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knchins · 3 years ago

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Kuroshiro - Chapter Three

Summary: Hayami and Suguru were teenagers in love until the day came when he decided to turn his back on the sorcery world and become a curse user, which left his best friend Satoru to pick up the pieces.

Pairing: Geto x Fem OC x Gojo

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Major manga spoilers, alcohol consumption, restraint usage, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, mild aftercare, breakup, cigarette smoking

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Chapter Three - Goodwill

Gojo Satoru wondered just how serious his girlfriend was when she said she would have to kill Itadori Yuuji. It wasn’t that he actually thought she could but rather she’d get herself killed by Sukuna in trying. Of course, if Sukuna did kill her then Gojo would be beside himself. Despite all of the flaws their relationship had, he did truly cherish and love her. They were unhealthy at best and toxic at worst, but all they’ve ever had were each other since Geto left them both.

His mind drifted to the day Geto died as her food arrived, seeing Haya sobbing as she held him. She didn’t seem to care that he tried to kill his students or had caused so much destruction to the city. She was just professing her love one last time right in front of him. He was supposed to be her boyfriend. She shouldn’t love anyone else while she loved him. If she loved him.

Their food arrived and he realized she had been talking. He simply nodded his head, hoping it aligned well with whatever she had just said. Haya didn’t seem to notice, unable to see that his eyes had glazed over behind his sunglasses. He wondered if reapproaching the subject of killing Itadori would cause suspicion or possibly start an argument that would prevent him from getting laid tonight. He figured it was better to be safe than sorry for the time being.

The two began eating in a comfortable silence. Well, comfortable for Haya who did not notice that Gojo had become somewhat tense over what she had said. Maybe if she hadn't been drinking then she would have been more perceptive. She was a lightweight, it didn’t take much to lower her inhibition. She didn’t drink much but when she did she almost always got drunk. Gojo always teased that she was a cheap date and she would pout in protest the rest of the night until he made it up to her with his dick.

“If I didn’t know any better than I’d say you were stressed.” He said in a teasing tone as she finished off her third glass of wine.

Haya rolled her eyes at him playfully, “I am stressed, you ass.” She replied. “I’m a new mom to a teenage girl. I just don’t want to screw her up any more than she already is from her piece of shit parents.”

Gojo smiled softly, a somewhat foreign look for him. “I don’t think you will as long as you stop being so overprotective.”

She scoffed, “I don’t want to hear it from the man who thinks raising a kid means throwing them to the wolves. Megumi is lucky I was around too.”

“I think he turned out just fine.” Gojo replied with a smirk. “You worry too much, it’ll make your hair turn grey before you’re thirty, you know.”

“You just don’t want a silver fox on your arm, is all. I won’t be a pretty young thing forever.” She replied, her temper flaring a bit at the thought of him leaving her for someone younger.

He laughed, knowing that it was unlikely to ever happen. As much as he put up with her, she also put up with him. He knew dating him wasn’t always the easiest thing in the world and she took on a lot of shit for it from others. Thankfully she had always been strong enough to undertake any obstacle that stood in her way as long as it wasn’t related to Suguru or a special grade curse.

“Why waste time with someone inexperienced?” He asked with a playful smirk on his face. “When I can easily just torture you?”

Haya cracked a smile at that, enjoying the warm feeling it gave her in the pit of her stomach. It was nice to have him back. It felt like there hadn’t been that huge rift between them that had been there since the night of a hundred demons. She actually felt at home with him now and the idea of marriage popped in the back of her head.

Suddenly her heart tore, knowing he’d never ask. She kept a smile on her face, though Gojo could tell it had gone fake. He wondered what was going through her mind to make her mood swing so suddenly. Then again, this tended to happen when she’d been drinking.

They had finished their meal and Gojo paid for their food before helping her walk out back to his car. Haya leaned against him, giggling at some dumb joke he had made about other patrons inside the restaurant. Her sadness was forgotten as she let herself enjoy the moment instead of dwelling on things that will never come to pass. She wasn’t meant for stability and for the time being she had convinced herself that that was okay.

Once back at the school, outside Haya’s room, they wasted no time in locking lips in alcohol fueled kisses and laughs. Their respective problems were lost somewhere in the far reaches of their minds as they focused solely on the body of the other. Gojo’s hands searched for the hidden zipper on the side of her dress, tugging it downward as he leaned down enough for Haya to leave a trail of kisses down his throat.

She hastily unbuttoned his shirt as her dress fell to the floor alone with her now discarded pumps. Gojo let out a low laugh at just how short she was without them on, a full twenty-two centimeters difference between them.

He swept her up into his arms, earning a squeal of delight as he tossed her onto the bed. He finished taking off his shirt. He unfastened his belt and slid it from the loops of his pants before taking her wrists in one large hand and securing them to the headboard with the strip of leather. Haya was giggling still, pretending to struggle against the restraints while he removed her strapless bra with ease.

“Toru,” She laughed as the brushes of his fingertips tickled her sides. He kissed her jaw, chin to ear, before moving down to a weak spot on the base of her throat. He pinched both of her hardened nipples, twisting them just enough to make her moan in protest.

He kneaded the soft flesh of her large breasts, enjoying how malleable they felt in his hands. How perfectly they fit into his palms and the tiny sounds of pleasure that caught in her throat as he squeezed gently enough to not hurt her but hard enough to drive her insane.

She pressed her hips against his desperately and she could feel his erection growing against her thigh. Again she tugged at the restraints, this time a little more desperate to get him undressed, to touch him, to taste him, to have him filling her up inside.

Gojo kissed down her chest as he hurriedly took off his pants and boxers before removing her underwear with his teeth and the help of her lifting up her hips and legs. He inserted two long fingers into her dripping core, the wet sounds of him finger fucking her filling the small room. He watched curiously as she writhed, trying to get him in as deep as possible, needing to feel more of him inside her.

His kisses resumed, this time down her mons pubis and then against her swollen clit. He latched onto her, sucking lightly as his tongue swirled invisible symbols across the bud. His fingers continued to move, scissoring inside of her to stretch her more so she would be able to accommodate him without any pain. Though he imagined that with how wet she was, he didn’t really need to warm her up much.

Her strong thighs pressed against his head, causing him to hum against her. The vibrations sent tingles of bliss all the way down to her toes as he increased his pace. His free hand came up to play with her left breast, the stimulation enough to have her moaning without care and cumming into his mouth with a forceful jerking of her hips.

He removed his fingers from her cunt, licking them clean. She wished she could see him in the darkness, but her eyesight was simply too bad in the dim lighting of the moon outside. They had been too eager to bother turning on the lights and Gojo didn’t need them to get things done.

Gojo grabbed a condom from the drawer he knew she kept them in, tearing open the foil with his mouth before taking it out of the packaging and rolling it on. Haya had spread her legs obediently for him, being nice and subservient instead of bratty and defiant like she normally is. It was a nice change of pace for him when she was whiny and needy for him. He always liked her better that way.

“Satoru,” She begged as he lined his tip up with her entrance and just rested there, waiting for her to cry for him as she always did when she had been drinking. “Satoru, please, hurry!”

“Hurry and do what, princess?” He asked, pressing a thumb to her sensitive clit and making her leg twitch.

“Fuck me,” She breathed out, calling out his name yet again as he suddenly thrust into her. She gasped and pulled at the belt, wanting nothing more than to be scratching up his back in the moment. Though they wouldn’t leave a mark, the indentions in his skin would heal instantly. She always did pout about not being able to show who he belonged to. Instead he could always play the role as belonging to no one while she had hickeys lined across her neck and shoulders.

She wrapped one leg around his waist while he held the other down with his smooth hand. He moved at an even pace, his hips moving languidly and almost lazily as he buried himself to the hilt before almost pulling all the way out and slamming back in again.

Haya was loud, and though they had attempted to soundproof the room years ago it was never quite enough to keep anyone from walking outside to hear her when she was particularly excited. She babbled his name, eyes shut in bliss as her body was washed with ecstasy still from her first orgasm.

He increased the speed of his thrusts, grabbing her hip with his free hand to angle her in a position that would allow for him to go deeper. Her walls stretched around him as he found that small spot that was a bit spongier than the rest. Haya’s voice seemed to go up an octave as her thighs shook from pleasure. Gojo grunted at her squeezing down around him, fucking her harder to get her to call his name out even louder. The sudden need to make everyone know that she was his was overtaking him.

“T-Toru,” She stuttered, “Gonna cum.” She sounded breathless as he leaned down to kiss her with an opened-mouth kiss. Their tongues intertwined as she whimpered through another snapping of the knot that had grown in the pit of her stomach.

He fucked her through it, his hand leaving her leg to rub her clit once more. She spasmed beneath him, trying to get away from the overstimulation he was putting her through. Though she couldn’t see it, he was smirking devilishly in the darkness as he rammed into her again and again.

Before she could even come down from her second orgasm, she was having a third. Tears were in her eyes as he finally gave her the break she needed, finishing himself off with a few less precise thrusts and a loud groan.

He kissed away the rogue tear that had fallen down her cheek as he pulled out. Her lower half was still trembling from the intensity of her last orgasm. He gently unbound her wrists, kissing them softly as he lowered her arms down to her sides once more. Haya reached out to hug him tightly, pulling him flush against her as she buried her face in his neck.

“Shhh,” He cooed lightly, kissing whatever part of her he could reach in this position. He gently unwound her arms from around him so he could dispose of the condom and grab a towel to clean her up with. Once done he crashed down on the bed and she was clinging to him again as a child might after having a nightmare.

Gojo rubbed her back in slow rhythmic circles until she fell fast asleep.

“Is it really okay to bring him back?” Nanami asked, lowering the paper he had been reading, “If the fact that he’s alive becomes known at the exchange event, won’t the higher-ups just target him again?”

Them and Haya both, Gojo thought to himself with a playful smile on his face. “Even if they do, Yuuji will be just fine now. You know that better than anyone, don’t you?”

“And Kuroishi? Did you think it was wise to not tell her?” Nanami pressed, having been against keeping the secret from his old classmate and closest friend. The only reason he had agreed to keep it a secret was because Yuuji’s life was in danger. Now that that didn’t seem to be the case, guilt began to weigh heavily on him.

Gojo’s smile only broadened, “Let me take care of Haya. You know she can’t stay mad at me long.”

Meanwhile Haya was standing with Utahime, waiting impatiently for Gojo to arrive. He had been gone the past few days on assignment and she had half expecting him to wake her up in the early hours of the morning by crawling into her bed. She was somewhat surprised to find herself alone when she finally woke up to get ready for the day's activities.

She had watched over Miyu’s training the past two months, and she had to say she was quite proud of how much she had grown in such a short time. She had begun showing signs of muscle development and her cursed technique was coming along as well. The same couldn’t really be said with her new close friend Yua who would rather lay down and die than break a sweat.

All of the students were upset about the death of Itadori Yuuji. The only one who didn’t seem very perturbed was Yua, which made sense as she had never actually met him before. That and she had just experienced a much more major loss, though she kept telling people her parents were simply away on assignment looking for cursed tools in Northern Asia. The only ones that knew the truth were the adults and Shoko asked them to let her come to terms with it in her own time and not to push it.

“Sorry for the wait!” Haya was thrown from her thoughts as she looked up with a grumpy expression, Gojo pushing a cart towards them with a giant grin on his face. Her eyes narrowed, wondering what he was up to.

Utahime uttered his name with disgust and Haya couldn’t help but snort back a laugh. She had always felt that Gojo was unnecessarily mean to their upperclasman. She looked up to Utahime while they were in school. Haya had always thought she was quite beautiful, scar or not.

They watched as he handed out gifts to the Kyoto students before proclaiming that Utahime did not get one. She quickly snapped back that she didn’t want one and Haya shot him an aggravated look. He would have winked at her if his eyes hadn’t been obstructed by his black blindfold.

“And everyone in Tokyo, we have this!” He did a grand gesture as Haya felt a sense of dread wash over her. Something wasn’t right, he was up to absolutely no good. Yuuji popped from the box with an excited smile, cheering nonsense as Gojo introduced him though he needed no introduction.

Her heart sank down into her stomach, shock overcoming her as the first years looked angry and confused. Miyu in particular looked hurt before a blank expression masked her emotions. Haya knew better. She was upset and nothing good ever came of her getting emotionally wounded. Thankfully it did not look as though Aruna would take over, though she noticed Miyu rubbing her wrist repeatedly. It was a nervous habit she did when Aruna began to stir too loudly in her mind.

It was taking all of Hayami not to have a full-on drag out fight with her boyfriend (who definitely would not be her boyfriend for long after this). She did not want to argue in front of the students or Utahime, though the look on her face showed perfectly just how furious she was. Itadori was alive and as soon as word reached her family she’d be tasked with killing him once more.

Blood threatened to spill from her tightly clenched fists as her nails dug into her palms. Gojo sent her another joyful smile, knowing he was in deep shit but too busy enjoying the look on Principal Gakuganji’s face.

She didn’t hear the exchange or words going on, or even realize that Principal Yaga had put Gojo in an arm lock as he explained the rules of the first game. As soon as he dismissed everyone until noon, Haya took a step towards Miyu who just shook her head, clearly not wanting to talk. The Tokyo and Kyoto schools split into their respective teams to discuss strategy.

Haya let out a frustrated sigh, wishing her daughter would open up to her but also knowing that she couldn’t push it. She made her way to where the teachers would be watching the event, ignoring the calls of her name from Gojo Satoru.

Once inside the room, she sat down in a plush chair. Utahime joined her, “your boyfriend said there was something he wanted to talk to me about.” She said, “Any idea what that is?”

“Ex-boyfriend.” Haya said curtly and though she couldn’t see it, Utahime was rolling her eyes. Who could ever keep up when they were together and when they weren’t? They changed relationship statuses more than their own underwear it seemed. “And no, I don’t know.”

Gojo walked in and took a seat, he tried to wave at Haya but she only huffed and turned away from him. Him and Utahime exchanged words before Gojo dropped the bombshell that someone at Jujutsu High was a traitor.

Haya stiffened. They had talked about it a few times though she never could say one way or another if it were true. Gojo was thoroughly convinced while she was not. She knew that both him and Nanami had fought curses capable of speech which was virtually unheard of.

When she learned that Kento had been injured, she rushed to the medical office to check on him. After losing Yu, they both made a childlike promise to never die before the other. He had always been there as a shoulder to cry on or an ear to vent to. They’re relationship was strictly platonic, neither having any attraction to the other.

In fact, she had made Nanami Miyu’s godfather in the event that anything happened to her. Nanami pointed out their promise together before agreeing to it. Gojo did not have any knowledge of this conversation as Haya was not entirely sure how he would take it.

She snapped out of her thoughts when she heard Utahime yelling at Gojo who merely laughed at her. Haya frowned as she watched them, Utahime turning to her before loudly proclaiming, “you really can do so much better than him.”

Gojo merely smirked. After all, who was better than him? He was the best of the best. More importantly, Utahime was wrong as always. Haya couldn’t do better than him. No one could.

Or at least, that was what Gojo thought.

Haya stood and left, not being able to deal with being in the same room as someone with such an enormous ego. Once outside she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. She had taken up smoking when she was eighteen briefly but quit after only a year. However the added stress of being a mother to a teenager had made her take it back up in secret. Well, she thought she kept it a secret.

She sat down behind the building, sliding down the wall until she hit the ground in true dramatic fashion. She wished she could go talk to Miyu and make sure everything was okay. She seemed so angry and hurt. Haya could relate. She felt the same way. How could he really keep this from her for two whole months?

Her phone began to ring, the caller ID flashing her father’s name. A sigh left her lips as she answered it in an emotionless tone.

“Hayami, did you know that the vessel was still alive?!” His voice was loud, booming, and if she didn’t know any better then she’d say it was frantic.

“I did not.” She replied honestly, though she doubted that he’d believe her.

“Come here as soon as you are able.” He said, “But do not raise suspicion.”

She wondered what he meant by that. Any time she had to return home it raised suspicion. It was no secret how much her father hated her. How she had been outcast at a very young age for being not only a female but being a disobedient one at that. Add on dating a traitor and you had the trifecta of disownment. The only reason she was still able to say she was a Kuroishi was because she was occasionally dating Gojo Satoru, whose name held more weight than she could ever imagine.

She wondered if that weight was why he acted like a child sometimes. He could literally get away with anything. No one could stop him even if they wanted to. There was some comfort in fucking the best but it also led to a lot of frustrating inferiority.

“Are you listening to me?” Daiki asked with an angry hiss. “When can you come?”

“After the goodwill games.” She replied. “If I’m not there for them, people will ask questions.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Though the only person that would ask anything would be Gojo. Principal Yaga too if he thought something was up, and that was simply because he knew how fiercely protective Haya was of Miyu.

She looked at the time on her phone. She put out her cigarette and threw away the butt before going back in, sitting in the back next to Yaga. Again she ignored Gojo as she passed him. She watched the screens in silence, pursing her lips whenever Mei and Gojo were speaking to one another. She was too tired to interject or comment, instead she was on the edge of her seat watching her daughter fight off the sister school and low level curses alike.

An hour or so into the battle, all of the talismans correlating to the curses in the field burst into red flames. The screens on the wall had gone black, making it impossible to see what was going on. Haya’s leg bounced, her chair making a rattling noise that had Yaga looking at her from the corner of his eyes.

“I’d love to say Great Teacher Gojo’s students exorcized them all, but…” Gojo started, and the Principal finished.

“The charms will burn red for unregistered cursed energy.” He said in his deep voice, his face perplexed.

“Something’s wrong.” Haya breathed out, sensing danger. “An outsider is here. Someone must have gotten through Master Tengen’s barrier.”

Masamichi stood, “I’m going to Tengen-sama. Satoru and Principal Gakuganji, please project the students. Hayami, make sure they get to safety in the event of an attack.”

Haya was racing out the door before he could finish giving orders to the other two in the room. The others were soon behind her and while Gojo could probably catch up if he tried, he decided it was best to give her space.

She saw a veil start to come down and pushed herself to go faster, somehow making it before it touched ground. She knew Gojo could probably break it, she just needed to find the students and make sure they were safe from whatever was inside with them.

Once inside the barrier, Haya felt chills run up her spine. The sheer pressure from the amount of cursed energy was enough to tell her that there was a special grade nearby. She sent a silent prayer to the gods, hoping they’d protect the students from whatever it was that was inside. Hopefully Sukuna would not come out to fight and kill Itadori once more.

She heard Mei-Mei’s voice in her head, directing her towards where a few of the students were. Miwa was the closest and was at most risk since she was unconscious from Inumaki’s cursed technique. She was informed who was actively fighting the cursed spirit, and knowing that Fushiguro and Inumaki were there made her feel better. Yua was also nearby and would be able to heal anyone who was gravely injured.

Unfortunately, Miyu was there too. And while her parental instincts told her to run to her daughter to get her to safety, she knew her duty was to students who were currently more vulnerable.

Haya made it to Miwa’s unconscious form and crouched down. She placed a hand on her sternum and closed her eyes, visualizing the medical wing. A back portal opened in Haya’s shadow that was cast over Miwa’s body, and Miwa fell into it. Her sleeping form fell abruptly onto a bed, nearly making Shoko scream from surprise.

Again Mei-Mei informed Haya of the location of nearby students. Inumaki had collapsed and though Yua had healed his throat, he had not woken up. Haya cursed, she didn’t want to waste her energy by teleporting to them, but she worried that if she ran then she wouldn’t get there in time.

She pressed her palms together and fell down through the shadows under her feet and reappeared next to Yua, who did scream.

“Yua, I’m going to transport you both to where Shoko is, alright?” Haya said, doing her best to stay calm. “It’ll be away from here. I’ll be transporting the wounded there too for you and her to work on.”

Yua was shaking, her hands bloody as she nodded her head. She was too afraid to form any kind of coherent sentence. She wasn’t good at combat. She didn’t even try to train to be. Though Fushiguro had said she would be more useful if she did, which probably hurt her feelings more than it motivated her.

Again she had them falling through her shadow and again they ended up in the same place Miwa had. Yua immediately got sick, throwing up into a nearby waste bin. The room spun until it finally settled and she sat up to try and get to work.

Haya was getting a headache from Mei’s voice in her head and using so much of her technique at once. While she could use her two other techniques for long periods of time, teleporting was one she had the shortest stamina with. Teleporting objects was easy. Teleporting people took a great amount of energy and so her reservoir was quickly draining.

She caught up with Megumi and Maki, forcing them both to listen to her so she could send them for medical help. Megumi looked worse, buds sprouting from his stomach. She looked at Miyu who was panting heavily, and while she wasn’t injured beyoung some scrapes and bruises, she looked like total shit. “Miyu, I’m sending you back to the school.” She said with a pant, “I don’t think I can transport anyone else after that. Itadori and Todo can handle this curse spirit.”

Miyu didn’t look so sure, but also did not question her mother. Haya sent her to join the others before having to take a knee and rest. There was no cursed energy left. The tiny amount wasn’t even enough to do the simplest of her techniques. She just hoped she was right about the two boys being able to handle the curse.

Haya crawled to rest against a tree, trying to hide herself as much as possible from the others around as she caught her breath. Her head felt like it was splitting in two, the light of the setting sun only making it worse. She needed to get out. Something was different about this curse spirit. Similar to the one that had attacked Gojo before, it was able to communicate with others.

Her eyes slipped shut, having not felt so tired in ages. “Sleeping on the job, Haya-sensei?” Her eyes snapped open at the sound of Gojo’s teasing voice. She glared at him with a newfound energy as she stood.

“Finish this.” She hissed, still leaning against the tree from support. She didn’t want to admit her weakness in front of him. The fact that she left two students to take care of a special grade instead of helping them was enough to make her feel like a failure. She didn’t need him rubbing salt in the wounds.

“I think they’ve got a handle on things.” He said with a smirk, his blue eyes shining and he picked her up and flew to where a curse user and Principal Gakuganji were battling. He set the yelling Haya down before starting his own fight.

Chapter Three coming Sunday (2/27)

Suguru Geto returns for the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.

#gojo x oc #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk x oc #gojo smut #gojo x oc x geto #geto x oc x gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagine #jjk fanfiction #jjk ocs #jjk oc #KSseries #jjk angst #kuorishi hayami #hana miyu #jjk smut

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nerdypanda3126 · 3 years ago

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Playing with Fire – Ch. 8

So two things: first, I did write a little interlude between last chapter and this one, and you can find it here.

And second, in the part with Luka's journal, he's in a dark place at that point in his life and there's some suicidal ideation in there. If you'd prefer to skip over it, you can jump over the italicized parts, and as far as I know that's the only time it'll pop up in this story 💖

Read on Ao3

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“You want to find my family?” Luka asked incredulously as he held a branch aside for her to walk past.

He was tired, and so was she; they’d been walking all night, but Luka had insisted they needed to put as much distance as they could between them and the tower while they still had the cover of darkness. By the time the sunlight was able to filter down to them through the canopy, she suspected it was closer to mid-afternoon and they’d been up for a full twenty-four hours. He’d been stuck in his mostly-human form for the longest he’d ever had to endure it. Maybe not an ideal time to bring up her plan, but…

“We’re already running for our lives, we don’t have a home to go back to, at least not for a while, so… While we’re out wandering anyways, I thought…”

“We’d lead an angry mob straight to my mother and sister?”

She rolled her eyes at him. Definitely not the best time to bring up her plan. “You’re cranky when you’re tired,” she noted, letting her own irritation slip into her tone. He grunted back, but it was more of a challenge than an assent.

“Besides,” she pushed on, ignoring the way he bristled, “it might take a while to find them. How long do you think the townspeople will follow us, anyways? My guess is they get to the tower, see it’s empty, and turn around and go home.”

“I’m not worried about them,” he grumbled. “There’s a certain friend of yours who didn’t seem ready to give up anytime soon.”

If he had venom, he’d injected it into the word “friend.” She winced at his bitter tone.

“Okay, so what’s your plan? We wander the wilds aimlessly chasing our tails for the rest of our lives?”

He faltered and glanced over at her. The way he seemed so unsure made her realize he’d never had a plan. At least not past “stay alive and wait.” This was all new to him; he didn’t know what he was doing or where he was going. They’d traveled in as much of a straight line as was possible away from the tower, but other than that… he was lost.

She drew closer to him and threaded her arm through his as an apology. He laid a hand over hers as he took her meaning and sighed.

“Where would we even start?” he asked, his voice small in the quiet of the forest around them.

“There have to be other towns nearby, and I’m sure someone would remember seeing dragons flying around 18 years ago.”

“More townspeople…” he grumbled again. “Great.”

She squeezed his arm in sympathy and they walked in silence for a while. She could feel the weight of the plan starting to fall on his shoulders, the idea of asking around, relying on humans, how long it might take. In truth, she hadn’t realized the enormity of the undertaking until she’d proposed it to him and now she could agree that it sounded impossible.

“Maybe they’ve been waiting for you, too,” she dared to say.

He let out a quiet laugh. “Ma wouldn’t, her treasure is the open skies and she wouldn’t wait for anyone.” He paused to think, then sighed. “Juleka might, though.”

“Your sister?”

“Mhmm. We were close when we were young. Before…” His eyes slid over to her and he let it drop. “She might’ve followed Ma at first, but I’m sure she wasn’t happy with the decision to leave me behind.”

“What’s she look like?” Marinette asked, her curiosity overtaking her. He’d never talked about it before, but for once he seemed open to the topic. He smiled wistfully as he tried to remember.

“A lot like me, I guess. Except, you know…not...” He gestured to himself, to his human form. “Unless she made the same mistake, but I doubt Ma would’ve let that happen again. And she’s taller than me, or at least she was when we were little. Maybe it’s changed a bit, but she was always kind of a lanky thing. Ma’s pride and joy, though, if I’m honest. It’s her fire. Most dragons have some variant of red; it’s rare enough to get blue fire, but Jules…” He shook his head, that wistful smile growing as he remembered. “Jules had violet fire. Unheard of, really. You’ll see when you meet her, she’s—” He caught himself then as he realized what he’d said. “If, I guess,” he amended quietly.

She squeezed his arm again and smiled over at him. “When,” she agreed. “When I meet her.”

He half-shrugged, but his smile warmed when he looked over at her. Before she could stop it, she yawned loudly and he laughed as one took him over, too.

“First things first,” he said when it subsided, looking around at their surroundings. “We need to find a place to camp.”

***

Later that evening they found a cave.

Marinette had laughed a little at the prospect. Dragons, caves, towers, curses. Her life was sounding more and more like a fairytale turned inside out. Wasn’t there supposed to be a shining knight that rescued the damsel in distress from the terrible, fire-breathing dragon?

But she didn’t feel very “in distress” as Luka joined hands with her to remove his stone and sighed with relief when his transformation took hold. She didn’t feel very in distress as he blew a small ring of fire into the floor of the cave, patting it down as he went to create a smooth, warm, bowl-shaped indent for them to curl up in together. And the only distress she felt as she tucked herself into his coils was her racing heart and trembling hands as the kiss they'd shared came back to her. He blinked up at her, sensing her hesitation, and uncurled a bit as if he intended to stand.

She shook her head and laid her hand on his back, reassuring him, then took a moment to run her fingers over his scales, admiring them in their full splendor. Even though they were pitch black, they caught the bare light of the cave and glinted back at her like he was wearing a solid coat of jewels. They turned softer towards his belly, finer, more like the scales of a snake that she was used to as opposed to the armor he wore on top.

As she continued to touch him, he let out that noise again, a small satisfied hum, and laid his head over his claws as he closed his eyes.

His wings fascinated her. There was a solid joint of muscle on each side where they met his shoulders, as thick as both her fists put together, but the wings themselves seemed so fragile—she could see her hand through the delicate skin stretched thin between the bones. And yet they were able to hold not only his weight but hers, too.

She felt it when she hit that sensitive spot that had made him ticklish before. Something like a chuckle rumbled through him and his wing flinched away from her reflexively, but he didn’t pull it out of her hands. That spot was along the side of the bone she’d been tracing, the longer one that nestled into his side when they were furled. She did it again out of curiosity and a shiver ran through him.

She tried to remember what she’d read about dragon anatomy. But instead she was imagining how it must feel to him. Maybe something like if she were tracing the ridge of his shoulder blade when he was human.

When she looked back at him, his eyes were still closed, like he was pretending to be asleep. She knew better, though; his breathing was uneven. As much as he was trying to hide it, he was hyper focused on her every move.

She let her hand trail down his arm until she found one of his huge, rough hands. She picked it up despite his small grumble as his head shifted, and marveled at the largeness of it. The pad of what would be his palm was as big as her face, and the curved ebony claws reminded her so much of the hawks she’d seen in her life that she knew they were deadly. But his were each as long as her entire hand.

As she set his hand back down, he opened an eye to look at her. She watched the slit of his pupil as it dilated to capture as much light as it could in the gloom of the cave. And the fiery blue that surrounded it was the same as the tuft of hair along his neck and at the tip of his tail.

She should be frightened. Luka in this form was danger personified. Everything about him should have made her adrenaline spike. Should have made her want to run away or try to fight for her life.

But as he blinked at her again, probably trying to understand what she was thinking, all she saw was… Luka. The same soul who had promised her mother he would take care of her, who had offered his life to her, who had saved her when she was too small to even know to be afraid.

No wonder she’d still had dreams of sleeping curled up next to him. When she looked at him, at all of him, all she saw was safety and home. And as he tucked his wing around her like a blanket, she couldn’t imagine a safer place than right next to him.

***

She grumbled awake when the light hit her eyes the next morning. She’d have to talk to him about getting curtains or something to cover that damn opening while they slept. She curled away from it, trying to press her face into Luka’s scales, but her nose was hitting something warm, and breathing, and...smoother than she expected.

Her eyes flew open as she realized her lips had touched skin.

It was later than normal and they’d already switched. Luka was human beside her. His arm was draped around her waist, she was curled up against his chest, and she had just nuzzled into his neck and brushed her lips against the hollow of his throat. She froze, but he was still solidly out, snoring lightly every so often, his arm a heavy weight around her.

The night before rushed back to her. Fleeing the tower, their long walk, the cave they’d settled into for the night… and Luka. His dark hair was falling over his eyes, and those dark circles had returned after only one night of missed sleep. His lips were parted slightly as he breathed and he looked so peaceful she almost wanted to reach out and touch him if only to make sure he was real.

But she didn’t want to wake him. So as carefully as she could she extracted herself from his embrace and stood to stretch, realizing that all their walking from the past few days had caught up to her. Before she did anything else, she retrieved his stone from where he’d left it and slipped it around his neck so her flames didn’t attract any attention. Or worse, set anything in their temporary shelter aflame.

They’d need to find food and water, but exploring their new area would have to wait until Luka woke up. For now she settled on taking inventory of what they’d brought with them, munching on a piece of bread from her parents’ bakery as she did. She froze when his lyre fell out, making an awful twang against the cave floor, but Luka only muttered in his sleep and rolled over.

When she continued searching through the bags, her fingers caught on the leather of his journal. Another glance at Luka proved that he wouldn’t be awake for a while yet; losing sleep as they traveled had hit him harder than her. She walked as close to the entrance of their cave as she dared and sat in the light to read.

The first few pages were mostly unintelligible. Scribbles and squiggles as Luka struggled with the quill and ink. Then came pages of the alphabet, unsteady at first, and traced over what must’ve been Jagged’s handwriting. The letters got stronger, more confident, and then on the next page, his first written word. Just his name, but she could almost see the pride he must’ve felt in accomplishing that one word. It stood alone on the page. She imagined a young Luka running out to show Jagged his hard work, beaming with the joy of learning a new skill.

Then other words started to fill the pages. Jagged Stone, fire, bond, wings, rabbit, trap, tower. Naming things around him, sometimes with little drawings that accompanied the word.

But then she saw the word “bakery.” Her breath caught. That wasn’t a word that Luka would be familiar with unless…

Underneath that was a sentence. “My bonded lives in a bakery.”

And as the pages went, she found more little tidbits about her life interspersed between Luka’s practicing. “My bonded has blue eyes.” “My bonded has black hair.” “My bonded likes the color pink.” “My bonded likes flowers.”

It seemed he’d tried to learn as much about her as he could, but either Jagged never told him her name or Luka never asked because every one of them started with “my bonded.” She wondered if he did it on purpose. It seemed like something he would do. Waiting not only to meet her but to hear her name.

He’d filled the next page, and it looked like a letter. Addressed to her. She glanced back at him, but he was turned away from her and she couldn’t see his face. She remembered how he’d stiffened when she asked if she could read it before he’d brushed it off as nothing. But he did say she could read it…

So she did.

***

To My Bonded,

You probably won’t ever get the chance to read this. I’m not sure why I’m even writing it other than I guess if the worst happens maybe there will be a small piece left of me that I can hope you would come to know.

From what I know of you, I think you might be someone who would listen.

Firstly, I don’t blame you if you’re angry with me. It probably hasn’t been easy on your end and I don’t know how much you’ve been told about our situation. Which is the worse curse, I wonder, knowing everything and waiting to see how it unfolds or knowing nothing and having to make a decision. Either way, I guess it’s really my fault anyways.

As for the second thing. I don’t know that I’ll have the chance to show you so I want you to know. I do care for you. Deeply. Sometimes that scares me because I don’t even know your name. The only thing I remember is seeing your eyes that day I rescued you. When they opened, when I knew you were okay, I was so relieved that I hardly even noticed your eyes were blue until Jagged reminded me years later. But they are, aren’t they? I wonder if they were like that before, or if maybe that’s another part of me that stayed with you.

I’m both dreading and hoping for the day I get to see those eyes again. Maybe when that day comes I can explain myself and apologize and tell you all this in person. Until then.

Yours, Luka

---

Bonded,

I didn’t think I’d write to you again. But Jagged told me today you had a ‘crush’ on someone in your village. A taylers boy, although I don’t know what that means. He told me about the fire too. He didn’t really have to. I felt it. I felt how your heart hurt and I wanted to go to you. Maybe I should have. I was afraid.

Jagged said you were fine, that you would be fine. But next time I feel that, I’m coming to you. Scared or not.

Yours, Luka

---

Bonded,

I am sick of this place. I’m sick of this tower and sick of the waiting and sick of feeling like I’ll be stuck like this forever. I thought you’d come for me. Aren’t you curious about me? Don’t you know by now what’s happening, why I’m still here, that I’m waiting for you? Or maybe you’re staying away because you know. Maybe you want it to be this way, maybe this is your choice.

I don’t mean that. If you knew I’m sure you’d be here already. I guess I wish I knew how much longer it’s going to be like this. How much longer I’ll be waiting for you.

Yours, Luka

---

Dear Bonded,

I keep writing to you for some strange reason. It’s a sort of comfort, knowing that you’ll probably kill me before you get to read any of this. I’m sure that’s your answer now because your village has started sending men to kill me instead. They come up from your village anyway.

It’s okay. I get it. You’re probably scared of me. The rest of them have been so I can only assume you think the same. I haven’t let them win yet. For now there’s still a small part of me that hopes you don’t know anything about this. That it has nothing to do with you. For now anyways.

Yours, Luka

---

Bonded,

I hate the taste of blood.

Yours, Luka

---

Dearest Bonded,

This is my last letter to you. I can’t keep doing this. The men keep coming. I’ve tried everything to get them to leave me alone, but nothing seems to work. And I’m tired. I know you’re probably not coming. You won’t come. Even if you did, you’d be here to kill me. And I had every intention of giving you that choice, but I’ve made my decision. The next time those men come I’m not fighting anymore.

If you do find this. If you do come for me. I’m sorry. I’ve loved you with every breath.

Yours, Luka

---

Dearest Bonded,

I’m a coward. Or a fool in love. Either way, I’m still here. I have to have faith in you.

Yours, Luka

***

She jumped when a hand landed on her shoulder. Luka laughed as he sat down behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist to press his chest against her back and lay his head on top of hers.

“Dramatic, wasn’t I?” he asked, still chuckling. As much as she could she swatted at his hand with the journal.

“You scared me! You shouldn’t come up behind someone like that!”

“We’re the only ones here, who else did you think it was?”

Damn him, she could hear his satisfied smirk in his voice. She swatted him again for good measure, even as he pressed a kiss to her hair, but his last two letters were still sharp in her mind.

“Why’d you stop writing?” she asked, flipping through the many blank pages that were left. She felt him shrug behind her.

“I didn’t see much point to it, really. Either you’d come and we’d live happily ever after and I could tell you everything myself or… not. And it wasn’t like I ever expected you to want to read it if things went badly.”

“How long after this…” she started, but she lost her voice halfway through. She had to swallow hard past the lump that was forming to find it again. “How much longer did you have to wait for me?”

He was quiet for a moment and he rubbed his hands up and down her arms, probably trying to soften the blow.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said softly.

“It does to me. Luka, if I’d known any of this—why didn’t you let Jagged tell me?”

He let out another of those soft laughs behind her and his breath ghosted across her neck. “He wanted to. We fought about it a lot. But I figured that would only make you feel… obligated.”

She thought about that while she stared at his last entry. Of course it was impossible to think what she might’ve done, or how she might’ve felt because she only knew what had happened. The series of events that led her to him. The nightmares and the flames and thinking she was a curse to her family and her village. And up at the tower Luka was dealing with his own nightmare. He’d almost given up hope and when she did come to the tower she’d almost proved him right.

His arms tightened around her as if he could sense where her thoughts had gone. As if to prove he was okay and it turned out alright. She pressed back against him and could feel his heartbeat thudding steadily through her own chest. Maybe he was right. Maybe it didn’t matter. They were together now. That’s what she’d told him. To stop blaming himself for what happened. She didn't blame him for anything and at the very least he'd already forgiven her, too.

She turned in his arms and slid her hand behind his neck to pull his face down to hers. As she pressed her lips to his, it felt like a promise. A promise that he’d never have to be apart from her like that again, bond or not.

He melted against her and for a moment they were both lost in each other, in the knowledge that in this moment they were safe and together and that was all that mattered.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #mlb fic #lukanette #Pro LukaMari #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #dragon!luka #LBSC Exchange 2021 #fic title: playing with fire

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charlie-pippin-faraday · 4 years ago

Note

in your rewrite will nina be there and will she and fabian be canon?

I talked about this a lot a few months back when I was doing some complaining about S3; someone came into my ask box and asked me what changes I would make to S3 if I were the one in charge, however my ONLY stipulations were that Nina and Amber still had to leave bc that was the actress’s decisions and that would’ve happened regardless of plot. It was originally just a speculative post but it blossomed into an entire fic idea, one that I’ve been gradually working on for months. I came up with many ideas, and you can find them if you do like a LOT of scrolling through my blog. So no, Nina will not be there, because that was the challenge and the literal only stipulation. However, I’m giving her a different and much better reason for leaving, one that actually has impact on the plot and like makes sense. And yes, she and Fabian will be canon even though she’s not there most of the time, don’t you worry about that. I would never DARE put Fabian with someone else. He’s gonna think about her all the time and be like “I’m doing this for her”

Some highlights of the big changes in my S3 rewrite fic:

Patricia and Eddie are not breaking up. They’re gonna be together the entire time

Fabian is Sibuna leader

Eddie is not the Osirian, I really hate the whole Osirian thing I don’t like the vibes, bad vibes; here, he’s just a regular dude with all the same great qualities

Jerome will not cheat on Mara. Therefore there will be no revenge plot that’s really cringey and takes up so much time. I’m giving all those girls something else to do

There will be no Jerome/Joy. I REALLY do NOT like that pairing whatsoever in any capacity, so that’s a big nope from me, absolutely none of it in this fic

Joy is a lesbian, actually. Or maybe bi, I haven’t decided. Either way: girls

KT is absolutely a lesbian

Joy/KT

I am cutting out a LOT of unnecessary subplots that I don’t like (dodgeball, Benji, etc)

I am cutting and changing a lot of primary plot points, obviously. Gonna be some big changes. Not revealing those just yet for secrecy reasons

I am giving Fabian a more dramatic and fleshed-out backstory. My boy deserves it

There’s gonna be a lot of I guess “filler” chapters where they all just have a good time and do fun stuff. They deserve it. Such things include: house field day, mall outing, the boys having a whipped cream fight, jerome catfishing old men online for money, willow doing everyone’s astrology charts, jerome and alfie sabotaging patricia and eddie’s movie date, and much more

They say KT is there on a photography scholarship so I’m making her be just the full-on art freak that she deserves to be

Willow’s gonna be just a little more chill about her Amber-worship

Honestly the second half of the season, I’m keeping a lot of those plot points, but the first half is gonna be unrecognizable, I’m changing a LOT, because that half was definitely worse

Everyone’s gonna have their time to go through their own character development and go through their own shit

And, the change that has me personally the most excited: Sinner Jerome

So yeah these are the main points, and I’ve been planning and writing this for SO long. But tbh don’t expect it anytime soon, this is a MASSIVE undertaking and I want to make sure it’s all planned out and perfect before I like write it and post it on AO3 or anything. Plus I’ve got like. A job and other fics, I can’t just devote all my time to this huge project. But it’ll happen eventually

Feel free to ask me about this at any time! I will always love to talk about this and my plans for it, I love to share

#the amount of work and planning I have for this is unbelievable #anon #asks #you guys are ALWAYS welcome to come into my box and ask me about this! :)

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lesserfandomappreciation · 4 years ago

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Pregnant s/o (Rsat7d)

Merlin

Bless this idiot, it’s going to take him a minute to understand what his s/o has said. S/o will be in the living room curled up with a book or working in their office with a couple of nerves after having told a seemingly indifferent Merlin the news. Then they hear quickly approaching footsteps. And a slamming door. “You’re pregnant?!”

It’s 4:00pm. They told this moron first thing in the morning. Telling him anything when he’s in the library is pointless.

He’s trying very cool to stay calm about this and seem enthused. Really, he is. It’s just all his anxieties and insecurities he pretends to not have are suddenly at his throat. He hasn’t a clue what to do. Send help.

All of the nervous maniac energy composing Merlin is transferred into a transformation none of the F7 thought they’d live to witness. The young, reckless lightning idiot becoming a responsible adult. Who mother hens people. And reminds them about medication. And food. And gets them to sit down while he takes care of everything for them. Hans is proud, the others are concerned.

Some of this new-found need to mother-hen in a valid attempt to avoid overthinking whether or not he will be a good father is used to come up with useful spells. By first trimester’s end s/o has a small stack of spells to use when needed. The “cold pad” and “hot pad” spells are wonderful. The usefulness of the “vomit into a portable void” spell is debatable.

Jokes aside Merlin is worried about being a good father. This is a man with a lot of insecurities who worries about his own self worth- the idea that his child could dislike him haunts him. A lot of comfort is needed to chase away this fear.

He is very protective about them and will deal with any threat with lightning. The house spiders quake in fear.

Arthur

His s/o could tell him at multiple points for many awesome reactions, but the best way is if they tell him in the middle of training. His standard “showing off because bae is watching” show is cut short as Arthur’s eyes widen. His sword, Excalibur, hits the ground with a thud. Next thing s/o knows, they’re in the air being spun in a straight-out-of-Disney twirl by an excited Arthur.

All of F7 knows by day’s end. He’s telling everybody with a massive grin on his face and 0 shame.

Arthur is a family man waiting to happen. Pull this idea out of my dead hands if you want, but you cannot convince me that this man hasn’t dreamt of having a loving partner and some tinies to spoil rotten with stories. He’s either been waiting to bring up the idea with them or the s/o is well-aware.

Every single tiny milestone is met by the sweet puppy Arthur embodies. He’s just so happy and supportive, it’s kind of adorable. His s/o mentions the baby kicking their bladder and suddenly there’s a prince up against their belly desperately wanting to feel the baby kick too.

One thing s/o is going to have to watch out for is expectations. Arthur’s parents seemed to have had a lot of those for him, and he’s probably internalized a lot of them too. It’s going to have to be up to his s/o to remind them that putting that many expectations on any person is a bad thing. The baby is going to be awesome. But let them be awesome on their own terms.

Wants to carry them everywhere when their feet start to hurt. What if they get hurt going up the stairs? He’s strong, let him carry them for a bit dang it!

Jack

Jack is really a wild card here. Personally I see him being really connected to his own family, being a self-made prince who has worked hard to make sure his living family lives comfortably. On the other hand, this is a baby. A new person. That’s half him and half s/o. Wow. Wow.

Drops anything he is holding. Stunned still. It’s taking all of his processing power to debate the aforementioned two points on his conflicting views. S/o is going to be able to wave a hand in front of his eyes and have no response.

Make some tea. Read a book. Give him a hot minute to think.

Out of the princes (besides Hans) Jack is going to be one of the few to really sit down with s/o and talk about what this means for them. He wants the kid, no worries there, but having a kid is a huge undertaking for anyone. How do they want to raise the child? Where (if his s/o is royalty too for example, which kingdom should they raise them in?) should they set up their life? Is Jack 2 an acceptable name? Is any jewel-related name acceptable?

Jack’s s/o wins the pregnancy lotto in terms of access to feel-good supplies. Jack, the man, the prince, has facial masks in what appears to be a medieval-renaissance-inspired fantasy realm. From France. How he achieved this is a damned mystery. His whole bathroom is probably lined with the nicest creams and moisturizers money can buy. Jack’s not going to let his partner who is pregnant skip out on self-care. Absolutely not.

Jack is surprisingly good with helping his partner out emotionally at this time. He recognizes feelings and responds pretty well to them, so during the pregnancy and afterwards he is very supportive to their emotional needs. This is a very happy, but intense time and he is 100% there for them, through every high and every low.

Hans

Do not - I repeat - do not tell him when he is in the kitchen. Anything he’s cooking is going to burn, get stuck to the ceiling or is otherwise rendered inedible. Actually, any of those cute “bun in the oven” related announcements are not going to work on him. He’s going to be more upset at the concept of someone not cleaning his oven or risking burning a perfectly innocent loaf than anything else.

He does, eventually, figure out that this was meant to tell him that the love of his life is pregnant and he’s very happy, but food safety is no joke.

Hans’ reaction depends entirely on s/o’s reaction. How are they feeling about all this? As one of the only two emotionally intelligent people in the F7 (the other being Jack) he’s very responsive to his partner on this. Any fears or concerns they have are going to be his top priority. Though, once told that they are happy about, Hans lets out his own happiness and shows just how over the moon he is about this.

Hans is a great guy. He really is. He’s also an unapologetic mom-friend whose knee-jerk reaction to someone he cares about going through stuff is to feed them. Unless his s/o puts their foot down hard (which they aren’t because hell-o growing people is hungry business) Hans is going to live in his kitchen. Great in that he’s willing to cook up their weirdest cravings even if he does judge them on it. Bad in that s/o might accidentally wind up feeling lonely because he’s over-focused on feeding/caring for them to actually be around them. One good conversation though and that’s nipped in the bud quick.

Loves his friends. Truly. Really. Has seen his friends do some truly stupid things. He’s not above standing behind his s/o and giving any member of the F7 the side-eye something fierce if they be acting up around his partner.

Average

Average is an idiot. I don’t mean that insultingly, I’m just stating facts. This man could not pick up a subtle hint if it punched him in the face and rummaged his pockets for common sense. Unless his s/o tells him point blank to the face, he’s not going to get it. Cute messages/hints do not work on the man. Just tell him. Even then it’s going to take a second.

Average’s reaction is really hard to pin down. During the events of the movie I do not see him having an s/o, at least not one he has a good relationship with and by the end of the movie all his potential character growth that could lead him to having a partner is implied to happen as he breaks his new-found curse. Growth that could lead his personality in several different directions. For the sake of not having to write down every single possibility I’m going to go ahead and say that he’s shocked.

Regardless of personality growth I can say he’s going to be very demanding of everyone else around them. His partner, the love of his life, deserves only the very best. Now that they are with child he has to make sure they have the best for them and for his heir! None of this subpar stuff. They’re royalty, they deserve the best. If he’s not stopped the nursery is going to cost more than the GDP of a small country.

He’s a little lost on a lot of pregnancy stuff really. Average isn’t an emotionally intelligent person, so he’s not great with comfort. He doesn’t do well with making runs for food (great at getting servants to fetch the strangest food combinations though), or with massaging, or with a lot of the physically demanding parts. The thing is? He knows. He knows that he’s lost on this. And it worries him. If he can’t do much now, how is he supposed to be a great father when the kid does show up? It’ll take some picking away at his walls, but eventually his s/o can talk to him on this and help him through it. They’re a team. They will get through this together.

Don’t let him name the kid. “Superior” is not a good name for a child.

#rsat7d #rsat7d imagine #red shoes and the 7 dwarfs #imagine #jack #merlin #arthur #hans #average #prince average

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magioftheseas · 5 years ago

Text

Burdensome

Summary: Sometimes, Hanako gets annoyed that he's the only one of the group with secrets.

Rating: G

Warning: None, really. I guess implications to Hanako’s vague past?

Notes: I honestly wrote this just to see if I could come up with a simple enough idea that would then be made into a fairly short fic. I’m trying to get more productive in my writing, see, so sometimes I have to resort to methods like that. In fact, I was so fixated on the idea of completing this before the day was over (and I had like, two hours before it did) that I ended up missing the deadline for applying to a zine I wanted to apply to. Now THAT’S burdensome.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

The world is filled with secrets. He’s known from the beginning that there are a lot of things that are kept from others. Crushes, concerns, dreams, ambitions, motivations—the deepest aspects of a person were often the most hidden.

He knows this well, and yet—

Those two are a bit different.

“Hanako-kun, what’s up?” Yashiro would ask, and the young exorcist would also glance his way. They both had such wide, honest and open gazes. “You’ve been staring for a while.”

“I was thinking,” Hanako says, waving his hand with his usual smile. “You two are way too easygoing.”

“Coming from a spirit!” Minamoto bit back as Yashiro similarly protested.

“I have plenty of worries not in the least thanks to you!”

“That’s not what I mean,” Hanako laughed. “You two are also pretty naïve, aren’t you?”

“And what is that supposed to mean, Hanako?!”

“Yeah, Hanako-kun! What do you mean?!”

What do you think?

Irritation nips at him. His smile twists the slightest bit.

Normal people have secrets. Normal people have baggage that they wouldn’t share with the world. I’ve observed the students here enough to know that hasn’t changed over the decades. You two, on the other hand...

Open books. Both of them. Even with their torn pages.

“Never mind,” Hanako chirps. “I was just thinking.”

“I bet you were,” Minamoto huffed as Yashiro pouted.

“I swear, Hanako-kun. It wouldn’t kill you to be more honest with us sometimes. You’re way too secretive.” She does pause, however. “O-Of course, I only expect you to tell us things when you’re ready.”

“Yeah, what senpai said.”

Even with the verbal agreement, there is a flicker of aggravation in the young exorcist’s eyes. An open book. Hanako already knows what he’s thinking about. It’s obvious. Too obvious. Minamoto Kou was a simple man of simple concerns, after all. He wanted to be respected, but he wanted to protect those around him. His family, friends, Yashiro—and the other Mitsuba.

Even now, Tsukasa lingers between them like blood in the water. They’re both just too afraid to bite because matters could escalate and that wouldn’t be ideal when Yashiro’s always a factor. That—and Minamoto was kind. He and Yashiro were both kind people. There was that, too.

Kindness was often granted as a privilege. It shouldn’t have been such an easy, accessible resource.

It’s cumbersome—how much the two humans that Hanako is closest to just don’t act like normal humans.

Yashiro was tugging at Minamoto’s sleeve, and she sways him into resuming their cleaning. With a sweet and disarming smile, the matter is settled and discarded. It might not ever get brought up again, because these two aren’t the types to hold grudges.

They’re kind. They’re just very, very kind.

How infuriating.

“Is there a reason why you’re giving those two attitude all of a sudden?” Tsuchigomori asks him. “You’ve got them complaining to me about you, Honorable Seventh. And y’know—I can’t exactly reprimand you as your teacher anymore.”

“And yet, you’re reprimanding me,” Hanako pointed out, tucked between the curtains. “I assume you do want me to stop.”

“It’s just troublesome behavior,” Tsuchigomori says with an impassive shrug. “Troublesome for them, for you, for me. Rather than just bottling it up, you should just vent.”

“It is annoying,” Yako chirped up in the midst of grooming her tail. “Those brats are going to keep on whining and it’ll soon be troublesome for everyone.”

“Don’t think we asked your opinion, dumb fox,” Tsuchigomori muttered, to which she hissed back.

“It’s hard to nap peacefully when everyone is as gloomy as you!”

“It’s because,” Hanako spoke up. Immediately, Tsuchigomori turns to face him, ever attentive. “I’m frustrated.”

“With what, exactly?” Yako asked, muffled against her tail. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten bored of them.”

“Oh no, they’re still plenty fun to mess with.” Hanako waved his hand. “However—don’t you think it’s weird? Yashiro and that boy are both so simple. They don’t really have any deep dark secrets.”

“They don’t,” Tsuchigomori confirmed. “As transparent and blatant as they come. Do you feel awkward, then? Like you don’t fit in? You’re already an apparition, Honorable Seventh.”

Even as a human, I wouldn’t have fit in with them. Even acting as a human, I had to distance myself from them.

“Keeping secrets may be natural, but it is a burden you must undertake if decided.” Tsuchigomori inhales, sighing out smoke. “Even so, don’t act out so much.”

“They’re both still bratty garbage humans,” Yako murmured, ever unimpressed. “Tasteless and tactless.”

“I’m sure you’d make tasty udon,” Hanako cheerfully remarked.

Yako snorted, but curled up into an unassuming ball all the same.

“Honorable Seventh.”

That smile on Hanako’s face remained, even when stared down by Tsuchigomori’s stern, knitted glare.

“Do those humans make you feel inferior?”

Yako’s ear twitched, but she mercifully kept any further commentary to herself.

“Maybe a little,” Hanako admitted, laughing. “I get it. I’ll apologize. I’m sorry for the trouble, sensei.”

Tsuchigomori didn’t look remotely reassured or convinced.

Haven’t you prodded a little too much already? I could still squash you like a bug.

Aha. Those thoughts sound like something Tsukasa would say.

Hanako leaves without another word.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

Yashiro speaks the second he slinks in. She’s not looking his way but her hands are fisting into her skirt.

“It’s not like I don’t understand—sometimes people have a lot more going on. I get frustrated, too, when I see Aoi able to laugh off guys confessing to her. Aoi’s really carefree. Sometimes I envy her so much that I get upset.”

Hanako blinks, tugging at his collar awkwardly.

“Yashiro...”

“I know!” she exclaims. “So don’t—don’t treat me as if I’m shallow just because I might not have as much going on as you do! I’ll have you know I have plenty going on!” She turns on him, fierce despite her tears. “I-I actually really want to have a bunch of rodents! And I want to have a huge garden! A-And not only to I want to marry a handsome boy—I also think I want kids! A-A boy and a girl! It’s too early but—who knows! Having beautiful children might be really, really fun! I don’t know—but I think about it! One time I dreamed about my own daughter making fun of me for my legs! And I woke up crying!”

She was still crying right now, in fact.

“I’m going to graduate and I still want to be friends with Aoi even though she’s inevitably going to an elite college that I could never dream of attending! I-I also want to make more friends. I-I heard that—once you get to college, people start caring a lot less about their appearances...! But that because everyone’s all matured, they’re still super attractive...!” Yashiro blubbers. “I-I’m gonna graduate, I’m gonna go to college, I’m gonna grow up, I’m gonna get my garden, my rodents, my husband, my children, and, and, and... I’m still going to visit you if I can... Because I don’t want you getting lonely. Even if Tsuchigomori-sensei teaches here forever, I—I’ll worry about you, Hanako-kun.” She sniffles. “I’ll worry...a lot. What if you completely go off the deep end without me and Kou-kun? I’m—so worried!”

“Are you saying I’ll become a villain out of loneliness?” Hanako asked, mildly offended, mildly amused. “I was lonely before I met you for a long time.”

“That might make it worse,” Yashiro mutters. “Losing your friends is awful, even if you were friendless before.”

Friendless. I wasn’t really friendless. That said. That said...

“The fact that you’re so compassionate really does irk me,” he said. “Yashiro—you’re way too kind. Please be careful.”

“Or I’ll be taken advantage of, you mean?” Yashiro’s frown deepened, her cheeks darker. “I’m not helpless, Hanako-kun. I’m not always going to need you to save me. I’ll do my best to manage on my own. As well as I can.”

“I believe you. After all, I have underestimated you in the past.”

“Hanako-kun...” Yashiro huffed and she stomped forward. Raising her hand, she furiously ruffled Hanako’s hair. “You’re so immature! Don’t act like you’re not!”

“H-Hey, Yashiro.”

She knocks off his hat so that she can ruffle him harder.

“Immature! Childish! Bratty! Meanie! Hanako-kun!”

“Y-Yashiro, cut it out!”

Yashiro finally laughs at him. Hanako glares back, but then, after a while, his expression twists.

“Sometimes, it’s so heavy I can’t move. I should be glad you can move about so freely.”

Yashiro shakes her head, smile strained but sympathetic.

“We’re friends, Hanako-kun. If you want me to shoulder the burden with you, all you have to do is ask.”

I won’t. I refuse.

But Yashiro does hug him, and it’s far too easy to fall into her embrace.

She really isn’t one to be underestimated.

“There, there,” Yashiro coos, petting his hair. “There, there. Just let Nene-nee help you.”

Hanako chortled.

“I’m half a century older than you.”

Yashiro chuckles.

“You’re still a child, Hanako-kun.”

Still a child. She really is naïve. As if all I am is a child that desperately needs reassurance and validation. I needed more than that. We both did. But, still. Still, still, still.

Hanako’s lips pressed closely together as he buried his face into her shoulder.

I guess this is still nice.

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #nene yashiro #yashiro nene #kou minamoto #HanaNene #HanaKouNene #Seventh Wonder Hanako #Yako (jshk)#tsuchigomori #Magi fics #to cope with my bad luck and being an idiot I've convinced myself of the invisible stat kp #kp stands for karma points

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sibyl-of-space · 4 years ago

Text

I HAVE MADE PROGRESS. I am nowhere near the point where I can start implementing my desired changes, but I have started to understand how to piece together images from the information in this ROM. Tagging my continued adventures trying to mod Ghost Trick with #leo-tries-modding-ghost-trick so it can be blocked as desired.

The big breakthrough was realizing I have been operating on a completely false premise. (The other big breakthrough was figuring out how to modify matrix width in CrystalTile2.)

In my last post I mentioned that I was able to view the Ghost Trick logo with the “GBA 4bpp” tile form, so I used that tile form to try and look at the rest of the data on it.

Boy howdy was that a huge mistake. I think that image in particular might have been made for that tile form [possibly as a preview image or something, not going to worry about it], but uh, everything else? Well, it turns out... not so much.

I was taking another look at the content right below that logo because it looked promising but refused to actually turn into anything obvious:

And on a hunch, I decided to just... toggle the tile form to something else. I tried GBA 8bpp. And.... immediately felt like an idiot. Lo:

It’s a bit out of order, but that is CLEARLY text... and what’s more? I scrolled down to the other patterns I was looking at before, which had previously looked like this:

...however, with the GBA 8bpp tile form, suddenly all that visual gibberish became CLEAR BLOCKS AND LINES OF SOLID COLOR:

LOOK AT THIS!!!!

Sure it’s still completely unintelligible, but there are distinct patterns and, more importantly, BIG BLOCKS OF COLOR which is what one would expect for actual sprites and not just garbage data.

I spent a very long time experimenting with matrix sizes (or in other words, how many tiles until it starts drawing the next line of tiles) in order to get the blocks to line up in ways that revealed actual shapes. It became clear that there WERE patterns, and some things I could almost recognize, but I was still completely unable to get any clear images of any particular objects.

I eventually came to accept that the tiles are absolutely not in order and that I was going to have to figure out how to manually put them in the order they should be. That... would be a massive undertaking, but I decided to start with Literally Anything that I could - by some amount of matrix tweaking - get to approximate an image.

I went with this. The first brown pixel is located at 4E2D600, and it must be viewed at a matrix width of 208 tiles to get anything resembling an image (enormous, considering the width of the brown area is 65 tiles...)

(I named the file “animationquestionmark” because I thought maybe it was showing, like, frames of animation somehow.... but, that was not the case.) There were obvious vertical sections, so i started isolating them:

When put all back together I got two images:

At this stage, it became clear that there were HORIZONTAL cross-sections as well. So I set to work splicing them back together line by line:

....there it is. AN IMAGE. The palette is wrong, but THAT RIGHT THERE is A COMPLETE IMAGE assembled from accessible data in the ROM.

Going to just... appreciate this some more:

No, it’s not the image I was looking for, but it IS a win. This tells me that even if the tiles are out of order, if I can determine what the original order was, then I’ll be able to re-write them to hard code new/different images in their place.

Here’s a visual breakdown of the transformation (if you can read the tiny numbers):

So the key to transforming the tiles into the correct order, is first determining the matrix width (in this case, 208; basic experimentation implies it won’t be the same across the board, because of course not), and then once you have everything grouped together like this, you select 2 tiles, skip the next 2, select 2 more, skip the next 2, etc etc for the full width of the matrix, then the next line is filled with the tiles you skipped.

I have a lot of questions... first, are there any common matrix widths to make going through all this easier (I sincerely hope so); second, is there a straightforward way within CrystalTile 2 to “automate” this (it’s possible but not holding my breath); third, are all of the assets in the form of “choose two skip two” or does that vary (I sincerely hope not); finally, now that I know there ARE images in here, can I find the particular asset I’m actually looking for?

I don’t know. Now that I’ve done this much, though, I think it’ll make it easier to find other things since I know what sort of weird algorithm is required to put the images back together. I know I’m not looking for a complete image, but a group of pixels that resemble something if organized a certain way.

This isn’t going to be easy, but it is starting to look possible, and that’s a lot better than where I was just a couple days ago. :)

#leo tries modding ghost trick

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years ago

Text

In the Beginning ... (Rated PG)

What if Aziraphale’s job on Earth, in part, was to keep an eye on Crowley because God realized She’d made a mistake banishing him from Heaven? (2378 words)

Notes: I’m sure other people have written this, but here’s mine XD

“Aziraphale?”

A holy light shines down upon the angel currently scrambling to fit the last grey brick from a rather large hole in the great stone wall back into place. He spins around quickly in response, nearly twisting an ankle in the soft, disturbed earth.

“Yes, Almighty?” he replies, shielding his eyes from a glare that glows brighter second by second, as if God’s goal is to blind him on the spot. “H-how may I help you?” He worries his hands, then throws them behind his back so as not to bring attention to the fact that something those hands should be holding, something the Almighty gave him specifically to do his job, is now gone, paving its flaming way to the outskirts, clutched tightly in the hands of the first man protecting the first woman, both of them banished to the wilds beyond.

Banished for disobeying God, which he, too, has done.

‘Heaven help me,’ Aziraphale thinks, which smacks of irony seeing as he’s begging for help from those he’s just betrayed.

Any way he looks at it, he’s doomed.

He hopes Adam and Eve don’t walk too quickly. He may be catching up with them in a minute.

“Aziraphale, my dear,” God says, Her voice motherly sweet. “Come. Stand with me. I desire to talk with you.”

“All right,” Aziraphale agrees. No sooner does he say it then he’s standing at his post overlooking the Garden of Eden, and the apple tree he’d been tasked to guard.

The one that slipped his notice right when a giant snake tempted Eve into eating the fruit she’d been warned to avoid.

‘This is it. Banishment.’ He steals a final look at the glorious Paradise he’ll never set eyes upon again. He just got this appointment, too. It was a stepping stone, coming on the heels of another promotion set to begin soon.

Now, he’s finished.

But would he change a thing? he asks himself privately. If the situation presented itself again, would he do anything different? Would he second-guess giving up something valuable, something God-given, to protect the vulnerable and the innocent?

No, he answers honestly. He doesn’t think he would.

Aziraphale stands in silence beside the shaft of light, God’s ethereal form, for some time, ready to defend himself and his actions, before it becomes too much for him and he clears his throat to speak.

“God?” he starts. “Might I inquire as to what it is you wish to speak to me about?”

God heaves a heavy sigh.

A disappointed sigh.

Aziraphale’s stomach drops to his feet.

“Aziraphale,” she says sorrowfully, “I may have made a mistake.”

“That … that doesn’t make sense. You don’t make mistakes.”

“I created the concept of a mistake. I definitely make them.”

“What kind of mistake?” Aziraphale asks when he knows he should be holding his tongue. A sudden chill freezes him solid. Why would God be confiding in him this which sounds so utterly important if it didn’t concern him directly? “Is it me? Am … am I the mistake?”

“No, my love. You are not a mistake. Not by a long shot.”

Aziraphale sighs so deeply he shrinks a foot. “That’s a relief.”

“Do you see that demon over there?” God directs her light on the apple tree, the Tree of Knowledge, and a scaled, red-bellied creature slithering swiftly out of sight.

“I … I see a serpent.”

“Look with your third eye.”

The serpent burrows into the earth then as if it knows it’s being watched. Aziraphale squints to catch a glimpse of it past God’s golden glow before it disappears. “Ah, yes. I see now.”

“Just like you, that demon was once an angel. But now …” Another heavy sigh “… he is Fallen.”

“H-how? Why?” The words slip past his tongue before he can think better of it. He shudders with the feeling that he’s taking a huge risk questioning God.

“I banished him. Tossed him out of Paradise,” She explains succinctly and says nothing more. “And I realize now that I may have been a bit hasty with that decision.”

“If you feel you have made a mistake,” Aziraphale says, choosing his words carefully, “why not reverse it? Bring him back?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It’s not?”

“Unfortunately, no. You see, all of my creations have their part to play in the Universe. And when I set them on their path, no matter what that path is, how it may change, they must remain, headed in one direction. Once an angel is Fallen, there is no way they can return. That’s where I’m hoping you come in.”

Aziraphale looks away from the hole the serpent escaped into and up at the light that is God. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“You and he are similar. You have the same pure heart, you cling to the same truths, though you execute them differently. You’re opposite sides of the same coin.”

Aziraphale frowns. “Coin?”

“You’ll find out about those later,” God dismisses. “I need you to help me keep an eye on him, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale nods. This he understands. “So that his doing Evil deeds doesn’t prevail over the greater good.” He folds his hands in front of his stomach and puffs his chest with pride of his appointment. “Gabriel already told me.”

“Gabriel is wrong. Though, by the time the two of you meet, you won’t remember I’ve said that. In fact, you won’t remember this conversation at all.”

“Why won’t I?”

“Free will. In order for you to take this particular assignment, you can’t remember that it is an assignment.”

“Forgive me for my confusion, but what exactly is it you need me to do?” Aziraphale asks, mildly disappointed that the great role he was supposed to play in the evolution of the Earth, the inspiration of all humanity, may now be changed, demoted, due to the fate of one single demon.

“I need you to make sure nothing too bad happens to him, Aziraphale. Oh, he’ll do Evil. He’s a demon, and as such, must do demonic things, but … I want him to know that no matter what, he is loved.”

“If … if you erase my memory then how will I remember to do that?”

“You won’t need to.” God chuckles. “Within five minutes of meeting you, he’s going to fall hopelessly in love with you.”

Aziraphale’s face scrunches. “Really?”

“Yes. From this day forward, he’ll devise plans to ensure that the two of you forever meet throughout time.”

“Yes, I see. I suppose you’ve … you’ve planned it that way.”

“You underestimate yourself, my dear. That I will play little part in.”

“But … don’t you control everything?”

“Again, it’s confusing. The only answer I can give you is yes and no. Will you do it?”

“Why are you asking me? Can’t you simply make me do what you want? Set me in motion the way you set him in motion?” With a wince, Aziraphale notices how bitter that came across. He doesn’t question God’s ways, but that doesn’t mean he always appreciates Her line of thinking.

“No. Not when it comes to love. You have to decide this for yourself or it won’t turn out the same. The outcome won’t be genuine. Also edicts of this nature would need to pass through the head office, and I don’t want the Archangels knowing about this request. It’s top secret.”

“Top secret?” Aziraphale repeats, tossing God’s request over and over in his head. Down below he sees the serpent surface again. It looks up at them, tilts its head, and grins (if a serpent can grin. Normal serpents can’t but a demonic serpent probably can …). It ducks beneath the earth once more and disappears. “If I do this, will it be for the good of humanity?”

“Yes? No? Possibly? This one time, that can’t be the crux of your decision making.”

Aziraphale’s eyes unfocus as he considers what God has said. He feels better knowing that this assignment isn’t a demotion, but he still has to wonder … why him? Why would God choose a principality for something like this, especially if it’s this important? Wouldn’t an Archangel be better suited for a mission of this kind? Keeping tabs on a demon should fall somewhere in their purview.

Unless this top secret mission isn’t as important as God is making it out to be and just a fancy way of assigning Aziraphale to babysitting duty.

“Will he really fall in love with me?” Aziraphale asks, unsure why it matters. It should matter because he’s a being of love, but it surprises him how much that doesn’t seem to enter into his thinking. It matters because it matters, whether he can explain why that is or not.

“Yes,” God says, matter-of-factly.

“Will I … fall in love with him?”

“Eventually, but it’ll take a bit longer.”

“H-how long?”

“That depends on you, Aziraphale. But right now, time is running short. The demon is coming, so I need to know how you wish to proceed.”

“I think I should …” Aziraphale pauses when Gabriel’s voice, of all things, leaps into his brain.

“Your job on Earth will be to inspire humanity.”

“Inspire humanity to do what?”

“To be good. Follow the rules. And to, you know, love … one another,” the Archangel replied uncomfortably.

“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale said. “I read that in the literature I received. Thank you for that, by the way. What I need to know is how, exactly, am I supposed to do that? I have a general idea but what are my parameters? Do I have any guidelines?”

Gabriel blew out a breath and made a face. “Not really my department.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale replied, as lost then as he is right now.

Did anyone in Heaven know what was going on?

Inspire humanity. Inspire them to be good. To be compassionate and kind. To be loyal to God.

To help one another. Love one another.

That was a huge undertaking, no matter how Gabriel sneered and smirked when he mentioned it.

Aziraphale could do both jobs in tandem – inspire humanity and look after this demon. So no, not a demotion. Besides, it’s a top secret mission bestowed upon him by God Herself! Is he really going to say no?

It’s the love aspect that he’s having trouble wrapping his mind around. Love humanity he understood. But love a demon? And not necessarily for the sake of humanity? That part has been left to interpretation, apparently, but that’s not the point.

Love a demon.

A demon who will fall in love with him.

And make sure he knows God loves him still.

Because God may have made a mistake.

Oh, and fall in love himself, as if that’s something he can easily overlook.

That’s everything!

His stomach takes a turn and dammit! Why wasn’t he looking after that stupid apple tree the way he’d been supposed to!?

He doesn’t feel prepared to make this decision on the fly. He hasn’t entirely come to terms with what eternity as a whole will hold for him. This is the beginning. What happens in the middle?

What happens at the end!?

But while he ponders these quandaries, his mouth speaks unexpectedly for him.

“I’ll do it,” his mouth decides.

“Excellent!”

“Yes, excellent,” Aziraphale mutters, shuffling uncomfortably in place. “So, when do I begin?”

“Somewhere around … now.”

Aziraphale hears a sharp crack, like fingers snapping. Or could it be thunder? He thought he saw a fork of lightning out in the distance. Thunder would surely follow. Still, he can’t help the feeling that he was talking to someone about something important, but he can’t remember where they left off.

Or who they were.

“Sorry. What was that?” Aziraphale looks about him, confused. He’s at his post on top of the wall, the Eastern Gate of Eden, only he can’t recall how he got there. He’d been down in the garden giving those poor people his sword. He’d finished repairing the wall when he saw a light. He thought the Almighty had caught him, come to reprimand him, but now he’s back here.

Why can’t he remember what happened in between?

He turns his head left and right, then left again when the body of a snake rises up and transforms into the human-shaped figure of a demon dressed in long black robes and spreading glossy black wings.

“I said, ‘Well, that one went down like a lead balloon,’” the demon says, staring out over Eden forlorn, as if searching for a way home.

Aziraphale straightens, unnerved by the thousand nonsensical emotions erupting inside his brain, bursting like poppies with explosive colors and pungent aromas, dizzying him with unasked questions. “Oh,” he says, coming back to himself. “Yes, it did, rather.”

***

“Angel …”

Aziraphale startles. He turns and looks at his companion handing him the bottle of wine they’ve been sharing.

“Hmm?” he says in response.

“What if the Almighty planned it this way all along?” Crowley asks, gazing across the bus stop bench at Aziraphale, serpent eyes behind dark lenses hoping for an answer, some insight that only an angel might have that he is too far removed from. “From the very beginning?”

“Could have.” Aziraphale grabs the bottle by the neck and takes a swig. It tastes bitter, like truth. The realization that this ineffable plan – ineffable game, really – that God has devised isn’t just for the world, but for all Her creations, including them. They had played a part in it, too, regardless of how small, impotent, and in the end, unimportant that part was. But that begs the question - if saving the world wasn’t their particular goal then what was? What did they get out of all of this? Had the world exploded, they would have survived one way or the other. So why involve them?

The thing they got out of it, Aziraphale discovered, is the thing he refuses to acknowledge yet - not because it’s bad (in his eyes) but because it would be selfish of him to do so.

They got one another.

Was that part of God’s plan, too?

Aziraphale shrugs.

He’s not drunk enough to decide.

“I wouldn’t put it past Her.”

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #Frankie writes

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yankyo · 5 years ago

Text

“You’re sure you have everything? Passport? ID? Extra currency? Are you going to be warm enough-?”

“YES. I’m sure, I’m fine, I’m ready!” You cut Adam off as you finished stuffing things into your backpack, the better part of the Maitland-Deetz household watching you silently while the last of your belongings disappeared into a suitcase and an, admittedly oversized, backpack. Barbara and Adam were worrying over you, while Charles and Delia were watching with amusement as you pressed and pressed to force your suitcase to close.

You had been planning for this for months. You couldn’t be more ready if you tried! Your University had a two week long excursion program to Japan, that happened every Autumn. You had to rearrange some classes, and drop some entirely, when a professor or two insisted that their individual, two credit hour, elective course was more important than what could be a life changing experience. Besides, beyond regular studies, you had your own agenda…

You were working on a book. A ghost book…which is what brought you into Lydia’s little circle to begin with. When she started going to your University, though by that point you were getting ready to start graduate school, the two of you would talk at length about the macabre and the strange. After around six months or so, she invited you to meet her family. Her whole family. And that included Adam, Barbara…and someone who soon grew very close to your heart…Which drove you to learn more. Everything you could! But, even with two ghosts and a demon at your questioning, you still found yourself wanting more. So you decided this was the perfect opportunity to expand those horizons. Beetlejuice, however, was not so enthused.

“I don’t get it, babes. Why go allll the way there, just to hear what you could hear from me, right here?” He had been asking, the night before, as you made your final selections regarding shoes, and jackets.

“Because if I’m writing a book, I can’t cite ‘My Demon boyfriend, bug soda, as a source.’” You tossed back, looking between a sweater or two, before giving up and tossing them both into the pile that you still needed to put into your bag.

“Aww, come on, I’m reliable!” He persisted, making you laugh a bit.

“Since when, and to whom? Cite your sources. APA? MLA?” You glanced back towards him, seeing him laying half off your bed, arms over his head, and hands reaching the floor.

“Ugh, stop speaking Greek, the blood is rushing to my head-“

“What blood?” You snarked back, making him go silent for a moment.

“…okay, fine, touche.” He sat up, and looked you intently now. “Look…I know you’re set on this, right? And nothin’ I’m gonna say is gonna talk you outta it, but…trust me when I say, those bitches don’t fuck around. And if you waltz yourself in there, looking for something…you might just find it, you know…?”

The serious tone to his voice gave you pause, and you came to sit on the edge of the bed, searching his face for…something, you weren’t sure. But there was a hard edge you weren’t used to seeing.

“Beej…baby…I’m gonna be just fine…! It’s only two weeks…you’ll blink, and it’ll be over! And not to mention, if I need anything, or…hell, even if I just wanna see you, I’ve got your number.” You promised, pulling him forward to kiss his forehead, as though that would ease his thoughts.

“…Isn’t international calling like- super-“

“Your name, baby. Your name.”

“…Right.”

Which brought you back to now, picking up your bag, and throwing hugs and promises to travel safely to each and every member of the family…except one. You opened your mouth to say something, only for Charles to look down at his watch, and give a start. “Ah, look at that! We need to get going, if you’re going to make your connections.” He started lifting your suitcase, and you shuffled your backpack on.

“Wait…!! Beej isn’t here, I haven’t had a chance to say bye…!” You insisted, before Adam and Barbara gave you a little push.

“No time!” He chimed.

“Nope! None! You need to get going!” She insisted.

That…was odd. Usually they were all about hugs, and kisses, and goodbyes, and…all that sappy stuff. You narrowed your eyes, and opened your mouth to ask what they were up to, only for the front door of the house to open, and Charles was already moving your things out, leaving you to hurry and catch up to your friend’s dad.

“Be safe!” Called Adam.

“Have fun!” Called Barbara

“Take Pictures!” Called Delia

“Bring me back something cool!” Called Lydia.

But there was a voice missing from the mix, and it made the rock of anxiety in your stomach just a little bit bigger. It didn’t matter how excited you were…this was a really big undertaking…and not getting to see Beetlejuice before you left…? Made it just a little bit harder.

But before you knew It, you were ushered into the car, watching as the four waved from the door step, and Charles pulled from the driveway.

~~~~

As soon as you were there, everything else fell away. You took…what must have been thousands of photos! Nightlife, temples, Shrines, Castles, FOOD. And for each one you sent back to your little found family, a whole outpouring of love met you. Except for BJ. You could see that he was looking at every one of your pictures, sometimes as soon as you sent them, but he never replied. You sent a photo, saying “Nightlife in Shinsekai!!” or “Look at this cat I found!” But no matter the subject, he stayed quiet.

Weird.

But being thirteen hours ahead, you didn’t exactly have the time to sit there and hound him for a reply. He might just be trying to take his mind off you being gone…the separation anxiety had been hard, you knew, but he was trying! And if not talking made it easier, then that was okay. Just another week, and you’d be back in his arms, with a lot more research, and couple cool gifts.

Speaking of your research, it was coming along well. You’d finally nailed down the specific spirits you were going to be talking about in your book, which was more than you had to begin with. You’d interviewed locals from multiple cities about their belief in the supernatural, and their encounters with ghosts. You’d visited multiple temples, and shrines, and other places where spirits were believed to lurk, but so far, you had seen hide nor hair of any of them…

You weren’t sure if that was good or bad, yet.

Either way, it wasn’t until the final stop on your trip that things took a little bit of a worse turn…

You were in Kyoto, which was very, very well known for it’s spirits. Hell, there was a huge shopping center, with a shrine, right in the middle. It was tied right into the identity, by this point.

“Ah…come on, come on….!” You grumbled, turning in circles as your maps decided exactly where it was trying to take you. It was starting to get late, and the last of the buses were starting to run. You had to hurry, or else you’d be walking back to your hotel…You were tired, your feet hurt, and you’d been having pronounced problems with your various tech items all day. All you wanted was to get home, shower, and sleep before you had to be up and at the airport the next day.

Finally, you found your way to the bus station…riiight as the last bus was pulling away.

“No! No no no, shit!!” You hissed, watching as the bus got further and further away, as though that would bring it back to you. Needless to say, it didn’t work.

Guess we’re walkin’, huh?

You whipped your head around. It was faint, but you could have sworn you heard something…familiar.

You brushed it off, rolled your shoulders, and steeled yourself. It wasn’t a far walk, but it was enough that your feet were aching just at the thought, after a whole day of walking. It was past ten, by this point. Most placed were closed, aside from the odd convenience store, who’s lights offered you a moment of respite from anxiety, before you re-emerged to continue your trek. You started dodging through neighborhoods…you were almost there..!!

Just a block or two away, you were stopped at a cross walk. Even with the foot traffic dying, and the late hour, there was still the occasional car. You were too tired to book it, and you’d rather just be safe, and wait, instead of forcing yourself. As you came to a stop, you came to the realization that a woman stood on the corner beside you. She was tall, and thin, With messy black hair that hung around her face like a shroud. From her profile, you couldn’t see her eyes, only he medical mask that covered her nose and mouth. They weren’t uncommon here. You’d actually worn one earlier in the week when you’d gotten a little cold. Either way, she didn’t appear at all threatening…maybe a little burnt out or high, but not threatening.

But you still felt a cold thread of dread climbing further and further up your spine.

…This light was running long. You glanced to either side of the road, not seeing any cars, or any other pedestrians. It was just you, and this woman, in the fluorescent light of a street lamp. You rocked back and forth on your feet.

“…Do you think…I’m pretty?” The words were so soft, you almost missed them.

“I’m sorry I don’t speak-…what was that?” You heard the words…you just wanted to be sure you heard her correctly. Not to mention, it took you an extra moment to register…she spoke English, to you.

“I asked….do you think I’m pretty?” The words were louder this time, and she turned her face to you. Her eyes were incredibly beautiful. Her skin was like porcelain, and they looked at you with such an honest intensity, that your heart skipped a few beats.

“I….yes, you’re very pretty…” You murmured, as you searched her face. You saw the corners of her eyes turn up in what you assumed was a grin, beneath the mask, and you smiled back, feeling good that you’d been nice.

You heard the sickening sound of something…fleshy, and wet as she reached for the straps of her mask. Squelching, and smacking…When she finally lifted her head to you, and her mask came off, You took two half steps back. She was starting to twitch, now.

Beneath her mask was a bloodied smile, slit ear to ear. You froze, taking another step back. You wanted to run! To scream! Do to…anything, anything at all, but your body was refusing to respond now. Everything turned to ice.

“Do you…still think…I’m pretty?” She demanded of you, mouth struggling to form the appropriate words through it’s injury. You remembered this story. The slit-mouth woman. You remembered this tale- Now how do you get out of it? How-

Something with…candy…? Ugh, no that couldn’t be right. Counting? No! Fuck…Her question…that had to be it, right? You had to answer…

“…I think…I think you’re still very beautiful…” You managed to get out, as she jerked her way towards you, hands outstretched. A shake tore it’s way up your spine as her hands, cold as ice, cupped either side of your cheeks. Despite the ice in your blood, you could feel the atmosphere crackle with…something…heat, or electricity, or…something.

You looked back to the woman finally to see that her once kind and gentle eyes were replaced with ones manic, and hungry. The hand on your left cheek grabbed you by your hair, making you cry out, and fall to your knees. From the side of her dress, she produced a pair of scissors, looking as though they were ancient, and caked in a maroon substance…you could only guess you would soon be adding to. You finally started to make noise. You were crying, and kicking, and screaming, but despite it all, she held your head steady.

“If you think I am pretty…then you would want to look like me, yes?” She said, drawing closer.

That had been the wrong answer.

Oh god. You were going to die here.

You were going to die on the other side of the world. Maybe you’d never be identified. Maybe you’d be kept in a morgue forever, no one knowing who you were. You’d never see Lydia again. Or the Maitlands. Or the Deetz’s. Maybe not even….You had already started to sob, and to your luck…this seemed to amuse her.

“Oooh, I know…! You’re going to be so lovely, aren’t you?” She cooed, as though she were comforting a newborn. Her hand stroked down your cheek, and you finally heard it.

That was the sound of air being displaced at high speeds.

And there was only one person you knew who could do that. Demon, really.

Beetlejuice.

“GET YOUR GRIMY FUCKIN’ HANDS OFFA MY BREATHER-“ Came the yell.

In a flurry of motion, you were released, falling to the pavement below as the Kuchisake Onna was very swiftly socked in the cheek. It made a disgusting squelching noise, and she shrieked, dropping her scissors which nearly hit your leg.

You looked up to see Beetlejuice, so red he nearly glowed, grabbing the woman by the front of her dress, and hauling her up to look her in the eye, despite her being a measure taller than him.

“You listen to me slit-mouth skank, and you listen damn good, understand? That is MY breather. MINE. You wanna fuck with them, you gotta fuck with me, and you do NOT wanna fuck with me. CLEAR?” There was a long, tense moment, before she finally nodded, clicking her tongue, and hissing something in another language. “Nah. I don’t wanna hear it. Get your shit. And go. You can find a meal somewhere else, I don’t care who, but this one is under protection.” He insisted, finally throwing her back.

Less than gracefully, she picked herself up, put her mask back on, sent you a scowling look, and grabbed her scissors.

“Tell your pet…that even my work…could not fix a face that…you could be attracted to.” With that, she finally shambled off, which left you, sitting on the pavement, in tears.

“Hey…hey, hey, there you are…” Beej finally closed in on you, kneeling beside you. His hair was finally fading now, into soft greens and blues… He picked up your head gently, and a choked sob left your throat, as you fell into his arms. “It’s okay…see? You’re fine…”

“You were r-right…I shouldn’t have c-come…” You cried, too caught up in him being back to really care what you were saying, who saw, or the fact that you were rubbing your face into his absolutely disgusting suit.

“Hey…no, no, you should have…! This was just a bad encounter, ya know? And to be honest, you’re lucky! She’s a bottom feeder. Most of ‘em wouldn’t even listen to me, but they also don’t go around fucking with randos on the street. You gotta really piss ‘em off.” Somehow, that didn’t make you feel better.

“I w-w-wanna go home now…” You hiccuped, and he helped you up, steering you towards your hotel.

Wait…how did he know where that was?

When you turned your head to ask the question, he already knew what you were thinking.

“I uhhh…I’ve kinda…uhhh…been followin’ you this whole time. Just to be safe!! You know? I wasn’t gonna interfere or nothin’, I just wanted to make sure something like…well…that, didn’t happen.”

In all honesty, you were grateful for it. It meant that you lived to see him, and your family again, so that was all that mattered. You leaned into him heavily, as the adrenaline left your body and you felt yourself crashing back down to earth, hard. You were so tired…

But finally, he maneuvered you into the hotel, and up to your room, ignoring the stares and scandalized whispers at his appearance, finally getting you into bed, all safe and sound. He was getting ready to pop out of existence again, when you reached your arms towards him, making little grabby hands.

“Ohh, nuh-uh, you left for two weeks, you gotta make it through two weeks-“

“Nooo, come on, I just had a traumatic experience!” You insisted, sticking out your lower lip, and turning the grabby hands up to 11.

Finally, he broke, heaving a sigh as though this was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, and slipped from his coat, and pants. He was about to climb in when you stopped him.

“Shirt too. I refuse to pay for a new pair of sheets because it ruined them.”

He grumbled a little more, but soon, was finally snuggled to your side, the world right again. And…well…you rather liked being his breather, especially if it kept you safe from…whatever else lurked beyond the veil.

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saltine-kakyoin · 4 years ago

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OH SHIT!!!! my clown ass never saw that u rb'd those ask posts, i was Looking at my notifs to see if u would so i could send u some but SOMEHOW I MISSED IT??? clown hours.... ANyways for the emoji one have 🤗💙💘🍀😇 and 👍 (tried to not do repeats from your ask 2 me cause they all apply anyways but, Regardless) and for the questions post, maybe 5, 11, 12, 17, 20, 23 and 25? ;__;/ ily so much and i hope u have a rlly lovely night!!! and that this coming week is kinder 2 u!!!! 💖💖💖💖

ahhh, it’s no worries!!! idk about you but for me, tumblr has been having the Time of Its LIFE lately wrt notifications and most disconcertingly, unfollowing people! D: so i completely get it, it’s no worries!!! ;w;/ i already know for a Fact i’m going to write so so much, so i’m gonna put this under a readmore >w< ruth 🤝 sarah respectful lesbian moments

edit: so I finished writing it and it’s Insanely Long- just in case you don’t make it to the bottom, thank you mein broth-er!!!! ; O; i hope you have a wonderful night too!! writing all of this out made me reminisce on some really nice times, and I’m having an a1 night! ^^ ilysm! it’ll probably be daytime when you read this, so i hope you have a great day! <3

🤗 given the chance I would gladly hug you

on god!!!! ;___; i think i would frfr dissolve if a got a Ruth-Certified hug, things have been so overwhelming lately

💙 you are my closest friend

the feeling is mutual!! <3 we don’t always get to talk often, but fhdhshg when we do we talk about like All of the Madness in Sarah’s Mind^tm, and you are so patient + tolerant of my incoherent ramblings which is something i don’t think i’ve ever fully experienced? anyhow, after a year (more than a year?) of having these kinds of convos and going through the general madness of life together, I totally agree ;w;

💘 I love you so much

i love you too!!! so so much!!! 💃🕺 i don’t think words will ever be able to express how much i love and appreciate you! 💜💛

🍀 i’m lucky to have met you

i know we talk about this often, but seriously i feel the same way! it’s a little crazy that we met, technically, because Joseph Joestar tm deserved more than to be a cheater... there is something hilarious about this wild friendship rooting from him!! of all jojos!! 🤢 but i’m so grateful that we met, it’s been such a wonderful ride ;w; <3

😇 you’re a sweet cinnamon bun

🥺🥺🥺🥺 bro i- fhdhghdhgh thank you!!! ;o;

👍 you are fun to be around

ahhh, thank you!!! i am glad you feel this way bc whoo boy, i think some other people would look at the madness i tell you about and go 👁️👁️ that’s a no for me, luvs. remember last year when i was losing it tryna prepare for ren faire + i cut my palm on that one glass bottle? bc a- i barely do and b- i feel like that moment encapsulates the nicki minaj roman holiday-ness of my life XD i’m really grateful you’ve stuck around through it all 🤗💕💖

now buckle in bro!!!! the essays are incoming!!!

5. Name a movie that makes you genuinely laugh.

i swear on my life the Mortal Kombat movie from 1995 is a national treasure, it is SUCH a solid movie and has so many funny moments. Robin Shou makes such a 🥺🥺 Liu Kang, and jesus fuck he can be so savage when the script calls for it!! there’s one part where he takes Johnny Cage’s luggage and straight up fucking chucks it into the ocean + then bullies him about it later! honestly the Ballad of Johnny Cage and His Luggage is one of my favorite parts from the movie <3 if you haven’t seen it + you like cheesy, old school movies, i really recommend it!!!

11. Describe the memory of the last time you felt true happiness.

So I can’t remember the last time I did, bc my memory is horrifically terrible + probably getting worse as time goes on?? but i will tell you about one of the more recent times I remember! :D There is one crucial expository note for this memory- my brother-in-law makes THE best chili in the entire world. my brother and I were trying to recreate it because it’s such a simple but delicious + filling meal- I think this was our first time trying to create it? and it was SO chaotic, the tomato sauce and stuff kept popping and burning me and we weren’t 100% certain that we’d gathered the right ratios for the ingredients and it was just. madness lmao. Chance’s chili is one that you leave alone for multiple hours at a time (I think this is the case for all chili but i don’t cook often enough to know ;__;), and we were kinda 👀👀👀 because we weren’t sure it’d turn out right? But it did!!!! I vividly remember when it was finished and we taste-tested it + went oOOH FUCK! it wasn’t quite the same as chance’s but ohhh my god it was so good 🥰🥰🥰 but yeah!! we ate it all up and I think this was around the time I started my playthrough of Esteban for Dragon Age 2? which was one of my favorite playthroughs for the entire franchise... he’s just a simple ig beard model mage ;w; i wanted to show you what he looked like in this post but the formatting went wonky so ig i’ll just post him separately?? it’s 1000% in-character for him to infiltrate my jojo blog 😔

12. Name a song that makes you feel ethereal.

hm...I’d say it’s between Forget About or Feet of Clay! They’re both such light and tenderhearted songs, and when I listen to them I feel like I’m in an apartment kitchen slow-dancing with a love, and it’s so dark except for the slowly rising sun. I don’t know if that feeling could be described as ethereal? but it’s close enough for me

17. What is something you own that is important to you? What makes it so important?

I have a small collection of scripts from the shows I’ve been in, and two of the most important ones are from the plays my high school put on during my sophomore and junior years, The Nit-Wits and The Musical Comedy Murders of 1940, respectively! The Nit-Wits has a ton of sentimental value to me because it was the last show I genuinely acted in, and it was a show we had to pull together in 2 or 3 weeks!! We were originally going to do a murder mystery play for the fall, but none of the cast was feeling it and it just wasn’t going to come to life in time (honestly this speaks volumes for how much we weren’t vibing with it, because all of our shows came together at like.. the final dress rehearsals if not opening night lmao). I vividly remember we took a vote during rehearsals about whether or not to switch the show, and then we did and it was SO fun + chaotic!! My character was one of the only regular characters in the show, but I think everyone else had a lot of fun acting as actors who were hired to be maniacal, and that made acting off of them so fun! I remember there was also a night my friend Adonis almost tore the entire set down because he ran through a door and tripped over a set brace in his haste!! The Nit-Wits is hugely important because it was a really fresh acting experience for me, and again, my last time genuinely on the stage and not behind the scenes!

MCM is important to me because it was the first play I ever stage managed! I’d stage managed our musical the spring prior, but that was a huge undertaking and involved many different people and moving parts. Stage managing a play, at least at my high school, was a calmer and more intimate experience, and one I really enjoyed! Another huge reason I treasure MCM’s script is because it is one of the last shows I had with my friend I told you about- he was a senior. I have little notes and doodles from the cast and crew scattered throughout my book for this show, and I remember being so irritated by this because it meant I was losing space for stage directions, cues, and notes. Now, I’m super grateful to have these scribbles- it’s one of the only things I have left of him.

On that note, relating to him, MCM is also the show which birthed my most horrific theater horror story!! During one of the performances, I guess he forgot his line?? idk. But he ended up jumping six pages ahead of where the current scene was (I knew this bc I was following along in my book backstage + was frantically trying to figure out where he’d gone), which threw the entire cast, who were all tragically onstage, way off-track. This resulted in the most frightening game of script ping-pong I’ve ever seen: he’d skipped six pages ahead, so Adonis ended up saying a line from two pages after the six-page skip, and somehow someone else went!! oh I have a response to that line! And then said something like 9 pages back! I think the lead actress tried to ground everyone back to the lines they were supposed to be saying, but she ended up just saying a lot of their lines? And one of those lines that was supposed to be said by someone else was supposed to cue a black-out that someone got murdered in, but my lighting techie was SO fucking lost (we were both huddled over the script next to the breaker trying to figure out WHERE the hell we were! i think i had a flashlight in my mouth so I could flip through the book with both hands and thus faster??), so ofc the lights stayed up! I remember getting through this scene being the most painstaking endeavor of my entire life, but thankfully intermission was right after it! We actually extended intermission because the cast needed a hot second to fuckign RESET for Act 2 bc sweet jesus that was so bizarre...Needless to say, after that show we never messed that scene up again + everyone who acted in the show became super anal about knowing their lines as the years went on. The Six Page Skip became a legendary part of our hs theater Canon (like biblical canon ;w; although I don’t think anyone’s talked about it since my class graduated) alongside the times one of our ensemble dudes had to break through the roof of the girl’s dressing room to retrieve the keys to the theater + i got stuck on stage!

20. What’s the sweetest thing someone has done for you?

I really had to wrack my brain to answer this one, as I’m generally not the person people do things for, you know? This answer goes wayyy back, to 8th grade :O but so! there is mild exposition for this- when I started middle school, I lived in North Carolina, but we moved to Florida right before 7th grade bc my grandma is ill. We lived with my uncle while we were looking for a house, so I went to the local middle school bc why wouldn’t I? but in November, we finally found a house + my mom was like....So... are you going to switch schools or...I’d struck up some really solid friendships in this time, so i was like Mom I’d Rather Die OAO. So, we struck up a deal that I’d get to stay at that school on a zone waiver + that she’d drive me to school everyday. Sometime closer to the end of eighth grade she was like, yeah so.. I can’t do this for high school, it’s too much gas- which was valid! I was really sad about it, but I sucked it up.

Anyhow, fast forward to the last day of eighth grade, which was perhaps the saddest day I’d lived up until that point, mostly bc I knew I was probably never going to see all my friends again. My best friend, who I was like hardcore v close to + the person I shared all my wacky AUs and OC’s and headcanons with, was waiting with me for my mom to come pick me up, and then!!! When my mom pulled into the school she suddenly whipped out this lengthy letter she’d written to me about how much she enjoyed my friendship and how grateful she was that we were able to have lunch together (lunch was.. tragically ;__; the only time we really saw each other that year), and that she would never forget me! And she’d drawn me a ton of fanart from all the things I was obsessed with back then!! it was so much so fast, but then my mom was yelling at me to get in the car and I had to go :(

We kept in touch through email freshman year + fake-dated bc a senior was stalking me? ;J; and then we went to Megacon together! but I became really heavily involved in choir and theater after that, and we just kind of drifted apart :( we do follow each other on ig tho! It’s insane to think about her and that letter because on GOD ruth, that was a thinly veiled love letter and I never like... wrote her anything back that was as worthy as what she wrote me. But, she’s doing really well in uni now, so I guess it’s all okay? idk! ; o ;

23. What’s your zodiac sign? Do you think you fit the general characteristics of that sign?

I’m a Cancer!! and also a metal dragon by the Chinese Zodiac, which I’ve always thought was pretty sick! :3 I am 10000% your stereotypical Cancer, super emotional and introspective + often prone to tears ;u; My mom always said that dragons are steadfast and loyal people, and I think this also applies to me, to a fault. I checked around some websites to see what characteristics were often applied to metal dragons specifically, and it seems they are pretty strong-willed, ambitious, and generous? I don’t know if you could call me strong-willed or ambitious, but it’s all good ig.

25. What’s a song that gives off good vibes anytime you listen to it?

Ohh man, I went in on this question for Shannon, but bc I was digging around my library for Jules, I actually found an old fave! This song is from one of my all-time favorite musicals, Once on This Island- it’s The Human Heart! This song is so sweet, and god between the writing for the orchestra + the writing for the ensemble, this song is a straight masterpiece <3 I love love love the line, “Through your love you’ll live forever”, and although I am Hardcore Terrified of getting a tattoo, I really want that line tattooed on my body. if you have time, I recommend giving Once on This Island a listen!! I’ve never heard a show that uses its instruments and singers the way OoTI does (and holy FUCK it is so breathtaking live!!! I got to see it on Broadway and bro.... 🥺🥺 it was transcendental..)

#me when i talk to jules- floods her w a wall of songs #me when i talk to ruth- floods her with a wall of incomprehensible thoughts #the lov is stored in the walls of text! ; O ;#thank you again ruth!!!! this was really fun to write out and i may have cried while writing a few bits but it's fiiiine #i loved writing this 🥰#long post #like INCREDIBLY long post!!!!#sriracha ask game #fullmetal-the-last-alchemist

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whimperwoods · 5 years ago

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Pyre Whump - Part 1: The Harp

A friend got me into Pyre, so I guess have a new thing? Instead of finding the presumably-human Reader from the game, Hedwyn and co. find a battered little Harp very much worse for the wear. They’re not sure what happened to her in the Commonwealth, but it obviously wasn’t good.

(Also as soon as I started this I realized/discovered Harp anatomy doesn’t make any sense? But anyway mine has talons because Sir Gilman said that thing that made me think they had talons and it seems more useful than the human feet in that drawing in the credits. Also the music includes the word talon. So she has them. Ish. She has bird-based feet.)

tw: bound and gagged, tw: muzzles, tw: mutilation, tw: nondescriptive nudity, tw: past abuse, tw: wing whump, tw: pinioning (past),

*****

It had been a long time since they’d pressed this far west into the Sandfolds, but Hedwyn had a feeling, an itch he couldn’t scratch, and when the blackwagon wouldn’t go any farther without some outside help, he had informed Jodi and Rukey that he was going to press on on foot, just for about an hour or so, and not to worry about him.

He was glad he had.

He was also glad they’d decided to come with him.

“What is that?” Jodi asked, when the faint shape on the ground moved weakly.

Hedwyn was already running toward it, skidding to a halt beside - beside - for a moment, he felt like he couldn’t breathe as he took it in.

Rukey was beside him only because the cur hadn’t cared enough to push ahead, and he answered for both of them. “It’s a harp. I’ve never seen one in person before.”

The thing on the ground was filthy, trembling, and tucked tightly in on herself, at first glance more creature than person.

She was naked, save for a heavy black collar around her neck, and what remained of her wings were bound behind her with more thick leather straps. He’d seen harps sent here before, their wings clipped to keep them from trying to fly back up the waterfall. This was - different.

The girl’s wings weren’t clipped, they were mangled, well beyond anything he’d seen even on the Bloodborder, in the aftermath of battle. One was clearly shorter than the other, and both looked ragged, even bunched up and harnessed together. Her legs were bound, too, her face trapped in an ugly leather muzzle with air holes that had almost certainly saved her life, and he found himself kneeling beside her before he could think it through.

Jodi was slow, now, not like she’d been when he was a kid and she wasn’t so demony. She still got to his side faster than he’d expected, yanking him backward out of the way of the crumpled harp before she even looked at the poor thing. Then she froze, abruptly, the back of Hedwyn’s cloak still gripped tightly in her fingers

He pulled forward out of her grip, back toward the girl. “She needs help.”

The stunned silence behind him was answer enough, and he shrugged off the moment, carefully not thinking about Jodi and harps and all the history that meant thinking about. He had bigger worries, just now, and so did this girl.

He pulled a dagger from his belt and began to cut loose the muzzle, not bothering to find whatever buckles were tangled in her filthy, mud-caked hair. She whimpered as the knife drew closer to her, flinching and turning her face into the ground so that he almost couldn’t get at a spot with enough space to get his knife under the straps.

“Hey, it’s ok,” he said, “I’m gonna help you. It’s ok. Turn your face toward me.”

She complied, but her eyes were wide and scared, her breath coming fast and shallow through her nose.

“You’re alright,” he murmured again, “I’ve got you. I’m gonna take care of you.”

As he pulled the muzzle away from her face, she began gasping for breath, taking in air in huge gulps that made him worry she might hyperventilate. He couldn’t say how long she’d been forced to wear the muzzle, but there were stark lines where the leather had cut into her face. He felt rage begin to burn somewhere at the base of his rib cage, filling his chest and weighing hot and heavy on his stomach.

“See,” he said, keeping his voice as level and kind as he could with the rage building inside him, “You’re alright.”

Rukey had climbed halfway up his back to get a better look, peering over his shoulder, and the cur’s voice was heavy with anger as he whispered, “Brother, I think you’d better take another look at her mouth. I think they cut out her tongue. We’re not going to get any answers.”

Hedwyn’s nostrils flared instinctively, his own breathing growing heavier in spite of himself as he anger in his gut burned hotter.

“Jodi, I need some of the spare raiments out of the blackwagon. For now just something big and soft we can wrap her whole body in. Maybe the ones for a Sap. I don’t think any of our blankets are as clean.”

He didn’t usually give direct orders to Jodi like this, didn’t usually have the right, when she’d taken him in all those years ago and fed and clothed him through his teens, but this was - she’d never understood him and Fikani. She’d never blamed him, but she’d never understood, really, and if she was frozen now - if she was frozen now, he had the moral high ground and the Scribes damn it all - “She needs clothes,” he said, pushing what wasn’t an order with the force of an order.

“She needs more than clothes,” Jodi answered, her voice crackling with an anger of its own that he found reassuring. “I’ll get the whole wagon. Even if I have to push it myself.” He knew the difference between Jodi angry at him and Jodi angry at someone else, and this was Jodi as angry as he’d heard her in a good long while, and not at anyone in the vicinity. He breathed a sigh of relief as her heavy, demonic footsteps stomped off, hurried and furious.

“I’ll get some supplies while she’s doing that,” Rukey said, “It’ll be quicker. Don’t know how far even she can push it across all this.”

“Far enough,” Jodi shouted back, and Hedwyn felt momentarily guilty for the relieved sigh. Apparently, she was still listening.

Even so, having the others share his rage was reassuring. They were committed, now, or they would be when all was said and done. He still needed to keep their rage from the girl. She wouldn’t understand. Hedwyn took a deep breath to calm himself before he spoke to her again.

By the time he’d collected himself and his companions’ footsteps had receded, the harp had twisted her bound form into a new position, tucking her legs under her body and bending forward to press her forehead to the ground in front of him, bowing as deeply as she could go.

He leapt to his feet, moving before he could think too hard about what that kind of visible subservience might mean because he couldn’t afford to think too hard about what that kind of subservience might mean. It was easier releasing her wings than her face, the buckles large and obvious, even among the filthy, dirt-crusted feathers. The color he could see through the muck suggested green, though he wouldn’t know how similar a green to Fikani’s until the girl was clean, an undertaking in itself out here.

At least her hair seemed to be red, which was different from Fikani’s. Thinking too much about the woman he’d left behind wouldn’t do much good to anyone.

The girl’s wings twitched, like she wanted to stretch them out, but she didn’t move, except for the shaking that continued, even more obvious now that more of her feathers were free to rustle with the movement.

“Easy,” he said gently, reaching for her shoulders and touching her only after her little flinch didn’t turn into fully pulling away from him, “Easy. I’m just gonna help you sit up. It’s ok. Can you cover yourself with your wings, or are they too stiff from being held back like that?“

He was still behind her, carefully keeping his eyes away from anywhere he didn’t think she would want to be looked at, and as her wings started to move sluggishly, she made a half-stifled little noise of pain at just the right moment to cover his shocked intake of breath.

Once her wings had begun to stretch out, all kinds of things became clearer. For one, he hadn’t been wrong - one wing was considerably shorter than the other, the end not trimmed at the feathers but cut away entirely, a piece missing, bones and all. For another, the missing feathers took on a whole new cast now that he could see properly. Her back was a mess of whip marks, old scars and new lacerations, and the damage extended to the nearest part of her wings, chunks of feathers ripped loose by the same beatings. There were other patches where it looked like the feathers had been ripped out on purpose, haphazardly and for no compelling reason he could think of.

She cried out again as she tried to move them farther and he shouted wordlessly to stop her, reaching out to touch her shoulder again. “Ah! No, if it hurts, then don’t -”

She wailed the moment his hand brushed her, tucking herself forward again and pressing her forehead into the dirt, her wings spread across the ground and her back open to him. Her breath came fast and ragged again, this time half-filled with sobs.

Footsteps behind him meant Rukey wasn’t trying to be quiet. It was just as well.

“What did you do?” the cur demanded, letting go of the basin filled with bandages and extra robes that he’d dragged here.

“Nothing!” he protested, “Nothing, I - I don’t know what’s happening!”

Rukey cursed, studying the prone form in front of them. “Then what did you say?”

“Nothing!”

Rukey padded forward, coming up beside the girl and putting his head down to look at her face. “Hey there, sister. I don’t know what this big idiot said, but nothing’s going to happen to you, alright? I’m not usually the taking-in type, but my chums here know a thing or two about taking care of people, alright. And whoever did this to you can’t get to you when you’re with us. You can trust old Rukey on that.”

Neither the shaking nor the sobbing stopped, but they lessened, and she managed a pathetic little nod into the ground, still gulping in air like she couldn’t breathe. A knot that had twisted itself into Hedwyn’s stomach eased, but the rage kept simmering.

“I’m guessing we don’t have enough water to clean her up right now?” he asked Rukey.

“Not so much, chum. Not out here, anyway. Jodi says we can do more once she’s inside, but you and I both know we’re gonna have to find real water before too long. We’ve probably got enough to clean those whip weals, but the rest - not so much.”

Hedwyn nodded. He reached toward the girl, then stopped. He wanted to comfort her, but didn’t want to make things worse. But then he remembered her feet had been bound, before she tucked them underneath herself, and that was at least a concern he could actually address.

He knelt down next to her again, putting a hand on her shoulder as gently as he could in the hope that if nothing else, it would prove he wasn’t actively trying to hurt her. “Your feet are still tied together, aren’t they, friend? Let me fix that, and then we’ll - we’ll get you all wrapped up and we can leave you alone and worry about everything else when you’re ready. Ok?”

The body beside him continued to tremble, but she moved slowly, tentatively, shifting her weight and then rolling onto her side, curling into a ball again, this time partially shielded by what was unfortunately her shorter wing, and slid her feet closer to him.

He cut the ropes, noting, as he did, that her talons were broken off at uneven lengths but seemed to have been filed down from there, leaving them without sharp points or jagged edges. Her toes had strange callouses in places they probably shouldn’t, but he wouldn’t know what any of that meant for her until she was strong enough to walk, so for now he simply catalogued it in his mind and tried to move on.

One look at Rukey proved he didn’t know what to do any more than Hedwyn did. The girl’s sobs had gradually subsided as she calmed down from - from whatever. Had he just startled her? Now that she was curled in on herself again, they had been reduced to quiet sniffles she seemed to be trying to stifle.

“Hey,” he said, softly, resisting the urge to touch her shoulder again and hoping his tone would tell her he meant to be talking to her and not the four-footed menace who had turned to watch Jodi bring the wagon in instead of helping Hedwyn figure out - whatever it was he ought to be figuring out.

She didn’t respond, but he kept talking anyway, being careful to keep his voice calm and steady. “I don’t know what happened to you, or how you survived if they really cast you down here like that, but I do know not to turn my back on a miracle. Or a person in need. We’re gonna take care of you. I promise.”

She didn’t answer, but she did turn her face toward him, those big dark eyes studying him intently, this time. He forced himself not to flinch away or shrink back from her gaze. Even blunted by exhaustion and weakness, a harp’s gaze was nothing to scoff at.

“I know it seems - improbable,” he admitted. “But I -”

He didn’t know what to say, what part of his secret shame or secret pride to show her, what part of his own story he even regretted, anymore, if any of it.

“We don’t mean you any harm,” he finally concluded. “If you want, we can get you well and drop you off at - well, somewhere. But you’ll die if we leave you here, and we can’t - I can’t let that happen. Ok?”

She didn’t answer, but her eyes stayed locked into his, and when they flickered shut and her body sagged, relaxing fully into the dust, he took it as, if not agreement, then at least acceptance.

He let his own head sink down to his chest, slumping in the sudden freedom to let his walls down, but kept his ears out for Rukey and Jodi. They had a lot of work to do. It wasn’t the work they’d been looking for, unless this poor, mangled little thing could read, but he wasn’t going to refuse it. His fingers reached down instinctively to a pouch on his belt, where he gripped the small, smooth stone Fikani had given him, a talisman engraved on only one side with her initials, the one thing he’d been able to hide from the men who threw him down here.

He wondered if she might take comfort from it, might recognize it as Harp in some way, but then he let go of it, keeping it selfishly to himself as he always did, hidden as carefully away as his heart.

#whump #pyre #pyre game #video game whump #wing whump #pyre whump #that's right kids it's a mary sue!!#i mean idk yet we don't know anything abt her #but just needed to embrace the formula #instead of angsting about it like i'm still a late-00s teen #anyway not actually sure yet if she can read or they still need a reader to get that sweet sweet telepathy for this poor tongueless baby #but i guess we'll find out?#eventually #i needed a new project like i need a hole in the head but wcyd

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britesparc · 5 years ago

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Weekend Top Ten #432

Top Ten Games to Remaster

As we continue June’s videogame-themed series of Tops Ten – during what would normally have been E3, but is still something of a prolonged Videogame Announcement Season – I turn my attention once again to great games past. This has been exacerbated by the release of Command & Conquer Remastered Collection, a hi-def spit-and-polish re-do of two of the greatest PC games of the nineties. I have very fond teenage memories of both C&C and its pseudo-sequel, but Red Alert in particular strikes an important chord as one of “the” games that deepened and broadened by love of gaming as an art form. In the way that really only happens when you’re a kid, I absorbed Red Alert, not just completing the campaign and playing hours and hours of skirmish, but also talking about it extensively with friends, designing my own levels, and even going so far as to modify the source files to create my own super-units (nuclear tanks ahoy!). As such, it utterly delights me to declare that C&C Remastered is a phenomenal undertaking, the graphics painstakingly remade to fit modern displays, the interface masterfully tweaked to appease modern sensibilities. But at the same time it offers so many pleasing, knowing, considerate hat-tips to fans, such as a re-imagining of the classic DOS installation prompts. All in all, it’s a must-buy, bringing a 25-year-old series of games more-or-less bang up to date and preserving their legacy for a new generation.

Anyway, all this got me thinking of other classic games, and how it’s so difficult to play them nowadays. Maybe they’re mired in rights issues. Maybe it’s a technological minefield to get them to run on modern systems. Maybe elements of modern gaming – be it graphics or design – have simply passed them by, making them a far more difficult and frustrating experience than they would have seemed Back in the Day. Whatever the reason, these are games that – like classic films from the 40s and 50s – should be celebrated and enjoyed by the young’uns, not left to gather digital dust on forgotten floppies the world over.

So, with no further ado, here are ten games that I would love to see given a bit of digital TLC, renewed and revigorated for the ultra-wide monitors and liquid-cooled systems of tomorrow. In most cases these are just one game that I’d like to see spruced up and re-released, but there are a few “collections” here too, whether it’s a C&C-style pairing of a great double act, or a celebration of a series, a la Halo: The Master Chief Collection.

Oh, and I’m on about remasters here: not a full-on remake or reboot. Stuff like Perfect Dark on the Xbox 360, not Doom 2016. Old games made good on modern hardware, not a reimagining of the property.

Regardless: have at it, games industry.

Lemmings (1991) and Lemmings 2: The Tribes (1993): I definitely think they should be a double-pack, because whilst the first is a well-regarded classic, the second refines the formula, makes it more user-friendly, offers skirmish-style training modes, and amps up the comedy. But they’re both ancient by now, and despite mobile do-overs in recent years, the originals are very difficult to play. Upping the resolution whilst still keeping the character of the scantily-pixelated sprites would be difficult, but it’d be worth it to once again sample one of the gods of gaming.

Sam & Max Hit the Road (1993): other LucasArts classic adventures have had a spruce – most notably the first two seminal Monkey Island games – but it’d be good to see this cult comedy classic come back to life. I don’t know if the backgrounds ever existed in higher resolution, but I’d love to see the sprites re-drawn to more closely resemble a cartoon version of Steve Purcell’s artwork.

The Jedi Knight Series (1995-2003): I’m bundling all four Jedi Knight games in together – that’s the original Dark Forces, plus Jedi Knight, Jedi Outcast, and Jedi Academy – but let’s be honest, it’s the first two we’re really after. DF gave us a compelling mission-based “Doom Clone” (back when Doom was a genre), and one which would be amazing to see tarted up to 4K with texture filtering a-go-go; but it was its 1997 sequel, Jedi Knight: Dark Forces II, that struck serious beskar. Huge, expansive levels, in “true 3D” (as we used to call it), full-motion video cutscenes, finally getting a lightsaber and Force powers, but most of all the Light/Dark Side dynamic offering (very basic) morality and a branching storyline. Again, giving it a glossy hi-def sheen would do wonders to preserve the legacy of one of the greatest Star Wars games of all time.

The Quake Collection (1996-2005): really it should be called The Quake Qollection, no? Encompassing all four mainline Quakes. Although, again, let’s be honest: there’s something deeply iconic about the first three, so no one would complain if we just forgot about part 4, yeah? Anyway: Quake was a stunner, a gorgeous 3D technical juggernaut, offering sumptuous lighting effects and gorgeous architecture. Part II came a year later and offered us coloured lighting and a coherent sci-fi story, whereas Quake III Arena in 1999 gave us a sublimely crafted multiplayer shooter and a character that was an eyeball doing a handstand. Despite being graphical powerhouses in their day, getting them to run can be a drag, so it’d be lovely to see them dragged into the 21st Century, especially if they could offer us ray-tracing on next-gen consoles, a la Quake II RTX.

Tomb Raider (1996): we’ve seen the series rebooted in (generally) excellent fashion, but at the same time it feels it lost a little of the majesty, mythos, and merriment of OG Lara. One of the first truly successful 3D games, it was like nothing before it. A subtle update to increase its resolution, filter the rough edges, maybe offer the option to move beyond the rigid grid-based movement structure, and possibly up the poly count so blocky Lara more closely resembles her rendered box-art cousin, would be terrific. Imagine the dinosaur in 4K…!

Descent (1994): one of those games that’s slipped from public consciousness, this was a full-3D shooter a couple of years before Quake shambled onto our screens. Piloting a craft in zero gravity, it offered full freedom of movement as well as a tense shooter dynamic coupled with some mild, X-Wing-style space sim elements. It was funky, fast, gorgeous, and messed with your head. I’d love a remake that kept the levels as-is, simplified the often-complex controls for modern sensibilities, and just in general made it look prettier. I worry that a contemporary “re-imagining” might lose too many of its crazy rough edges, though.

Syndicate (1993): there have been a number of efforts to re-do Syndicate over the years, but apart from its excellent sequel Syndicate Wars in 1996, none have matched the dark joys of the original. rather than try to go all modern and 3D, I’d rather see the artwork redone, redrawn at a higher resolution, perhaps offering subtle 3D touches such as dynamic light, shadow, and ray-tracing. The fiddlier aspects (getting into cars?!) could be tidied up, but the look and feel should remain the same. I honestly think this could be a big deal.

Total Annihilation (1997): if C&C can get remastered, why not the game that was arguably the first real challenger to its sci-fi RTS dominance? TA had 3D graphics, a new and refined model of base construction, and tactical touches such as line-of-sight and elevated terrain. But the comparatively low resolution of late-nineties machines meant that the robotic units could often appear slightly indistinct, turning into a grey melange; boosting the res and the poly count would do wonders, but – like C&C – the gameplay itself should be kept as authentic as possible.

Warcraft I & II (1994-95): I know, I know; they just did a remaster of Warcraft III that wasn’t well received and got everybody’s backs up. But I barely played Warcraft III (I barely played Warcraft I for that matter). Warcraft II: Tides of Darkness was the fantasy yin to C&C’s sci-fi yang, and it was great; clear, bright, fast, fun. The cartoony graphics were gorgeous and the units had bags of character (reinforced by the humorous soundbites when you kept clicking on them). I’d want to see the sprites re-drawn in hi-res, with the units given some gorgeous new animations to match their character. Other than that? Keep it broadly the same. It worked 25 years ago, it’ll work now.

Fantasy World Dizzy (1989): I nearly didn’t have a game this old on the list. For one thing, I thought pre-16-bit games would require far more retooling for modern audiences, becoming essentially the sort of reboot I said I wanted to avoid; I can’t imagine a new Skool Daze being too similar to its original. Also which Dizzy do you choose? The one I played the most was probably Spellbound (1991). But I think Fantasy World may be the most iconic. Its Amiga port was almost a remaster anyway, giving it gorgeous colour graphics. A modern version would up the resolution with all-new art assets, obviously, and perhaps could offer a more user-friendly jumping dynamic (and maybe – maybe – I’ll allow scrolling). This could be a lovely way to re-introduce audiences to the character of Dizzy, who should really be held up more as a British gaming mascot, without having to go all-in on a brand new title. Egg-cellent (sorry).

So there we are. There are a couple missing here, obviously; Simon the Sorcerer was nearly there until I realised they did do a gentle remaster in 2018. The Settlers would have made the list, except they are remaking that, although in my opinion it looks like a full-on reboot rather than the upgraded version of the original that I crave. Fade to Black just dropped off the bottom on the grounds that I barely played it in its original form, but a third-person 3D Flashback is still on my Most Wanted list (Flashback itself, sadly, has already had a disappointing remake). And the best Star Wars game of all time, Knights of the Old Republic, I decided not to include as – again – I think we’re going to see that reimagined and folded into the new official Disney canon in some form. Maybe that should preclude me imagining the original game in 4K with updated character models, dynamic shadows, and ray-tracing, but – hey – that’s just me. At least that is one game that I’ll still be able to play fairly easily on an Xbox Series X, even without whistles and bells. Here’s to dead old games!

#top ten #games #gaming #remasters #old games #retro games #command & conquer #lemmings #star wars #dizzy #warcraft #quake

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winterverses · 6 years ago

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Walking Wounded - Chapter Fifty-Nine

The transports signalled their impending arrival while Kirk was on that third day off, so at least he was able to spend that time with Anne before having to start organizing the exodus of smugglers from their hideout. Between his crew and Vergne’s, they’d kept things under control, and the supplies to maintain the smugglers in good condition had come from Loche’s stockpiles, making the logistics of such a huge undertaking much more feasible. Still, he thought as he reviewed the incident list, the enforced idleness was affecting both the prisoners and the crew. It would be a relief to pass the bulk of the issue off on people better trained for this sort of thing. His crew were combat-trained, sure, but their training had never anticipated the need to maintain a large population of prisoners. Fights among the prisoners were becoming more common, and there were even a few fights between prisoners and crew members. “It’s not that bad, Vergne,” he said, reading over the list again. “The worst one was broken up within a few minutes and no one’s had any lasting injuries.”

“It’s the next altercation I’m worried about,” Vergne said from the viewscreen on his desk. “And the one after that. Not to mention the legal nightmare it’ll be if someone does permanent damage.”

“ETA on the transports puts them here at 0400 tomorrow. I doubt anything major will happen between now and then. In the meantime, we just get the message out to the crew that it’s not going to be much longer, and to stay alert and on their best behavior. They’ll be fine. They can hold out a bit longer.” Kirk had already drafted up a communique to that effect once he’d gotten the news.

“Does that mean you’re volunteering to stay with the phase two crew?” Vergne asked dryly, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow at him.

The plan for evacuation of the smugglers had been to split it into two phases, with the higher ranked or more potentially dangerous prisoners going first, along with the noncombatants like the women. On separate ships, of course. Phase two would load and leave a few days later, carrying the less volatile prisoners and the controlled substances found on the base. Originally the thought had been that the Enterprise would leave with phase one, and the Farragut would stay in order to accompany phase two, mainly in order to provide phase one with more manpower in case of any trouble with the prisoners. Kirk thought it over. The Farragut was easily capable of putting down an insurrection; Vergne ran a tight ship, and her crew were all seasoned. The Enterprise was still in her shakedown period, and not all of the crew were as used to their stations yet. “If you want phase one, you can have it,” he said finally. “I don’t see that it’ll make much of a difference security-wise. And we can hold on a few days longer here.”

“I definitely want phase one. You’ve got better morale facilities-- you can handle a few extra days better than I can.” Vergne brushed her hair out of her eyes, pursing her lips. “And I’ll feel better the sooner that bastard’s in rehabilitation. He’s one creepy fucker.”

“Agreed. But a couple days…” Kirk sighed. “Recommend you get him off your ship ASAP, before any of the other prisoners are dealt with.”

“You think I don’t have that covered already? Really, Jim.” Vergne’s expression still looked unsettled, however. “Off the record, just between you and me, I’m pretty sure he’s planning to kill me if he can get away with it somehow. That doesn’t bother me so much, but the fact that he doesn't act like it… you’d think you met him at a fucking church social or something. I’ve had to move four people off brig duty altogether.”

“Wait a second, that’s not--” Kirk began, and then frowned. “Huh. No, I’m wrong. Sulu said he was persuasive. I didn’t see him until Anne started staring him down, though, and I’m guessing he decided to drop the front while she was around.”

“It’s too bad they can’t be on the same ship. I could use him looking a bit less human and sympathetic,” Vergne grumbled.

“Out of the question. The last thing we need is her breaking him out of his cell to try to kill him again.” Kirk did not look over to the couch where Anne sat, hearing every word.

“I know. I wasn’t serious.” He saw her glance down to the corner of her screen, and then her back straightened. “I’d better go. My shift starts in ten minutes. Say hi to your girl for me.” She smirked.

Kirk pretended a frown. “Give it up, Ella. She’s not that into women.”

“You better hope, anyway. Vergne out.” He saw her reach forward, and then the screen cleared, leaving only the Starfleet seal.

“Even if I did prefer women, I wouldn’t be in any rush to swap you for her,” Anne said absently, her voice rising over the back of the couch with no evident effort on her part to follow it.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Kirk said, amused. He adjusted the communique that he’d drafted, then sent it out and turned off his viewscreen, wandering over to where Anne was curled up. She grinned up at him, then made a quick adjustment on the padd she was holding. An iconic organ introduction from the dawn of rock and roll started to play softly. “Nice,” he said admiringly. She had good taste. Well, maybe it was more to the point to say she had compatible taste. Either way. “What’s that?” he asked, catching a glimpse of what looked like a video on the padd.

“Mmm. I was looking around. Here, what do you think of this one?” Anne asked, rapidly flicking through pictures and then passing him the padd.

Kirk settled himself on the couch beside her before looking at the padd, glancing over it as she nestled against his side. After a moment, he flicked back to the information, taking note of the address on Yorktown. “Pretty upscale,” he said, feeling himself grin and going back to the virtual tour. “I guess that answers whether we were still getting an apartment or not.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Anne asked. “I mean, unless you think it’s a bad idea…”

“Me? Why would-- you know what, let’s not get into all that. Was there a reason you were looking at this one?”

To his relief, Anne seemed to find the idea of examining their motivations just as distasteful as he did. That was probably not a great pattern to reinforce in each other. Oh well. “I just started with the most expensive buildings, grouped them by height, then filtered out all the ones that didn’t have kitchens, balconies, garages, and suites immediately available.”

“Your priorities are so warped,” Kirk chuckled, shaking his head. “We could probably get something that would suit us just fine without having to spend credits on the premium suites. And we should be looking at furnished places.”

She could tell that he didn’t disapprove. She poked him playfully in the ribs, snickering when he flinched. Earlier that day she’d discovered that he was just a bit ticklish there, although thankfully she wasn’t being too much of a pest with it. “My priorities are just fine, thank you, and I’d rather pick my own furniture this time. I like furniture shopping.”

Kirk glanced over at her, still grinning. His apartment in San Francisco had come furnished; he'd never picked out furniture before. A sudden thought dampened his amusement. “That sounds awfully time consuming, though.”

“Not unless we argue about it,” Anne said, surprised. “Are you expecting to have pitched battles over silverware patterns or something? Because if it’s that important to you--”

Kirk waved her off, amused at the thought. Silverware, even. “No, no. I just meant that’s time we could have spent in bed if we were in a furnished apartment. And who knows how long it’ll take to get it unpacked and all...”

“Oh,” Anne said, her eyes widening. “Oh no, it’ll be done by the time we get back to Yorktown. My agent will get it taken care of. Between Mason and the lawyers, all we’ll have to do is walk off the ship and into our apartment.” She laughed. “You didn’t think I did that for myself, did you? I would never have time to write again if I had to unpack furniture in every place I ever stayed.”

“Well that’s convenient,” Kirk said. “So we just… pick out what we want and send him a list?” He thought for a moment. “What if I want a gold plated bathtub?”

Anne snickered. “He would find one, but he'd raise his eyebrows at me. Mason’s one of those stuffy British sorts.”

“This has some distinct possibilities,” Kirk said. “Okay, how about an ostrich?”

“I am not feeding an ostrich. Besides, I hear they’re bad-tempered, and I won’t live with anything that has a worse temper than I do.”

Kirk eyed her skeptically. “But…?”

“As long as he could find one for sale in the area, then yes. It would be harder if we had to import it.” Obviously seeing that he wasn’t going to stop, Anne waited for his next question, trying to smother her smile.

“The British crown jewels?” he asked.

“Be reasonable,” Anne said. “He’s not superhuman. He’d get us a very good facsimile if we absolutely had to have them, though.”

“That’s fair.” Reasonable. Kirk tried to think of something hard but technically obtainable. “The sign for the Adam Yauch Park.” Anne blinked at him. “It’s in Brooklyn, I stumbled across it once.”

Slowly, Anne said, “Well, now that I know it exists, I can always ask. The shipping would take--” Her face suddenly blanched, her pupils blowing wide and her breathing speeding up.

Alarmed, Kirk sat up. “I’ll get Bones--”

Anne caught his hand before he could drop the padd, forcing her breathing to slow. “No. Give me that.” He could feel her fingers trembling, hear the strain in her voice and the faint blurring of her accent into something a little less American.

Abruptly, he realized she was reacting to the music. It had flipped to a different artist from the same era as before, a song with a lyric line that had to evoke some seriously bad memories for Anne. “Music off,” he snapped.

“Thanks,” she said, her breathing still unnaturally slow, her eyes a battle between terror and control. “Didn’t think of that.” Despite her attempt at a smile, she didn’t seem to be coming out of the panic attack. When he reached for his communicator, however, she shook her head. “It’s not critical. I just need to calm down.”

“Is there anything that would help?” he asked.

“Do something normal until it passes.” Licking her lips, Anne leaned toward the padd and made her shaking fingers switch the music back on, this time to part of a requiem by a German composer two centuries older than their previous selections. “I’m going to stretch. Look at the apartments.”

“At what point should I start being worried?” Kirk asked, watching her stand, her knees weak. He wasn’t sure she should be doing anything physical, but this wasn’t his area of expertise, and presumably she’d spoken to Claudia about this sort of thing. Well, it couldn’t hurt to keep an eye on her. He didn’t make an issue of it, but stood up with her, moving to lean against the back of the couch, out of the way of the most open section of the room.

“Give it ten minutes before you call anyone.” She paused in the center of the area, her back to him, and began to do what he assumed was a warm-up, one he’d never seen.

Kirk looked down, paging absently through the apartments she had pulled up, but none of them could hold his interest while she was so shaky. The warm-up routine that she started seemed automatic, however, her eyes faraway when she eventually turned, and her movements becoming less precarious-seeming. He was pretty sure it was ballet. Wasn’t exactly his forte. He tried not to pay too much attention, flipping through the apartments again, this time able to pay a little more attention to them.

By the time the lacrimosa had played through twice, her breathing was slowing and her movements were far firmer. They were also more complex, and he could see how she wasn’t quite getting them as well as she wanted to, a faint frown on her brow as she repeated things. Soon she stopped, falling back to flat feet and pacing back and forth for a few moments. Then paused, scowling, and rose to the balls of her feet… then further, balancing her entire weight on the tips of her toes. She only stayed that way for a moment before sinking back down. “I shouldn’t do that,” she muttered, her accent firmly back in place. “At least I can still do it.”

Deciding it was wiser not to comment, Kirk looked down at the padd in his hands. After a couple more moments, she came over to peek at the padd. “Find anything you like?” she asked.

“A couple of them look pretty good.” He gestured to the two he’d been flipping back and forth between. One of them had less floor space, but a larger balcony.

Of course, that was the one that Anne tapped. “That’s the one I would have wanted for myself. More windows. More room to grow things.”

At this point, he honestly had no idea how long he was going to be in Yorktown. They might not have to stay for all of the trials, but he was very sure it would be longer than the two week shore leave he’d anticipated, what with testifying and all the administrative work, not to mention the torpedo refit. Point being, she might very well have time to grow things after all, and there would be less furniture to have to worry about. Also, this one had a full bath, a sunken one big enough that there could be some definite advantages. “I think that one makes more sense for us, although it’s further from the Enterprise.”

“More of an excuse to ride your motorcycle,” Anne pointed out. “And it’s higher up, too. I’ll send a message to Mason about it.”

“He’ll need my authorization codes and voiceprint--”

“Don’t worry about it. I feel like splurging. Besides, I’ve had a whole year’s worth of credits piling up on me.” Anne snagged the padd from his hands and began to tap out a message on it.

“Fair’s fair, Anne,” he said, holding out his hand for her to return it.

“If it inconveniences me, I’ll let you make up for it with that lovely mouth of yours,” she said, and there was that smile that he’d missed, the one that was so strangely modest. He couldn’t help but appreciate the contrast with the boldness of her words.

“May I remind you that I would have done that anyway?” he asked. The idea was somewhat distracting.

She didn’t lose her smile, but he could see that it wasn’t quite as firmly on as he had thought. “Then let’s skip past the part where we start thinking about what we would have done on our own and all that, and just go right to the good parts.”

Suddenly, her point of view made sense. No point in second-guessing, no point in examining motives, not when all it would do was keep upcoming unpleasant truths foremost in mind. This was still going to end… but not yet. “All right, but I get to pick the silverware,” he said, grinning and dropping his hand. “I’m willing to fight for that one.”

“Oh, you’re killing me. Fine, but this had better be worth it,” she teased.

“You haven’t had any complaints so far,” he said smugly, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her close.

#Jim Kirk/OC #James T. Kirk/OC #fanfic #star trek #dark romance #star trek fanfiction #ST:WW #Star Trek: Walking Wounded

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nonot-today-blog · 6 years ago

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Sea Of Thieves Game Prepared Driver Released

After spending a handful of hours playing the Sea of Thieves beta last month (and a dozen or so hours watching others play it), the Xbox exclusive shot up to the prime of my list of most anticipated games. The reality that you can scuttle your own ship, rather than waiting for the gankers to do it, does not change how to download sea of thevies the main problem - that the seas are complete of gankers. I am going to have a stab at guessing it'll be a lot like what was shown at E3 and Gamescom in the past. So some sailing, treasure hunting, a ship to ship battle and then all all back to the pub to drink virtual grog till an individual throws up. The Sea of Thieves closed beta is now accessible and players around the planet are diving into the goodness of the most current closed beta available to see what all the hype is about. 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old-long-john · 7 years ago

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Hey Laura would you be willing to talk more about those John Silver gender feels?

Sure. Thismight be a bit disjointed and weird, because I’m not sure I fully understandthem, but I’ll try to lay them out in some kind of coherent way. Also, if thisall spells out something blatantly obvious to anyone then I guess I don’t mindif you say so, because various words and labels do float around my brain fromtime to time, but I’m not about to undertake any huge personal re-evaluationsor re-labelling or whatever else, because I just don’t have the energy forthat. So yeah. Although it’s entirely possible this is all a huge mess ofnothing that’s any different to anyone else, which would be vaguely embarrassing.

This stuff isby no means limited to John Silver/Luke Arnold, or even ever present with him,but I think partly because of the way I’ve projected onto Silver a huge amount andnow largely write and think about fanfic (and the show) from his viewpoint,these sorts of feelings have slipped into the mix as well. So sorry if thisgoes off on tangents that weren’t what you wanted to know at all, but the moreI think about it, the more I remember things that tie in and ways in which thisreally isn’t about him specifically. I’m gonna put most of this under a cut,just because it’s quite long and personal and I’m not sure how I feel aboutputting it right out there on people’s dashes.

Basically,all of that classic wlw stuff where it’s sometimes difficult to distinguishbetween girls you’re attracted to and girls you want to look like or be like, Ialso experience quite a lot with men, and he’s one of them. I have it even morestrongly with people who are a certain type of androgynous, which is probablygetting straight to the heart of the matter really. There’s a certain look that Silver/Lukeoften has that falls right into the type that messes me up: (big) long hair,facial hair, reasonably muscular arms and legs, and a masculine-but-soft-ish,grungy kind of style.

The waySilver looks mid-S2 is probably the most intense instigator of these feelingsfor me (though any time his hair is down in S4 I get it badly too.) It’sattractive, but it’s also in a lot of ways what I want for myself; thebit of face scruff, the toned, veiny forearms, the wide shoulders, the narrow waist under the big belt, and themuscular thighs. He moves in a masculine way too, and he has that deep voice,and I like those things in the same confusing mixture of ways.

I’ve dressedin a pretty masculine way for a long time, but I’m always kind of disappointedthat my frame doesn’t pull off the look the way I want it to. I almost always wearmen’s hoodies, tank top style tops, sports bras, close fitting dark jeans, belts,and converse or boots. That’s my look. But I want to be taller and harder andmore angular. I want to be stronger. Most of the time I don’t like being softwith round edges, but I do like that I’m naturally quite muscular underneath it.I don’t hate having boobs, but I don’t particularly love them either. I wish Icould take them off for 99.9% of the time and maybe just put them on forspecial occasions. I’m just glad they’re not bigger. I don’t exactly dislike being awoman, but I feel deeplyuncomfortable when I think I look too performatively feminine, like I’m goingto be ‘found out’ as a fraud or people will assume I’m something I’m not. I don’teven know where to start with the fact that I enjoy manual labour partiallybecause I like how it makes my hands rough and calloused and cut up, and itgets dirt so embedded around my nails that it doesn’t come out for days. I’mcareless with my hands when I’m on an excavation (I’m anarchaeologist in theory) because I want them to look more masculine and be less soft.

Tbh, for along time I’ve had a slight obsession with wondering what I’d be like if I wasa man. If literally everything was the same, except I got the Y chromosome frommy dad instead of another X. What would I look like? How would I present myself?What looks could I pull off? Would my personality be the same? Would I fancythe same people? Would I be ignoring confusing ‘do I want to be or be with’feelings about women? And if we lived in a world where it was possible tochange your sex or just your appearance back and forth at will, I thinkI’d spend a lot of time either as a man or at least as an androgynous,masculine looking woman. But not all the time. And that’s kind of the most confusingpart. I regularly wear mascara and eyeliner, I sometimes wear lipstick, and I keepmy nails pretty long when I’m not digging (which is most of the time). Thereare multiple ways I often like to look and feel feminine. It’s such a mixed upmess that it’s hard to pull apart. Honestly, that photo of Ezra Miller with hishair piled up and his adorable patchy beard and with lipstick on too is somehowgoals. But without the dress.

I thinkSilver really plays into all this because he both embodies a lot of the ways Iwant to look, and he also looks some of the ways I already do look. I think wehave a fairly similar face shape, and similar eyes, and somewhat similar hair (mine’sfar less curly, but it’s big and unruly and about the same colour when it’s notdyed), and he’s also fairly short and muscular in that maybe attainable kind ofway that someone like Jason Momoa (who I get it with a little) is not. I think actually, subconsciously, hereally fits into my brain’s ideas of best version male me, and I find it verycomfortable and kind of a release to put myself inside him when I write fics.It’s like playing dress up with a different imaginary body, with all thedetails filled in for me, and a conveniently familiar personality through whichI can express myself in different ways.

On top of allthat, while my memory can be pretty spotty for short term things, my long termmemory is actually very good. So I remember vividly the way I felt about developingfacial hair and a little happy trail when I was going through puberty, before I internalised all that societal bullshit aboutwhat women are supposed to look like. I liked both of them. I liked happytrails on men, and so I liked how it looked on me, because I didn’t really knowyet that I wasn’t ‘supposed’ to have it. The older I get, the hairier I get,and I’m torn between hating it because I’m meant to be a woman and I don’t look‘right’, and feeling weirdly validated by it because it’s like my body wants tobe more masculine too.

I’m not sure whether I’m making the best job of explaining this, but it’s because I’ve spent along time kind of glancing at these feelings and just accepting that they’rethere without actually looking harder at what they all mean when I put themtogether. I’ve also not bothered delving too far into what kind of tumblr-esquelabels exist that could encompass it all, because I’m worried if I settle onsome kind of label for what it is (if it is anything at all beyond ‘you’re justtomboyish, dude, get a grip’) then it’ll only become another thing that the mirror doesn’treflect and my dissatisfaction over the way I look will have new specific and excitingbranches to explore. It’s not just that I don’t look a certain way, it’s alsothat I can’t make myself look very different in any direction. The way I lookisn’t flexible. I always just look like a short, chubby woman. My face alwaysjust looks like my face, only sometimes the lips are a different colour or myeyelashes look longer. I still hope my face will get more angular as I getolder, but it’s not like I’m a kid anymore. I’m almost 30. If I had a beardthough, I’d treat that thing like a god damn etch-a-sketch. I could change myface drastically on a whim. Which is maybe why I’m kind of overly fascinated bythe way Silver’s look shifted so significantly throughout the series.

I’m probablyforgetting obvious stuff, and I’m omitting some other stuff, but Ithink that covers a lot of it. Hopefully it makes some kind of sense. This isprobably a lot more than what you were really asking about, but Silver isessentially just the latest focus (and avatar, really) in a long line of thingsthat fall into this pattern.

#personal #welp that's out there now #other queer stuff?#not sure why anyone would but please don't reblog this #I might delete it later #Anonymous

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