It makes me wonder if the writers even give a damn about Chenford or not? It makes me think they won’t do anything with them until the last couple episodes of the series.

I love slow burn ships. All of my ships have been a will they/won’t they or a slow burn. Every one of my other ships have had more progress than Chenford by S5. It’s infuriating.

It wouldn’t be that hard to get them together either. Have Lucy test out of patrol, Tim then wouldn’t be her supervisor, Murray or Carradine would depending on if she tests for UC or Detective.

In terms of contracts, I think they’ll do a S6 of The Rookie. But I think that might be the end of the road. What happens if Feds tanks and is cancelled but OG is still going strong?

Feds I don’t think will do too well. It’s going against the FBI Tuesday block on CBS and the FBIs rake in all the Tuesday ratings. How do you think Feds will do? How do you think The Rookie will do now that it’s against NCIS LA on Sundays with the time slot change?

Rookie Feds is going up against CBS's FBI night? hahahahahaha

oh my god. that's a death knell. WHY would you choose to go up against Dick Wolf - the king of television? I will be watching CBS that night, thank you. Thank you for the laugh. Oh I needed that badly.

I believe the Rookie writers are Chenford fans, they've said as much (or Tucy as they call them). Personally, I think the problem comes from the leadership. Nathan Fillion is no Eric Winter. Never has been, never will be. Eric is gorgeous and has really flourished in this role - the writers have given him some fantastic material to work with. His micro expressions and emotive capabilities are phenomenal. Plus, he and Melissa have ridiculous chemistry on or off screen. They are friends and laugh endlessly off camera. That shines through - and is probably why most of us are drawn to that couple to begin with. They really are magic.

I believe Nathan thought this would be Castle 2. And he'd be able to be the bumbling buffoon for 1/3 of every episode with the other characters blending into the background in support of this role showcasing him. Yes, I am being kind of snarky, but I worked in Hollywood and the man has a large ego. I don't know why. This isn't Firefly or Serenity or even Castle. Petty comment: Can we please stop filming him running? please?

The writers write what the producers and the censors will allow them to write. Did you see the SDCC panel interview? the focus was on NF and the Feds. only one Chenford question that was basically shot down. They do not want the focus on Chenford. and so I bet at least last season, that's why their stories were so disjointed. Push down what's possible, and create something new and shiny to shift the audience's focus to. First Bailey then when that didn't catch fire, to the Feds. I also think the writers purposely made Bailey less likeable. She's a bit of a know-it-all. I mean perfectly nice, but she doesn't gel with Nyla (hahahah ), Angela or Lucy. Not really. Grace was phenomenally better than Bailey. Hell, Anderson would have been a better match IMO. But well they killed her off so that's not happening.

This season could work to chenford's favor. if everyone is focused on building a show that has no chance for success, the writers of the OG should have more freedom to write what they want. I thought the Dim/Juicy idea was so clever - it's a fun UC situation that will hopefully accelerate the feelings and wantings of these two characters into action. please oh please.

The show was on the verge of cancellation then that syndication announcement came through which makes no sense to me at all. Unless there is some contingency play happening. Something like, if the Feds get through 2 full seasons, we will put both shows into syndication as 8 total seasons of the Rookie into reruns. 2 for Feds and 6 for Rookie.

Voldie (she-who-will-not-be-named) - I feel bad for her. She, like Sanford are place holders. They are the people who on paper are the perfect match for Tim and Lucy. But we never see the domesticity of either Tim or Lucy with these people. Other than Kojo barking and growling at Voldie - which is hilarious in and of itself. And maybe she's back on set, because now the UC op is over, and the fed cross over is over, and T+L have faced the ramifications of their make out sessions. Maybe Tim hasn't yet had a chance to break up with her. I'll like her more if the breakup is messy. if she throws things. If she really does want to get married and have babies, or decides to "try that out" in order to keep Tim.

But yeah, the placeholder relationships are annoying. I am ready for Tucy to get on with it. They need some catalyst to propel one of them into action and imagine life without them. Something to spur them into action.

And I will enjoy watching the Feds die a speedy death. That show doesn't have a chance on Tuesdays, or much of a chance at all IMO.

#MonkeyThinks #chenford #writers writing what they write #snarkiness ahead #bitch please #why would you go up against Dick Wolf if you had a choice not to?#stupid is as stupid does #tim bradford #lucy chen #i love them

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juliandev0rak · 3 years ago

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Into The Wild

Chapter 1: Daisy

✧ Into The Wild Series ✧ playlist ✧

words: 2468

Willa Clary gets out of her car and shuts the door with a dull slam, sending up a cloud of dust and scaring off a lizard who had been sunning on a nearby rock. She surveys her surroundings with a grin, taking in the trees, the small clearing of wooden cabins, and the shiny blue lake in the distance. She pulls a faded brochure from her pocket and reads the words she’s read about a thousand times over the last few months:

“Camp Vesuvia: eight weeks of summer fun!”

The photograph on the front shows the same view she’s looking at, but the scene in front of her is far more beautiful than the photo. The trees are more green, the sky more blue, and the cabins around her look even more charming. In the summer heat the air seems to shimmer, giving everything a slightly magical quality. Willa decides that she loves the place already.

When Asra, her best friend and old college roommate, told her about the job opening at the summer camp he works at, she’d jumped at the chance. Asra has told her plenty of stories about what goes on during a summer at Camp Vesuvia and with every story she found herself wanting to be a part of it. He told her about the other people who work there and how fun it is to get to know all of the campers, he told stories of roasting marshmallows and telling ghost stories around the fire. He’d also mentioned how beautiful the scenery is, but his description hadn’t done it justice.

All of Asra’s stories brought Willa back to her own childhood, spent in a tiny rural town where exploring nature was pretty much the only activity available. She’d moved away to the big city for college, where she’d hoped to find her way. But after graduating she’d found herself with a degree, but no job, and an aching feeling that she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

And since Willa loves nature and children (and also really needed a job) she figured a job at a summer camp would be a perfect fit for her. So she’d packed her bags and driven out into the middle of nowhere, her home for the next eight weeks.

The door of the cabin closest to her opens with the sound of a bell, and Willa’s eyes are drawn to the tall woman standing in the doorway. Her height draws attention, as does her brightly colored purple hair. Willa takes in the woman’s perfectly styled outfit and heeled boots, she doesn’t look like she belongs in the middle of the woods, but something about her seems very welcoming.

“Welcome, Willa, we’ve been expecting you!” The woman calls, beckoning her over with a perfectly manicured hand.

“Hi! You must be Nadia?” Willa asks, moving to shake the camp director’s already outstretched hand.

“Yes I am, if you should require anything over the course of the summer I can be found here in the office. I’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival, Asra has told me quite a bit about you,” Nadia smiles, shutting the door behind them as Willa follows her inside.

The front room of the cabin is small but well decorated. A large polished wood desk takes up the majority of the room and bookshelves and filing cabinets cover most of the remaining wall space. Nadia settles into the chair behind the desk and Willa takes the empty seat in front of it. She looks around as Nadia searches for a file, taking in the stylish furnishing and decor which looks surprisingly perfect in the wood paneled cabin.

Nadia finds the correct file and riffles through it briefly before pulling out a small stack of paper which she hands to Willa. “I’ll just need your final signature on some of the paperwork and we’ll get you all settled in. We expect the first round of campers tomorrow morning at nine, and things will only get busier after then.”

“How many campers do you expect in total?” Willa asks. She looks through the paperwork quickly as she signs it, standard onboarding and personal information, all as expected.

Nadia frowns slightly at the question and her forehead furrows, portraying a bit of the stress hidden behind her cheerful facade. “We have nearly seventy campers staying for the entire summer, the most we’ve ever had at one time. Which is precisely why I decided to take on more help. We have a small but reliable staff here but I thought it was time for some reinforcements.”

Willa hands over the completed paperwork and watches as Nadia carefully looks it over. “Wow, that’s a lot of kids, but I’m sure we can handle it!”

“That’s the sort of encouraging spirit we need around here,” Nadia smiles. “Asra told me you were an ‘eternal optimist’ and I hoped his description would prove accurate.”

Willa blushes slightly at the compliment and smiles back at Nadia, making a mental note to thank Asra later for his apparently glowing recommendation. “It’s easy to be optimistic in a place as beautiful as this.”

The sound of a bell alerts them as the front door opens and Nadia stands to greet the person entering, “Ah, here’s Asra.”

“Willa!” Asra calls from behind her and WIlla nearly knocks her chair over in her haste to hug him.

“Asra! I’ve missed you!” Willa takes in the familiar appearance of her friend. Asra wears a pair of overalls over a “Camp Vesuvia” shirt. A name tag pinned to one of the straps says his name, written in familiar handwriting and accented with a sparkly smiley face sticker.

“I’m happy you decided to take my advice and come to Camp Vesuvia, you’re going to love it here,” Asra says.

“Yes, I hope that you will, Willa,” Nadia smiles at the two of them before taking her seat again. She points to the wall behind Willa, “Your room key is hanging on that board, it’s the one with the red ribbon. I’ll leave Asra to show you the way. I'm quite busy with last minute preparations, but I hope you’ll find the lodgings comfortable.”

Willa turns to the board, spotting the key hanging all the way at the top. “Thank you, Nadia!” She stands on her tiptoes to reach for the key and Asra laughs, reaching up from behind her. He easily grabs the key and hands it to her, ignoring the annoyed expression on her face.

“Still as short as always,” Asra teases.

“Still as rude as always,” Willa frowns, but she’s too excited to stay mad.

“Let’s get you moved in. Did you bring that scarf you said you’d give me?” Asra heads for the door and Willa follows, laughing at his enthusiasm.

“Yes, and I brought extra yarn so I can make you another if you’d like—” Willa’s words are cut off as the door opens before Asra can get to it. A large figure stands in the doorway, and Willa and Asra step to the side to let him in. He has to duck a little to enter the room, and Willa looks up at him, noticing shoulder length dark hair and a park ranger’s uniform.

Nadia stands to greet him, “Ah, Muriel, excellent timing. I was just going to call you. We’ve had a few bear sightings around camp and I wanted to go over our safety plans, perhaps we can ensure all of the trash receptacles are in working order.”

The man nods in agreement, but his attention moves away from Nadia and over to Willa. When he notices that she’s looking back at him he swiftly looks away, clearing his throat as he takes a step closer to Nadia’s desk and away from Willa. In the near split second when they looked at each other, Willa noticed how bright his eyes were, green like the trees outside. Her eyes stay on him, noting the way his posture slumps a little as if he’s used to being too tall for a space.

“Oh, pardon me for not making introductions sooner. Muriel, this is WIlla, she’s our new counselor and the arts and craft director,” Nadia gestures at Willa, “And Willa, this is Muriel. He’s the park ranger assigned to our area. The ranger station is about a mile from here. if anything goes wrong he’s the first to call.” Nadia gives Muriel a warm smile and he flushes faintly, eyes resolutely staring down at the wooden floors.

“Muriel’s great, he’s the best at roasting marshmallows,” Asra says, finally pulling Willa’s attention away from the man. Asra raises an eyebrow at her in question and Willa looks away, brushing past him to move towards the door.

She turns to glance over her shoulder at Muriel, who still seems to be finding the floorboards exceedingly interesting. “It was nice to meet you, Muriel,” Willa says, giving him a cheery smile. Muriel looks up in surprise and stares at her for a minute before nodding in response. Willa turns to leave, Asra right behind her.

“‘It was nice to meet you, Muriel’” Asra imitates in a sing-song voice that sounds surprisingly accurate to Willa’s. She scoffs and fights the urge to shove his arm as if they were twelve, she sticks her tongue out at him instead— much more mature.

“Clearly he’s attractive, you can’t blame me for staring,” Willa says, rolling her eyes at Asra’s over-eager expression.

“True, I can’t blame you, and like I said— Muriel’s a great guy. He’s a bit shy and doesn’t like to socialize much as you may have noticed, but he’s saved us from quite a few scrapes over the years,” Asra recounts. “He repaired the roof of the main hall after a thunderstorm knocked over a tree last year, and he even put out a fire once when a campfire got out of hand.” “Well, he sounds like quite the man.” Willa hides her smile as she turns to open the trunk of her car. She hauls out a suitcase painted a bright blue color and dotted with daisies, she’d done the art herself one day when she’d run out of canvases and needed something new to paint on. Asra grabs her other bag and shuts the trunk, giving her another smirk.

“Let's get going, I’ll give you a full tour along the way.” Asra hoists her duffle bag over his shoulder as he walks. Willa follows behind, taking in all the sights as he leads the way through Camp Vesuvia.

Asra delivers on his promise of a tour, pointing out everything they pass along the way. “The building we just left is the office, but we all call it ‘the palace’ because Nadia’s the queen around here. Don’t worry though, she’s a benevolent ruler,” he laughs. Nadia seems kind, but she clearly expects the best from everyone and Willa would hate to disappoint her.

They pass the arts and crafts cabin, the main hall where meals are eaten, and each of the cabins for campers. Asra stops in front of a small building next to the main hall, it looks homey and a small puff of smoke comes out of its chimney. A wooden sign by the door is marked with a large pot and a spoon and judging by the delicious smell of bread emanating from the building, this is the kitchen.

“Here’s the kitchen, Portia works here along with Hestion and Selasi. You’ll meet them at dinner. I’m convinced they’re the best cooks in the world, and Selasi’s pumpkin bread is legendary.” For a minute it seems like Asra might go in to look for the aforementioned pumpkin bread, but he turns away from the door and continues on the dirt path forward.

He points to another small cabin to their right, “And here’s the first aid center. Julian is our resident doctor, he’s Portia’s older brother,”

“Ah, I seem to remember someone named Julian from quite a few of your stories,” Willa says, jokingly waggling her eyebrows. Asra grimaces and looks straight ahead, not meeting her eyes.

“Yes well, that was in the past. Those stories are old,” Asra waves a hand as if to show how unimportant those stories were. “Let’s move on, over here is where we store the canoes! Lucio is our recreation director, he’s kind of an asshole but the kids think he’s cool.”

The tour continues on until they reach a larger looking cabin tucked back into the trees. It has a wrap-around porch dotted with comfortable looking chairs and a bright green door. It looks welcoming, and there's a great view of the lake from the front porch. Willa can picture herself out there enjoying a cup of coffee or knitting.

“And here we have our final destination for the day, the counselor's cabin where everyone on staff here lives.” Asra shows her through the comfortable three story cabin, it’s more modern than Willa had expected. She thinks back to the well decorated front office, the palace, and decides that Nadia must be responsible for this cabin’s design as well.

Finally, Asra leads her to a closed door on the second floor and she unlocks it, entering a small but cozy looking bedroom. The walls are painted sky blue and a vase on the dresser has fresh flowers in it, she immediately feels at home. Willa sets her suitcase down by the dresser and flops down on the bed facedown.

“This is going to be so fun!” she squeals, her words slightly muffled by a pillow.

Asra flops down next to her, “You’re going to love it! The camp comes alive when the campers get here, and I bet you’ll be great at teaching art.”

“I hope so, but it’s been a while since I made a friendship bracelet,” Willa laughs, pointing to Asra’s wrist which is bedecked with half a dozen colorful string bracelets.

“Campers made these for me,” he explains proudly, lifting his arm up so Willa can see the bracelets better. “A lot of the same kids come back every year and most of the staffers do too. I think you’ll fit right in, this is going to be the best summer!”

Willa looks out the window next to her bed and catches a glimpse of Nadia and the park ranger, Muriel, out inspecting the grounds. Muriel looks up at the window as if he can sense her gaze and she smiles and waves at him. He doesn’t respond, quickly walking away towards the trees, but Willa thinks she might’ve seen a hint of a smile tug at his lips as he looked at her.

“I’ve got a good feeling about this summer, too,” Willa says, turning back to Asra with a giddy grin. “I can’t wait!”

✧

#here's chapter one!#willa wednesday #willa clary #muriel the arcana #milla #the complete cast of characters is as follows:#willa- camp counselor and director of arts and crafts #muriel- park ranger #nadia- camp director #asra- camp counselor #julian- doctor/ first aid #portia- cook #lucio- recreation director #me- overexcited writer

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th0mas1ut · 4 years ago

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"sʜᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴏɪᴋᴀᴡᴀ’s ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴇᴀʀᴘʜᴏɴᴇs ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴜғᴏ ʜᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ"

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑜𝑖𝑘𝑎𝑤𝑎 𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑢 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝑎/𝑛: 𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑔𝑒𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑. 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑖��ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝑠𝑜...𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑢𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑏𝑠 𝑤𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑘𝑠 + 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑠: @trifliz

☼ 𝑔𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑠; 𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑏𝑜𝑥; 𝑛𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛;

♫ 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

"look, y/n-chan, we're almost there~"

it was 2am, and somehow your local setter had convinced you that there had, in fact, been a ufo sighting nearby and yes, you indeed would have to come explore it with him.

and no, he didn't care that you didn't believe in aliens and ufo's cause you were coming and that's that.

oikawa began to hum a upbeat tune as you took massive strides to catch up to his lanky body. the two of you were walking through a quiet neighborhood, taking shortcuts to react his supposed destination faster. you'd only agreed since he'd promised a nice lunch for you next weekend, but it wasn't seeming to be worth it at this point. sighing, you huffed and puffed, struggling to keep up with his rapid pacing; but admittedly, you'd go anywhere if it came to him. but like hell you'd tell him that.

the destination appeared to be up ahead, and you could visibly see it, but it was nearly a mile out, so you soon found yourself dragging your feet as you took forceful steps, grumbling nonsense under your breath. oikawa, still distracted with the promise of an amazing discovery, glanced over at you when the scuffing of your shoes had started to become more obvious. thoughtfully, he foraged his pocket and pulled out his blue earbuds, dangling them out to you like a peace offering. you lifted up your sluggish gaze and brightened up at seeing them; gratefully took one earbud with the corner of your lips curving up in a thank you.

you shut your eyes with the soothing melody, flowing like silk throughout your headspace; while you didn't complement oikawa much, wanting to avoid it going to his head, you had to admit he had immaculate taste. your heavy steps gradually turned over to power walking strides, and in your trance, you missed oikawa glancing in your direction, as if he were looking at the earth from outer space for the first time.

the earbud was unexpectedly yanked out of your ear as oikawa made an abrupt stop. making a face of displeasure at your music being cut short, you turned back to see what the problem was, but oikawa was squinting at something in the far distance while glancing back and forth between his phone and what appeared a building. still peeved about missing the bridge of a really good song, you lightly punched oikawa in the shoulder and he teetered off to the side from the force.

"hey! what was that for?"

"what's the problem...let's go!"

pouting, he put the earbuds back in his pocket as he pointed ecstatically at the building in front of the two of you. "that's the space museum." he whispered, a excited look of engrossment overtaking his face. even in the dim street lights, you could make out a pink dusting his cheeks, making his face radiate like the moon in the dark.

it then occurred to you why you had come here at all.

"we're going to sneak into the space museum?" you whispered back with a harsh undertone, practically hissing in his direction. he nodded, looking shameless and proud of himself for coming up with the idea before you smacked him harder again a second time, nearly sending him flying.

he rubbed at his shoulder, wincing and whimpering under your furious gaze. "ow! that really hurt, y/n-chan!"

"what about security?" you spat back with a furious undertone, "what if we get arrested?"

his playful attitude from before was gone now, a more serious one taking light. you could see his face slightly clouding over and darkening to a frightening point, and his tone dropped a whole pitch, sending a shiver down your spine. "i wanted to take you somewhere special to me." oikawa spoke, the sharpness of his words piercing through your chest. he sounded harsh, but his voice began to shake with his final words. you could see a twitching in his lips, his bottom lip trembling. "so..."

was someone gripping your chest? because it hurt. a lot. crushed under a thousand emotions, you wanted to reach out to him, but lowered your hand at the last second, holding it out longingly in midair. but he wasn't looking at you, instead squinting up at the stars, like he was asking them something. the night sky was silent, blinking back.

the tightness of your heart compelled a hand to reach out, holding his wrist with an aggressive grip. he yelped as his hand was suddenly dragged up into the air, and his eyes meeting yours with a fragile tentativeness, his insides burning up like a library lit aflame.

"um." your words shot out smoothly like a dart, wording unsteady but firm. "i wanna see it too."

but he still looked conflicted, and his face dropped as he questioned your change of heart. he didn't want this out of pity, but the second yank of his wrist must have proved that otherwise, because your voice sounded more desperate this time. "take me to the planetarium, oikawa. please."

he exhaled, trying to read through you one more time, but there was nothing to read through; you seemed genuine enough, and you shared a intimate sweet smile with him that made his insides swoon with his heart fluttering: a rose in the wind. so he took your hand, unable to stop the melancholic laugh that escaped his lips, and had you follow him through the back parking lot, making sure to stick to the shadows of the night. sometimes he forgot how foolish he was. the only one full of pity for himself was him alone, but why, when he had you by his side?

the back door creaked open with the sound of your arrival, and your hand was tightly gripping his with a noticeable tremor, knuckles white. up ahead, you could see a air force glider hung in mid-air, and a model of the moon over to your left. he tried to stifle the sudden exhilaration he was feeling and comfort you, so gently he squeezed your shaky hand, as his soft steps echoed throughout the interior of the museum. the two of you shared panicked glances as you heard thudding of boots around the corner, ad with a urgent desperation, he grabbed your hand and sprinted down the corner, sneakers thudding against the tiles.

a sudden shout could be heard, getting closer and closer. "hey! who's there?" oikawa muttered something other his breath, pulling you into a door to the left. "in here!" he practically shouted, pushing you inside, his hands roughly on your back.

he was still gripping your waist when the two of you arrived inside, the automatic door shutting behind you. exhaling, his hands slip down to your hips, searing you through your cloths. "are you ok?"

stunned, it took you a second to even react with all the fogginess in your head, making it hard to think or process anything that had just happened. suddenly, his hands were jerked back, as he realized how close he had been holding you. he quickly walked forward, attempting to hide his flush as he motioned you to follow him to the front row of the auditorium-like room. "come on, it's up ahead."

it took you a moment to process - but you were in the planetarium, the place oikawa had trying to take you all evening. astonishment by it's vastness evident on your face, he smirked with aura of arrogance, satisfied by your reaction. "told you how cool it was. just admit it, y/n-chan~"

leaning over the control panel, he squinted at the buttons, trying to find the right one with his phone flashlight before hitting one with mixed confidence. you gasped as the ceiling suddenly flashed with millions of bright dots, a black to purple gradient highlighting them all.

you forgot how to breath as you looked up, nearly falling over backwards trying to look at them all; there were millions of stars, all shining brightly on their own. they were tiny, but amassed across entire titanic like ceiling made you feel small compared to the massiveness of the projection, with your heart was pounding in your chest with a loud rhythm as you tried to wrap your mind around it all. it was so big, so much, you didn't know where to even look. carefully guiding yourself down to the ground without breaking eye contact with the galaxy in front of you for even a second, you sat down on the ground, crossing your legs and leaning back on the palms of your hands. heart in your throat, you could barely croak out a "wow."

oikawa couldn't look at the sky, not when he was looking at you: how could you be so much brighter? and how had he not seen it before; you were positively glowing, like a sun, and the sun is a star, but the one brightest of them all.

he couldn't even think straight right now as his body shuffled forward: his hands so greedy, so touch starved. lips like a magnet, he was drawn towards yours with his hazy thinking, as his body crouched down next to you. your attention suddenly shifted to him, unprepared for the intensity in his eyes. inexplicably, fingers were reached out, yours tracing his cheekbones and his curled around your neck, giving you tremors of a lifetime.

his lips touched yours with soft hesitation, explorative and curious, as if it were asking a question to you. your mouth answered back, moving in synch, as you tilted your head to press harder against lips in wonder. you felt him groan as it vibrated through his body with a low grumble and reach your mouth, forcing you to whimper as something began to stir down low.

"thank you..." he purred in your ear with a soft rumble, "for coming with me."

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sisterspooky1013 · 4 years ago

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Title: Everything

Author: SisterSpooky1013

Rating: Explicit

Words: 5030

Description: in an AU season 7, the IVF worked

Read it on AO3:

She felt sick, scanning the room for something she could throw up in if it came to that. One of the drawers was labeled “emesis bags” and she took a mental note. She couldn’t recall having thrown up a single time since her cancer went into remission, and she had the thought that this was a fact that would probably change if the procedure worked. She took a deep breath to fend off the nausea and looked around for something to distract her from the news she was waiting for. They’d drawn her blood 30 minutes prior and told her they’d call her with results, but she’d asked if she could wait, not sure she was capable of doing anything other than waiting, her stomach in knots. There was a rack of pamphlets on the wall about different tests, conditions, and procedures and she read over their titles, wondering if there’d be any she hadn’t heard of. “IUI,” “IVF,” “PCOS,” “POF,” the acronyms spoke to a world that could only be understood by the few that wished they didn’t have to be there. She noticed there wasn’t a pamphlet for “ova harvested by government evildoers (or possibly aliens) then later recovered under cryo refrigeration” and chuckled to herself at the idea. Mulder would have found that joke funny, but he wasn’t here. Not that he hadn’t asked to be, but she couldn’t stand the idea of having to get bad news in front of him. The downside was, of course, she’d have to repeat the bad news to him later, but at least she could have her own initial reaction in privacy.

Her eyes fell to a pamphlet titled “sperm donation” and she plucked it from the rack, scanning the panels that talked about how to select a donor and how to talk to a child about being donor conceived. Her selection of Mulder as her donor had been nothing like this. She’d spent weeks thinking about how to ask him, rehearsed the words over and over, considered sending them in an email, or calling him on the phone so she didn’t have to look at his shocked expression and watch him scramble for a way out. She decided that she’d insist he take some time to think about it, not accepting an immediate answer. She’d feel more confident that he came to the right conclusion if he had a day or two to consider it, and this would avoid her either worrying that his “yes” was one he’d come to regret, or wondering if his “no” would have been a “yes” if he hadn’t felt like he had to decide quickly. In the end she’d blurted it out after an evening spent spitballing about theories of alternate universes on his couch, their relaxed and comfortable banter a safe place for her, helping her feel brave. She’d been poised to walk out the door, her coat on, when she stopped and turned back to him as he rinsed dishes in the kitchen sink. Taking a breath and swallowing hard, she closed her eyes and forced the words out.

“Mulder, I need to ask you something. Something important.”

His expression was mostly concern, but there was curiosity there too. “Okay, what’s up?” He dried his hands on a dish towel and leaned against the doorframe, studying her. She wished he would have stayed at the sink, occupied. She wished he weren’t looking at her, his hooded eyes boring into her.

“Uh, well. You know that I’ve been pursuing in vitro fertilization with the ova you recovered.”

“Is something wrong? Are they not able to do the procedure?”

“No, nothing is wrong. It’s going fine. I’m to the point in the process where I have to choose a sperm donor. For the other half of the genetic material.”

“Okay.” He still had that same look on his face. He certainly wasn’t going to draw his own conclusions.

“I’ve looked at some of the donor profiles, but I’ve come to feel that I’d rather use a known donor than a stranger.”

“Okay.” There was more confusion in his face now than anything. She looked at the floor in frustration, sighing. Mulder laughed a little “I’m still waiting for the question part of this, Scully. Do you want me to help you choose?”

She laughed a little as well. “No, that’s not what I’m asking, Mulder.” She raised her eyes to look at his face. “I wanted to ask you if you’d consider being the donor.”

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but it just hung there and she recognized that it was an expression of shock.

“Please, don’t answer now, I’d like you to take some time to think about it. And it’s okay if the answer ends up being no, really. I wouldn’t have any expectation of your involvement, financial or otherwise. I just can’t think of anyone else I’d want to scramble my DNA with.”

He closed his mouth and nodded once, still not able to find the right words to say, or any words for that matter. She’d turned and left without saying anything else, leaving him stupefied in the doorway of the kitchen.

When he stopped by her apartment the next night and told her his answer was yes, she’d been so overwhelmed she nearly lost her composure and kissed him right there in her living room. She was glad when he’d left soon after delivering the news, so that she could cry tears of happiness, and relief, and grief that this was the only bit of Mulder she could potentially have the opportunity to truly love. Though she wanted so much more of him, this could be enough. That knowledge made the stakes even higher as she jabbed her thighs and buttocks with the fertility drugs that would prepare her body to become pregnant. It made it even more bittersweet when he asked after the side effects, making clear he’d done his research, and joked about the awkwardness of the donation room at the clinic, not wanting to come back out too quickly so the nurses didn’t come to any conclusions about his stamina. She wanted so much more of him, but she could accept getting to have his child as enough.

Standing to replace the pamphlet on the rack, she smoothed the front of her dress and tugged at the hem of her sweater. It was a Saturday, so she was in non-work attire; a lavender knee-length cotton dress with a scoop neck, paired with a white cardigan and white strappy heels. It was something she might wear to church with her mother, and somehow this situation felt like one she could treat with reverence and respect. She paced the room as the nausea returned, knowing that each moment brought her closer to something big. She’d decided that if the results were negative, she’d call Mulder once she got home. If they were positive, she’d stop by his apartment and tell him in person.

There were three soft taps on the door and her heart lurched as Dr. Parenti peeked his head in, a soft smile on his face. She immediately looked for signs of the results in his expression, though as a fertility doctor she also knew he was well versed in how to deliver this kind of news.

“Dana, would you like to sit down?”

That must mean it was bad, if he was suggesting she sit. She did as told and braced herself, already forming questions about her odds if she tried again; she knew she had more than one ova that had made it to blastocyst.

“Congratulations, you’re pregnant.” He had that same soft smile, his tone measured.

She heard a ringing in her ears and her heart seemed to stop momentarily.

“I’m sorry….what?”

“You’re pregnant. Your HCG levels are nice and high for 15 days post transfer. We can do an ultrasound in a few weeks and look for a heartbeat. You’re not entirely out of the woods, but so far everything looks very normal, and very healthy.”

Her slackened jaw gave way to a tentative smile, her expression incredulous.

“I’m pregnant? You’re sure?”

“Quite sure, we do this a lot here” he reassured with a chuckle.

“I…I’m a bit speechless, I’m sorry. I had prepared myself for bad news. What do I do now?”

“Just keep taking your prenatal vitamins, and your oral progesterone. We’ll have you taper off that in a couple weeks. Avoid any especially high impact activity, now isn’t the time to hit the slopes, but for the most part you can do whatever you normally do, while abstaining from alcohol, of course. Sex is perfectly fine, and healthy. You can make an appointment for three weeks out to do a transvaginal ultrasound, and if you experience any spotting or cramping, or any other symptom that concerns you, please call.”

“Okay, I will, thank you again Dr. Parenti. Thank you so much.” The initial shock was wearing off and she felt tears pooling in her eyes.

“It’s what I do. Feel free to use this room for a bit, if you need some time to absorb the good news. We’ll see you soon.”

He closed the door softly behind him and she was alone again, a pained smile etched on her face as tears ran down her cheeks. It worked. Somehow it had worked. She put her hand on her belly and imagined a tiny embryo nestled into the wall of her uterus. The cells duplicating, she and Mulder’s genes dancing together to form a little human who was half of each of them. She choked back sobs of relief and thought about picking up her cell phone to call him, but she wanted to wait. She wanted to see the look on his face as he realized what she was realizing. They were going to have a baby, the two of them, together. She would have a piece of him to keep and to love endlessly. Their child.

When she was finally able to compose herself, she walked out of the exam room and through the lobby with reddened eyes but a beaming smile. The couples in the waiting room all lifted their heads as she passed through, looking at her for a sign of hope as she had each time she was in the same seat. She met each of their eyes and gave an almost imperceptible nod. Good news. Yes. They all seemed to relax a little. Maybe it was their turn next.

She drove across town to Mulder’s apartment with the radio off and the window open, her heart bursting with the kind of hope she hadn’t experienced in years, maybe ever. For as many times as she’d wondered where she took a wrong turn in life that brought her to a point where a family of he own seemed impossible, she had never imagined how sweet it would be when it did happen. As she turned on to his street, her heart thrummed in her ears and the nauseous feeling returned. She was pretty confident this would strike him as great news, but was also a little worried that he’d react with fear or regret. Maybe he’d only agreed because he assumed it wouldn’t take. This possibility meant that by the time she was standing outside his door, hand raised to knock, she had steeled herself against disappointment if he didn’t respond happily. She was businesslike, sharing a test result with him as she had 100 times, this test just happened to affect them both more than the others did. He flung the door open before she’d finished knocking, as though he’d been waiting for her. He looked her over and took in her puffy, red eyes and solemn expression, his own face dropping in understanding. He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her to him so he could wrap her in a hug while kicking the door shut behind her. She leaned into him, pressing the side of her face to his chest and threading her arms around his waist. He smelled like home.

“It’s okay Scully, we can try again.”

The ‘we’ in his statement did not go unnoticed. She smiled against him, her nervousness giving way to excitement as she gained confidence that his response would be a happy one. She laughed a little and he pulled away from her, his hands still on her shoulders, looking at her quizzically. She smiled a dopey, twisted smile and new tears welled, blurring the image of his deepening confusion.

“It worked, Mulder.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, trying to make sense of her words, her demeanor, her concurrent tears and smile.

“It worked. I’m pregnant.”

His eyebrows, which had been knotted in confusion, leapt up in surprise as his mouth slowly opened in an expression of shock, then stretched into a wide smile. Watching him realize what she had come to know in the exam room, that they were going to have a baby, together, was even better than experiencing it herself.

“You’re pregnant? You’re going to have a baby? We’re going to have a baby? You’re sure?”

She beamed at him and nodded enthusiastically, the ‘we’ in his words again filling her heart to bursting. Maybe he did want this with her, as more than just a donor. He pulled her to him again, squeezing her tightly as he pressed his nose to her hair and rocked gently back and forth. His joy was palpable, and she found it hard to believe that minutes ago she had feared that he’d be upset. She dug her nails into the flesh of his back and let her tears of happiness wet his shirt, not feeling a shred of discomfort at what was a very uncharacteristic amount of physical contact between them. This was exactly where she was supposed to be, right here in his foyer, next to his dining room table covered with junk mail and abandoned research papers, learning that the things she wanted from life were still available to her, with the man she loved, no less.

Mulder pulled back again, this time bringing his hands up to cup her face, and she was surprised to see that his own eyes were damp as well. She wasn’t sure if his joy was for her, or himself, or both, but the love in his gaze was undeniable. She placed her hands gently on his wrists and stroked his knuckles with her thumbs, returning his look. When he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead, she closed her eyes and sighed. When he placed yet another kiss on one cheek, then the other, her pulse quickened. When he placed his lips softly on hers, she felt the ache of 1,000 times she’d wanted to kiss him run down her body, exiting through her toes and spilling out on to the floor. She kissed him back, partly because she couldn’t not, and partly because she desperately needed him to know that she wanted this, that it wasn’t a mistake. He released her lips and rested his forehead against hers, moving his hands to her waist, hers finding their home at the back of his neck, gently tracing his hairline.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this happy in my entire life” he whispered to her, and she laughed with the knowledge that she had given him that, that they had created this moment together, for both of them.

“Can I kiss you again?” The question was so earnest, and so hopeful, it tore at her heart. How could he ever think the answer to that could be no?

Instead of answering him, she pushed up to her tip toes and gently pulled on his neck, bringing him to her. She tried to make it as sweet and chaste as his kiss had been, but the un-sated desire of 7 years and the heightened emotion of the moment got the better of her and she devoured his lips, tugging at them with her teeth and tasting them with her tongue. She felt his hands slide a little lower until they rested just above the swell of her ass, and the resulting throb between her legs made her wonder how early pregnancy hormones could affect her sex drive. He pulled away then, breathless with pupils the size of dinner plates, his lips swollen and moist.

“I’m sorry, is this okay? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable” he mumbled. As though she hadn’t been the one to put her tongue in his mouth. As though she hadn’t tipped her pelvis against his hungrily. He was so protective of her that he felt compelled to guard her from even himself.

“It’s more than okay, Mulder” she purred, already missing the salt of his sunflower seeds on her lips, already begging God or the universe that he should carry her to his bedroom. Full of wonder that only when his child was taking shape inside her could she find the courage to show him how she felt. Talk about putting the cart before the horse.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his eyes searching hers. She had the realization that he may have been wanting this just as much as she had. That they’d been standing together on the edge of the cliff, waiting for the other to jump first.

She met his gaze and let down every wall she had built around herself, hoping that he could see in her icy blue irises how completely she meant what she was going to say next. Hoping he could hear the hum in her body that he was responsible for. “I want you” she said, surprising herself with her own boldness. Having seen today what possibilities awaited her if she took a chance, she no longer wanted to take the safer path. If leaping off the cliff meant a baby with Mulder, maybe a life with him, she was prepared to hurl herself over the edge and accept the consequences.

His face crumpled a little, his mouth puckering with emotion. She recognized the way his chin pebbled and wondered if he was going to cry. The expression quickly passed and was replaced by a tender smile, though his eyes shone with dampness. “You’re really hitting it hard with life-changing news today” he teased.

“Go big or go home, Mulder.” She replied, leaning into him and brushing her lips lightly against his. Her calves were tired from propping her up to meet his height and it was the closest she could comfortably get.

“Will you stay a while?” He asked, ever the gentleman, not wanting to assume anything about what would happen next.

She said nothing, but nodded, and he released her, taking her hand and guiding her to sit beside him on the couch. She slipped her shoes off and kicked them underneath the coffee table, folding her legs under her her torso and gratefully sliding under the arm he extended to drape over her shoulders, nestling into his side. He took her hand and held her palm to his lips, sighing deeply, then placed their joined hands in his lap and kissed the top of her head. With her ear against his chest, she could hear the steady measure of his heart beating and felt an overwhelming sense of peace. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that this was her happy ending, but even just this moment where she had the knowledge that she was going to be a mother and Mulder returned her affection, it was enough. She knew well enough by now that she should cling to even the briefest glimpses of happiness and normalcy, because they were too often fleeting and untenable.

“How do you feel?” He asked her, and she wasn’t sure if he meant the pregnancy or the kiss, or both. Years of experience taught him that any inquiry into her state would be met with “I’m fine” 98% of the time, but he still always asked. He needed her to know that it mattered to him. She tipped her face up to look at his, no longer trying to conceal her feelings. It was incredibly freeing.

“Amazing” she answered, and she meant it. She couldn’t recall ever feeling better than she did right now.

He smiled at her, his own demeanor always being so impacted by hers, and lowered his head towards hers until their noses brushed together. “I love you” he whispered so quietly she wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. She tucked her face back into his chest to conceal a yawn.

“Am I boring you?” He joked, and she chuckled, facing him again while she shook her head.

“I’m just suddenly exhausted” she remarked. How much had her life changed in the past couple hours? It’s was a lot to absorb.

“Wanna take a nap?!” He proposed with the same level of excitement he might normally ask “wanna go to Kentucky?!” Except this time, what he was offering actually sounded good.

“You don’t still have a water bed do you?” Her tone was skeptical, but also curious.

“Nope, I got a real mattress after the last one sprung a leak, at the insistence of my landlord.”

“In that case, sold.”

He stood and offered her his hands to help her off the couch. Without her shoes, the top of her head barely met the height of his armpits and he squeezed her to him, laughing. “Is your money on this kid being average height? Will we cancel each other out?”

“I don’t think that’s how genetics work, Mulder.” She replied, her words muffled against the fabric of his T shirt. Spitballing about whose traits their child would inherit was beyond what she ever could have hoped for. She wished she could bottle this moment up and save it forever.

He escorted her to his bedroom, never breaking contact with a hand on her arm or back. She let her sweater slide down her arms and folded it neatly before setting it on his dresser, and then lay down on her back on the bed. He took his place next to her, lying on his side with his head propped up under his arm. He tentatively reached out and placed his hand on her stomach, just above her belly button. She put her own hand on top of his and pushed it down until it was low on her pelvis and he could feel the hem of her panties underneath her dress.

“More like here” she corrected with a shy smile, very aware of the intimacy of where he was touching her.

“Guess I need to brush up on my anatomy” he said dryly, transfixed on the gentle rise and fall of her belly under his hand as she breathed. He rubbed his thumb back and forth and she stifled a gasp at the contact, apparently not well enough because he turned his head to look at her face. “You okay?” He asked, his tone tender. She nodded. “Does this bother you?” He inquired further, and she shook her head no, reaching up to touch his face so he knew she meant it.

Turning his attention back to his hand, he said “I wish you weren’t wearing a dress so I could see better.”

She laughed and his hand shook. “See what, Mulder? There’s nothing to see, not yet anyway.”

He looked at her sheepishly “I know, but it seems like bare skin is somehow closer to the real thing. I realize as I’m saying this that it doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, it doesn’t, but the things we want don’t always need to make sense.” Her voice had a faraway quality, like she was applying the logic to more than just this specific situation. “You know there’s this really cool thing dresses can do that you don’t appear to be privy to” she continued in a much more jovial tone. Pushing his hand off her, she flipped up the hem of her dress to reveal her stomach from the belly button down, including her pale pink lace panties. Mulder’s eyes went big momentarily before he tried to play it cool.

“That IS a neat trick” he marveled, forcing himself to look at her face. He tentatively put his hand back on her lower belly and her skin prickled up in goose flesh at his touch. His fingers danced over her flesh, tracing the place her uterus would be, imagining the tiny life growing there. Wordlessly, he dipped his head down and touched his lips to that place, causing her back to arch into him and her breath to catch in her throat. Mercifully, he didn’t ask if she was okay with what he was doing. She didn’t think she’d have been able to form words if he had. She felt his tongue hot and wet, darting out a trail up to her navel. She sighed, a tiny show of disappointment that he had traveled up instead of down. Bringing his face back near hers, he kissed her again, this time drawing it out, moving to her cheek and then her ear. Her neck and then her chest. She felt like she was floating.

“What do you want?” He whispered against her earlobe, grazing it with his teeth.

“Everything” she sighed. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to be on fire.

He moved over her, his elbows bracketing her rib cage and his knees just outside hers on the bed. Kissing down her throat, he made his way to the neckline of her dress, slipping his tongue just under the fabric to taste the flesh of her breasts before continuing. Shifting his weight to one arm, he pushed the hem of the dress up further, exposing her rib cage, and kissed every inch of her, giving extra attention to each scar. By the time he reached her belly button, her hands were in his hair, encouraging him on his journey. He again found the place where their baby grew, dropping kisses for each night he had prayed to a God he didn’t believe in that they would exist. His tongue flitted under the hem of her panties and her hips shifted slightly in response.

Lifting his head to look at her he asked “is this okay?” and she said “yes” with as much conviction as he had ever witnessed in her face.

“It won’t hurt the baby?” He questioned. He had to be sure. “No, it won’t hurt the baby” she replied, touched by his care almost as much as she was aroused by where this was headed.

He kissed the insides of her thighs, ran his nose along the crease of her leg, pressed it into the damp fabric of her panties and inhaled the smell of her want for him. Her hips were gyrating ever so gently, rebelling as she tried to temper her desire, resisting the overwhelming urge to beg him to fuck her immediately. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and asked “okay?,” waiting until she said yes before he pulled them down her legs, tossing them haphazardly over his shoulder. He followed the same path again, kissing her thighs, running his nose along the crease of her leg, and then concluding with a kiss to her labia. She sucked air into her lungs sharply and her fingers in his hair grasped and pulled. It may have hurt if he’d been paying any attention. If he hadn’t had more important things to attend to. Gingerly, he tried his tongue against her slick lips, tasting her wetness. God she was wet. He found her opening and lapped at it before sliding up to almost her clit. But not quite. Her head was thrown back, hiding her face from view, her back arching wildly, her fists gripping at his hair. She made tiny sounds; gasps and truncated moans. She was trying self-consciously to be quiet, something she always worried about since an ex had teased her about being loud. He explored her, pulling her lips between his, sliding his tongue through each crevice and fold, pushing it inside her until he earned a soft moan. Finally he flicked his tongue across her clit and she said “oh” in the most breathy, beautiful way that he thought he might cum in his jeans. He continued the motion, listening to her responses and increasing his pace until he felt her body tense. Gently, he slipped one finger inside her and she gasped just before he felt her muscles clamp around him, a single piercing cry escaping her lips as she began to pulse rhythmically. He continued to lick her and flex his finger softly inside, drawing out her orgasm and eliciting an “oh my god” which made him smile. He’d always wondered if she’d say that in bed. He’d always wanted to make her say it.

When the pulsing subsided, he carefully withdrew his finger and crawled back up to her. She had her eyes closed and was still breathing heavily. He pushed down the hem of her dress, feeling as though he should protect her modesty, even in light of what he’d just done. Nuzzling his face into her neck, he waited to see if she might fall asleep. After a few minutes she spoke.

“Mulder?”

“Hm.”

“I’m not sure this day could get any better.”

He laughed, and she joined him, rolling to her side so that they were face to face, her leg threading between his while her hand wrapped around his waist. He brushed her hair from her face and kissed the tip of her nose tenderly.

“Thank you” she whispered, her voice full of emotion.

“For what?”

She shrugged, her voice caught in her throat. “For everything” she rasped out.

He shook his head. “You are everything, Scully. Thank you for letting me be a part of it.”

She nestled against his chest, taking comfort in the circles he traced on her back until she drifted off to sleep.

#the x files #txf #gillovny #sculder #msr #fox mulder #dana scully #xf fanfic

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kazmirone · 4 years ago

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obikin rough draft fic excerpt (abo)

Here, have some tattooed omega!Obi-Wan. Someday I will fill it out and complete it. Maybe, lol.

Oh, and in case you didn’t catch it in the post title, this is A/B/O. There’s nothing explicit in this excerpt, though.

It's not that Anakin's looking, alright.

But when Obi-Wan strips off his under-tunic after their lengthy sparring session, Anakin's attention is possibly a little bit more drawn to the movement than it should be.

And it’s why he spots the mark on Obi-Wan’s flushed skin. The mark is palm-sized, a murky whorl of sooty, ashen color blossoming across his ribs too nicely to be a bruise.

"I didn’t know you had tattoos,” Anakin says, gesturing to the blooming color there.

Obi-Wan follows his hand movement and lifts up his arm to look at the space below it. “I - don’t.”

"Is it contagious?" Ahsoka asks, once Obi-Wan's returned from the Halls of Healing. "Because Rex said you can catch a fungus if you don't wear shoes in the showers."

“Ahsoka,” Anakin says.

“No, young one. I don’t think it’s contagious,” Obi-Wan patiently answers.

“Is it because you’re an omega?” Ahsoka asks.

“Ahsoka!” Anakin hisses.

“I shouldn’t think so,” Obi-Wan says, bemused, then draws a small datapad from his robes. “At any rate, Healer Che asked me to monitor the condition with daily stills.”

Anakin frowns, and he’s fixed on the tablet in Obi-Wan’s hand when the terrible, horrible offer just spills right out of his terrible, horrible mouth, “I could help you. Take the stills, I mean. It’s in a weird spot, so it might be hard to get the angle right.”

Obi-Wan stares at him, and Ahsoka does, too, and this is how it starts.

Day 1

“No changes,” Anakin says.

Obi-Wan snorts, tugging his tunic back into place and taking the datapad from Anakin’s hands. “It’s been less than a day since the onset.”

He follows Obi-Wan out of the ‘fresher and into the small living space. It’s a lot neater these days, now that Anakin’s moved out and taken his mess with him. His scent, too.

Now, Obi-Wan’s scent permeates every inch of the place, fresh and clean and undeniably omega. Something in him – a little ugly, a little primal – is urging him to leave his mark, run his hands over every surface and claim this place as his own, again.

He doesn’t, of course. Obi-Wan would pitch a fit. But if Anakin maybe smooths the tips of his fingers down the front door as he leaves, well, what’s the harm in that.

Day 4

Obi-Wan frowns. “Does it look darker to you?”

Anakin leans over his shoulder and peers down at the datapad in Obi-Wan’s hands, where a procession of images is pulled up on its screen. He shrugs. “Not really?”

Day 9

“I’m not sure how to say this--” Anakin starts, watching from the door as Obi-Wan fold ups his tunic and sets it near the sink.

“Then you should just say it,” Obi-Wan says.

“--I think it’s spreading,” Anakin finishes.

Obi-Wan stills, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Are you quite sure?”

Anakin brushes his elbow, directing him, and Obi-Wan lifts up his arm to a horizontal plane. The position, they’ve found, least distorts the shape of the mark. He regards it, the dark smudge on Obi-Wan’s pale, muscled flesh.

Before, he could have covered it up entirely with his palm. Anakin holds his hand over the mark, not touching but close enough to feel whisper soft vellus hair when Obi-Wan pulls in a particularly deep breath.

Now, the cloud of black and gray has extended well past his fingertips, blossoming across the side of Obi-Wan’s ribcage, creeping towards the front of his body.

“Well?” Obi-Wan asks, above him.

Anakin straightens up. “It’s definitely spread.”

“And your method of measurement was what, your hand?” Obi-Wan asks, mildly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Anakin shoots back. “Did you have a ruler laying around?”

Day 13

“You look terrible,” he says, breezing into Obi-Wan’s quarters.

Obi-Wan sighs, close behind him, and Anakin can feel the heat of it brush the back of his neck.

Day 14

“Oh,” Anakin says, when the door opens.

The scent of oncoming heat is unmistakable, and it’s overpowering, and it hits him with enough force to send him shuffling back a step.

If Obi-Wan had looked terrible yesterday, he looks even worse today. There are deep shadows under his eyes, his hair limp across his brow, and his clothes are damp with sweat.

“It’s best we didn’t today,” Obi-Wan says, finally.

“Right,” Anakin says, voice rough like it’s been dragged over gravel. “Is - can I get you anything before I go?”

Obi-Wan smiles tightly. “No, thank you, Anakin. I will see you in a few days.”

Anakin doesn’t even get the chance to say goodbye before the door is sliding shut in his face. It sends a billowing waft of something that feels like, well, like untouched, unmated, unprotected, into the hallway, and Anakin holds his breath while he walks away.

Day 15

Obi-Wan will be livid if he finds out, Anakin thinks, as he slips the glove off his right hand and steps up to the door, sometime in the dark, early hours of the morning.

He runs both hands – organic and prosthetic – over every surface of the door’s control panel. The transparisteel display screen, the durasteel plating, the rubber-padded plastoid buttons, even the sharp edges where the box itself is bracketed to the wall.

After he’s satisfied with the way his scent has shrouded the doorway, he pulls his glove back on and leaves.

Day 21

“Master Obi-Wan is here!”

Anakin rolls his shoulders to ease the achiness there. He’s been hunched over his mechnoarm for the last hour, at least, trying to reconnect a fragile strand of loose wiring.

“Having trouble?” Obi-Wan asks.

He glances up from the needle-nose pliers lodged in his wrist. Obi-Wan looks better, well-rested, he supposes, and a lot less…sweaty. “It’s fine,” he says. “Just give me a minute, then we can go do the thing.”

Obi-Wan takes the seat across from him, brow raised. “The thing?”

“The picture thing,” Anakin tacks on.

“About that,” Obi-Wan says. “I think we ought to do the thing, as you say, here, for the time being. My quarters – well –”

“Your quarters, what?” Anakin asks. “Smell bad?”

“Yes, Anakin, my quarters smell bad.”

“I guarantee they don’t smell as bad as you think they do,” Anakin says, just to push him, just a bit.

Day 28

Obi-Wan touches little in their quarters and never stays long enough to leave much of a trace, but it must leave something. Ahsoka’s nose crinkles every time she walks through the door.

Day 32

“Well,” Anakin says, powering down the datapad and setting it on the cluttered sink. “I took five stills this time. To get everything.”

Obi-Wan exhales. He moves away from Anakin, then, and reaches for his tunic. The movement twists and pulls at the grayscale whorls spiraling out over his side, down his abdomen, and his entire left pectoral.

Faint, fine lines and the lightest shading spill out across his skin around the edges of the marking, but it’ll be swallowed up by darker color soon enough, if this thing keeps up, keeps spreading.

As it stands, it’s a hair’s breadth away from the cleft of his spine, and Anakin watches the muscled flex of his back as Obi-Wan slides his tunic back over his head.

Anakin’s known from the start that Obi-Wan sends off the holostills to Master Che every day-cycle. What she does with them – or doesn’t do with them, since it’s not like she’s figured it out yet – really isn’t Anakin’s business.

So he is well aware he’s not the only one to see the monochrome tendrils creeping across Obi-Wan’s skin. And, he realizes in a numb but sudden sort of way, it bothers him utterly that there are others who do.

The feeling makes itself known when Anakin happens across Che and Jocasta Nu and Nu’s padawan in the library later that afternoon, grouped around a computer terminal, studying his still of Obi-Wan’s body.

“Exquisite,” Nu says, and her gnarled finger raises up to trace across the screen one of the swooping lines on Obi-Wan’s right oblique. “Simply exquisite. I have never seen anything like it.”

Che sighs. “Nor have I. That is the problem.”

“I shall begin my research straight away, Vokara,” Nu says, resolved. “You will keep me apprised of any changes to Master Kenobi’s condition?”

“Of course. Thank you, Master Nu.”

The old librarian turns to her padawan, then. “And what do you make of this, boy?”

The boy shrugs, edging closer to the screen. “No clue. It’s pretty, though.”

Hidden away in the shadows of a towering bookstack, Anakin bites hard into the spongy flesh of his cheek, prosthetic knuckles whirring from the strain of his tightening fist.

Day 35

It’s been two weeks since Obi-Wan’s heat ended, more than enough time for the scent of it to air out and fade away. Still, Anakin leaves Obi-Wan’s quarters with the urge to claw out of his own skin.

Day 40

“Knight Skywalker.”

“Master Che,” he replies, scowling at her retreating back as the healer glides down the hall and out of sight.

“There’s been a development,” Obi-Wan says.

Anakin meets Obi-Wan’s flinty blue gaze. “I’m guessing it’s not a good one, then.”

Day 42

The markings on Obi-Wan’s legs are even more remarkable the third day he sees them.

A couple days ago, the lines had been faint, like the lightest press of graphite on a piece of flimsi. The markings had barely shown up in the stills he’d taken, and he’d had to mess with the datapad settings before Obi-Wan had sent them off to Master Che.

Today, though.

Today, the lines are the deepest shade of black, heavy and wide. They curve in on one another, then cleave apart, and splinter off into webs of thinner, still defined lines. From the curl of Obi-Wan’s toes to the knobby bones of his ankles and kneecaps, all the way up to the mid-center of his thighs, he is covered.

It’s so unlike the chaotic, celestial explosions swallowing up the surfaces of his torso and back. There’s a pattern here in these new markings, maze-like in their design. They’re mirror images, or pretty damn close, on Obi-Wan’s right and left legs.

“And this all appeared overnight?” Anakin asks, a little breathless.

“Essentially,” Obi-Wan says, eventually. “Are we finished?”

Obi-Wan shifts where he’s prone on the couch, and the hard muscles in his calves flutter and bulge, just a fraction of a second, really, but Anakin notices, crouched at Obi-Wan’s side and entirely too close.

Anakin’s brain stutters for a moment. “What?”

“The pictures, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says. “Are we done?”

“Oh.” Anakin looks down at the glowing datapad, lax in his grip.

#obikin #my fic #tw: a/b/o #wip excerpt

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mypersonmyg · 4 years ago

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just let go | myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: fluff

rating: pg

wc: 653

warnings: n/a

summary: you’re trying to feel the beat OR yoongi wishes you would just let go

a/n: another nom de plume baby

prompt 24. X - Xylophone. There aren’t many x words.

november drabbles masterlist

main masterlist

Nom De Plume

“Ah ha! I thought I’d find you here,” You step through the half peeked door to the music office, Yoongi perched in a chair worn from the passing of years. He glances from his occupation at the front desk, lying in wait for the return of pending faculty.

“Of course, your deductive reasoning strikes again. Did you bring the--”

“Form you asked for? Yes, love, right here.” You hand over with a peck to waiting lips. You don’t often drop in, advising only relevant once a semester if the urge strikes. The decor, has changed, novelties of the instrumental variety now placed upon a surfaces where space allows.

“Thank you.”

“Well they sure have spiced the place up since I was here last.” You step to the counter, your eyes drawn immediately to the shining panels of the awaiting xylophone. You give the place a once over, no one around to stop your curiosity as hands fall the mallets strategically placed along the body. “I’ve never played one of these before. Can you even believe it? I don’t deserve to call myself a music major.”

“Well you know, as much as I love your curiosity for all things music, I really wish you wouldn’t play it now.” Yoongi’s hand falls gently against your own, stopping the impending ring of the instrument that remains dormant. “Please.”

“Yoon, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity! When am I ever gonna be this close to one of these again.”

“I promise that when I’m through here I’ll take you around the corner to the music room. As I’m sure you know it’s filled with them, just let go, please.” You allow the draw of the thin wooden handle from your hand. “You know this place is like a library this time of day, I don’t wanna make anymore noise than necessary.”

“Why are you so nervous? It’s just advising, babe, you’ll be fine.” You assure, rubbing at the tense of his shoulders.

“I know, it’s just that I never really know what to expect or what to say now that I’m pursuing more than just piano.” You watch the frustration that builds with each word, mouth twitching at the corners. “It’s moments like these that I find myself reverting back to that guy that was too scared to just do what he wanted.”

“Well you’re not gonna do that because I won’t let you, and more importantly, you won’t let you.” You trace the thick of his sleeve, pulling him into reassurance, your arms holding him as close as possible.

“I love you,” He mumbles into your hoodie, pulling away just as the sound of a door opening just feet away catches your attention.

“Min Yoongi, I was wondering when we’d cross paths again,” You spritely advisor regards. “Nice to see you Miss. Y/l/n. Come on in, Yoongi, I hear we have much to discuss.”

“You too,” You pull away from Yoongi, his cheeks already tinted from the interruption of a moment reserved for the two of you. “I’ll see you in a bit, don’t be nervous.”

Yoongi nods, your hand firmly squeezing his own in place of the kiss you had saved. He nods, turning to his advisor with a steady grin.

“Maybe you wanna leave the mallet, Yoongi?” She jokes, your eyes and Yoongi’s falling to the object still clutched between his fists. “I know you love to perform, but I promise it won’t be necessary.”

You can’t help but snicker, Yoongi sending you a look before he places the mallet not so gently along the xylophone. The sound of the instrument rings throughout the room and if it weren’t for the amusement filling your chest you may have felt bad.

But your giggles follow Yoongi all the way back to the office and he would never tell you this, but his shoulders felt light as the door shut behind him.

#bangtanhq #bangtanuniversity #bangtanidx #btswriterscollective #bangtanarmynet #yoongi x reader #myg x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi #fluff #yoongi drabble #yoongi fanfic #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts fanfic #bts november drabbles 2020

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gusu-emilu · 4 years ago

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Cantatio: Chapter Three

Ship: Lan Zhan / Wei Ying (POV Lan Zhan)

Summary: Once Lan Wangji breaks curfew, there’s no going back >:)

“Lan Zhan, I think you owe us an explanation,” Wei Wuxian said.

“Mn?”

A mischievous fire blazed in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, slippery, supple.

“What were you doing in Lady Wen’s room after curfew?”

Cloud Recesses Academy AU, Rated T, TW: creepy-crawlies - read on AO3

< Ch. 2 | Ch. 4 > | chapter list

Lan Wangji stared at the closet door. He clutched Bichen, ready to strike at the slightest movement. The tree rings in the wooden door seemed to blink back at him questioningly.

The closet had refused to open before, but if someone had really screamed inside, he needed to try again.

Lan Wangji yanked at the door with all his strength. To his surprise, it flew open and smacked the wall. The door was so light that Lan Wangji could have moved it with a finger. Why was it so easy to open now? Had someone forced it open and hidden inside?

Despite the glow from lanterns in the room and moonlight from the windows that should have illuminated the closet, its interior was pitch black.

“Show yourself,” Lan Wangji said.

Silence.

There was only one thing left to do. Lan Wangji drew in a breath, braced his muscles, and attuned every one of his senses in preparation. Bichen gave a steady quiver of approval in his grip.

He entered the closet. Its darkness swallowed him greedily.

After a few steps, Lan Wangji found himself not in front of the dusty back wall of an old closet, but beside a bed.

He was in Wen Qing’s room.

The fierce young doctor who had spoken so boldly to Clan Leader Nie was now standing on top of her bed, clutching a blanket in front of her chest and shivering. Her moonlike eyes were wide with terror, her pointed chin drawn upward, her lips in a grimace.

He was in Wen Qing’s room.

A girls’ dormitory.

Rule #7: Disturbing female cultivators is prohibited.

Lan Wangji, head disciple, had broken one of the gravest rules on his first day at the Cloud Recesses Academy, and he didn’t even know how it had happened!

Wen Qing flinched at Lan Wangji’s sudden materialization.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped.

He gaped at her with an expression that said, I have no idea.

A pulsing headache crept into his skull. He felt dizzy. He glanced around the room, which was empty except for them.

“Did someone scream?” he asked.

Wen Qing sighed and stiffened her shoulders. “Yes, that was me. It’s nothing to worry about, though. I don’t know how you got here, but you may leave.”

Lan Wangji blinked. “Why are you atop the bed?”

“Well, I was about to go to sleep, and then I found a…um…a bug in my sheets. I have entomophobia. I’m afraid of bugs.” She shook her head as she spoke, as if she refused to believe the words out of her own mouth.

A miniscule black beetle crawled on the floor next to Wen Qing’s bedframe, wriggling its scratchy legs in mild irritation.

This scene was becoming more and more absurd. Lan Wangji magically appeared in a girls' dorm room, and the cool, composed Wen Qing cowered in fear of a harmless little beetle?

Lan Wangji did the only thing that made sense in this lunacy: help the person in need. He did his best to quiet the hundreds of questions that besieged his mind as he circled around to the other side of Wen Qing’s bed. He bent down to pick up the bug.

“What are you doing?!”

“Transferring it outside.”

“Okay…” Wen Qing exhaled a long, shaky breath.

As Lan Wangji was about to guide the black and green-striped beetle into his palm, a strange bump appeared on its shelled backside. Lan Wangji paused and furrowed his brow.

“Why aren’t you picking it up? Second Young Master Lan?”

The beetle was growing. Rapidly.

“Stand back!” he bellowed.

A terrible crackling sound filled the room as the beetle’s exoskeleton swelled and crunched. Within seconds, the beetle had grown seven feet tall and four feet wide. Its stiff, crooked legs scraped across the wooden floor and reached toward the two young cultivators like the hooked weapons of a demon. Its antenna brushed the ceiling, causing sawdust to fall, and its pincers clicked menacingly.

The beetle had been possessed by a monster!

Lan Wangji unsheathed Bichen and lunged. With a strike and a mighty snap, he sliced off one of its legs. As it flailed in pain, another of the beetle’s legs hurled Lan Wangji to the other side of the room.

Having thrown off its attacker, the beetle now turned to Wen Qing.

Wen Qing had jumped off her bed and into a corner of the room. She dug her fingernails into the wall behind her, her face deathly white and her mouth wide open, too petrified to scream.

Lan Wangji struck the floor with the hilt of Bichen to draw the monster’s attention from Wen Qing. The beetle recoiled at the vibrations in the wooden panels beneath it, then pounced toward Lan Wangji, knocking over a table. Jade china shattered on the floor.

With a powerful leap, Lan Wangji flew into the air and swung his feet in front of him until his body was horizontal. He arched his back as he slipped through the space between the top of the beetle’s head and the ceiling, zipping past one thick antenna on each side of him. He landed on the beetle’s thorax.

He flipped onto his stomach and raised Bichen as energy surged into his biceps, ready to plunge the sword into the monstrous head, but the beetle reared in panic. It jerked its head upward and smacked Lan Wangji into the ceiling. His knuckles cracked against the wooden boards, and his sword was battered off course. The blade pierced the beetle’s right eye instead. Cloudy discharge spurted out of the wound. Lan Wangji tugged at Bichen, but it was stuck in the beetle’s eye socket.

The beetle gnashed its pincer and wildly shook its head. Lan Wangji slid off the beetle’s back and crashed face-first into the floor. He groaned with pain.

The fall had knocked the wind out of him. He gasped and clutched his stomach as he rolled to the side, dodging one of the beetle’s legs that nearly punctured through his torso.

Shing!

An angular white blade flashed through the air. A second blade whirred next to it.

With a thin cry and a thunderous crunch, the beetle’s body was severed in half. It toppled to the floor with a thud.

Lan Wangji looked up, still gulping air that refused to move down his throat.

Between the two chunks of beetle that oozed gunk onto the floor stood Wei Wuxian and Luo Qingyang, back-to-back in a martial stance with swords braced above their heads. A crowd of wide-eyed disciples had formed in the doorway of the dormitory. Some of them were still in their colorful clan robes, which now looked more like various shades of grey in the dark night, while others wore white undershirts, apparently having been roused out of bed by the commotion.

Wei Wuxian grinned and lowered his sword. He let his arm fall slack at his side.

“Nice one, Mianmian! I’ve never seen such a clean strike!”

“What are you talking about, I only got halfway through its body! That was you who killed it.”

“Was it really? Hey, Lan Zhan, did you have a good view of that? Did you see which one of us slayed the monster?”

Lan Wangji was still on the floor, barely comprehending the words that bounced off his dazed mind, but he was finally able to breathe again. He propped himself up with his hands, his knuckles bloody. He looked at Wei Wuxian with dizzy eyes.

“Lan Zhan, are you okay?”

“WHAT IS GOING ON?! HOW THE HELL DID A GIANT BEETLE GET IN HERE?!” Nie Mingjue yelled as he shoved disciples aside and barreled into the room.

Lan Xichen sprung in right behind him. “We came as soon as we heard! Is everyone alright?”

“Yes, everyone is safe,” said a voice above Lan Wangji. It was cool and steady as ice.

Wen Qing had appeared next to him. She stood motionless with her hands folded at her chest and her lips gently pursed. All evidence of her previous hysteria had disappeared from her face. Even her hair had been smoothed down to a silky sheen.

“Second Young Master Lan needs injuries treated, but the rest of us are well. I owe much thanks to Young Master Wei and Lady Luo. They arrived in the nick of time. I give my gratitude to Second Young Master Lan as well for a valiant fight,” she continued.

Jiang Yanli rushed into the room and embraced Wei Wuxian. “A-Xian!” she cried.

Wei Wuxian laughed and patted her back. “I’m okay, Shijie.”

“I’m so sorry we did not arrive sooner," Lan Xichen said. "We have failed you as senior disciples. All of you, you have done a spectacular job in slaying this beast. The clan leaders will be very impressed."

Luo Qingyang bowed. “Thank you, Young Master Lan.” She frowned and turned to Wen Qing. “Lady Wen, why did you tell us everything was fine after we heard you scream a few minutes ago?" It was a sparse show of concern for the enemy Wen disciple, but concern nonetheless.

“Everything was fine, until that vermin transformed into some spawn of Hell,” she said bitterly.

Lan Wangji raised his eyebrows. When he appeared in Wen Qing’s room, everything had, in fact, been far from fine. Wen Qing had been crying on top of her bed like a child, held captive as a beetle the size of a fingernail took free reign of her dormitory.

But Lan Wangji thought it would be prudent for him to omit that information.

“That’s great, but how did it get here?” said Nie Mingjue.

“I do not know,” Wen Qing answered.

Nie Mingjue glared suspiciously at Wen Qing but did not press further. Lan Xichen bent down and helped Lan Wangji to his feet.

“Can you stand?”

He nodded and stepped out of his brother’s hold.

Wei Wuxian was swinging his sword casually at his side and beaming at everyone as they spoke.

“Lan Zhan, I think you owe us an explanation,” he said.

“Mn?”

A mischievous fire blazed in Wei Wuxian’s eyes. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, slippery, supple.

“What were you doing in Lady Wen’s room after curfew?”

Lan Wangji blinked.

Lan Wangji had never been one to care if others stared at him, or judged him, or whispered about him as he walked past. He was a righteous young man. If people wanted to slander him, their words would fall upon deaf ears, incapable of bruising his ego or damaging his reputation.

But now, standing in the middle of a girls’ dormitory with his breath short and his chest throbbing, he was aware of every pair of inquiring, juvenile eyes that bore into his soul. His face was hot as a furnace.

He felt insecure.

And for some reason, the fact that it was Wei Wuxian who raised this question against him made him feel twice as insecure.

Lan Wangji fumbled for words. What explanation could he give? He didn't even know how he got there. There was nothing more to do than shoulder the blame and move on, but his voice would not function.

Eventually, it was Wen Qing who spoke. “Wei Wuxian, I think you could ask yourself a similar question. Why were you out after curfew with Lady Luo?”

“Oh, ahaha, yes.” Wei Wuxian fiddled with his earlobe. “Ummm, first I’d like to say that Lan Zhan should really be answering before me, but anyway—”

“I was giving him a present,” Luo Qingyang interrupted.

“Yes, she was!” Wei Wuxian stuck his index finger in the air, then reached into his robes and pulled out a satchel of fragrant herbs. “See, she was just thanking me for a favor I did! We didn’t have the chance to meet until late at night. A lot of the other disciples were out too—so many that we didn’t even realize it was past curfew.”

Nie Mingjue frowned and glanced over his shoulder. The fully-robed disciples in the doorway shifted uncomfortably.

“Okay, that's my story. Lan Zhan? Are you going to answer now?” Wei Wuxian said.

Lan Wangji straightened his spine. “Wangji has violated Gusu Lan Clan rules and accepts due punishment.”

“No, hold on,” Luo Qingyang said. “Clan Leader Nie, Young Master Lan, it was my fault. I invited Second Young Master Lan to give him a present, too. I wrongly insisted on having him wait in my dorm while I talked to Young Master Wei, and he was too polite to refuse. Luo Qingyang is sorry.”

Lan Wangji opened his mouth to protest this blatant lie, but before he could, Wei Wuxian made a low ‘bzzt’ sound and shot him a look of warning.

"Oh, you know what, now that I think about it? I remember that. That's exactly right," Wei Wuxian chimed.

Nie Mingjue shook his head. “You’re all halfwits. Classes haven’t even started yet, and you’re breaking rules left and right.” He whipped around to face the doorway. “What’re you all staring at? Shouldn’t you be sleeping in your dorms?!”

Like a dropped piece of jewelry that burst apart into its fragile beads, the disciples scampered away in all directions. In the frenzy, Nie Huaisang tripped on his robes and fell. He looked up guiltily at his older brother, then fled with a yelp.

“Well, Mingjue, you’re right that classes haven’t started yet,” Lan Xichen said. “Since it’s so early, let’s give everyone a pass for what happened tonight. After all, these four did slay a monster. We're lucky they're still with us.”

Nie Mingjue snorted. “It’s not like I was going to go through the trouble of telling Lan Qiren, anyway. Scaring them into behaving is good enough for now. After all, Baxia is always ready," he said as he hovered his saber in the air and glowered at the four disciples below him. But a playful levity flickered through his voice.

“…Yes.” The corners of Lan Xichen’s eyes crinkled with loving disapproval.

As the thrill of the night’s battle died down, Lan Wangji felt calmness return to his mind. However, the calmness was soon shattered by the memory of the closet door that apparently teleported him into Wen Qing’s room.

There were two things he needed to address.

“Brother. I have broken clan rules. I must—”

“Wangji, no,” Lan Xichen said.

“Tell—”

“Wangji, return to your dorm.”

“Brother—”

“Please, it’s alright. You have been pardoned. Go tend to your injuries.” He turned away. "Mingjue, let's begin cleaning the remains of this monster so these young women can go to sleep."

Lan Xichen assumed that Lan Wangji would only insist on disciplining himself. Lan Wangji did not need his brother’s permission to atone for his crimes—he would do that anyway. He wanted to talk about the closet door.

Lan Wangji started toward Wen Qing instead, but he was pulled back by Wei Wuxian.

“You heard the man! Back to the dorm it is! I’m a rule-follower now, did you know that, Lan Zhan? It’s my duty to keep you in line! Otherwise, who knows what scandalous things you might do?"

After a round of tugging and bickering, Lan Wangji found himself accompanied by Wei Wuxian to the infirmary to gather medical supplies, then drawing his mouth into a thin line of forfeit when Wei Wuxian insisted on carrying them all. And last he was trudging along next to his spirited roommate down the moonlit stone path and dewy grass trail to their duplex.

"...Thank you," Lan Wangji said.

Wei Wuxian cocked an eyebrow. "For what?"

For protecting Wen Ning from bullies. For saving me from the monster. For caring about my injuries.

All these words danced on his tongue. But in the end, Lan Wangji let the night breeze answer for him.

When they arrived at the dorm, Lan Wangji immediately marched over to his closet. He hesitated, then pulled the door.

It was locked again.

This was very, very strange. Lan Wangji glared at the door, feeling offended. It had gotten him into a lot of trouble.

Could it be that somehow this closet held a portal to the girls' dormitory?

He needed to set this straight. First thing tomorrow, Lan Wangji resolved to speak to Wen Qing.

Unfortunately, he soon learned that it would be very hard to keep Wei Wuxian out of his business.

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by liking, reblogging, and visiting me on AO3! New chapters posted every Monday on AO3 and Tuesday on Tumblr.

Ch. 4 > | chapter list

#mdzs fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #mdzs fic #the untamed fanfiction #wangxian fanfiction #the untamed fanfic #wangxian #mdzs #the untamed #cql #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan zhan #wei ying #wen qing #cantatio #emilu talks

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codythecheshirecat · 3 years ago

Text

Binary Sunset Ch 2: Seemed Far Away

Story Summary: Obi-Wan finds himself decades in the future on the ship of a Mandalorian that seems like the last thing he wants is to be sidled with another lifeform. Or two, because suddenly they have a little...tiny... Yoda to deal with. Not actually Yoda, Obi-Wan knows, but still. It's weird, and stressful, and there's an entire Empire that's come and gone (going?). He just wants to rest. Figure out what exactly has happened and maybe, maybe find a way to stop it, if he ever gets back to his own time. Better that than wallow in misery and pain of a past he got plucked from, yet still feels the pain of.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30771671/chapters/76338152#workskin

Saleucami is a fairly nice planet, Obi-Wan decides as he steps from the ship. Warm, for sure, but not overbearingly so. They’ve touched down in one of the more swampy areas. Obi-Wan cranes his neck to get a good look at the area. A bird flies overhead. Mando puts his arm out, stopping him in his tracks.

“Yes?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

Mando turns his head to look at him. “You’re staying here.”

“Excuse you?”

“You’ll only get in the way. I’m used to working alone. I don’t need your help.”

Obi-Wan crosses his arms. “What, exactly, do you expect me to do while I’m waiting for you to track down your bounty, then?”

“Don’t know, don’t care, as long as you don’t get into what isn’t yours.”

Obi-Wan tosses his head. “Ah, so I’m to sit quietly in the dark of your ship.”

Mando shrugs. “Maybe there’s something in the area that’s edible. You could resupply the food stores so we don’t have to purchase anything.”

Obi-Wan just sighs, turning back to the ship. “Do I at least have permission to get into the weapons if danger occurs?”

“Sure.”

Obi-Wan looks over his shoulder, watching somewhat petulantly as Mando walks away, following his tracking fob. He sighs again. He’d have liked to have something to do to keep his mind off things. Clearly that won’t be happening. So he walks back into the ship, closes the door, and sits on the floor next to his still-discarded robes. He runs his hands through the fabric.

“The Galactic Empire destroys the Jedi Order.” He says softly, the same words he’s been thinking since he talked to the Mandalorian Armorer. “Wish I knew more about that.”

He’d been a little overwhelmed during his talk with the Armorer. After leaving he’d thought of a thousand questions, ones she may or may not have had answers to. Asking Mando had been… unsuccessful. He should have realized that Mando had limited knowledge, after all, he had said he’d never heard of the Jedi Order. Further questioning had brought forth similar answers.

Obi-Wan is disappointed, but not surprised. Surely the Empire had done as much as it could to control information as much as people and planets. And Mando, living among the Outer Rim, wouldn’t have had much reason to bother with the Empire. Obi-Wan’s fairly certain that the Empire’s control over the outer rim had been as thin and fleeting as the Republic’s. The Outer Rim is often simply uncontrollable from those in power at the Core Worlds. So it would have been advantageous for Mando to know what he had to know to survive, and little else. And he wouldn’t have gained anything from knowledge about the Jedi. At least, that’s what Obi-Wan rationalizes to himself. What other answers are there, after all?

He must stay there for hours, thinking about everything and nothing, and absolutely, completely, one-hundred percent meaning to get up and have a look around the area. Maybe find some food like Mando suggested. And yet, he’s barely moved a muscle when the door opens again and Mando strides in, dragging a shaking human man behind him. He locks eyes with the man, and then decides that he’d rather not have any reason to feel for him; he’s going to have to get used to the bounty hunting life, and the good and bad people that get caught up in it. The man yells as Mando shoves him into a carbon freezing unit.

Mando turns to him. “You haven’t moved at all, have you?”

“Not a bit.” He admits. “Where to next? Nevarro again?”

Mando walks to the ladder heading to the cockpit. “Crait.”

Obi-Wan follows him up. “How many bounties do you have?”

“Several.”

***

Crait is as boring as Saleucami, as are Galidraan and Gamorr. Mostly because Mando refuses to let Obi-Wan help, and so he sits, bored, on the floor of the Razor Crest. Alone with his thoughts. Alone with his fears. Mando isn’t even particularly talkative, so even when they’re in the cockpit traveling together through space it’s boring.

After a day of traveling, Obi-Wan finds a pen. He promptly spends two hours drawing all over himself for lack of anything else to do. It’s something he’d ordinarily scold Anakin for doing. Had, in fact, several times over Anakin’s padawan years. There’s something freeing in it, though, knowing that the only person that will know is Mando and Mando clearly doesn’t give a kriff. There’s no rhyme or reason to what he draws-- the symbol of the Jedi Order, a five pointed star, the Basic Alphabet. Birds and loth-cats and a badly-drawn wampa. Random lines and squiggles, until his arms and legs are covered and he’s made a fair dent everywhere else, too, using the mirror Mando has in his refresher. They almost look like tattoos.

Other than drawing, he spends his time meditating, and when that only manages to make him more anxious, he sleeps. And dreams-- nothing that seems to be prophetic, just dreams of his past, dreams of nonsense, nightmares of his anxieties come to life. A particularly rattling one has him waking, gasping for breath, with screams of the dying thundering in his ears.

When he can’t sleep any more, he stalks around the ship, committing as much of it to memory as he can without prying. How many steps can he take, going from one side to the next? Where are the control panels? How many people, frozen in carbonite, can fit in the ship? There isn’t much of a kitchenette-- actually, there’s little more than 2 cupboards, a small box for cold foods, and a small oven that really serves for reheating more than actual cooking. Obi-Wan counts the ration bars, the cans of soup, the few bits of frozen meat. The rations will last them for quite a while, despite the small space.

And just like that, three standard weeks pass.

***

Maldo Kreis is as boring as everything else, at least until Mando shows up with his bounty with a hungry ravinak following. His bounty-- a blue Mythrol-- screams bloody murder. Obi-Wan lifts his head from where he lays on the floor and watches the two move past him, heading for the cockpit. He looks out the door-- the ravinak’s bitten down on the landing gear.

There’s no way they’ll be able to lift off with that hanging on the way it is. In fact, it’s more likely that the ravinak will drag them under. He springs to his feet. Mando’s Amban Rifle is around here somewhere, where had he last seen it..? Oh, right, by the door to the cockpit. He follows them up the ladder, grabs the rifle, and jumps back down. The ship shudders. He grimaces, charges the rifle, and braces himself at the door.

Here goes nothing. He lunges forward, shoving the prongs of the rifle into the ravinak’s face. Electricity dances across and under its skin. It lets go of the ship with a roar, sinking back into the icy water. Unfortunately, without the ravinak holding it down, the Razor Crest lurches into the air with enough force that almost sends Obi-Wan tumbling into the water with it. He climbs into the ship and closes the door. He lets out a breath. I’m out of practice.

He joins them in the cockpit. The Mythrol chatters away about nothing in his best attempt at persuading them into letting him go. After getting nothing from Mando, the Mythrol turns to him. Obi-Wan gives him his best unimpressed look and turns back to looking at hyperspace. Is this how I sound to Mando? He wonders. It’s exhausting. He’s honestly thankful when Mando gets the chance to put him in carbonite. When he returns to the cockpit, Obi-Wan offers him a smile.

“You probably wish you could do that to me, hm?”

“Maybe a little.” Mando admits. “And before you ask, now we’re heading to Nevarro.”

“Ah, wonderful. I could stretch my legs.” I’ve already been out of the ship there, you have no way of arguing me into staying hidden.

“We’re only stopping to turn in the bounties and get new ones. It’ll be quick.”

Obi-Wan hums. “If you say so. I could buy new supplies, then, while you deal with Guild business?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Obi-Wan glances at him. “You know, I still don’t know your name.”

“And?”

“I think it’d be helpful to know it.”

“No.”

Alright. “Were you born a Mandalorian?”

“Why do you care?” Mando asks slowly.

Obi-Wan shrugs. “We’re going to be traveling together for an undetermined amount of time, I’d like to know at least a bit about you. All I know about you is that you’re a Mandalorian bounty hunter, you don’t know anything about Jedi, and you’re much better suited to long space travels than I am. Well, I also have nothing to do, but I haven’t exactly seen you do anything more than eat, sleep, clean your weapons, and fly this ship, none of which actually take that long. Also, I spent a year on Mandalore when I was younger, during the civil war.”

Mando fully turns to look at him. Obi-Wan offers another smile. Focus on the future right now, not the past. Nothing can be done about the past, so make sure the future isn’t going to be a mess.

Mando sighs. “I was a foundling, taken in when I was a child. I was raised in the Fighting Corps. I work as a bounty hunter to support the Tribe. Is that enough?”

“If that’s all you’ll give me.” Obi-Wan acquiesces. “Would you like to know more about me?”

“Which side were you on?” The question is immediate.

“Er-what?”

“During the Clone Wars.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan pauses. Not a question he expected to hear. “I was fighting on the side of the Republic. So, the clone army, not the droid army.”

“Good.” Mando says darkly. “You said you’re from the beginning of the war?”

“Well, I assume so, unless the War was done and over in a matter of a few months.” Obi-Wan says, falling into the sort of sarcastic indignance he often does with Anakin. “I’d just fought at Christophsis.”

Mando hums. “Alright.”

And that’s that.

***

Obi-Wan stares at his reflection in the mirror of the Razor Crest’s refresher. He’s let his hair grow too much for his tastes over the past few weeks. He hasn’t trimmed it at all, and now he hardly looks the part of Jedi Master. Well, he does want to blend in, but… it’s really a matter of self-care, in the end. He runs his fingers through his beard.

It’s doubtful there are many people in the galaxy now that would recognise him. He imagines they’re dead, old, or simply wouldn’t expect him to look so young. So really, he could probably get away with keeping the beard. But it would be his luck, to manage to run into someone that would recognise him, his look. And it would be his luck that said someone would be an enemy, too. It can’t hurt to be cautious.

He glances at Mando, standing at his weapons cache. He’s not sure what species he is, still, seeing as he never takes his helmet off. Nor does he particularly care what species he is. But if he’s a species without hair, it’ll be rather hard to cut his own. “Do you have something I could cut my hair with? And shave my beard?”

Mando turns to look at him. “There’s a razor and a pair of scissors behind the mirror.”

“Ah, thank you.”

He finds them where Mando says they are, strapped in so they don’t fall out and make a mess during rough travels. That sort of thing isn’t typically a worry on larger ships, but one as small as the Razor Crest, it’s practically a necessity. He pauses. He’s well versed in taking care of his beard-- that’s not exactly hard, and not something one would want to go to a barber for. His hair, though… well, he’ll just have to give it a go, won’t he?

So he shaves his beard, leaves only stubble. He’d been completely clean shaven as a padawan for several reasons and only some having to do with his age, but the moment he’d no longer been a padawan he’d happily grown a beard. Partially just to prove to Quinlan he could. Obi-Wan frowns at his reflection. It’s… strange, having hair as long as he does without the beard to match. Luckily I’ll be dealing with that shortly enough.

Cutting his hair goes about half as well. He leaves it just barely longer than he’d had it as a padawan, minus the ponytail. And a lot more messy, actually. As it turns out, he’s very bad at cutting hair. It doesn’t look terrible. It just doesn’t look very good, either. And it certainly doesn’t look like it was on purpose.

“Oh well.” He mutters, and starts cleaning up. It’ll just have to do.

Mando chuckles. “Having trouble?”

Obi-Wan eyes him. “Not everyone is as used to cutting their own hair as you are.”

“Maybe you should shave it. Go bald.”

Obi-Wan thinks about that. “That is a cursed image and I hate that you’ve made me think of it, Mando.”

Mando’s laughter gets louder, and he counts it as a win.

#Star Wars #Clone Wars #The Mandalorian #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Din Djarin #Binary Sunset #Chapter 2 #Time Travel

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