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revlyncox · 2 months ago

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Falling Leaves 2024

This homily was written for the annual Remembrance service and was delivered on October 27, 2024, by Rev. Lyn Cox.

In this morning’s story, the narrator remembers:

Barney was brave.

And smart and funny and clean.

Also cuddly and handsome, and he only once ate a bird.

It was sweet to hear him purr in my ear.

And sometimes he slept on my belly and kept it warm.

And, in the end, the narrator remembers one other thing:

Barney is in the ground and he’s helping grow flowers.

You know, that’s a pretty nice job for a cat.

[From The Tenth Good Thing About Barney by Judith Viorst, with illustrations by Erik Blegvad]

Each of us carries something forward that we remember from loved ones who have died, be they human or more than human. Sometimes we carry memories of comfort, of being held in a love that gives us the courage to grow. Our departed loved ones may have seen the best in us, and helped us to acknowledge our own belovedness. Sometimes our loved ones who have died gave us life lessons, or important information, or a sense of heritage. Our beloved dead may leave behind legacies of love, riches of memory and hope that we can then share in their honor.

It’s also true that sometimes we carry counter-examples, complex relationships that demonstrate to us how we do NOT want to behave toward others. Sometimes we carry unresolved hurts that lead us to commit to making amends to the harm we ourselves have done. Sometimes we carry doubts that support our humility or our curiosity. Sometimes we carry the memories of drawing boundaries, declarations of love for ourselves and for the people in our care. Grief can be evidence of love left behind, and it can also be a more multi-layered sense of absence. There is space for all kinds of grief in this circle.

As the leaves reveal the colors of their grand finale and fall to the earth to rejoin the soil from which they came, our thoughts turn to the circle of life. We may be processing a recent loss, or coming back around to a memory that returns to us every so often. We may be opening our hearts to what is revealed as a loved one prepares for their final journey, or perhaps contemplating our own mortality. In these autumn days, perhaps the wisdom or the smile or the courage of someone who has gone beyond this life catches our minds eye and holds our attention. Like the flash of a red maple leaf, there is beauty in paying attention to these memories, and there is wisdom in letting go as the spiral of life keeps moving.

The height of autumn might remind us of ancestors we never knew personally, those of our family or culture or those we choose as role models. In this season, I am reminded of those who never gave up on human rights, who advocated for voting rights, racial justice, LGBTQ inclusion, gender justice, or access to healthcare. Some of these ancestors died for what they believed, bequeathing to us a legacy of justice to celebrate and to defend. We honor their memories and take up the work that is ours to do. Some of us remember ancestors who struggled and found a way forward, ancestors whose lives or humanity were actively repressed in their own times, and for whom our thriving and our ability to help one another thrive is their victory.

All living things are bound together in a tapestry of breath, of water, of soil, of life finding a way forward. The lives of those who have gone before impact us, maybe not always for the better, but the world is different for their having arrived and departed. Knowing this, let us commit to being good ancestors. To me, being a good ancestor means being mindful of our impact, but not being so frozen in consideration that we forget to live with joy and kindness. Being a good ancestor does not have to mean accomplishing something, or racking up fame or wealth or prestige. Living and loving creates a legacy already. We prepare a way for the beings of the future by collaborating with the Spirit of Life, and that includes being spirited about the life within us and among us and around us. That’s part of what our ancestors did to make a way for us to be here. Certainly, be kind, channel your talents, resist oppression, try to help others, but you don’t need to be recognized as a hero in order to be a good ancestor. Your life matters just for you having lived it. Perhaps you can think of people from the past who shared one or more of your identities, and how their joy and celebration and pride supported their survival and your ability to persist unto this moment. Let’s be thankful for that joy and return it to the world as part of our love.

Another aspect of being in right relationship with the past, present, and future is to let go when it is time to let go. We can release what is past, what we or the world have outgrown, what no longer serves life, or simply what is out of season for the moment. Like leaves that fall to the earth, the things we release can compost and transform to feed the future. Allowing ourselves to feel our feelings and to process our losses is a form of letting go. Giving up on the possibility of having had a different past is a form of letting go. Holding the memories of our beloved dead close to us, celebrating their legacies, and then releasing them to the mystery is a form of letting go. We honor the past by building on it, not by preserving it unchanged. We become good ancestors by caring for each other, ourselves, and the world just as we are. I hope it is the case that today’s ritual helps us to let go.

The falling leaves, the cycle of the seasons, and the ritual of remembering our beloved dead may bring up many complex feelings. May we hold one another in our grief, in our hope, in our challenges, and in our transformation. May these memories inspire us to grow and to learn, creating space for thriving for all the life that follows ours.

May it be so.

#unitarian universalism

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likeadog · 3 years ago

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okay so im seeing people get anons about this and its coming up in friend groups so i think now's actually a pretty good time to tackle the idea of religious (specifically cultic) abuse in media and how we as an audience interact with it

TLDR: dehumanization and sexualization of cult victims furthers the misunderstanding that cults "don't exist now", and RA survivors would feel much safer in fandom spaces if people acknowledged and analyzed the harmful portrayals of cults in media.

cw: discussions of cults, abuse, and sexual assault

also, if you have questions, please shoot me an ask or dm (off anon preferably, though)

let me start this with a disclaimer that i dont think every media that features ra is inherently bad. i think thats a bit harsh and as an ra survivor ive come to terms with the fact that there are going to be depictions of it in ways that maybe dont give it the respect it deserves, and trying to "what about [x]" everything will only lead people to talking in circles with themselves. what i want to address here is how you, as a consumer, respond to and parse out what cultic abuse means in any particular portrayal of it.

*also please don't harass people about their RAS status, like, if you see someone enjoying something with a less than stellar portrayal of cults, don't send them asks or dms like "well are YOU a cult survivor?" reducing the consumption of media to a yes or no game based on identity-- especially an identity that comes as the result of explicit pain and spiritual violation is not only derivative but also degrading to survivors and the people you're grilling. all we want is for people to think carefully about what they spread and portray, and how they think about those situations.

so, i think the first thing to tackle is...what is a cult? This is something that's surprisingly hard to define, especially in fictional settings with fictional cults. For example, (and pardon the use of this example, I don't feel like hunting for others), My Hero Academia has an organization in it that I would say fits the criteria for being a cult, but by and large isn't considered one by fans because it's not explicitly called a cult. (Although numerous cult jokes have been made about it). It also has an organization that IS explicitly referred to as a cult.

So, when you're dealing with how to process what is and is not a cult-- and how to make your presence safe for RA survivors, you have to be able to sift through more than just "did the narrative tell me this is a cult?"

There's a few different models people use; one of the most popular being the BITE model-- but I should clarify that the BITE model is really tailored towards religious and strictly hierarchal cults, but can be applied to other kinds of cults.

(and yes, there are cults other than religious/spiritual ones. corporate cults and wellness cults have been on the rise, and it's good to keep that in mind both when engaging with media and also in the real world.)

However, I'm a religious cult survivor, so a lot of my experience is strictly irt this, so please take what I say with a grain of salt, and know that I don't speak for every cult survivor, every religious cult survivor, or every religious abuse survivor. I am One Guy on the internet.

When it comes to media, I have a few questions I run through in order to figure out if something is A Cult.

1) Fringe Ideas. This one is one of those that most people know-- and often incorrectly use to attribute cult status to other things. However, it is worth mentioning, that you don't become a cult by following mainstream ideologies. BUT. BUT. not every group with weird ideas is a cult! Some groups are just weird and are fine being weird. It's a rectangles and squares situation. All cults have fringe ideas and behaviors, not all fringe ideas and behaviors belong to cults.

2) Hierarchies. Cults always have people in power, at least in my experience. There have been ideas thrown around about "completely decentralized cults"-- but to be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about that concept, and I don't know enough about it personally to say whether or not it's legitimate. If you have any sources, hmu.

BUT. Most cults have a power structure. You're going to have leaders, usually with a handful at the verrrrry tippy top, whose word is law. This can be associated with things like religious ideas (channelling god) or being "a genius", like in corporate cults.

3) Control. I cannot stress this enough; cults are all about control. How you think, feel, behave-- they discourage critical thought, encourage snitching on each other, buddy-group behavior; the BITE model explicitly lists these models of control.

4) Us V Them. Cults will give all those that oppose them or simply don't believe them a bad name. They're uneducated, they're evil-- it varies cult to cult, but you'll see them turning the non believers into a homogenous, frightening group. They want to discourage looking outwards, and they want to viciously isolate members.

Other things of note are extremism, talks of enlightenment, harsh punishments, the cult eating large portions of the member's finances, etc.

However, this post is largely to address FICTIONAL cults. and the unfortunate fact of the matter is that fictional cults are rarely fleshed out in a way that can be held one to one to a model, and, more often, don't even afford the victims of a cult humanity.

and this is one of THE biggest issues you find in cult portrayals. the leader is usually a charismatic, or perhaps menacing, figure, one that usually our protagonists-- who are rarely cult victims, they are typically outsiders (not inherently bad, mind you)-- faces personally, with the hoardes of mindless zombies forming one giant hurdle.

Naturally, this can be...hurtful. There's nuance to who is and is not a victim in a cult (although my rule of thumb is to look at what abuses that person specifically exerts over others-- and you can be both a victim and perpetrator of abuse. to treat them exclusively is lacking all nuance), but the people are the bottom, even if they joined willingly, are people who were preyed upon. Not only that, but many media cults forget that people can be born into cults, and never really had a choice to begin with. To treat these people like they are mindless-- or that they deserve the suffering they are in because they are there-- completely erases all nuance, humanity, and understanding to the cult survivior struggle. Not only that, but it continues to sensationalize and deify cult leaders, which is doing their job for them, really.

The second biggest issue is the romanticization and sexualization of cults, religious abuse, and cultic abuse.

(yes...this is a thing.)

The use of cults as a way to make a character edgy or tragic is one thing, but there's something sinister about using it to project a certain sexual behavior onto that character-- whether it be as the subjugator or subjugated. Sexual abuse is rampent in cults, and ritualistic sexual abuse is used to justify it. To sexualize the idea of a cult(ist) raping and abusing someone is...beyond offensive to anyone who has been in a cult where their sexual safety and autonomy has been compromised. Or, in some cases, the cultist is so naive and sheltered they can be easily coerced and taken advantage of due to their brainwashing.

This is...bad? This is bad. To ignore the fact that these depictions are just as harmful as any other romanticization of abuse is to ignore the real suffering of cult victims.

Really, the larger problem is that people don't really think cults exist, not really. They're all things of the past, or things that exist solely in fiction-- when in reality, every day cults form and continue to grow. If you've ever met a mormon, you've met a cultist. The moment you begin to process and parce the fact that this isn't as bizarre and unusual and fictional as it seems, you take the steps to respecting people who have been in that situation and become better at detecting cults, cult recruitment, and are able to more clearly assess what you take in.

Once again, there's so many bad portrayal of cults that it would be...stupid to call for an immediate disowning of anything with it in it. I personally have come to terms with the idea that I will have gripes about these portrayals in most cases, but rarely do I see people other than fellow RA or cult survivors discussing these portrayals. I'm hoping people can become more aware and willing to discuss cults in a serious and analytical context and criticize how they're portrayed in the things they love.

And once again, cult survivors are NOT a monolith. If a cult survivor expresses they are uncomfortable with something I said here that I'm not, or vice versa, listen to the people who actively surround you and whom you care about.

#nyc knacks #cults #ive been sitting on this for a while but it came up on the dash and i took the opportunity to talk abt it #bc i feel very passionately abt it #ok 2 rb

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house-of-galathynius · 4 years ago

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Only You ~ Rowaelin

A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, if Erawan and Maeve weren’t threats. Hope you enjoy!

Prologue ~ Chapter Two

Chapter One: Meeting

Summer had always been Aelin’s favourite time of the year. It was the soft breezes and the long days, the late nights. It was the time of year where she didn’t have to be a princess. There was no need for the formalities or the pretending.

Summer was the season of freedom.

And when she had woken up that morning, the sun was still low in the sky, the mist dancing between the trees and the bird song was mellowed, quieter somehow. She had known that summer was over; her Fae senses could feel the shift of the season. Summer giving way to the crispness of autumn. And despite the peacefulness and beauty of autumn, it was also her least favourite time of the year.

Court would begin again. Gone would be the long nights of stargazing, the lazy days lounging in the sun with a book or the trips to the Staghorns; now was the time for her royal duties to start once again.

A gentle tap of the door had Aelin groaning and shifting in bed.

“Your Highness? Your father would like to know if you will be eating breakfast with them this morning.” Her maid Elspeth was one of the good ones. She was in her late forties and had been with Aelin for her entire twenty years. She was a short woman, her hair starting to grey at the roots, her cheeks always rosy and plump. But Aelin loved her like a mother.

Elspeth slid into the room and closed the door behind her, she strode over to the towering windows which looked out over the forest beyond the castle. The thick curtains were opened to reveal a grey morning. Elspeth didn’t wait for a response from Aelin as she continued her way around the room to the balcony on the far side. She opened the doors and Fleetfoot, Aelin’s beloved dog perked up and trotted off to the fresh air.

Elspeth was well versed in the ways of Aelin. Which is why her final task was to perch on the edge of her bed and pull the covers back.

“Aelin, you have guests arriving today.”

She shot up in bed, staring at Elspeth. She had forgotten about the guests. If she had, she definitely would have been up earlier. She said as much.

“The Queen of Doranelle, Sellene Whitethorn is arriving with her family.”

Of course. There had been turmoil in Doranelle for many years and finally, only a few months ago, they had decided on a new queen. It had been a surprise to her Uncle Orlon when it had been announced, but nonetheless, had extended an invitation to visit once the new queen had settled into her new role. Just as the offer would be extended to me one day- when I became queen.

“I suppose I cannot get away with my usual attire today?” She said. Elspeth laughed and shook her head. “I’m afraid not. A dress will be required.”

Elspeth had picked a simple yet regal gown in a deep Terrasen green. Elspeth tried and failed to get Aelin to braid her hair, or at least put it into a simple updo. But Aelin enjoyed her hair free, the long blonde locks were one of her favourite assets, and never understood the need to hide it.

She surveyed herself in the mirror, despite her late night with Sam, she looked awake and bright eyed. Ready for a day of acting like a princess.

When Aelin arrived into the breakfast room, her father and mother were already seated, Orlon too. She took up the seat beside her mother and smiled apologetically to the three of them. Tardiness was one of her weaknesses and had frustrated all of them to no end. But with the night she had just had… if only her parents knew.

“Late night again, Aelin?” Orlon grinned. He had always been privy to Aelin’s whereabouts, where she would sneak off to, who she would meet.

Sam was not royal, in fact, he held no title in Terrasen. He had moved when he had been sixteen years old; escaping the grips of an assassin in Rifthold. He had stowed away on a ship, not knowing where it was going, but hoping that anywhere was better than before. He arrived in Terrasen with a few coins and his wits about him. He’d managed to secure work at a library. The owner had been old and frail, unable to lift the books, unable to do much at all. Sam had taken it upon himself to help in any way he could. And six years later he was the proud owner. It’s where Aelin had met him. Since then, she had been sneaking off to see Sam every chance she could; the only person knowing being Orlon.

She knew it could never be more than it was with Sam, a reason why she had been so quick to shut down his offer the night before. And despite Terrasen being a forward-thinking country— the King was married to a man for Gods sake— they still drew the line at commoners and royalty marrying, or even being involved, the only exception being a mating bond; something so rare and final that no King or God could argue with it. So she tried to enjoy the stolen moments she had with Sam. Avoiding the advances of any foreign royalty that may come her way. The King only allowing it on the condition that when a serious offer of marriage arose, Aelin would accept and take her place as the next heir to the throne. She loved Sam, and on occasion had been angry at the impossibility of it being anything other than what it was now.

There was the other problem of her immortal lifespan. Sam was human and at some point it would have to end anyway.

“Did you forget about the arrival of the Whitethorns today?” Her father asked.

“It may have slipped my mind.” An easy lie. She took a bite of the pastry in front of her, savouring the sweetness. “But I am here now, and ready to be the perfect princess.” Another bite.

Her mother chuckled to herself, sipping on the herbal tea that she would drink every morning without fail. Orlon cleared his throat, giving her a look.

“The queen is new to this Aelin. We must ensure she is welcomed and feels comfortable during her stay.”

A roll of her eyes. “I think I can manage being nice for a few days.”

“Weeks.”

She stopped mid-chew.

“The Whitethorns will be here for at least three weeks. Their castle is under renovations, so we offered them a place to stay whilst they were underway.”

She had never heard of such a thing. A new queen, leaving her territory for weeks?

“Darling, you are not expected to entertain them alone, nor be present at every minute.” Her mother had always been the diffuser; ensuring the conversations remained civil, if not for her sanity, for the sake of Aelin’s temper that had resulted in a few fires. “But the sneaking off will have to stop. Lysandra will understand.” Lysandra being Aelin’s excuse for when she was actually sneaking off to see Sam.

She smiled politely and confirmed that she would be well behaved for when the guests arrived.

And that was that.

She finished breakfast quickly and excused herself before they could make her stay longer. Aelin made her way to the training ground just beyond the walls of the garden. Orlon had had it built when it was evident Aelin needed a place to train with her powers. Fire magic was a rare gift, one that hadn’t been in the royal family since Brannon. She was grateful for the space, even if she no longer needed to train to the same extent. Only meeting with her trainer once every month.

“I thought I might find you here.” Lysandra’s voice echoed across the stones. “Hiding?” Lysandra laughed.

“Something like that.”

Lysandra was silent as she perched on the stone bench, watching as Aelin made shields of flame, as she danced the fire through her fingers and flung her powers towards the wall.

“I won’t be available for a while Lys. The Queen of Doranelle and her family are arriving today.” Aelin held the flame in her palm. “I need you to send a message to Sam for me.”

Lysandra had been the daughter of one of her mothers maids. And when her mother had died, Aelin’s mother could not stand the thought of Lysandra going to an orphanage. So she had housed Lysandra and trained her as a lady-in-waiting for Aelin. And even though they hated each other as children, the older they got the more they understood the other.

“I heard one of the Whitethorn princes is extremely handsome. Do you think he’d be interested?” Aelin snorted. Any person would be insane not to be attracted to Lysandra.

“Gods help the poor male if you pursue him.” Aelin returned to her flame.

“We all know that you’re going to marry me one day.”

They both whirled at the sound of the male voice at the archway. Aedion stood there in all his glory. He wore a midnight blue jacket and dark pants, clothes for important people, Aelin thought. It was envy that Aelin was feeling. Aedion may be a prince, but he would never be King; marrying Lysandra would never be a problem, if she ever agreed, that was.

Lysandra rolled her eyes and flipped her hair to the side. “Aedion, we both know you can’t handle me.”

“We’ll see, Lysandra.” Mischief glittering in his eyes.

Aedion took his wandering eyes away from Lysandra and back to Aelin, who had already lost interest in their banter.

“What do you want Aedion? Aelin and I were busy.”

“I’m here to tell Aelin that the Whitethorns will be here any moment, and her father wishes for her to be in the great hall to welcome them.”

No peace. Summer was well and truly over then. Her flame flickered out and she brushed down her dress that was lightly coated in dust. She shook out her hair and let it fall past her shoulders, running her fingers through it to release any tangles.

“How do I look?”

“Like your father is going to kill you when he see’s the mess on your clothes.” Aedion held his arm out, she linked hers through it and smiled back at Lysandra who was brushing her own dress down.

“I’ll see you later Aelin.” A smile. “Always a pleasure, Aedion.” And then she was gone.

Aelin and Aedion strolled down the path that led back into the gardens and then into the tall white palace of Orynth. The guards bowed their heads as she passed, the only acknowledgement that they would give. They continued into the palace, the halls empty of people.

“Did they have to put out so many flowers? I feel like I’m just going to sneeze the entire time.” Aedion laughed, but didn’t respond as they approached the doors to the great hall.

The room was only ever used for special occasions, I suppose a new queen included that. The room was large, taking up an entire wing of the castle, it’s ceiling tall, gold chandeliers dropping from it. The walls were painted white, with green and gold accents dotted around— the colours of Terrasen. The room was magnificent, every inch dripping in wealth and splendour.

When she entered she dropped into a low curtsey. Orlon was sat atop the Antler Throne, his eyes fixed on her and Aedion— who was also bowing low. Her father and mother were sat on two smaller seats to Orlon’s left. A second, smaller throne rested next to Orlon’s; for the consort of the king. Which was unusually empty; Orlon’s husband usually filling the spot.

As soon as she was in her place and everyone else were in their correct spots the guard at the end of the hall announced the arrival of the first Whitethorn family members. Aelin knew this formality all too well— get the lesser family members out of the way first, and then announce the most important. So she dropped her eyes and fiddled with the hem of her sleeve. She kept her eyes averted as the guard listed off the names of lesser royals and their spouses. A pinch on her shoulder made her look up, she spun to berate Aedion for being an ass, when the guard started to speak once more.

“Your majesty, I would like to present Rowan Whitethorn, Prince of Doranelle and Endymion Whitethorn, Prince of Doranelle.”

The two males stepped through the open doors and she met the eyes of the shorter male. He was handsome, of course; and she smiled politely at him, wishing this would go faster. He smiled back, lowering his head slightly before doing the same to Aedion. Aelin tore her eyes away and looked at the second male stood next to him. Her breath caught in her throat as she beheld what was in front of her.

It took him a moment to look toward her, and when their eyes met she felt every hair on her body stand up. His pine green eyes met her own and it was like the world was falling around her. She swallowed and forced herself to breathe, her body heating.

The male in front of her seemed to be doing the same thing. His breathing turned shallow and he couldn’t tear his eyes from hers.

It was like everything around her was spinning or maybe she was falling, Orlon’s voice faded to the background, all she could hear was the pounding of her heart.

As she stared into the eyes of her mate.

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin ashryver #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin galathynius #throne of glass fanfiction #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #kingdom of ash #tower of dawn #sarah j maas #sjm #sjmaas #only you rowaelin

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chaoticminhos · 5 years ago

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my mate

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: smut, hybrid!au

warnings: none

words: 1.7k

a/n: i know nothing about hybrids/knotting can someone who knows about writing that stuff help me pls djdjdjej (not proofread)

you chuckled as a gorgeous cat hybrid nestled it’s head against your leg, begging for attention. you complied, reaching down to scratch right between his ears.

“aren’t you a pretty kitty?”

you could feel the subtle vibration of his purr against your leg as a response.

“do you have a name, sweet thing?”

now fully snuggled up next to you and having decided that you were his source of attention for the night, the cat hybrid purred his response.

“my name is felix.”

you were taken aback by his deep voice, it was a huge contrast to his soft demeanor and pretty freckles across his face. you continued to stroke his head, noting that he seemed to like when you payed extra attention to his pretty blonde ears.

you hummed, “where’s your master, felix?”

he pouted, “don’t have one.”

ah, so he was part of the cafe. the cafe was a little spot that had recently opened up that allowed people to come get a coffee and a snack while spending time with hybrids who didn’t have a home other than that building. all of the hybrids in the little cafe were up for adoption, but as much as you already adored the kitty in your lap, you already had a hybrid at home.

it’s not that hybrids couldn’t get along or live together. obviously they did fine at the cafe. in fact, when you got your first hybrid, chan, you’d envisioned yourself owning a whole bunch of them. but, just like humans, hybrids have their own personalities, and part of chans just happened to be that he wasn’t good at sharing.

because of his protective behavior towards you, it was hard for chan to make hybrid friends. he did well with many of your human friends, but you wanted him to have friends that understood him, ones that knew about being a hybrid.

that was the very reason you were at the hybrid cafe. you had sent chan out to play with a group of hybrids in an open space in the cafe and with quite some convincing, he’d sulked away from you with his tail between his legs and to the group of playing hybrids.

he was always better behaved towards fellow hybrids when you weren’t near, because without you there, he had no reason to be protective. for that reason, you sat on the other end of the cafe as you watched him interact with his new found friends.

he was with another wolf hybrid and two cats. the wolf has her black hair and he was quite a bit smaller than chan, but as they play fought, you could see that he equaled him in strength. one of the cats, who was desperately tangled in the middle of chan and the other wolf as they played, was taller when he stood. he had pretty blonde hair to match the cat in your lap, but his flowed longer. you couldn’t help but laugh as he struggled free from the playing wolves just in time to be tackled by the other cat, who seemed to have been waiting for someone to pounce on. he had black hair and you were sure that even if you couldn’t see his ears and tail, he would still look strikingly like a cat.

he freed himself from his attacker and looked up to make sure you were still where he had left you. it was a common habit for him, he checked on you often, despite you being the one looking over him.

noticing the unfamiliar hybrid spread across your lap, chan stood and made his way back over to you. interested in where their new friend was going, the three hybrids he had been rough housing with followed him.

you had been paying so close attention to felix that you hadn’t even noticed chans return until you heard a low growl coming from him, immediately causing felix to shoot up and cling to you.

you wrapped a secure arm around felixs waist as he kept close to you for safety.

“chan.” you warned the wolf, his eyes trained straight onto felix. “you’re scaring him.”

taking another step forward, his eyes still locked into felix, he replied, “good.”

“chan, come sit down.” you patted the other side of the couch, the side that didn’t have felix clung to you. “it’s okay.”

he did as you asked, not because he was calming down or okay with some random hybrid being that close to you, but because he knew you wanted him to be better about things like this.

taking that as their cue, the three that had followed him piled in beside you. wolf lay by your feet and the talk, blonde cat snuggled in beside him. the other cat found comfort next to felix right away.

again, their ears perked up at a sound of anger coming from chan, which you quickly shushed.

“and what are your names?”

you were petting the wolf, so he took the option to answer first.

“i’m changbin.”

the cat beside him spoke up next, rubbing his head against your legs in a desperate attempt to get you to divert your hand from changbin to him.

“i’m hyunjin!”

the last unknown hybrid already had a soft purr forming as he cuddled against felix, “my name is minho.”

you felt chan shift beside you and you diverted your attention to him, bringing your arm from around felix to hold him close.

“i didn’t forget about you, puppy.”

it was peaceful like that for a moment- chan seeming to lighten up at the idea of so many others around you, but then a small whine escaped his throat.

“channie?”

he whined again, followed by the same jealous growl that he had when he first saw felix on your lap.

“chan, it’s okay.”

he didn’t respond, instead he turned his head to you and buried it in your shoulder as he continued to whine. he groaned and balled up the fabric of his shirt as if he was struggling to take it off.

as he moved to bury his face into the crook of your neck, you realized the situation. you felt him nip at the skin of your neck and immediately knew you needed to get him out of public.

the four hybrids that had taken to you whined as you shuffled them away and told them you had to leave, but all of them combined was nothing compared to the growls and whines coming from chan.

you stood from the couch and chan pulled you back down, “hurts.”

you pried his hands from your body and forced him to stand with you, leading him out the door and onto the streets. luckily for you, the way home was short, because the whole way there, he was attempting to rid you of your shirt or push you against any surface he caught sight of.

you stuck the key into the lock, trying to ignore chan pressed right against you, it’s obvious hard on pressed into your thigh. you stumbled into the house and quickly locked the door behind you before letting chan have what he had been practically begging for moments before.

“baby,” you began as he lifted your shirt over your head, “didn’t you have a heat last month?”

he nodded, “all of those hybrids trying to scent mark my bitch threw me into another one.”

his choice of words shocked you. he had been so polite and patient the whole way home, why was he suddenly so angry?

“they weren’t scent marking me.” you tilted your head to allow him better access to your neck, “and i’m not your bitch.”

the words made him growl, “then why can i still smell that stupid cat all over you?”

he backed you through the hallway and onto the nearest piece of furniture, which happened to be the couch.

you didn’t respond to him, instead choosing to help him rid himself of his clothes. he looked like he was going to overheat.

he didn’t waste much time getting into things, immediately stripping you of your remaining clothes and lining himself up with you.

in all honesty, you were proud of him for lasting this long without fucking you senseless. you’d half expected him to rail you against a random alley wall on the walk home.

you moaned as he began to sink into you and he groaned into your ear, “not my bitch, huh? then i’ll make you my bitch.”

without further warning, he buried himself inside of you and began thrusting into you at a relentless pace.

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him when he was in heat, you’d been subjected to this treatment countless times before, but it still threw you off every single time.

you nearly screamed as he bit down into your shoulder, a clear way of marking you as his. he knew you liked it, though. and even if you didn’t, he was far too gone to care.

he never let up his pace as he worked his hips against yours, ruthlessly driving you into the couch cushions.

you’d helped him through this enough times to know when he was close. you had to- he wasn’t in any mental state clear enough to tell you himself.

his pace faltered slightly and you brought your hand to your clit, bringing yourself towards an orgasm. he was usually so good about making sure you felt good, but in his heat, it never crossed his mind.

just before you felt the knot in your stomach come undone, another one formed, one just as familiar. you felt a surge of pain shoot through you as he began to knot with you, and it only made the orgasm that much better. it ended long before chan was done with you, but you didn’t mind. you’d known what you had gotten yourself into when you adopted chan.

finally, he eased himself out of you. sense seemed to flow back into his brain as he looked up at you with pouty, sorry eyes.

“i’m sorry. their smells on you just made me so frustrated and-“ he paused, not knowing how to continue.

you stroked his ears, “i know, pup.” you stood, gesturing for him to follow, “how about we go wash their smell off, okay?”

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madpanda75 · 4 years ago

Text

“Taking Chances Part 12: The Aftermath”

See how everyone reacts to Theo’s attack on the reader. Feelings get hurt, relationships are exposed, people shout. This chapter is ALL ANGST and FEELS! 😭

Trigger Warning: This chapter mentions assault and rape.

One thing at a time. That was all you could only focus on. Otherwise the reality of what had just happened would overwhelm you. Just one step at a time as you walked into the precinct with your family, Fin, and Amanda.

“Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?” Amanda asked.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, having barely spoken since Theo ran out of the gallery that morning. The metallic taste of blood still lingered on your tongue from where he had smacked you.

Liv walked out of her office to greet you and your family, but before she could say anything, your father spoke up. “Please tell me you’re gonna get this bastard.”

“Dom!” your mom scolded

“No! Don’t ‘Dom’ me. That monster assaulted my baby. I could go out there right now and take care of it.”

“Dad! Please!” Bella interjected. “Let the cops do their job!”

“Ok, everyone lets calm down,” Olivia said over the bickering.

Your eyes darted between your sister and parents, arguing over what was best for you in this situation. You felt like a child, small and helpless. You also felt partly responsible for the unnecessary stress and worry your family was feeling right now.

Mustering as much strength as you could, you reached into the darkest depths and found your voice. “I should’ve fought harder!” Your words reverberated around the room. Everyone halted and turned their attention to you. “I should’ve followed Phoebe to the front door. I know how she forgets to lock the door.”

Olivia gently squeezed your shoulder. “You did exactly what you had to do. You survived.”

“She’s right,” Bella chimed in and wrapped her arm around you.

Your mom nodded and ran her fingers through your hair. “I’m just so grateful to God that you’re ok.” She sniffled and kissed you on the cheek. “My patatina.”

Just then a slightly sweaty and out of breath Rafael burst into the precinct. It looked as if he had run all the way from his office. “Y/N!” He pulled you into a tight embrace before realizing that bum rushing you after you had just been assaulted was not the best idea. Wanting to respect your personal space, he immediately jumped back. His eyes scanned your body for any injuries. “Are you ok?”

Tears welled in your eyes. “As well as can be expected.”

With a tentative hand, he reached out and cupped your cheek. You trembled under his touch and wrapped your arms around him. Rafael enveloped you, silently praying to God, the Devil, or whatever Deity existed that kept you safe.

The squad looked at each other in total shock while witnessing the public display of affection between you and Rafael.

Fin subtly turned towards Amanda. “Did you know these two were--”

“Nope,” she murmured. “And from the looks of it neither did Liv.”

“Let’s talk in here,” Olivia said, gently leading you away from Rafael and towards an empty interrogation room.

“Why don’t I get everyone a real cup of coffee other than that sludge they have here,” Rafael offered.

Your mother smiled. “Thank you. That would be nice.”

“I’ll take a latte,” Fin teased only to receive a deadpan stare from Rafael.

While everyone went their separate ways, Amanda and Fin got to work on getting an arrest warrant. “Wow. Barba and Carisi’s younger sister.” Fin shook his head in disbelief.

“That explains why Carisi’s been acting the way he has,” Amanda said while searching on her laptop for Theo’s office building.

“Think Barba gave him the shiner?”

“I don’t know.” Amanda glanced up and saw a frantic Sonny bounding into the precinct. “But here’s your chance to ask him.”

“Where is she? Where’s my sister?” Sonny demanded.

“She’s in there talking to Olivia,” Amanda said. Sonny looked to where his partner was pointing. It was the interrogation room used to talk to victims. Victim. His sister was a victim. He couldn’t even wrap his mind around the concept. Through the window, he could see you sitting in between your mom and Bella while your dad paced back and forth in the background.

He barged into the room without even knocking. “Son, why don’t you wait outside,” your father said, trying to lead Sonny out of the room.

But he side swept him and knelt down in front of you. Tears were streaming down your cheeks. “Y/N, I’m so---”

You pushed Sonny away before he could finish. “I’m going to be sick,” you whimpered and ran to the bathroom. Your sister and mom trailed after you, each giving him a severe look.

Sonny stepped out of the interrogation room and plopped down in his chair, slamming his fist down on the desk so hard the metal rattled beneath his quivering hand.

“Hey,” Fin said. “Don’t sweat it, Carisi. We’re gonna get this creep.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled and reached into his drawer for the Pepto Bismol. The Carisi nerves reared its ugly head. He felt green. His stomach churned with guilt, grief, and whatever was leftover from breakfast.

Rafael stepped back into the bullpen with coffee and bagels from your favorite deli, knowing you probably hadn’t eaten a thing all day. Unfortunately for him, it was another Carisi he found. He brushed past Sonny towards Fin and Amanda. “Where are we with Theo?”

“Just finishing up this arrest warrant. Although it’s gonna be hard to get a judge to sign off on it with so little evidence,” Fin said. Rafael shuddered at the thought of you undergoing a rape kit. Having a SANE nurse poke, scrape, and prod you, searching for DNA, fingerprints, skin, and semen.

“That’s SVU for ya’.” Amanda sighed. “A victim’s word is never good enough.”

Rafael whipped out his cell phone. “I’ll call in some favors at the office. Give them a heads up about the warrant. And for the record, I’m glad there wasn’t a lot of evidence.” He glared at the back of Sonny’s head. “This could’ve been a lot worse.”

Feeling Rafael’s eyes on him, Sonny turned. “What?” he snapped. “Ya’ got somethin’ to say. So just say it.”

“You just couldn’t leave us alone could you?” Rafael shook his head in disgust and started towards the interrogation room to dole out coffee and bagels when Sonny’s voice stopped him.

“What the hell does that mean?” he sneered

Rafael scoffed. “Don’t play naive now. Grow up and realize your actions have consequences.”

Fin watched as the two men provoked each other. “Hey, fellas. Chill.”

Sonny ignored Fin and walked over to Rafael, getting right in his face. “If you think for one second—”

“Guys c’mon,” Amanda chimed in. “ Don’t do this.”

Rafael held his ground. “I think that when you invited Theo you were stupid enough to believe that she would crawl back to him. And because of you that monster almost raped her.”

Sonny’s blood boiled. “How dare you! I love my sister more than anythin’ in this world.”

Rafael let out a mirthless laugh. “Got some way of showing it!”

Everyone stopped their work and began inching closer towards the two men to get a prime view of the potential fight. Some of the junior officers had their phones out ready to capture the action. All eyes of the precinct were on Rafael and Sonny.

Sensing this was seconds away from coming to blows, Fin stepped in. “Barba, that’s enough!”

Rafael eluded Fin’s attempt to keep the peace and continued, “I don’t care if she is your sister. I love that woman more than anything in this world and I will do anything to protect her. Especially since her brother doesn’t know how to.”

“Stop it! Both of you!” Your voice pierced the air, causing everything and everyone to come to a screeching stop.

Rafael took a step toward you. “Y/N, I’m--”

“No!” you interrupted. “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take this fighting. If you can’t behave like civilized human beings then get out!” You pushed past the small crowd that had formed and went back into the interrogation room with your mom and sister.

Amanda clapped her hands. “Alright, guys. Show’s over.” As the crowd dispersed she went back to her desk, raising her brow in a manner that said, ‘Serves you boys right.’

Rafael cleared his throat and sat in an empty chair while Sonny went over to his desk. The two men were silent with Rafael staring at his phone and Sonny chugging more Pepto Bismol. Being scolded in front of the entire precinct was enough humiliation to suffer through for one day.

One hour later and the interrogation room door opened. “Is she ok?” Sonny asked Bella.

“She was just assaulted by her ex. How do ya’ think she is?” Bella snapped.

“Bella!” your mom reprimanded before turning to her son. “Give your sister some time. She’ll come around.” She kissed his cheek and left.

The minute you came out Rafael popped up out of his chair. He had been acting like an expectant father, pacing the floor and waiting. “Do you need anything? How’d it go?”

“Ok,” you said with a shrug. “I’m gonna go home with my folks. I’ll call you later.”

Rafael nodded. A cocktail of terror, relief, and anger etched into his face. You gave him a half smile. It was the most emotion you could muster. As you walked away, both of you knew that after today your relationship would never be the same.

****

The hours may have ticked by, but for Sonny time stood still. While Rafael and the others had left, he hadn’t moved from his desk.

“What are you still doing here?” Olivia asked when she stepped out of her office, surprised to see him alone and staring off into space rather than at home.

“My family hates me,” he softly said.

Olivia sighed and pulled up a chair. “No they don’t.”

“I didn’t...I mean when I invited Theo...I never thought…” He couldn’t finish his train of thought, a lump rising in his throat which he bitterly swallowed back down. The words that Rafael spit at him earlier still stung. Although it was nothing compared to the guilt and shame he felt.

“Hey, this is not your fault,” Olivia sternly said. “You can’t think like that.”

Sonny studied his scuffed shoes and nodded his head when he heard Theo’s voice. “Watch it will ya’! That’s police brutality!”

“Keep moving,” Fin said, leading your ex-fiance into the precinct with Amanda following behind.

In an instant Sonny lunged at Theo, gripping him by the collar and shoving him against the wall. “You sonofabitch!” he growled. “You attacked my little sister!”

Fin tried to separate the two men, but he was no match for Sonny, who’s anger gave him almost superhuman strength.

“Hey! Get off me, man!” Theo exclaimed and tried to wrench free from the vice-like grip his friend had on him.

Sonny slammed Theo’s head into the wall again, so hard that it practically vibrated around the room. “I trusted you with her!”

“Someone help!” Theo shouted. It took several officers to get Sonny off him.

“Ya’ know, I could sue the NYPD for this,” Theo said as he was led to the cage.

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Yeah, go ahead and try that after you’re found guilty of assault and attempted rape.”

Before Olivia or anyone else could reprimand Sonny for his behavior, he grabbed his jacket and left, unable to stand being in the same room as your attempted rapist.

****

Not wanting to be alone in your apartment, you ended up spending the night at your parents’ house. As you laid in bed in your childhood bedroom, staring up at old boyband posters, you thought of Theo. How many memories you had shared in this room. From endless games of Bop-It when you were kids to sneaky makeout sessions during your teen years, always ready to split apart in case your mom came barging in.

It was amazing how much life had changed since then. How much Theo had changed. From the sweet innocent boy next door to a conniving monster. Perhaps that evil streak was always in him, kept well hidden in the darkest corners of his being, but over time became more difficult to conceal. Until today when that mask he wore so well, fell and revealed his true self.

As hard as it was, you tried not to waste too much energy thinking about the happenings of today, especially when you had Rafael. You tried to call him several times that night, but every attempt ended with your thumb hovering over the call button before eventually giving up.

You didn’t know what to say, and in reality you didn’t want to say anything. You wanted to go back to when life was simpler. To when life was easy. But there was no going back, so instead you shoved your phone under the pillow and tried to sleep.

*****

Since you had never called Rafael, you weren’t too surprised to find him standing outside your apartment building the next morning when Teresa dropped you off. “Want me to go in with you?” she asked.

“No, that’s ok. I need to speak to Rafael in private.”

As you stepped out of the car, Teresa smiled and waved at your boyfriend. “Poor bastard,” she muttered to herself.

“Hi,” Rafael said,

“Hi,” you replied. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t call last night so I came to check on you.” He followed you inside and into the elevator. You wanted to scream at him to stop being so damn nice, to stop making this harder than it had to be, but instead you were silent.

When you got to your door, you hesitated. What if Theo was in there. Of course, you knew that was nonsensical. Fin and Amanda had arrested him last night; however, that did nothing to quell your fear.

Noticing your reluctance, Rafael spoke up, “Do you want me to check?”

“No,” you said before sighing in defeat. “Yes, please.” You waited outside for several minutes before he came out and gave you the all clear.

Rafael had intended to spend the day doing whatever you wanted to do whether that was to sit and talk or just to hold you while you cried. Instead, he followed you into your bedroom and watched you pull out a suitcase and begin to pack.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Packing,” you replied. Rafael crossed his arms and arched his brow, not in the mood for your sarcasm, especially since he was up all night worried sick. “I’m taking off work for a while so I’m going over to my sister’s place. I can’t stay here alone right now.”

Rafael followed you around the bedroom like a lost puppy as you moved from the dresser to the bathroom and back. “You can stay at my place if you want.”

“You have work,” you said.

“I know, but I can easily work from home right now if you need me.” He sauntered up behind you and started to massage your shoulders only to have you jump a mile high and flinch away from his touch.

“I’m sorry,” he said and immediately stepped away from you. As you continued to stuff your suitcase, Rafael began to get a funny feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. A premonition that something was coming. “Are you ok?”

You began to shake and it was only after a moment that Rafael realized it was because you were laughing. “Am I ok?” Your laugh grew stronger until it was maniacal. “I was just assaulted! My family is falling apart! My life is falling apart! I am not ok!”

You grabbed a photo of your family from your nightstand and threw it as hard as you could, watching it hit the wall and fall to the ground, the glass shattering. It felt good to unleash your anger, addicting almost. Your hand trembled from the adrenaline. Soon you were tearing apart your bedroom: throwing clothes, tugging the curtains off their rods, knocking a vase and art books off your dresser. Rafael stood there in silence while you had your tantrum, figuring you needed to release your pent up emotions after such a harrowing experience.

Once you had exhausted yourself, you collapsed on the bed out of breath. “I think we should take a break.”

At your admission, Rafael’s heart stopped. “Excuse me?”

“I think we should take a break,” you repeated.

Rafael felt completely blindsided. He had expected there would be some tough times ahead given Theo and the assault, but he was not prepared for this. “Why?”

You let out a breath and hoped Rafael would understand. “I need to be on my own right now,” you explained. “I need space to clear my head and battle my demons. I need to learn how to take care of this myself.”

“We take care of each other. That’s what a relationship is.”

“What about work? I saw the looks of the squad’s faces when they realized we were together.”

Your words sliced through Rafael, exposing his deepest insecurities. “I thought you didn’t care what people thought about us,” he quietly said.

Unable to face him and see the pain in his eyes, you focused on tugging a hangnail instead. “I don’t, but I don't want to ruin your career and if we’re together that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

There was silence between you both as Rafael tried to process your words. He ran a hand over his face and braced himself against the wall before kneeling down in front of you. “This is just temporary, right? Things will calm down and then we’ll be back together.”

You shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not sure. To be honest I’m not sure of anything right now.”

Rafael scoffed. “Let me guess, this is one of those ‘Don’t call me, I’ll call you’ kind of things, right?”

“That’s not fair,” you mumbled.

“I’m sorry. I just...I was willing to fight for us. To fight for you. I thought you felt the same way. But I was very very wrong.” Having nothing more to say, Rafael stood up and left.

You remained sitting on the bed, listening to his footsteps move down the hall, farther and farther away. It was only when you heard the door close that you gave yourself permission to cry.

Not wanting to be in this place another minute, you grabbed your suitcase and left, leaving your bedroom a disaster. Teresa was waiting for you outside. You stuffed your suitcase in the back of her car and hopped into the passenger seat. “Wanna talk about it?” she asked when she noticed you crying.

You shook your head and looked out the side view mirror as she drove away. Through your tears you could’ve sworn you saw Rafael walking down the street, his figure getting smaller and smaller until he blended in with the crowd and then there was nothing.

Tag List:

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blametheeditor · 4 years ago

Text

David’s New Pet

Warnings: David being a grade-A douche bag. Mentions of people being treated as pets or pests. Cursing. Mistreatment of others. Mentions of death. Mentions of murder. Mentions of someone being an orphan. Mentions of someone not wanting to adopt someone. Someone having the lack of sympathy or apathy. Someone being extremely insensitive.

I have no intentions of making the situation something to not take seriously. I mean no harm with how I’ve written it. Just be warned it has trigger warnings.

Run Down: Will admit, this is fairly old writing, but I wanted to throw it, so have and angsty (though only semi-angsty???) David getting a new pet!

I absolutely refuse to write the entire stories that come after this.

____________________

“Why are you always trying to get stepped on?”

David glares down at the human standing before him.

“Definitely not helping with the fact I think your species can’t even think past what animals do.”

He can’t see the minuscule expression, the form not even three inches tall, but frankly he couldn’t care less.

“And I will never understand why you think you deserve to even stand in my office. I’ll just be spraying pesticides to finally get rid of you pests.”

The business man raises an eyebrow when Fritz doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even move. Asshole, thinking he can get away with something like this and not pay the consequences. Of course the redhead is valuable, an exceptional coder who completes every task no matter what time restraint the giant gives.

The only real problem is the brilliant worker William Afton had on hand to be transferred between the restaurants of Freddy Fazbear’s is human. A lowly creature who doesn’t contribute anything but taking up vital parts of this world. Gives nothing to society, annoying beyond belief as he’s forced to watch his steps when walking around his own office of a business he owns.

“Are you even listening?” David demands, growling down at the unmoving teenager. Which, by the way, isn’t even in uniform.

Idiotic waste of his time. “As long as you’re here, I might as well have you do the one thing you’re not completely useless for.”

Again there’s no response as the giant carelessly walks ‘around’ the human and calls for Lefty. With that he ignores everything, phone out to text people who should actually exist in this fucked beyond repair world, leaning against his desk and ordering flyers and party supplies.

Finally the black bear appears in the office doorway. “Mr. Harrison, why is Mr. Smith crying?”

David hesitates, glancing up from his screen. “I don’t give a shit, frankly. I need him to update your coding on a new song, however, and him wanting to sob for no goddamn reason isn’t my problem.”

“And why is Mr. Smith here when he isn’t scheduled for today?”

...because he is?

“Fritz,” the business man snaps, growing exceptionally pissed off when he realized the human was apparently in his office just because. “Explain.”

“...my mum, my mum is dead.”

One less pest in this world, now that is good news.

“Condolences,” is said with an eye roll. And just why the hell does this have him receiving an unnecessary and unwanted visit?

“And I, I don’t have anyone that’s family here, here in the United States. So, so I’m getting put in the...the foster system.”

David grows still at that, listening to the strained voice making sure the sobs don’t escape even with the obvious pain.

“It’s been, really has been, been such a pleasure working for you, Mr. Harrison. But, but where I’m going, I’ll be...I’ll be unable to work for you any longer.”

The redhead slumps in despair at that, as if preparing to be stepped on, kicked or flicked across the room. Treated like the pest the giant before him has always claimed he is. Now that he’s useless, he’s bothering a successful man just because.

No shadow descends upon him, however.

...well, uh.

David glances back down at who’s about to be his former employee.

This is good. Great. He’s getting rid of a little pest he technically had been forced into hiring, having wanted to switch a pathetic human even if the giant coder wasn’t even 1% as good as Fritz. No more watching his step, making the world right again.

“When?”

He pretends not to notice the choked sob from the question. “They, they said if you need, need the standard two weeks to, to get another person to...to take my position-”

“You’re easily replaceable, human.”

David is only given a nod.

“Yes, Mr. Harrison.”

“You may go.”

Fritz sprints as fast as possible out of the business man’s office, wiping tears away as he runs, exiting into the hallway and continuing, needing to get out of the restaurant.

...he’s leaving.

The giant waves away the animatronic that’s now useless to him at the moment to follow after the little insect like a goddamn puppy. Never will he understand why such a thing would occur, a giant bear who frankly looks like he’s happily murdered a few children interested in such a lowly being, but he can’t think about that.

Much more important things to do.

...leaving.

“Fritz!”

David growls when the human doesn’t appear.

“Fritz!”

Now he’s getting piss.

“FRITZ!”

“Mr. Harrison!”

...why the fuck does his coder sound like Happy?

That’s because the frog animatronic is the one speaking. Her purple eyes hold an emotion the business man doesn’t want to even comprehend. Doesn’t want to attempt to register that even ‘sentient’ like all the other dumbasses of so called ‘night guards’ claim shouldn’t be able to show any kind of emotions. Not when their mouths aren’t able to form anything outside of a permanent smile. Bitch face in Lefty’s case.

David waves a hand, clearly not in the mood. “Out. I called for-”

“Mr. Smith, I know.” Shit did the expression get stronger? “He’s gone, Mr. Harrison. Remember?”

...oh.

“The little pest should be here. Didn’t give me two goddamn weeks.”

“He offered two weeks, Mr. Harrison. You didn’t take it.”

“He’s an absolute asshole allowing his mother to-”

David stiffens when the frog was no longer listening, not even in his office doorway anymore. Fine, go cry to Orville and tell the bastard he’s ‘being insensitive’. He doesn’t care. More free-time for him.

...fuck.

“This is Scott Cawthon.”

“You’re a father, right?”

The giant stares into space before slowly, carefully pulling his phone in front of him, staring at the fact that the human. Hung. Up.

On him.

“Scott! You LITTLE-!”

“David, shut up before I send Vincent to kick your ass.” The eldest guard waits until the sound of a mouth opening is heard. “Don’t make me hang up again.”

“Adopt Fritz.”

“...yOU-!”

The business man holds his phone away from his face as it becomes clear the innocent human has been talking to Mike too much. Being the less superior race is one thing, but getting tainted by the Fucked Up Night Guard is an entirely new low.

“Are you done?”

Scott nearly screams again before forcing himself to stop. “You adopt Fritz.”

“YOU MOTHER-! WAIT DON’T YOU PULL THAT FUCKING PHONE AWAY OR I WILL SQUASH YOU LIKE THE BUG YOU ARE!”

“David, you will either adopt the kid, or hope he’ll forgive you for everything you’ve done to him-”

“Done for him.”

“-done to him and be willing to work for you after he turns eighteen in two years and therefore able to live alone and not have a guardianship. I adore him, I really do, but I have my own children.

“And never would I force him to live with me when he’s clearly attached to you.”

“Well then I hope you’re goddamn happy, Scott, because-” David freezes, slowly feeling his shoulders slump if only a millimeter. “What did you say?”

The human hangs up yet again. He’s not immediately greeted by the angry sound of a phone ringing, however.

Attached to him. One, Scott screwed himself by making it sound like Fritz is a pet. Two...

“Greg, you’re in charge.”

“Fritz Smith?”

Said teenager flashes a bright smile even as tears threaten to appear, thanking the woman.

Bye Mike. Bye Jeremy. Bye Caleb.

The tears start forming around his eyes, unable to stop them as he continues walking toward the room’s door and exit into the courthouse.

Bye Scott. Bye James. Bye Eggs.

The first time he walked out of the room a man, woman, and little girl had greeted him, his temporary foster family making sure he had food, a place to sleep, supervision.

Bye Vincent. Bye Mr. Afton.

Now he’s going to be adopted, taken far away, or with parents who don’t want him working.

Bye-

“Mr. Harrison!”

Fritz’s wide smile stays in place even with the giant clearly annoyed by his enthusiasm, those hazel eyes as big as his head narrowed into a glare.

“You’re not supposed to be happy to see me h-”

Mike doesn’t acknowledge the murderous look aimed toward him from elbowing the business man. Not with his answer to the dumbass being “Douche Bag, you’re about to adopt the little fucker. And these bastards won’t hand his ass over if you threaten him.”

I hate humans.

But fine! He’ll behave. Especially when Fritz is looking almost horrified instead of overjoyed. Technically only David’s allowed to be disgusted with people and insects.

“Adopting?” the teenager questions. “You’re adopting me?”

“As a guardian,” the business man states, allowing it to almost sound like a threat.

“Why the hell did you think I came here?”

“I thought, you wanted to see me off.”

An eyebrow raises. “Well by all means, if you’d like some other-”

“NO!”

Scott smirks as the human actually manages to shut the egotistical giant up, shock coating the man’s face at the panic of going with someone else. That’s when David screws himself over. “Even if it was Scott?”

The business man growls when someone who should be fearing him stepping on them says he wants to be with the superior being. Not that he can blame Fritz, clearly he’s the greatest person alive. But pests should fear him, not think he’ll be a wonderful little guardian.

Fuck this I should just leave.

“Fritz.”

David watches over crossed arms as a human behind the counter summons his apparent new charge. About to become charge. Live in his house, eat his food, fuck it up. Can’t forget that wonderful part.

But, his head nods when...green eyes? He doesn’t care, when Fritz looks up before signing to state he’s in agreement living with someone a hundred times his size. And after Scott and Mike sign, vowing the man is responsible enough to not crush the teenager, they’re waved goodbye.

…huh. So, Fritz is his now.

Gross.

“Come on. I’m not going to make sure you keep up so run or get left behind.”

“Yes, Mr. Harrison!”

#g/t #FNAF Bois #giant #tiny #trigger warning #tw foster care #tw death mention #tw #you know #I don’t think I ever posted this particular story anywhere #it was mostly a slightly angsty rant #but I hope it’s liked!#look I promise the David gets softer #after much angst….#you have NO idea how many random and angsty stories I’ve writen with these two #MAYbe I’ll post ‘em one day #David’s New Pet #writing #BTE writing

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utilitycaster · 3 years ago

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Oh yuck, I never thought of 'don't forget to love each other' being used that way. Maybe it's just because I'm from a family where debate=love, and you only nod and smile along with people you don't care about.

This feels like an extreme of morality through media. Purity culture. Nobody can just like or dislike a thing. They have to prove that it is Bad, or prove that it's Beyond Reproach. And any subtlety in-between is either seen as an attack on Goodness or proof that you're actually a terrible person who condones every bad thing implied by the media you like.

It's exhausting, and frankly why your blog is a breath of fresh air. Cause you make it clear that you have Opinions, and agreeing or disagreeing doesn't necessarily have greater stakes or implications than that.

So thanks for sharing, sorry it causes you to have to rake through so much muck.

Thank you! I’m glad you like that I tend to be opinionated, and I do try to walk the line of “I don’t like this and can articulate why, but I would never tell you that you can’t like it.”

I also grew up in a household where debate and disagreement was both respected and expected (and nodding and smiling was for people not worth the effort of dealing with); my mother has always been someone who was willing to say “actually this is messed up” regarding, well, messed up situations, and that was definitely pretty formative.

For what it’s worth I think the problem I described, of “no negativity allowed” is fundamentally intertwined with the problem of purity culture and is indeed likely a root cause. Here’s the way I see that pipeline:

A statement advocating general respect/not being a dick is put forth in a fandom space.

This gets warped into an attitude of “expressing anything that could remotely be seen as criticism, even thoughtful and measured criticism, is wrong and should be kept to yourself” (see: Geek Social Fallacy #2)

A person in that fandom sees something and doesn’t like it, because they are a human being with preferences.

That person feels bad for not liking something (cognitive dissonance; how can I be a fan if I feel a small amount of negativity?)

Person in fandom justifies it by arguing it’s okay to dislike this thing, actually because it is objectively bad morally, whether or not this is actually true, because this is the only loophole available.

Other people latch onto this interpretation because they too feel bad for not liking something.

The use of moral justification as a loophole for expressing dislike becomes codified within the space.

Bonus: now that there is a loophole that permits negativity, it gets exploited:

People who want to be assholes will use a fandom catchphrase (eg: “don’t forget to love each other”/ “no bummers”) and twist it so that anyone pointing out that they are being an asshole can be deemed Guilty of Not Loving Each Other, even though they are behaving in a non-loving manner. (see also: Geek Social Fallacy #1)

People who want to avoid any negativity will claim that what they like is morally correct, so therefore disliking it is morally incorrect. People who want to pretend that they are unassailable in their fandom opinions will take this further and state that it’s actually good and moral to bash people for having the other, morally incorrect opinion.

Now the solution is to say “of COURSE you can not like things. You can even talk about your reasons for not liking things, and they can be fully personal reasons, and most notably simply because you do not like a thing does not convey judgment towards people who like it and moreover fiction isn’t real, and this mentality is bullshit and I don't subscribe to it.”

This removes the need for that loophole and all of those mental contortions suddenly look very, very silly. Unfortunately some people will retaliate for being made to look silly but one just needs to remember that they are trying to refute accusations of being a clown by spraying seltzer in your face.

#on fandom #more generally if you find an unwritten rule ask yourself why it's not written down #usually it's because no one thought it through and it makes no sense and should be ignored

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box4brains · 3 years ago

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Head cannon time!

Cid Highwind (Final Fantasy 7):

Cid is an AMAZING chef, he hates to cook though, since he’s way too demanding that things turn out just as he wants it to (building aircraft’s and space rockets are too much of an exact science for him to enjoy cooking). As a result he’ll swear up a storm and more likely than not be in a foul mood for hours afterwards, even if it turned out to be delicious enough to be served in a 5 star restaurant. That’s why he rarely cooks, he also lacks standards for others food, he won’t care that someone’s cooking tastes like burnt cardboard and he could easily create something delicious with a handful of ingredients… any food he doesn’t have to make is good food! He will give people crap for making the same (big) mistake over and over again though, but it’s more a distaste for people who don’t learn from their own mistakes than anything about the food.

Aerith (what’s her last name?):

Aerith was never romantically interested in Cloud, any pull or interest she originally felt towards him were purely there because of the Zack in Cloud. The love they hold for each other is real, though, but it’s more like the love between siblings or really close friends and it isn’t romantic in the least.

Tifa Lockhart:

Tifa has always liked Cloud, maybe it’s the nurturer in her, but she’s always wanted to reach out to the lonely, awkward boy from her hometown… sadly all the baggage between them and the guilt Cloud carries with him pretty much guarantees that they’ll never end up in a romantic relationship, although on a good day you could probably describe their relationship as a non-physical marriage. Had Cloud never left Nibelheim they would have gotten married. They also would have gotten killed by Sephiroth when the incident happened.

Cloud Strife:

Cloud is polly, he’s also not someone who falls in love easily but confidence and kindness are traits he’s weak for. I don’t know if I can explain how I hc his sexuality properly, it’s not really straight, in the sense that he’s not really interested in girls as a concept, but has interest for girls in a “that girl” way. He could also swing the other way, should he find a guy and develop romantic feelings for him. But that’s a big if, seeing how Cloud doesn’t really fall easily, Tifa and Aerith are the only ones he’s ever really had feelings for in that way, and even then, the fact he and Zack kinda got scrambled for a while makes wether Cloud actually liked Aerith “like that” questionable at best. Cloud will also turn into a total himbo when hit on, if he catches it, he won’t know what to do or how to react and awkwardly trying to pretend it never happened

Barret Wallace (that’s his last name, right?):

Barret will forget that Marlene isn’t his biological child 2-3 times a day… he has no problem with this but sometimes feel a little bad about it.

For some reason, playing ff7r has made me wanna hc Biggs as trans

Vincent Valentine:

Vincent is often seen as aloof and mysterious. Unbeknown to most people, he’s mostly just behaving like he usually acted while he was mortal. But while his mortal self acted aloof and mysterious due to having nearly crippling social anxiety, his current self does it because he doesn’t want people to get close and he doesn’t really feel a need for social interactions. He sees no need to try and change his personality, and in fact takes comfort in finding things in himself that isn’t changed (something Hojo couldn’t change, something the experiments hadn’t touched)

Yuffie (name??):

The reason Yufie turned into a kleptomaniac is because she had no other way to survive, and in fact almost died several times over before she got good at it. Now she steals stuff without even knowing it herself, sometimes. She usually just laughs it off if confronted about it, but only because she doesn’t want to dwell on it.

Reeve (T-something??):

Reeve has a minor split personality disorder, he handles them by building tiny robots and giving them the “other” personality. Thusly he sees them as himself, and sometimes forget who’s who. (By that I mean he forgets that his body isn’t a machine).

Sephiroth:

I have a bunch of hc for Sephiroth. My favorite is probably the one where he actively wants Cloud to kill him… he practically grooms him during the game. Another fun one is projection, as in, he likes to call cloud a puppet, because he’s a puppet to jenova.

Jenova/the calamity:

My favorite hc about jenova is that it’s male. And if you want to cry “but tits!” I want to remind you, jenova isn’t human, and, jenova knows how to shape-shift.

#this was fun #ff7 #headcanon #cid highwind #tifa ff7 #ff7 yuffie #vincent valentine #cloud strife #aerith final fantasy #barret wallace #reeve tuesti #others #lol #sephiroth

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out-of-jams · 4 years ago

Text

Vesper || jjk

↠ Vesper↞ “There’s a first time for everything.”

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/Genre: doberman hybrid!kook. human reader. explicit language. fluff. PG 13. one shot.

This fic is apart of The Hybrid Collab hosted by @jeonggukkiepabo! A special thank you to Anna for bearing with my idiotic forgetfulness, aka me writing this and then forgetting to post it over my hiatus. 🥴 ᵖˡˢ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵗᵉ ᵐᵉ (also it’s a lot shorter now than it had been when i’d written it bc sfw lol)

All works here are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission. That is illegal and you are stealing no matter if you give credit or not

Cold – adjective.

Definition: freezing your fucking ass off.

You were well acquainted with the word– all but became one with it– what, with how absolutely balls cold out it was. The line to get into Vesper was stretched all the way down the sidewalk outside of the building, and extended out of sight around the corner. Sounds of city life echoed through the streets, cars zooming in between traffic and music leaking out of the bars.

From the crack in Vesper’s backdoor, the beginning’s of a hip-hop song filtered from the expensive sound system. It was loud, eardrum-rattling so, and you closed your eyes, leaning against the brick wall off to the side. A cloud of white left your parted lips as your warm breath hit the biting chill in the air. It was too bad that you were nowhere near drunk enough for the weather not to bother you.

Why you’d chosen to follow your friends out in sub-freezing temperatures was a mystery. You hated clubs, how packed to the walls they were, filled with writhing bodies so close together like sardines. It made you feel utterly claustrophobic, but it was your friend’s birthday and so you couldn’t opt out of following along with the group’s plans for the night. Not that you were ever able to say no to them when they insisted on dragging you out to the place.

Vesper was a popular club that you were sometimes forced to go to, located in the heart of downtown that catered to not only humans, but hybrids as well. It wasn’t the first establishment to do so, seeing as how hybrids integrated into society more than a decade ago. No longer were they as discriminated against as they once were, back when they first came about.

No one was 100% certain on how they’d even come to be; some sort of radiation exposure. The first hybrids had been humans, before they changed, morphed. Due to some sort of exposure to radiation, their cells had multiplied and transformed over the course of a few weeks until half of their genetic makeup resembled animal genes.

While the blatant racism had died out over the years, some, the more elitist members of society, still discriminated against hybrids. Looked down at them because they were born to be ruled more by their animal instincts than their human counterparts. Treated them as less-than because they weren’t completely human, when they were really just misunderstood.

Because of the fact that they were more tapped into their animal side and therefore behaved that way, hybrids used to be seen as beings who could be let loose into society. Who could not “control themselves.” So they took them as pets, tried to tame and sell them.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you fished a cardboard box from the inside pocket of your coat. The sound of you tapping out a white cigarette was in time with the beat of the song pouring outside, and blended in with the cars honking out past the alleyway. Normally, you weren’t one for smoking. But after the stress of college finals week on top of the feeling of the walls closing in on you back inside Vesper, you’d asked one of your friends for their carton in hopes of calming your racing heart.

“Shit,” you murmured as you scoured your pant pockets for a lighter and then groaned when you failed to find one.

Because of course, your luck was anything but lucky and you really didn’t feel like trying to part the sea of sweaty people back inside in search of one. Pursing your lips, you let your head tip back against the brick wall behind you and let your eyes flit over the light polluted sky like it somehow held the answers to all of your life’s problems.

“Need a light?”

The addition of a new voice had you jumping away from the wall with a startled squeak. Hand pressed to your chest as if that would somehow restart your skipping heart, you whirled around. Standing in the now wide-opened back doorway into Vesper was a familiar face. Well, as familiar as a practical stranger could be.

Beneath the single, flickering light in the alley, his black t-shirt with SECURITY printed in white glowed in the surrounding darkness. It stretched itself over his broad shoulders, the bottom tucked into the slim waist of his pants. Your gaze slowly slid up his tanned neck, past his coral colored, pouty lips, sharp jaw, and the straight bridge of his nose. His wavy, dark hair was parted a little off-center, the sides falling over his forehead until it threatened to hide his stare from your view.

Finally, your eyes met his. Framed by long eyelashes, they were a bright, inhuman shade of lilac. Not all hybrids were equipped with the features of one, like a set of sensitive, animal-like ears or even a tail. If a human and a hybrid got together and had children, those kids would end up possessing more human cells than animal. Therefore, their appearances mirrored that.

But they were never completely indiscernible.

Just like every other time you’d ever laid your sights on him, your pulse skyrocketed and your stomach fell through the floor. And also like every other time, you pushed the feeling away and refused to acknowledge it. Because harboring a crush on a man who you’d only conversed with occasionally was a bad idea.

Especially when they were as handsome as he was.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Jungkook apologized shyly. His voice wasn’t too deep, nor was it high; lying right in the middle. Switzerland

“No, it’s alright.”

It was notalright, if only because the man made you feel flustered.

The only time the two of you really interacted was whenever he’d be scheduled to man security at Vesper’s entrance checking IDs. A small comment about the weather here, a compliment given with a flash of a smile with the reddening of cheeks there. Hell, the only reason you even knew his name was because it was etched onto the heart of his shirt.

“So,” Jungkook began, still standing in the doorway like some kind of club guardian. “Need a light?” He nodded his head at the unlit white stick tucked between your fingers, his parted hair brushing across his eyebrows with the movement.

“Oh. Yeah, you have one,” you asked.

He answered your query by pulling a lighter from the back of his pants pocket and finally slipped away from the door, leaving it open a crack so the two of you wouldn’t get locked out. The music flooding out from inside quieted down to a barely-there whisper. Pressing the cigarette between your lips, you almost faltered when he stepped close to you.

Jungkook’s body heat practically swallowed you whole as he entered your personal space with a cute smile pulling up at the corners of his lips. His two front teeth were a little too big for his mouth and you would’ve suspected his animal counterpart to be a bunny or rabbit of some sort if it wasn’t for his job. The small mammals tended to be pacifists and you doubted working as a security guard counted towards pacifism.

The lighter came to life with a clickand a tiny burst of flame, and you watched from beneath your lashes as he lit the end of your preferred cigarette. As soon as you felt the heat of the smoke sear itself into your lungs, a thought came to you.

“Wait,” you began, lowering the white stick from your lips to dangle from your cold fingers. “Doesn’t the smell bother you?”

Jungkook’s cheeks puffed up beneath the weight of another smile and he stepped back from crowding you to lean a shoulder against the brick wall. “My roommate, Yoongi, smokes. So I’m used to it.” He tapped a finger to his nose.

“If you’re sure,” you said hesitantly.

“I’m sure.”

Humming, you resumed your position of leaning against the brick, your shoulder only a few inches away from his. Hybrid’s tended not to wear perfume or cologne because of their elevated sense of smell, but Jungkook must have been wearing some. Or perhaps it was just the scent of his laundry detergent that drifted from his body like an invisible cloud.

It was comforting. In a way that you couldn’t quite understand.

Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, you took a slow drag from your cigarette and made care to blow the resulting smoke away from him. “Ditching work?”

He was looking out past the alleyway and towards the busy street beyond. Jungkook’s side profile was stunning even in the near darkness. “Technically, I amworking.”

“Oh?” Your voice was filled with amusement. “Expecting someone to pop out from the darkness like Batman and attack the club?”

He snorted, his tongue darting out to wet his soft looking lips. “Batman would never attack a club.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” Shrugging, you sneaked a peak over at him again to notice him already looking at you. His violet hued eyes glowed brightly as they roved over your features appreciatively.

“How about a first date then?”

You sputtered, choking on nothing except air at his blunt words. “I–what?”

Jungkook broke eye contact for a moment, your reaction coaxing a light shade of pink onto his cheeks. “I like you. And I know we don’t really know each other, but we always end up running into each other, which is why I want to change that.” He looked back at you, expression soft. “If you’re interested, of course.”

“I..,” swallowing, your mouth opened and closed in shock before your tongue finally let the syllables slip. “I would like that very much.”

His answering grin lit up the shadows lingering in the alleyway.

#bts #bts fic #jungkook #Jungkook fic #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #magicshopnet #ficswithluv #btsbookclub

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fandomgirl800 · 4 years ago

Text

Night Crystal

(Dhawan!Master x Reader)

Warnings: Grammatical Errors, Nightmares, Injury

Summary: Reader happens to be a human which Master took with him on board of the TARDIS. She travels with him through space and time. Just these few days were tough, especially with those nightmares she started having.

Words: 1973

(A/n): Here I am, back on posting my writings. Actually a first time posting a fanfic for Dhawan!Master x Reader.

You wandered through the TARDIS in thoughts. You should sleep or at least rest, but you couldn't sleep. Not with these constant worries about yourself or the Master. Surprisingly he looked concerned when he saw you the last time. You never thought that he would be able to show some emotions towards humans, other than despise, annoyance or anger.

"Can you lead me to kitchen?" you stroked the wall of TARDIS and closed eyes for a moment. Slight humming came through the walls and red pointers appeared on the ground. You needed coffee, to stay awake, forget what you have dreamed about an hour ago. The nightmares began when you first visited Newath planet, where Master stole a crystal just because he was bored. Who were you even traveling with? You had no idea, but he didn't seem like a good person, he didn't seem like a person at all. Before two months, he just appeared in front of your house and pulled you into TARDIS. Master left the doors open, giving you some time to decide whether you want to run away from him or travel with him. It was a time and space traveling machine and you were curious, so you decided to stay. At first, he didn't speak to you, but you followed him everywhere he went. As the time passed by, you learned some things about him, but you still didn't know why he took you of all humans. And why you, when he despised humans so much? When you asked him, he always left without questions.

Following the red pointers on the floor got you nowhere, just back to the empty console room. It was lightened up with a red light of the TARDIS, which just made you close your eyes slightly again. Surrounding was messy as always, Master apparently wasn't a person who would clean every day but neither were you. TARDIS was surrounded with libraries and artefacts with trophies which Master gathered on adventures across the universe. The crystal was put on a red cushion in the middle of it all. It had to be pretty valuable.

With loud sight you walked to the TARDIS, "What do you think? Why did he choose me of them all?" you frowned and leaned on the console.

"You should sleep," you heard his voice from across the room. You smiled to yourself and turned to him, hugging your torso anxiously.

"No, no, don't do that! Don't look at me that way," he said.

"What way?" you mumbled, cringing on how your voice skipped.

"Like you were about to cry," Master said and walked closer to you sighing, "You humans are so fragile... Tell me what upset you?"

"I... Just can't sleep, there is nothing you could do."

"You are pushing your limits human, when you did sleep the last time," he stepped closer to you, carefully observing you.

"I don't know," you looked on ground carelessly.

"No, there is something else, you don't behave like this normally," he paused, before asking, "Or do you?"

"Why did you take me?"you asked, hoping that he will leave. You wanted to be alone. Eventually you would sleep, just not now. Not when the nightmares still remained in your head.

"I have an enemy... well, friend... doesn't matter," he started. You lifted eyebrows, finally he was about to tell you the reason why he took you.

"She travels with humans too, I thought that maybe... Just once," his breath shaked, "I could have a companion." You smiled at him, he never got so emotional.

"It's really interesting you survived for so long," he added, screwing up the nice moment. You nodded for yourself, this was Master after all.

"Now tell me, human, why don't you sleep?" he caught your hands, making small circles with his thumbs against them.

"Can you... can you look?" you stuttered. You saw him doing this few times. Hypnotizing people, reading thoughts in rare cases, he was good at it, "It's hard to explain."

"You trust me?" Master frowned, stepping back away from you, letting your hands go. It left him shocked. Would you trust him? You traveled with him two months already, from time to time he yelled at you, but he never hurted you. Sure, there were also times when you yelled at him. He never let anything hurt you.

You stopped him, catching his hands. He stopped moving and looked into your eyes, his confidence suddenly fading away. You gave him a slight nod and he gasped.

"Why does it feel like I knew you my whole life?"

"This kinda happens when you travel with someone longer than five minutes without threatening them," you gave him a small smile, but his face went dark. He remembered everything that he did to his previous companions or people that put their trust in him.

"You know nothing about me, you shouldn't trust me," he pulled his hands away from you.

"I'm having nightmares, that's just it, that's why I can't sleep," you mumbled and sat on the near chair, "So can you look or not?"

"What kind of nightmares?"

Master was standing next to the console, observing something. You shifted on the chair uncomfortably. You missed Earth, but TARDIS never landed there, it was like Master was avoiding your home planet on purpose.

"Look and see," you said. You knew that he was curious by nature, curious and dangerous, and you were letting him in your head willingly. You could see that it was slowly getting on his nerves. He stepped closer to you and put his hands on your head. You feel a slight buzz in your mind as he was searching for the nightmare. You were glad that he was following the traces you left him right to the memory of the nightmare. The moment he found it, he flinched back. You opened your eyes slightly and saw him running to the TARDIS swearing slightly. He seemed to be in a rush, quickly typing some coordinates on the monitor screen.

"What are yo-" you started when you realized that TARDIS landed somewhere. Master walked quickly to you and without a word, he put his hands on your temples again. World went blurry and you fell asleep. No nightmares this time, just quiet and dark.

You woke up laying in your bed in the TARDIS. Was it just another nightmare? What exactly happened? Your head was aching, but you decided to get up and walk to the console room. You nearly fell on ground, if it wasn't the handle that suddenly popped up from the TARDIS wall, you would faint.

"Thanks," you whispered, leaning against the wall of the TARDIS. Sometimes you had a feeling that TARDIS was the only one who cared about your well-being.

You sat there a few minutes and when the world around you stopped turning, you decided to stand again, this time without a fall. Stumbling to the console room, you were thinking about what happened in that nightmare that you had. You and the Master actually talked there, maybe it would be good to talk to him in real life too. Maybe your mind was giving you some signs. You couldn't travel with someone you didn't even talk with. It was like traveling alone when he avoided and ignored you. Maybe it was time to leave... But would he let you?

Walking into the console room, you noticed that Master was leaning in between the open doors of the TARDIS, looking out. You saw the red burning stars behind him, but he looked kinda confused, lost in the chaos that was happening outside. His hairs were slightly disheveled and his purple coat torn on shoulder.

"Are you alright?" you asked, slowly walking to him. Only then you noticed, he was holding his chest, blood was soaking from him.

"Human..." he turned to you. You quickly walked to him, because he started to lose the ballance. You caught him, so he wouldn't fall out from the TARDIS. '

"Master what happened," you asked him shocked, pressing on the wound to stop the bleeding.

"I saved your life," he frowned and his eyes closed.

"No, no don't die, you can't! I can't be stuck here! I can't pilot the TARDIS! Wait... How?"

"It didn't trigger the regeneration, I'll explain later," he closed his eyes, falling unconscious.

"Med bay! Quickly!" you yelled at the TARDIS. At the closest wall, doors appeared. You pulled Master inside the room and put him on the bed. Luckily you were a nurse before you started traveling, so you knew exactly what to do.

After you patched him up, he was safe, at least for now. He needed rest. You backed away from him, thinking if you should stay, or go to the console room. Maybe you would find a way to land. You would find a way to get home. But were you ready to leave space and time? Would you leave him in here all alone? That alien was menace, he didn't know when to stop, you were always at least trying to stop him when it was possible.

You shaked with your head to clear your thoughts and went to the console room. It was like TARDIS knew about your thoughts... Telepathic field... Of course. She just sadly hummed, but didn't try to stop you.

Passing the things that Master gathered or stole on adventures, you noticed one was missing. The crystal, it was gone. You know how much he wanted it, why he would throw it away? Or was that crystal dream too?

Master took you on that planet, full of hidden treasures. There was an alien protecting the jewel. But it wasn't protected enough, not when Master stormed there with his TCE.

You got the crystal, but since that happened you were having those nightmares...

Suddenly a hand was placed on your shoulder.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know... We have all time and space, but we are still rushing somewhere, we don't even know where," you turned to him. He was barely standing, but looked better, "You should rest."

"You should rest," he said and turned to console, "I'm taking you home."

Your eyes lightened up, was he?

When TARDIS landed, you didn't believe your eyes. Earth, home...

After all that time, nothing changed. But it was nice to see your house. But it didn't look like a home anymore.

You walked out, but turned back to Master, "Are you going to come back, right? You know... You can just... Visit my house or something."

"I'll be here tomorrow, sleep well," he mumbled quickly and wanted to turn back to console, but you stopped him.

"No..."

"What?"

"You are lying, you are not going to come back, am I right?" you frowned, "What happened?"

"You..."

"No, that crystal... What was it? Why is it gone?" you pointed on the stand, "There was a crystal."

"It's gone, same as the planet," he said quietly. He still had that 'I don' t care' face, but you saw the tears in his eyes. Maybe it was just from the injury.

"Master... Why?"

"They were about to hurt you, they were sending you those nightmares. They did it to the wrong person," Master said, now angry. They were gone, the planet, the crystal, just because they tried to hurt you.

Did it mean that he cared about you?

"I want to stay," you said, guiding him to the nearest chair. He shouldn't stand for too long, "Thanks for saving me," you mumbled too quiet and too fast.

Master looked up to you as you walked around the console.

"Can I stay?"

Master nodded and closed his eyes. He was tired, but he wasn't alone and he was about to protect you as long as he could.

#doctor who #Dhawan!master #Dhawan!master x reader #The Master x reader #the master #Doctor who fanfictions #Dhawan!master/Reader #The Master/reader #Dhawan master #Dhawan Master x Reader #Dhawan master/reader

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rainbowsky · 3 years ago

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Final round-up of fan fic asks

I've gotten a few more interesting responses to the fan fic discussion so I'm going to round them all up here. This will be my final post on the topic until/unless there's a dramatic new development, or a particularly notable response I want to highlight. Thanks to everyone who brought their thoughts and experiences to the topic. I hope everyone at least feels heard.

The biggest piece of advice that I would like to offer is for everyone to focus on what they love rather than what they hate. If we all did that, the world would be a better place. Alongside that, I'd like to remind everyone to please support authors whose work you like. It's so important. Give them a kudos, give them a nice comment, recommend their work to others. You never know what kind of grief and harassment they are dealing with to bring you these great stories, and our support means a lot.

This is in reference to previous posts here and here.

Anonymous asked:

With regard to fandom and fan fic issue, my years of experience being part of very large fandoms has led me to believe that big accounts are v important in facilitating and enforcing the general consensus of the whole fandom. Unless there will be big accs who'll remind everyone of being respectful & just not being a dick over other's preferences, nothing will change.

This is also the reason why I think certain solo fandoms have adapted weird and twisted narratives as their general fandom story because no big acc has tried to police them & and say hey pls be rational. Whether we like it or not, in a place where how far voices, ideas, tweets, posts get heard is based on the number of followers you have, big accs will have the power and influence in creating/curating/shifting the narratives.

So, if you want to know why your/our fandom thinks like this in general, look at what big accs are tweeting/posting, look at what ideas & values they follow, look at their preferences or how strongly they react to certain situations. it's taxing and toxic for big accs given the nature of social media these days, but it's also the reality of system, the more followers/audience you have, the more influence you will have.

So to anyone reading this I hope we all practice more restraint and reflection before we post anything. Remember that words, no matter what medium you write it in, will always carry weight.

So true. It is easy - even for myself who spends a fair chunk of time answering people's asks - to forget that people can sometimes be impressionable and what we say can influence people whether that's our intent or not. I get used to thinking of myself as a regular guy just doing my own thing when sometimes my thoughts and words go well beyond where I initially posted them.

I think it's important for us to be careful what we say, and it's equally important to be careful what we take from what other people say. Especially when it comes to big claims. Always get a second, third, fourth opinion and don't be afraid to ask for clarification if something doesn't sit right or sounds confusing.

It's also important to reflect on how our words and actions might affect other people's experience of fandom, and err on the side of 'live and let live' wherever possible. It's great to have our own preferences and to champion them, but we should try to do so in a way that leaves space for other people and perspectives.

The more unique perspectives and the more friendly, open dialog there is, the healthier the community will be as a whole.

There's nothing wrong with encouraging and guiding growth in the particular areas we are interested in, as long as it doesn't step on, oppress or attack those who are peacefully enjoying something different.

Anonymous 2 asked: bjyx fans attacking gdgdbaby for including zsww/lsfy dynamics in an event named bjyx then turning right around and attacking the zsww/lsfy event organizer for excluding bjyx? god, can you hear my facepalm and sigh of resignation and incredulity from over there? im genuinely not surprised that they're trying to drive an entire part of the fandom out by disgusting them (and me) with these immature tactics. i believe what im about to say next will sound quite bait-y and i respect your decision 1/?

should you choose not to post this. but i do know that it is not only me, in fact there are many out there, that is of this opinion. we just dont talk about it on twitter to avoid the potential mess it will bring lol. okay, here goes nothing. (do note that im talking about the majority here, not every single person is like this) so bjyx fans tend to be cishet females whereas zsww/lsfy fans are more diverse in terms of age and gender, and most of them are part of the queer community too 2/?

i would like to clarify that most of these zsww/lsfy fans are not dynamic exclusive (in the sense that they are friendly and interact with all ggdd fans) they just prefer to "identify" themselves as zsww/lsfy fans (on twitter specifically) just to form a distinction from bjyx fans who mostly are dynamic exclusive (as in; they do not consume non-bjyx content, and straightup refuse to interact with non-bjyx fans, often blocking them). as a result, id say that the zsww/lsfy communiy is way more 3/?

mature and respectful (after all, they're mostly queer people talking about a queer ship) whereas many problems in this fandom, such as the homophobia, adamantly insisting on "drawing lines" between dynamics, stem from the bjyx exclusive fans, comprised of cishet females who "may not know better". so, it is of no surprise to me that they're resorting to these immature tactics of calling gg unsavory names, and organizing retaliatory events with controversial topics in an attempt to "purify". 4/4

I trust that you have arrived at that theory through your own experience and observation. I haven't personally spent much time immersed in this stuff so I can't claim to have any real insight or expertise. If you say that's your experience of it, then at the very least that's how you've seen things up to this point.

I just want to say that I think we should always be careful about making assumptions about people's age, gender/gender identity, etc.

There are plenty of good reasons to avoid doing that; because those assumptions could be very wrong, because those assumptions are often laced with ageism, sexism, etc., because those assumptions - even when correct - might not be an accurate basis for the conclusions we draw.

But the primary reason I recommend avoiding those type of assumptions is because anything that enables us to clump a group of people together in our minds like that will tend to make them easier to demonize and dehumanize. They are no longer individuals who are each responsible for their own unique perspectives, they are now 'the X group' who is known for 'A B C series of easily attackable ideas or behaviors'.

If we attribute undesirable traits and behaviors to a group of people we feel opposed to in some way, that makes us feel more righteous and justified in behaving unfairly toward them, dismissing their humanity and warring with them. It's just risky behavior to engage in, even when it's well-intentioned.

There might actually be some truth to what you're saying. It could very well be that most of these people are young, inexperienced, heteronormative, etc. but if that's the case then we should try to use those traits to better understand and empathize rather than to better dismiss and discredit.

Just my two cents on that.

It can be really frustrating dealing with what feels like other people attacking us, trying to oppress us, etc. - especially when there are more of them than there are of us. In my experience the best solutions to that sort of problem are generally the ones that focus on what we are doing and want to do rather than what they are doing that we don't want them to do.

As I am always preaching, we can't control what other people say, do or think. The only thing we have any control over is what we say, do and think (and how we respond to what they say, do and think).

I have found in my experience that the moment I step out of a conflict mindset and instead step into a problem-solving mindset, everything starts to come together. I feel better, my outlook is more positive, I can begin to see solutions and allies rather than problems and enemies, and most of all, I become more focused on what I am doing than what others are doing.

So I would recommend everyone who is invested in resolving these conflicts focus on that. "How can we best showcase and encourage the types of stories we enjoy?" instead of "How can we stop these other people from doing things we dislike?"

Anonymous 3 asked:

Hello again! It’s anon #3 from the fanfic post. I really do appreciate reading your thoughts on various issues like this, so thank you for always taking time to write in depth. As for supporting without going to war, the simplest way has always been to just show appreciation for the creators, hype them up. Kudos are the easiest way on ao3 but comments in addition are great. This goes for all content—art, fics, vids..etc. Creators love to see and read how people react to their content. Sharing is also great, fic recs are very helpful, just be cautious with art and reposting though. Hope this helps a bit!

Thanks so much, Anon. I think this is excellent advice. And it's true that appreciation is great, but helping to expand the audience is also great. Recommending stories, pointing people to the pages/websites of artists we like (as opposed to reposting), sharing our own ideas and approaches, encouraging people to try new things... all of this helps build healthier communities.

And here's another one: WRITE! DRAW! CREATE!

I urge anyone with creative interests or talents to bring their voices to the community because we all can benefit from hearing from you.

Thanks again everyone for sharing your thoughts on this issue. I hope that over time we can all work in positive ways to improve the situation.

I think this subject has been well-covered now so I'm going to retire it for the time being. If anyone still feels they want to discuss it further please feel free to message me privately. Thanks.

#fan fiction #fandom reflections #ask

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thepetulantpen · 5 years ago

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Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind

(My blind!Geralt fic. I already posted this on my ao3, but I decided to put it up here, too. Enjoy!)

Plenty of boys are blinded in the Trials. It’s the price paid for tampering with vision enhancements, and it almost always ends with more boys dead- succumbing to complications, or put out of their misery.

Geralt is not one of those unlucky few. No, Geralt lived through the Trials- lived through more trials than most- and came out the other side mostly whole.

So, of course, a fucking Bloedzuiger is what does it.

Afterwards, he barely remembers the battle. His clearest memory is of getting acid in his eyes, followed closely by him blindly stabbing the damned thing to death and then stomping it into a pulp. In hindsight, it was probably already dead, but he hit it until it stopped making any sounds whatsoever, because he deserved a little overkill when it felt like his face was on fucking fire.

He doesn’t even feel panic in the moment of fading adrenaline. He’s made for survival and killing at the detriment of everything else- he feels nothing as the world fades away, filtering out everything save for the next steps, the next move. Just like a fight.

He finds Swallow by weight and smell, and drags himself towards the sound of a nearby river. Downing the potion and splashing water in his eyes does absolutely nothing, which is frustrating, but he’s not going to fix it by sitting around and cursing Destiny. It’s time to figure out how he’s going to make it to town and find someone competent.

He trips seven times, but finds Roach by her heartbeat. She’s a good horse, a smart horse, and with a bit of urging in the right direction, she follows the path towards the sound of people without issue.

The healer he finds by smell alone, because he can’t be bothered to ask for directions in this state. It’s not a difficult trail- the potent herbs act like a beacon and Roach keeps them carefully on the road.

The walk gives him time to acclimate somewhat, pushing through any remaining shock and pain to the calm clarity of a mission, same as any hunt. There’s a world of sound and smell around him, his senses just as strong as they’ve always been- possibly stronger when his attention is not drawn away by sight. It forms a map of sensations, coloring a world gone dark.

A healer’s hut is in front of him. He can hear the wind- strong today, it was annoying until now- hitting the wooden walls, prompting little creaks of protest. The shape of it becomes clear in the places he hears resistance, the motion of the wind halting, and there is an outline where the wind whistles through the gap between the door and its wall.

He leaves Roach to her own devices, trusting that she’ll behave, and finds the door, knocking loudly. Louder than necessary, but he thinks he can be excused on account of the spectacular evening he’s had.

The woman who answers- he assumes it’s a woman, based on the length of her hair, which he can hear brushing her shoulders, and the smell of flowery soap- only comes up to his shoulder, the subtle displacement of air giving him her approximate height in a blurry silhouette of awareness.

“How can I help you, witcher?” She must not have been looking at his face because there’s a second of audible movement and she gasps. “Oh, dear. Come in.”

She takes his arm to guide him, which he probably doesn’t need, but he can’t be bothered to correct her. He’s had a long fucking day, and he’d rather not trip over a dining table, failing his newfound navigating abilities.

The wet cloth against is skin is shockingly terrible, he feels each individual scratchy fiber. There’s more water on his face, in his eyes, and a smell of herbs that stings his nose. It hits him full force, and when he inhales, trying to identify them, he can practically taste them.

The woman’s heartbeat is loud, saying what her expression might’ve. He’d known that he could hear heartbeats, but had little cause to listen to them before, no reason to do anything but block them out on a daily basis. It takes him a minute to remember the rhythm of a human heart, gauge what’s fast, and decide what that may mean.

She swallows and Geralt hears that in horrifying detail now that he’s concentrating, now that his senses are scrambling to compensate.

“I’m not sure there’s much I can do.”

The careful step process in his mind reaches its end, leaving him without anything to hold onto for a moment, scrambling for calm in the realization that there’s nothing to be done. He pushes down panic with a sigh, willing his mind to clear.

There’s always another step, always something to do. He just needs somewhere to recover, like any other injury. Somewhere safer than the floor of a stable, ideally.

He’ll be making an early return to Kaer Morhen, then.

“Wait,” the healer puts a hand on Geralt’s shoulder as he stands, a low note of concern and fear making her voice shake, “take this. I’ll show you how to use it.”

A wooden cane is pressed into his hands and he has to fight everything in him that protests the idea. Taking a breath, he allows the woman to lead him through the motion- tap, tap. Left, right.

It’s not sustainable- too visible, too obvious. Nobody will hire a blind witcher, but he can keep it strapped to Roach for emergencies.

At least until he figures out how to hear cracks in the ground.

...

It’s pure luck that he happened to be close, planning on starting his winter early for lack of work. The trip up the mountain is a challenge, but it gives him a good idea of what his remaining senses can and can’t do.

Everything has a sound, and that sound echoes until it hits something. With practice- and he has plenty, tripping over rocks and nearly falling off cliffs- he learns how to map out his surroundings in an array of newly audible shapes. Rain and wind make it easier, constant sound that cuts off when it comes in contact with something. More obvious than echoes.

He uses the cane occasionally up here, where there are no witnesses. It eases the mental burden of processing every single sound, but it’s not something he could rely on in battle- or around people, for that matter. There’s not much kindness in this world for witchers or cripples, never mind a crippled witcher.

The echoey halls of Kaer Morhen present a unique challenge in wide open spaces, sound that seems to stretch out endlessly. He stops at the threshold; head tilted to try and make sense of the room in front of him. He’s been here so many times, but now that he has to, he’s struggling to remember its precise layout.

“Geralt? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Telling Vesemir what happened is the part he’s dreaded most. He forgets how damn quiet the man is, and it irritates him now, with no face to read. The pause after his story is extensive, leaving him straining to hear any clues. He catches the brush of hair against Vesemir’s collar- turning his head, maybe?

Finally, a sigh and Vesemir steps up to put a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “Surprised you didn’t kill yourself on the way up here. Could’ve just sent a message, you know.”

Geralt isn’t so sure he could’ve- his handwriting was bad when he could see, and he doubts he could’ve gotten hold of a bird in his state.

“I happened to be in the area.”

Another pause, he thinks Vesemir is giving him a look, then Vesemir is moving. “Come on, let’s sit down. Do you need help finding anything?”

“I’ll manage.” He moves steadily after him, hands forward when he senses an obstacle. Muscle memory helps, a little, in the most familiar parts of the keep.

Vesemir doesn’t seem impressed, watching him feel for a chair in his room.

“Do you need a cane, or something?”

“Already got a stick. Left it on Roach.”

A new sound- is that Vesemir rolling his eyes? He did not need to know there was a sound for that, but there it is, the unmistakable movement of eyeballs. “Of course you did.”

They sit. Geralt gets a sense of the size of the room first, then uses smells to fill in a few blanks- the paper and ink denoting books on the shelf, soap residue from a bath, Vesemir’s general musk clinging to the bed. He grounds himself on Vesemir’s heartbeat, a steady rhythm.

“You could stay here.” Vesemir leans against his desk, making the wood groan. “Help out around the keep.”

Geralt snorts at the idea of cleaning or doing chores in this empty, lonely place. There’s barely enough for one man to do, let alone two irritable witchers. He doesn’t know how Vesemir does it without going mad- and he has books to read.

There’s not much for him here, just an exasperated, and secretly worried, Vesemir. He could stay, and- not quite retire, but... make use of what life and skill he has left.

It’s an offer that falls on deaf ears. Geralt can’t sit here and wallow, can’t sit here when he knows he could still be out there.

“I just need the winter to adjust. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

From the sound of his head shaking, Vesemir already knew he was going to say that. He thinks, if he spends enough time around the old witcher, he might find a smell for exasperation.

“I’ll have to see you hunt, before I send you out there again.”

“Worried about me, old man?”

Vesemir doesn’t respond but his mouth moves- a frown? Definitely a frown.

Beasts, it turns out, are the absolute least of his concern.

The heartbeat, the smell, they may as well be announcing their position at all times. He has a feeling hunting at night is going to get significantly easier- no more Cat for him.

The Kikimore’s legs creak with every movement, its jaws click before every bite, and Geralt learns, in the span of a battle, to recognize the near-silent gurgling sound as a precursor to the beast spitting venom. He feels a strike coming before it lands, the air moving subtly in warning, and finds himself ducking hits that might’ve been out of his line of sight. It’s like having eyes at the back of his head, except- well, he doesn’t actually see.

Vesemir nods his approval when he successfully takes down the Kikimore that’s acted as a pest too close to the grounds of the fortress, and brings them home dinner on the same hunting trip in record time, tracking heartbeats to bypass natural camouflage altogether. Geralt hears the movement, but Vesemir grumbles a verbal affirmation a minute later. Adjusting to more audio-heavy communication- for politeness sake.

“Next test is gutting it. Think you can find a liver blind?”

...

“Any monster trouble?”

The bartender scoffs and turns to Geralt- presumably glaring. “We’ve got a notice board for a reason. Why don’t you check there?”

“I can’t read.” It’s a simple enough lie- not even a lie, really. He can’t, not anymore.

The man mutters something to the effect of witchers being no better than beasts, but directs him to the alderman, who’s desperate enough to explain. Someone is sent to show him the main site of attacks, guiding him unwittingly- though, he could have found it faster by smell.

From there, it’s the same as it’s always been. The only challenge in the hunting process is harvesting the useful alchemical bits afterward. He can thank Vesemir for forcing him to spend the last several winters drilling on butchering blind, so he knows, intimately, the difference in smell between a heart and a liver. Dodging toxic parts to reach the valuable ones is still a little tricky- he’s been burned by acidic insides more times than he can count- but practice makes perfect, and he’s getting there.

Hefting proof of kill on one shoulder, he puts his other hand on Roach. To anyone else, it looks like he’s leading her, but he relies on her to take his general direction and follow the road. He can hear where the town is, but finding the distinction between grass and dirt path is another issue altogether. On his own, without constant concentration, he’d wander off in a more direct diagonal, cutting through rougher terrain and calling unneeded attention to himself.

Reaching town requires bracing himself for the barrage of sensory information that crowds bring. With so many people around, navigating is far harder, but he lets the assumption that witchers are rude cover any vision-related blunders- bumping into people, cutting people off, ignoring people shouting at him.

Getting humans to believe he can see is shockingly easy, more likely due to the stupidity of humanity than any skill of his own. Nobody wants to get any closer to a witcher than they have to, so it’s a simple thing to keep his head turned away, avert his eyes, and mind his own business.

The scars have faded to faint burns around his eyes- or so Eskel told him- leaving nothing for chatty whores or curious townspeople to ask him about. Most physical indicators of his condition have been wiped away; the only remaining obstacles being his inability to make eye contact and occasional struggle to not trip over barstools.

He’s been discovered a few times, all of them equally unpleasant, but ultimately unremarkable. He can handle mocking and rocks- especially now that he hears them whizzing through the air, before they nail him in the back of the head- but he counts his blessings that he’s never had an incident notable enough to add Blind to his Butcher epithet.

His routine doesn’t change much, sticking to his usual strategy of staying out of sight, as far from people as he can manage. He gravitates towards the dark corners, feeling the slight absence of heat in the sunless parts of the tavern. Blindness never becomes a weakness- there’s nothing to exploit, if they never even realize something is different. Being a witcher makes him uniquely invisible.

Nobody bothers him and he makes sure they never will.

Unfortunately, he underestimates the pushiness of a certain bard.

He doesn’t even realize the bard lingering nearby is looking at him, or talking to him, until he’s sliding into the bench in front of him. He sensed his presence, sure, but he thought he’d be looking at someone else, talking to any number of other people in the tavern.

The bread in his pants is stale, and smells like it. It squishes and crumbles as he moves, probably getting bits stuck in the folds of silk so numerous he hears every slight shift, every wrinkle forming. He thinks the sharper, almost clicking sounds, are sequins against each other- another ridiculous, new sound to add to his catalogue.

“You must have some review for me.” His smile is wide enough that Geralt hears it without trying particularly hard. “Three words or less.”

For all he listens closely to his surroundings, he’s pretty sure he didn’t catch a single word of that song- much less enough for a review, were he inclined to give one. Once upon a time, he may have glared him away, but he fears his aim wouldn’t be good enough now, so he settles for tense silence.

Jaskier does not take no, or an implied no, for an answer.

...

Having Jaskier around is not nearly as annoying as he thought it’d be. At first, he was sure he’d have to dump him somewhere- the noise would be too distracting- but now, the sound has become something of a blessing.

Like the wind or rain, it creates consistent feedback, bouncing off obstacles and forming a mental image of the area around him. It wraps around their campsite, chatter and music traveling into the forest behind them and dancing around tree trunks until the sound is out of even Geralt’s range.

It makes nights like this, of Jaskier talking constantly and playing his lute intermittently, pleasant. As close to seeing as he ever gets, giving him a complete picture the world.

Jaskier breaks his litany of nonsense with an abrupt, “Geralt?”

He actually waits for a response, which is a new and alarming development. Geralt hums and hopes that’s enough.

“I was wondering- and I hope this isn’t too personal- what’s wrong with your eyes? They never really focus.”

Geralt hears Jaskier’s heart beat a little faster- nervous- and the more subtle sound of him biting his lip. As a rule, Geralt doesn’t disclose his condition to anyone who hasn’t figured it out, but Jaskier-

Jaskier could be sticking around. There’s no point keeping it.

“I’m blind.”

A silence that he’s come to equate with facial expression- something too subtle to guess, he’s never cared to be precise enough for specifics- follows.

“Is that one of your weird jokes?”

“No, Jaskier. I’m really blind.”

More silence, a steadily fast heartbeat. It’s accompanied by the familiar, frustrating feeling of missing something, an irritation he’s trained to ignore, but has never quite mastered. Geralt sighs and turns fully to face Jaskier, meeting his eyes as well as he can.

“What are you doing?”

A creak of wood, Jaskier startling on the log and shifting too fast. “What do you mean?”

“You got quiet. Usually that means I’m missing something.” He tilts his head, considering. “You’re making a face, probably.”

Another moment of silence. He never thought he’d grow tired of these- let alone become annoyed by them.

“Huh. I guess I just looked surprised, if my face matches my thoughts as well as I think it does.” Jaskier leans in, for a better look, maybe. If he squints enough, he might be able to see the scar. “How long have you been, uh...”

“A long time.” He’s not being difficult- despite what Jaskier, and the inhale of breath preceding a scoff, might think. He doesn’t exactly track the date. “A decade, maybe more.”

“How-“ Jaskier clears his throat and Geralt hears the movement of his sleeve as he waves. “How do you do all this?”

“Witcher senses are much better than an average man’s. I use my hearing, mostly.”

The sound of fabric rustling and stretching as Jaskier scoots forward on the log, sliding as close to Geralt as he can without getting up. “How good? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“You’d ask anyway.” Geralt swings back the last of his drink and turns back to the fire. “Really good. I can hear heartbeats, movements. The way air and sound move around things makes... an outline, almost.”

Jaskier’s heart beats a little faster. Geralt isn’t sure what that means; he strains to hear, but he doesn’t think Jaskier is smiling or frowning.

“That’s amazing.” A grin- lips sliding over teeth. “No wonder you’re such a good hunter.”

There’s a jab comparing him to a wolf in there somewhere, but Jaskier doesn’t make the connection so Geralt just hums and picks up his swords, content to spend the rest of the night sharpening and oiling. He’ll keep the fire going, enjoying its heat, if not its light.

They lapse into a silence that feels more comfortable, less tense than it was the first time. Then again, it’s not really silence- Jaskier is humming almost silently under his breath. Quieter than usual.

“You don’t have to be quiet, Jaskier.”

Surprise, in the quickened heartbeat and sudden inhale. Shifting, as he sits up straighter.

“Sorry! I thought it might bother you.”

“I’ll be fine.” Sensing- not through any particular sound or smell, but through his increasing familiarity with Jaskier- Jaskier’s disbelief, he tacks on, “I would’ve stopped you before now, if it was.”

Jaskier nods, then narrates, “Sorry, I nodded.”

“I can tell. I can hear your collar scrunch.”

His mouth falls open and he adjusts his collar. Geralt dutifully does not smile, and keeps his smugness to himself.

“Right, of course.” Jaskier pauses, then looks up again. “Could I ask you a question you probably won’t like?”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. “You’ve never asked permission before.”

“I was wondering, is there anything you can’t do? Anything I could help you with?”

He’s tempted to say no. He should say no. Jaskier probably wouldn’t even argue- too unbalanced around this subject- but he doesn’t want to.

He wants to say, Keep humming. He wants to ask, Guide me. He wants to demand, Stay by my side.

He doesn’t do any of those. Instead, he says, “Reading. I can’t read print on contracts. If you could-“

“Of course.” The buttons of his doublet clink together as Jaskier adjusts it, straightening it and puffing out his chest. “I’ll be your agent, of sorts. A very intelligent, shrewd negotiator, taking only the best monster hunting jobs. I’m brilliant at public relations, too.”

Geralt nods, and leaves it at that.

...

“Make way! The mighty White Wolf is gracing your town with his presence, clear a path!”

The townspeople mutter amongst themselves, confused, but move right away at Jaskier’s tone, lingering curiously at the edge of the street through town.

Geralt hates the attention, but he can’t deny that Jaskier’s little show is helpful. Particularly since this town is more crowded than most and Roach is struggling to guide him through without trampling anyone.

Helpful. Unnecessary but- nice. Against his better judgement, he’s started to let Jaskier help more and more often. It’s dangerous, carrying the threat of developing dependency, but Jaskier never oversteps any boundaries and, sometimes, he’s just too tired to refuse.

There’s been a distinct difference in the time he’s spent with the bard, bisecting his life into the uneven parts of before and after Jaskier. For one, his headaches have decreased, not having to strain to guide himself as often. People are nicer with a human- and a charismatic one, at that- around. They get to stay at better inns if Jaskier performs, and enjoy quality meals outside of rations or burned rabbit.

He’s happier. There was a time when he thought happiness had been burned out of him, but he’s reminded of its fleeting presence in those special, few and far between moments that prove him wrong.

Well. Previously few and far between.

“The man at the bar,” Jaskier starts in a dramatic whisper, still loud to Geralt, “is wearing an absolutely ghastly outfit. Geralt, we’re talking multiple primary colors, ruffles, and feathers.”

It’s easy to identify the man based just on his smell, wearing enough perfume to kill. “I imagine it matches his taste in perfume.”

“Gods, yes. I can smell it from here- I don’t know how you can stand it.”

It’s a test of his willpower, certainly, but then, on a few desperate occasions, he’s shoveled shit for coin. This, however, ranks right below those incidents, and right above the stench of a necrophage.

Jaskier’s color commentary on the world fits right in with his usual chatter and fills in a few, albeit unnecessary, blanks on the decor, the attractiveness of barmaids, and other visual odds and ends. It transitions, at some point, into a story that’s so exaggerated he may as well have made it up and ends in musings about his newest song, which, inevitably, leads to him needling Geralt for details.

Geralt just hums and tunes him out, focusing on the noise of the street outside. It’s a challenge to pick apart the individual moving pieces of a crowd but it’s enough of a distraction until Jaskier throws his hands up.

“You know, all of this,” Jaskier waves generally at Geralt’s eyes, “explains why you’re such a shit storyteller.”

He senses there’s more to this, can feel Jaskier winding up to something. It’s a quiet evening and a nice tavern, so he indulges. “Does it?”

“Well, I suppose much of the blame falls on me.” Rustling, and the clinking of several unidentifiable objects in Jaskier’s bag, as he fishes out his notebook. “I wasn’t asking the right questions.”

Geralt can’t tell what he’s writing, but he hears a few long drags of the pen and figures he might be drawing something. A box, maybe? A chart, a probably. A series of shorter scratches, for letters.

Jaskier grins, wide enough that Geralt hears it without concentrating. “Right. Are you ready?”

“For?”

“Your role in the creative process. Now, what did the rotfiend smell like?”

Geralt scrunches his nose and braces for a complicated answer. “I’ll need a few more drinks before I get into that.”

Wordlessly, Jaskier waves for another round and the questions begin. It seems like Jaskier is determined to pick apart every aspect of his sensory experience and, as they get deeper in drinks, Geralt is willing to play along. He’s never talked about it, at length, like this and it’s fascinating to hear the things Jaskier can’t detect, the parameters of human senses that were lost to him long before his vision was.

He talks until the candles stop giving off heat and his words start to slow, having detailed every smell, sound, feel, and taste that he can articulate. Sleep comes easy, after he lets Jaskier describe the pattern of the quilt and climb in beside him, warm and tired.

Jaskier’s heartbeat, though faster than his own, forms an easy rhythm to follow into unconsciousness, sinking into a darkness he no longer registers.

The next time they’re in a tavern, he listens carefully to Jaskier’s new song, lyrics filled with more sounds and smells than he’s used to hearing described. Where there was once brilliant colors and hideous monsters, there is now rich smells and vicious growls.

He can’t help but smile, hiding it behind his tankard.

How Jaskier worked rotting flesh into a chorus is beyond him, but it earns a clap.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #vesemir #blind!Geralt #my ao3 account is the same username btw #im not dead!#i know i nearly never post here anymore lmao

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ninjastormhawkkat · 4 years ago

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Alliance Swap Au: Professor Tubing and Huggy Face

I want to be clear in this au that Bob/Captain Huggy Face is still an alien monkey from Lexicon, he was just dealt with a bad hand in this au. Note: I repeat, ANYONE who is a fan of Huggy or Professor Tubing will not like how I put them in this au. If you want to read for curiosity, that is fine. This is your warning.

Captain Huggy Face/Bob left Lexicon before the events of my first Alliance Swap Au post. Probably about a few months to a year early. Huggy still runs into an asteroid field and crashes onto earth as well. This time, Huggy is a bit more battered and bruised and his soon discovered by government officials. (Not City Hall officials, but more like MIB and FBI). These guys treat Huggy as a new specimen instead of a living organism. These guys have “Its alien so let’s perform unethical experiments on it for science!” mentality. They have a hidden lab located under where Steven and his colleagues worked. (They built it before Steven came to work as a scientist.) Huggy is basically placed through literal hell because of the experimentation. Every time he tries to escape, he is harshly punished. Over time, Huggy develops a hatred for humanity based on his encounter with his captors and longs for someone from Lexicon to come and find him. (He still has that longing after the incident.)

Professor Robert Tubing was working along his colleagues Steven and James one day. He already has Bosco at this point and is still in a wheelchair (this is important). He was going to his lab to get some supplies when he spots someone he has not really been acquainted with acting suspicious. Tubing has no idea that these are one of the scientists who are experimenting on Huggy in secret. Which is why Tubing was not familiar with them. Tubing followed them with Bosco from a distance and he stumbles onto the lab where Bob is being experimented on. This latest experiment is the scientists studying Bob’s brain waves and hoping to try and understand his alien language. (This experiment is similar to the one with Squeaky.) Tubing sees how they are mistreating Huggy (not realizing he is an alien monkey) and tries to save him. In the struggle, the machine is damage and Tubing and Huggy both get caught in a power surge overload. This accident causes them to fuse into the now villainous Dr. Ape Brains. (I don’t know if space monkeys don’t have tails purposefully or if it was an design error for Huggy. Scientifically monkeys have tails and apes do not.)

In the early moments, Dr. Ape Brains, although disoriented, was in control. He saw the other scientists and fueled by Huggy’s negativity towards them, attacked. Some escaped in terror, some were brutally hurt, a few died. Poor Bosco saw all of this and was terrified. The origin episode for Dr. Two Brains happens the same way for Dr. Ape Brains, but with major changes. One, Becky immediately finds her dad and explains what she saw after her initial encounter with Dr. Ape Brains. Becky at this point is more familiar with Professor Tubing since her dad works with him and Steven considers him as a friend. At the grocery store, Dr. Ape Brains devours just about everything, including cheese. (This upsets Squeaky and the alien mouse is all ready to throw hands. No one steals cheese before Squeaky can eat it.) Dr. Ape Brains, based off of Huggy’s mixed memories, does recognize Wordgirl’s Lexiconian insignia (the star) and for a moment is hopeful someone from Lexicon came to rescue him. When Wordgirl expresses confusion at what he is talking about and insists she is here to stop his crime, Dr. Ape Brains goes back to his villain role and just attacks her and Mouse Ace. After the incident, Becky and Steven go back to the lab where the accident occurred (after police get through). While talking about what occurred, Steven finds Huggy’s old uniform that the scientists still kept (for research purposes) and recognizes the uniform as Lexiconian.

Outline for Dr. Ape Brains

Dr. Ape Brains is no longer inhibited by a wheelchair. He has more monkey features. His hair is still the same color, but shaggier. He has monkey fur on some places of his body, a monkey tail, and monkey paws. His abilities are human/monkey mixed. He is more agile and athletic than Dr. Two Brains. He has some piloting skills. A gag here is people always mistake him for another animal (like in canon). This infuriates Dr. Ape Brains every time he corrects the people.

Dr. Ape Brains main goal is to get all the food in the city and take revenge on humans. His schemes are a bit more dangerous as he is more of a threat than canon Dr. Two Brains. The Henchmen are Dr. Ape Brains henchmen in this au, but are treated lowly just because they are human. They do help Ape Brains regain a little of his humanity. Dr. Ape Brains is civil towards the villains. He is close with the Energy Monster and Chuck because they are not human.

Neither Steven nor Becky knew who Huggy was before coming to earth. (Becky was too young and Steven never visited Lexicon. Also Amirana did not talk much about her past experience due to emotional trauma from her family and evil fiancee.) Becky has asked her dad to consider helping Huggy and Tubing. Steven does not want to risk it because he fears that if he helps get Huggy back to normal and home to Lexicon, he is afraid Huggy might spill their location and that would put Becky in danger. So he and Squeaky just treat Dr. Ape Brains like any other villain. He does miss his friendship with Tubing, but he does not want to risk Becky’s safety.

Bosco is adopted by James Doohickey who takes Tubing’s place in the au of “A Game of Cat and Mouse”. I am not sure what Bob will be afraid of for this episode. Doohickey takes Tubing’s old lab.

Dr. Ape Brains still has some respect for Steven and James (that comes from Tubing) he will treat them with civility but will still behave like a villain.

For the episodes, I am combining “Showdown in the Secret Spaceship Hideout” with “Mouse Brain Takeover”. This combination will be when Steven and Becky find out about Huggy’s past and who he is. “Two Brains Forgets” happens in the same way, but Steven is more aggressive because his daughter is in danger. There is a lot of biting and scratching involved. Dr. Ape Brains is always a bit fearful of Steven after this, he just doesn’t know why and is just wary about hurting Becky (not Wordgirl).

There is not the same emotional issues as with Two Brains because Tubing never trained Wordgirl. Most of the emotional stuff is just missing Tubing as good friend or family member. (IDK who is family is so it will mostly be Bosco missing her owner as family with Becky missing him as a uncle-figure.)

#wordgirl au #alliance swap au #bob/captain huggy face #professor robert tubing #wordgirl #professor james doohickey #steven boxleitner

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