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runningfrom2am · 1 year ago

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leveling the playing field IX

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.6k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there

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a/n: here we are!! 'season' two!! thanks so much for reading it and I'm SO so glad lots of people seem to love it :) if you do, please reblog it or leave your thoughts in the replies or in my inbox! i love hearing from you and talking about it so don't be a stranger !

without further adieu,, enter buzzcut coryo <3

next part

Coriolanus's stomach twisted as he could hear your screams from the hall, even though by then he was all the way on the other side of the school. He thought that was unsettling, only for them to abruptly stop just before he left. The silence that followed was so much worse. He didn't get any sleep, sitting on the roof in Grandma'ams rose garden with Tigris all night, wondering if you were dead.

He was just sick about it, even as he left the following morning, so early that the sun was yet to rise. It was a long, painful ride, and he spent the entire thing certain that you were dead. It was his fault, he had only wanted you to come with him, so he wouldn't be alone, but now he truly is alone and he won't even have you to write to back home. Regardless, he would try.

Rather than sit with the idea that it might even be pointless for him to live another day, especially with this unflattering haircut and a uniform that challenged the discomfort of the academy one, he decided to write to you on a paper he had found bunched between the train seats to ease his mind.

Y/N/N,

I hope you're reading this. I hope this gets back to you at home and finds you safe and sound, and you're sitting over your desk with a textbook open getting ready for university in the fall. That's not what's happening though, is it? You're probably dead. I probably killed you. If you are reading this in your room, or your library, or over my shoulder as I write this because you are only alive in what's left of your spirit, I hope you know that I am sorry. I did it because I wanted you with me, because in the moment I was so sure you'd be better off with me in the districts than you would be at home with your father. I think I was wrong. But I still miss you. You meant more to me than I ever told you. I guess, more than I ever told myself either until these last few weeks.

I think I heard them kill you after I left you with the Dean. If they did, boy, did you go out fighting. I always knew you would. I can't stop writing in case I never get to speak to you again. But again, maybe you're not dead, right?

Please tell me you're not dead.

Yours,

Always yours, your Coryo

He smoothes out the wrinkled sheet as he writes, hand shaking through most of it. He doesn't know if he should even bother sending it, or if he should just fold it up and throw it out the window in hopes that the message will find its way to your ghost. No, he has to send it. Otherwise he'll definitely never know, at least not for twenty years, and he couldn't bear that.

The wind hits the trees into the windows of the train as it rolls along the tracks, demanding that the branches be heard against the glass. It reminds him of you. Then again, what doesn't these days? Maybe it was just you letting him know you had read his letter, and that you forgive him. That would give him a semblance of peace for the rest of the ride.

When you woke up, it was impossible to tell what time it was. You only knew that it was dark, and your bedroom door was locked from the outside when you got up and carefully tried to open it only to be blocked by the mechanism.

"I have half the mind to agree with you on the Avox thing." You hear your dad sigh, his voice echoing from his study just down the hall. Your eyes widen and you try the knob again. Yep, still locked. "But we could always send her to Nine or Ten as a nurse. She's not staying here, that's certain."

"I don't want to push your decision, here, but she was saying she would tell everyone. She knows more than we thought, more details." Highbottom was here too, great.

"No, that's impossible. What did she say?"

"She knows we're selling, likely that you're storing it all here somewhere, and she knows it's enough to be treason. I don't know what else she knows, but it's risky business ever letting her out of that room again. The procedure might be our best option, here." You've heard enough, quickly making for your window instead. It's locked as well, but draping your old uniform over the lever gives you enough freedom to crush it with a particularly heavy, hardcover textbook without making much noise.

You change quickly, grabbing a few essentials that you could fit into your book bag, then climb out the window and slide down the back porch column before making as quiet of an escape as possible. Adrenaline carried you a few blocks away, but now, you were unsure what to do. You couldn't return, and you couldn't be seen, and you had a tragic shortage of friends at the moment. You find your feet carrying you toward the building you know Coriolanus lives in.

You're not particularly excited to see him, but with no other options, you're sure you can find it in yourself to be forgiving just this once. You could go to Sejanus's family home, but it's not far enough away, and you're not sure what his father would say. He'd probably call your dad in a second and it would all be for naught- you couldn't risk it. So, Coryo's it was.

You enter the building, walking straight for the elevator. He was in the penthouse, so you just have to hit the very top button and figure it out from there. You've never been to his home before, but he's talked about it plenty. Enough that you could find your way there, at least.

You groan when you quickly realize the elevator doesn't work, looking over at the stairs. It's a tall building, so you've got a long way to go. You wonder how he does this every day as you climb up set after set of stairs, taking note of how the walls are basically crumbling around you.

You knew he didn't have money, that he couldn't eat, but you didn't think he lived like this. No wonder he was so thin, and no wonder he still had any muscle left on his body. It was these damn stairs. That couldn't be it though, that wouldn't explain how his shoulders just seemed to go on for miles- maybe he had some kind of workout routine you never knew about.

You're drawn from your thoughts when you reach the top of the last staircase, hesitating to open the industrial looking door in front of you. Just beyond that was the front door to the Snow penthouse, and now that you're here, you're not sure what to do. Do you knock? You don't even know what time it is.

You sit by the door, deciding to think it over for a bit. It doesn't take you long to fall asleep leaning up against the wall where it meets the dusty floor.

Waking up, you're met with a gasp. "Y/N?" You blink open your eyes, seeing Tigris crouched in front of you, forehead creased with worry. "Are you okay? What are you doing here?"

"Tigris, hello." You mumble, gathering yourself to stand up as she helps you. "I, uh, I didn't know where to go, so..."

"Okay, okay. Come in for a second." She nods, holding your shoulder as she guides you back into the apartment. You squint at the sunrise through the large bay windows, she must have been on her way to work. "Can I get you anything? Some tea? You must be freezing..." She says, immediately shuffling into the kitchen.

"No, no. It's fine. Thank you, though." You insist, trying not to stare at the state the apartment has fallen into.

"Okay, well, please, take a seat. Tell me what's going on."

You nod slightly and move to sit down at their dining table where she joins you, reaching out for your hand which you gratefully take. "Did Coriolanus leave already?" You ask and she nods, giving you a sad smile.

"I must admit, I'm relieved to see you." She says, taking you by surprise. "Coryo thought you were dead. He was just so torn up about it, he said it was his fault but he wouldn't tell me why. I was expecting to see your passing in the papers this morning."

"Well, my days are numbered." You sigh, looking out the window again. The view was stunning. Maybe you would prefer a penthouse to your own large, empty feeling home. "My father and Dean Highbottom were discussing turning me into an Avox as a pity punishment, and I don't doubt that my father would rather bury me than have that on his name. I didn't stick around to hear their decision."

Tigris listens intently, squeezing your cold hands between her own. "And now, I don't know what to do. I had nowhere to go, I'm so sorry to intrude-"

"No, my goodness, please. You are always welcome here." She assured you. "But... what will you do?"

"I have to leave." You nod to yourself. "I have to leave and I can't come back, can I?"

"One day I'm sure it will be safe for you to return." She says, notably trying to put a positive spin on it. "I'll tell you what-" She stands quickly, going over to a hall closet and pulling out a large fur coat. "Take this, it can hide you and keep you warm. Take the next train to Twelve, that's where Coryo went." She places the coat in your lap. "He'll be ecstatic to have you and see that you're well."

You nod, standing up and pulling it on in a hurry. It was a beautiful coat, you could tell it was real fur. This must have belonged to one of their mothers. "Thank you, Tigris."

"There's another train headed there in about twenty minutes, if you rush you can make it. I had to check the schedule last night for him. Don't buy a ticket, just climb in a transport car from the opposite side, not the platform." She instructs you hurriedly,

You dig in your bag as you both head for the door, pulling out a handful of money and rifling through it to give some to her. You'll need some, but she will too.

"Here, Tigris. Take this." You say as she holds the door for you, and she instantly is shaking her head.

"No, no. I couldn't." She smiles awkwardly, waving a hand at you. "You'll need it more than I do, Coryo will be sending us cheques."

You smile at her understandingly, holding it out to her again. "If not for your help, then for this lovely jacket. Please take it. I insist."

Tigris sighs, taking it from your hand before pulling you into a hug which you gladly return. "Tell him we love him, okay?"

"He knows," You say, chin resting on her shoulder. "But I will."

It was dark again when your train reached its final stop, and you were curled up under the coat trying to sleep. You scramble to get up, having to bolt from the train before anyone came to unload the car.

Unfortunately, you didn't get the privilege of having a place to stay when you arrived, so once you're out of sight of the train, the best you can do is wander.

You don't have to wander long before you hear music. You didn't realize people were happy here, so the sounds of laughter and shouting and dancing coming from inside what looked to be an abandoned building made you tilt your head at the idea. Maybe you would just sit outside, around the side of the building where you won't be seen and you can listen.

You don't even get the chance to sit before you hear the singing start. It's Lucy Gray. You mentally scold yourself for not thinking of her sooner as you stand again quickly, finding yourself quite lightheaded. You must be hungry. Maybe there will be some food inside, or maybe you can find talk to Lucy Gray and maybe she'll let you stay with her. Just until you get yourself situated here.

Clutching your new coat tightly around yourself you walk in after attempting to dust off and salvage your clothes. Your favourite skirt and shoes took quite a beating throughout the day, and you're disappointed, to say the least. Hopefully Lucy Gray has a washing machine, but you doubt it. Did these people even know what a washing machine is? By the look of everyone in the room, the answer was a definite no.

Sure enough, Lucy Gray was on stage, singing her heart out. You had never seen her smile so wide, of course, and the kids surrounding her onstage were just as talented as she was at all their instruments. You've never seen live music like this before, only classical or opera where everyone sat quietly and listened until the end. This environment was entirely new to you.

Not wanting to interrupt, you wait until Lucy Gray steps offstage and her spot is replaced with a little blonde girl who couldn't have been older than ten.

"Give it up for the amazing Lucy Gray Baird!" The girl shouts into the mic, gesturing to your friend before more music started to play. "She'll be back, she's just taking a little break, but until then, you lot are stuck listenin' to me."

This is your chance. You push through the crowd and step into the hall you saw Lucy Gray go down. "Lucy Gray?" You call out hopefully, watching your step as to not roll a heel. In hindsight, these shoes were not ideal for the journey you took, but your options were limited by a time crunch.

"Lucy Gray?" You ask again, turning a corner and peeling into a large open room. It's a few moments before your eyes land on her, and she turns to face you having heard you walk in.

"Oh my days, I thought I recognized that voice!" She smiles, opening her arms and running up to you. "Y/N, my word, what are you doin' here?" Her excitement fades quickly into concern as she drops her arms from around you.

"Long story..." You chuckle nervously, pulling at your coat again as she nods for you to continue. "We got caught, for the compact. And the snakes, somehow. Coriolanus put our handkerchiefs that you used in the tank so they wouldn't attack you, I guess. I didn't know. Then they pulled us out of class the next day, he told them it was me, so then I put up a fight and they sedated me. When I woke up I was at home and they were talking about having my tongue cut out and turning me into one of those servants but I'm sure my dad would rather have me dead. So," You sigh, trying to summarize it as quickly as possible. "I ran."

Lucy Gray shook her head, mouth agape in shock at all the information she just took in. "Okay, wait... So they were going to kill you?"

You nod.

"But that teacher of yours seemed so nice."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, he gave me some money and escorted me into the train himself."

You scoff, shaking your head. "He's never liked either of us, but that's only because I have dirt on him. I don't know what Coryo did."

"Well," Lucy Gray sighs, rubbing your shoulders gently. "I'm glad you're here. That you're safe."

"You too." You smile. "Can I just say, too, we were so proud of you. We were so lucky to be your mentors."

"I count myself the lucky one." She grins. "Let's move on, shall we? On the up and up."

"Yes, sounds lovely." You grin at her.

"Can I get you some water? Liquor? What do you need?" She asks, turning at that and going over to a bench in the middle that had a few water bottles.

"I would love some water." You breathe out, joining her and sitting down as she hands one to you.

"Lucy Gray, could I ask you for a really big favour?" You say after taking your first sip.

"Please." She nods.

"Can I stay with you?"

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#tbosas #tbosas fic #thg series #tbosas x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coryo snow #thg fanfic #thg fanfiction #thg

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lotusthekat · 4 years ago

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All We Ever Wanted (Was Everything)

Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

Rating: G

Relationships: Kyle & Adora

Characters: Kyle, Adora, Lonnie; MENTIONED - Catra

Summary: She inspects the bandages, and eventually her hand touches the claw marks again. Adora doesn’t cry again.

Kyle says nothing either and so they’re really silent. The other kids’ talking is nothing more than incoherent mumbles. It never makes sense to him, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever learn to understand.

They’re both looking at Lonnie and the rest, then they’re staring at their own laps, inside their little, lonely corner.

“Maybe…” Adora is hiding her wound again. “Maybe they didn’t mean it?”

She doesn’t specify who ‘they’ are, and Kyle neither agrees nor disagrees. He shrugs and gazes away to the side. “It still hurts,” he whispers painfully.

Takes place pre-canon. Canon divergent.

Word count: 1.749

AO3

A/N: More Adora & Kyle because this is my life: dedicating myself to an underrated platonic relationship because fandoms won’t do so >:’v

Again, be aware of the tags and the trigger warnings below! This might be OOC since I’m still new to this fandom ^^; Hope you enjoy!

TRIGGER WARNINGS - abuse/bullying, physical abuse, major character injury and childhood trauma

NOT CATRA/C*TRADORA OR LONNIE FRIENDLY!

They… haven’t gotten back for a while now.

Kyle admits he’s been worried for his two friends, Adora and Catra. They were all playing together really, but then a scream alarmed everyone. When he realized, Lonnie had a black eye, Catra ran away and Adora went after her. Lonnie’s been angry this whole time, so Kyle would rather stay on his lane until everyone’s apologized and calmed down.

If anything, it’s all Kyle can do here. He can’t go out there and help his friends. He’s not wanted anywhere, but it’s not like he wants to be completely alone in the Horde. It’s not really worth it.

Kyle is sat in the endless greens, while Lonnie rants about Catra and everyone else comments on her behavior. Kyle is not really sure how he feels about the feline. Catra is… scary. She’s pretty close to Adora, but otherwise she never gets close to anyone and she messes with him a lot. Even so, Kyle is concerned about her, because she doesn’t lash out like this out of nowhere. He hopes that she and Adora come back okay.

Fifteen minutes become thirty, and that’s when Kyle hears someone coming.

The boy almost greets Adora and Catra back, except Catra isn’t with her, and Adora is…

Kyle gasps and rushes to her.

“Adora, are you okay?” He asks.

She doesn’t reply. Adora looks like she’s been crying for a whole lot of minutes, since her eyes are red and puffy. The girl looks like she’s about to cry again at the question.

“Adora, where’s—” Lonnie approaches them, stopping when she takes a look at the blond girl. As a result, Lonnie becomes a lot angrier, “Seriously?! Catra is the worst! She even scratched Adora!” She tells her other friends.

“D-Don’t say that,” Adora speaks up but very quietly. She’s never looked so sad before.

“Am I wrong, though?! She hit me out of nowhere and she hurt you, too! This is wrong!” Lonnie insists, irritated.

“S-She didn’t mean to, Lonnie—”

“Why do you keep defending her, Adora?! She’s always been like this! She doesn’t like us!”

“Shut up!” Adora yells back, her voice wavering with tears.

Despite her pleads, Lonnie only argues more. Kyle watches, in conflict. He understands how angry Lonnie must be – her black eye is enough of a reason, Kyle gets it, but…

He avoids standing up to Lonnie or Catra or anyone else – because he’s wimpy and lame, and a crybaby – but this isn’t fair to Adora. Lonnie is only making everything worse.

“S-Stop it, Lonnie!” Kyle stands between the girls – his adrenaline immediately going away when Lonnie glares at him.

“Who asked you, Kyle?” Lonnie pushes him aside, Kyle pathetically falling back.

“Leave him alone!” Adora steps at her. “At least he’s not yelling at me!”

Kyle looks up, afraid they might get in a fight, but the brown-haired girl leaves them be.

“Alright, fine, you crybaby. But don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Lonnie hisses.

Kyle flinches when someone touches him, though it turns out to be Adora. Lonnie has walked away.

“Are you hurt?” Adora checks over him as she helps him get on his feet.

“I-I’m okay. But…” Kyle gulps at the claw marks scratching her face. “I’m sure that hurts a lot more.”

Adora looks away, covering the wound with her hand. She vaguely glances at the other cadets and so she pulls Kyle with her to the same corner he was before; the unnoticed, unbothered safe place to him. It’s… weird having someone else with him.

“I know Catra has a really hard time getting close to people… but I don’t know what went wrong this time,” Adora admits in a low voice. Kyle is a little surprised she’s talking to him at all, but he lets her. “Maybe I did something wrong?”

“What? You didn’t do anything.”

“B-But I’m supposed to look after her. She got mad at me and h-hurt me in the face,” Adora hiccups, fresh tears dropping. “I just wanted her to apologize and be okay with everyone. I know she didn’t mean to hurt Lonnie.”

Kyle hums, unsure what to answer.

“Maybe I should’ve said something else… or stayed with her…” Adora mumbles to herself, trying desperately to dry her own tears. “I-I’m the worst friend ever.”

“I think you’re a pretty good friend, Adora,” Kyle reassures her, “I know you did your best.”

Adora looks up confused. “Y-You think so?”

“Mm-hmm.” Kyle scoots a little closer to her. “Maybe Catra just needs some time to cool off, y’know? You could try to talk to her later… or maybe she’ll come back here by herself. We could wait and see.”

Adora sniffs, considering the suggestion.

“That’s not a bad idea…” she mutters. “Maybe she’ll be ready to talk on her own time.”

Kyle nods. “Yeah, she must be really mad… I don’t know what for, but we’ll figure it out.”

“Okay. Yeah, you’re right.” Adora sighs.

Kyle watches as she finishes drying her tears. He doesn’t really know how to comfort people because he’s never done so, but he stays somewhat close to her if she needs him.

“Th… Thanks, Kyle,” Adora whispers, giving him a small smile.

Kyle’s face flushes. “Oh, ah… you’re welcome." He grins shyly, "That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Yeah…” Adora’s little grin fades.

He frowns in worry and is about to apologize when she brings up something.

“How did you get those?” Adora points at the bandages hiding his arms.

“Oh…” Kyle gulps. “We were playing a little too hard today. I was, y’know, being me,” he laughs awkwardly.

Adora doesn’t laugh with him and instead asks quietly, “Who did it?”

Kyle opens his mouth but decides to be silent. Regardless, he timidly points at the other cadets from afar. One person specifically. Adora seems to catch his sign.

“It’s okay, though. It’s usually… worse,” Kyle clears his throat.

Adora seems defeated, as if she’s fought three training robots in five minutes. Kyle didn’t really expect her to be that concerned about him, but he decides not to say it.

She inspects the bandages, and eventually her hand touches the claw marks again. Adora doesn’t cry again.

They’re both looking at Lonnie and the rest, then they’re staring at their own laps, inside their little, lonely corner.

“Maybe…” Adora is hiding her wound again. “Maybe they didn’t mean it?”

She doesn’t specify who ‘they’ are, and Kyle neither agrees nor disagrees. He shrugs and gazes away to the side. “It still hurts,” he whispers painfully.

After that, they don’t talk about anything else.

Adora actually sticks by Kyle’s side until it’s dinner time. Maybe she’s not too comfortable around everyone else.

The girl barely eats her ration bars – she’s gotten Catra’s too –, even though the gray ones are her favorite if memory serves him correct. Kyle eats quietly from the other side of the circle, where sits Rogelio, Lonnie and the other cadets he doesn’t really know. At this point Lonnie is laughing along with them. Everyone acts like nothing happened.

Eventually, Adora stands up and leaves the bars aside. Kyle follows her (but hopes that isn’t uncalled for).

“Where are you going?” He wonders when they’re alone.

“I’ll go after Catra.” Adora doesn’t turn around. She sounds… tired but worried. “It’s not fair for her to lose dinner.”

“Right.”

“I should be going.”

“W-Wait, I could- I could go with you!”

Once Adora actually looks back, he regrets the words that came out.

“I-I mean…” Kyle clears his throat. “I just thought… you might need help? N-Not that you can’t do stuff alone, that’s not what I… uh…”

While he’s ready to be ignored or maybe scoffed at (seriously, Kyle? How pathetic can you be? he hears Lonnie say), Adora actually smiles at him.

“Thanks, Kyle,” Adora whispers, “but I’ll be okay. You can go eat with the others.”

(Kyle wants to say the opposite. That he wants to go with her. That he wants to share that little corner with her, because no one has ever wanted to go there with him. He wants to go with her and make sure she has that little corner for her, too. Even though he’s probably going to be easily knocked out by everyone and everything, it yells more than his fears for the first time in his life.)

“Okay,” he replies. “I’ll see you later.”

“Later.”

Adora finally leaves.

Kyle watches her go.

He sighs and returns to the common room.

Adora doesn’t come back.

Everything is back to normal then.

Adora and Catra are playing together again. The claw marks aren’t gone, though. There are other times they fight, but Kyle doesn’t see them around anymore.

Lonnie still mocks him often. Other cadets have joined her. Even Rogelio agrees with them at times.

It stays that way until one day. A pretty low day. There’s no one at the common room this time. Kyle was kicked out of the training for ruining everything, and Lonnie pushed him too hard. He's dried his eyes out of tears at this point.

The room is dark and empty, abandoned bars dirtying the floor. Kyle is hungry but his food was pretty much stolen when he tried to find it.

It’s one of the really bad days.

Kyle spends the rest of the day there. He plans to stay hidden until the night. He doesn’t want to face anyone else today.

That’s when the door opens, and Kyle hides deeper in his arms and knees. He’s really not up to have Lonnie make fun of him for another ten minutes again. But there’s no laughter, no multiple, fierce steps, no teasing…

Nothing, but quiet steps and breaths.

He awaits but there’s nothing. He doesn’t really dare look up. Not until whoever is there plops down beside him.

Then there’s crying.

The room is barely illuminated, if not for the light from outside, but Kyle notices the red scratches staining shaky arms and ripped clothes.

Kyle scoots close until the bodies are touching, and Adora cries harder as her energy falls against him. Her sobs echo in the empty room, the lonely corner only they know.

Kyle doesn't cry again, no energy left. But he stays for Adora.

#she-ra #spop #adora #spop adora #spop kyle #abuse tw #bullying tw #physical abuse tw #fanfiction #anti catradora #(just in case)

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trashogram · 4 years ago

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Ryuk/Reader 4

This is far more introspective than I intended it to be. I’m sorry you’re reading this and this one is the least fun. Or the most OOC.

Edit: Forgot to tag @doughdaddy84 as per request! I’m sorry!!

_____

You were a nice enough person.

Ryuk didn’t really care that much about you being nice or not, however. His last charge hadn’t been the most polite or considerate human, even though he’d been in the presence of a literal god.

Ryuk had taken offense to some of the things that Light had said to him in the past, but nothing the egotistical boy had done had ever angered the god. Light had been fascinating, but he wasn’t worth getting upset over. Ryuk’s pruney skin was thicker than that, and the shinigami kept on haunting the kid for about 7 years, give or take.

If anything, after watching you for a couple days, Ryuk had gotten close to reconsidering letting you keep the notebook. Which was a first for him - shinigami weren’t really supposed to directly influence users of the death note. You were just so mousy from a glance, and he’d acknowledged that breaking any more rules wasn’t going to matter when he had to return home. Ryuk was going to be punished either way.

Of that, he was very certain.

But there was just one little hitch that kept him contemplative, if one could call it that. When he’d ripped the death note from Calikarcha and tossed it to the human world, Ryuk had dove after it with unexpected urgency. He’d watched it land on the Earth and be claimed by it, before anyone had seen its appearance.

It had taken a while for the book to be found, but oddly it was a passing waif that hesitated before picking it up.

Ryuk had taken one look at you and your lifespan, and reached the conclusion that you were suicidal. You looked fragile and exhausted, your eyes distant and clouded even though you were visibly young. The sun had already set and any light left had been waning as you walked alone toward downtown, despite not having any way to defend yourself. You were also due to die in a few days.

That was before you’d laid hands on the death note. Before Ryuk saw something that he’d never seen in his lifetime, something that made him do a double-take before writing you off completely.

Your lifespan had increased as soon as you decided to take his notebook.

—

A year alone was nothing for a nigh-immortal being. In the shinigami realm, nothing ever changed, therefore the measure of time was considered obsolete insofar as their own lives.

Ryuk felt uneasy, thinking over the fact that he hadn’t even been following you for a year, and yet he’d been remembering times and dates like they were significant. If they meant something to you, then suddenly they were worth recollection.

You were still fragile and cute, like the day he’d found you. Yet, there were little improvements here and there that he could see. Your skin was healthier, the circles beneath your eyes were fading, and you were sound asleep at that very moment. Ryuk had made the observation within the first two months of possessing you that you were a troubled sleeper. You’d often thrashed in your bed, to the point where it was annoying for a long time.

The problem was only a memory, now.

As was the issue of your sickness, and your fear. You’d gained back the weight you lost in the beginning, and the color in your cheeks. You were objectively older than before, after several federal holidays and a birthday -- but you looked younger.

The blank walls of your bedroom were cluttered with colorful posters and a collage of drawings were tacked onto the dartboard, the same one that you had told him was useless once. He was no artist, but he’d contributed his part with a few optical illusions that you gushed over until he felt lighter than air.

Little pots of easy-upkeep plants sat on your window sill, both still alive even after three weeks in your midst. Below that, the built-in heater that you’d begged your landlord to fix was making itself useful, as was appropriate. The shelves were dusted on a weekly basis, and you’d reorganized your bookshelf the day before yesterday. Ryuk had helped of course, scanning the covers and making you point out how childish it was that he based his interest on the pictures and not what was inside with a laugh.

Then you’d shouted at him for tossing them over his shoulder recklessly, just to piss you off. None of your swats did a thing to him, but he loved that you even tried.

Your meekness extended mainly to other humans. People disregarded you easily, and Ryuk considered it a crime. He could repeat some of your most memorable phrases in his head, and laughed until he was hoarse. You said some stupid shit, yet you were thoughtful, worrying for others when they didn’t earn it. Soft as your skin, but you were sharp in your way. Brilliant in a way he had never thought of before.

He allowed himself to feel proud of you for those things.

You were a tease. Infuriating while you played innocent, but gave him a knowing look that only made the flurry of sensations in his lower stomach worse. He’d hidden the worst of it from you, but your hands started skimming below the neck. You made something like blood pump through his ancient veins, from his head to his toes. It was enough of a problem that he had moments on the roof out of sheer desperation, imagining you inviting him into your bed.

Recently, he’d gotten it into his head that maybe you felt the same way. It would’ve been funny were it not frustrating.

There were also things you didn’t tell him, and it irked Ryuk more than he’d like to admit. He couldn’t pinpoint when that particular part of you became less interesting and more concerning. You were closed-lipped about certain skin abrasions, certain moments in your life that he’d not been there for, and any mention of your family would oft put you into a trance. He hated those moments, wishing he could simply open up your skull and pick the information right out of your brain

At least your lifespan wasn’t changing.

Ryuk had floated down to the floor, hunched over your bedside. He could count the days since he’d started doing this, and was only a little self-conscious at this point. The scant trees bearing leaves outside your apartment had changed colors, and the nights were getting longer than the days. Little reminders that it was too late.

Too late for a lot of things.

---

Ryuk gazed at your face, smooth and untroubled. The god of death brushed the hair out of your face, curling it over the side of your head and behind your ear.

He dragged his talons away from your temple when you sighed, opening your eyes slowly and blinking at him. The recognition was second-nature now, and you no longer regarded him fearfully. He was an anchor for you, for though he could disappear from your sight, Ryuk never dared.

The look in your eyes made his stomach drop. You were so… happy. Happy to see him. You lit up with adoration, and a tug-o-war between feeling heated and feeling appreciation forced him fidget.

“Voyeurism is frowned upon in most societies.” You needled. “Probably against the law in most.”

He leaned forward intently. “Hyuk hyuk, what’re you gonna do about it?”

“The penalty is death.” You yawned, bringing his hand over to your chest and letting him touch the bare skin below your collarbone.

Your pulse slowed against his knuckles, and your natural warmth began seeping into his fingers.

Soon, you were drifting off again.

“I’ll kill you in the morning.” You promised.

#ryuk #ryuk/reader #ryuk x reader #death note #there's an itty bit of plot in there #this story is not sequential

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modestmuses-a · 4 years ago

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the positive & negative : mun & muse / fill out & repost .

EKKO

MY MUSE IS : canon / oc / au / slightly canon - divergent / fandomless / complicated

i try to stay mostly close to ekko’s canon but i also have a fuckton of aus for him including some real self-indulgent bullshit that isn’t even on his verses page. if you want me to make a new au for ekko to fit him into a different skin line or something, i’ll probably do it tbh.

IS YOUR CHARACTER POPULAR IN THE FANDOM ? YES / NO / I DON’T KNOW

IS YOUR CHARACTER CONSIDERED HOT™ IN THE FANDOM ? YES / NO / IDK

for better or worse. when “giants” first came out, i had more ekko smut on my dash than i ever cared to see.

IS YOUR CHARACTER CONSIDERED STRONG IN THE FANDOM ? YES / NO / IDK

i can tell you what i think of ekko’s strength, and i can tell you that... it isn’t much. he’s not the most adept fighter in the series, and most of the time, he wins fights by cheesing them with time travel. in my thread with @uncaged-bloodhunter ekko would be DEAD four times over by now if not for the zero drive.

however, i haven’t seen much fandom opinion about his strength? i’m going to go out on a limb and say most people probably don’t find him very strong bc? i don’t see a lot of people saying that but. who knows.

ARE THEY UNDERRATED ? YES / NO / IDK

canon-wise, fandom-wise, and on this blog, ekko gets a lot of attention, which i’m not complaining about. he’s a fav.

WERE THEY RELEVANT FOR THE MAIN STORY ? YES / NO / IDK

he is important around zaun, but considering he won’t LEAVE that place, i doubt we’ll see him achieve much relevance in the bigger overarching conflicts in the league universe anytime soon.

WERE THEY RELEVANT FOR THE MAIN CHARACTER ? YES / NO / IDK

if league did have a main character, i’m sure he would never meet them unless they were from piltover or zaun lol

ARE THEY WIDELY KNOWN IN THEIR WORLD ? YES / NO / IDK

around piltover/zaun, all the academics are trying to get him to sit down with them, but overall? nah. if he went anywhere other than piltover or zaun, they would have no fucking idea who he was.

HOW’S THEIR REPUTATION ? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL

pilties HATE him! click to find out why!

no, but in seriousness, around zaun, his reputation is quite good as one of the few decent souls in the city. but in piltover, he’s just another thuggish troublemaker on a spree of petty crimes, as if zaun doesn’t already have enough of those...

HOW STRICTLY DO YOU FOLLOW CANON ?

shrugs. i don’t actively think about adhering to canon with every thread i write, of course, but i do think i have a pretty good handle on his character so.

SELL YOUR MUSE !( try to list everything that makes your muse interesting to make them spicy for your mutuals )

he is a nice sweet boy who WILL adopt every single child and will go out of his way to help those in need. he also has plenty of spunk and a real get-up-and-go kind of personality, he’s not the kind of person who likes just “hanging around” so he’s a perfect companion for someone who likes to get out and adventure as long as you don’t go outside of piltover/zaun. he’s very loyal and will stick up for his friends, even when it would be more convenient to sell them out. and of course, he’s willing to call authority figures out on their bullshit and doesn’t sit back and passively watch injustices happen.

NOW THE OPPOSITE !( list everything why your muse could not be so interesting . even if you may not agree. what does the fandom perhaps think ? )

he’s got abandonment issues up to HERE, and because of that, he is c l i n g y. if he gets attached to you in any way, he will NOT let you go. he will NOT get over you. he will probably keep trying to worm his way back into your life for months or YEARS because he just doesn’t know how to deal with being left.

furthermore, he represses every negative emotion he has ever felt because he feels like his problems are trivial compared to other people’s so he bottles that shit right on up like cheap cough-syrup-tastin’ whiskey. he holds onto a LOT of resentment - at piltover, at the chembarons, at himself, at the world - and because he doesn’t allow himself to DO anything with said resentment, he’s a ticking time bomb (pun fully intended). i do have... timelines... where all that internalized hostility blows up in a really messy way. and by messy, i mean bloody.

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO RP YOUR MUSE ?

around the time i first started getting into league, a bitch was going through it. we were pretty destitute and received an eviction notice, and i had to work my ass off to keep us from losing our apartment. it was a very depressing time for everyone involved. but then i found ekko, this boy who had even less than i did but made the most of it, who always found some way to make the day better. writing him became very cathartic for me because it allowed me to take something positive away from what was one of the worst years of my life.

WHAT KEEPS YOUR INSPIRATION GOING ?

punk rock music, haha! especially that of billy talent. their whole dead silence album is pretty ekko, but they have a lot of bangers that remind me of him scattered across all their albums. we deserved punk rock ekko and instead we got fucking true damage because riot didn’t wanna get political, i guess. smh.

some more personal questions for the mun . give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters , which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not .

DO YOU THINK YOU GIVE YOUR CHARACTER JUSTICE ? YES / NO / IDK

DO YOU FREQUENTLY WRITE HEADCANONS ? YES / NO / IDK

i kind of only address headcanons as they come up. very occasionally i will drop a few for a new muse just so that people get a better feel for who they are before writing them but... yeah written headcanons are pretty few and far between here. it’s really not even worth me having a headcanon banner lmao

DO YOU SOMETIMES WRITE DRABBLES ? YES / NO / IDK

i would like to, but writing my replies here kind of sucks up most of my time!

DO YOU THINK A LOT ABOUT YOUR MUSE DURING THE DAY ? YES / NO / IDK

ARE YOU CONFIDENT IN YOUR PORTRAYAL ? YES / NO / IDK

too confident some might say, but those people would be silly fools

ARE YOU CONFIDENT IN YOUR WRITING ? YES / NO / IDK

ARE YOU A SENSITIVE PERSON ? YES / NO / IDK

sometimes i get anxiety about stupid shit but i try and often fail to be secure

DO YOU ACCEPT CRITICISM WELL ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL ?

nope, i ain’t changing a thing. i’m the best ekko on this site, and you are free to disagree with that because everyone is entitled to their wrong opinion, but my askbox is closed to those kinds of complaints. :)

DO YOU LIKE QUESTIONS , WHICH HELP YOU TO EXPLORE YOUR CHARACTER ?

yeah, sure, although i understand why people don’t send them because i often draw blanks on what to send without somebody reblogging a headcanon meme or something. if you just reblog “send my character questions on anon!” i’m probably not gonna do it bc i have no idea what kinds of questions would even be relevant or helpful for you.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES TO A HEADCANON OF YOURS , DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY

nah, everyone can do what they want. i usually won’t follow people if i don’t agree with their headcanons, but i’m not about to get all up in somebody’s business about it.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES WITH YOUR PORTRAYAL , HOW WOULD YOU TAKE IT ?

again, wrong opinion, but you’re allowed to have it and you’re also allowed to SMASH that unfollow button.

IF SOMEONE REALLY HATES YOUR CHARACTER , HOW DO YOU TAKE IT ?

who hates ekko of all people, first of all? but second of all, i don’t care. just don’t get in my dms about it ‘cause i’ll block you. i’m not really interested in somebody bashing one of my muses to my face.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PEOPLE POINTING OUT YOUR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS ?

shrugs. yeah, i guess. i usually leave other people’s grammatical errors alone as long as i can read their stuff.

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE EASY GOING AS A MUN ?

yeah i think so. i try to be, anyway. i like to make ooc friendships bc i find it way more satisfying and easy to write with friends. although i sound a little bitchy in parts of this, it’s mostly jokes for exaggeration effects.

tagged by: @bikmui

tagging: @storiestotell (akutagawa), @bystcrdust, @dimensionaljumper (for eliza ‘cause i always send stuff for scribe lol)

#sad sappy sucker [ooc]#//thanks for the tag cas!#//this was a welcome distraction from the shitshow that has been the past couple days <3

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hypmic-gay-imagines · 5 years ago

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DiceGen (sfw; fluff)

this wasn't requested either but my blog isn't gonna get anywhere if i don't have any content lol

sorry for not including Dotsuitare Honpo and Bad Ass Temple, i was lazy and kind of paranoid i'd write ooc

this is a little off-topic, but i hope this is nice

extra tags: laser tag

❝ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ.❞

It had taken a month, but somehow or the other, Ramuda had managed to rope all the divisions into his ridiculous plan of playing laser tag. The other two members of Fling Posse were certain that blackmail and pestering them to death was involved.

That was how they had reached this point, a lot of awkward tension in the air as the four divisions eyed each other suspiciously.

Luckily, Ramuda broke the ice, cheering, "Stop it, we all agreed to leave our hypnosis mics at home. We're all here to kick each others' butts at this!"

That probably just threw a lit match into a swimming pool of gasoline, because instantly, Samatoki and Ichiro glared at each other, silently challenging each other.

Hifumi, Rio, Jiro and Dice were probably the only ones who looked excited about this. Everyone else honestly looked like they wanted to kill themselves as Ramuda dragged Jakurai and Gentaro — the others were thankful Ramuda only had two hands — into the 'arena', the staff handing them each laser guns, although neither division wanted to lose.

"Let's play the first round with teams!" the little pink gremlin suggested, and because almost everyone was so done with Ramuda, they didn't even bother arguing back as they split up to scatter around the arena according to their divisions.

When the buzzer to start shooting each other commenced, the very first thing that happened was screaming from Matenro's side, coming from Hifumi, who was desperately trying to stop Doppo from shooting himself out.

From there, total chaos ensued as an incredibly over-the-top and dramatic laser tag battle broke out.

Ultimately, the winner was MTC, with Juto and Rio — Samatoki had been taken out by Ichiro, although he was still boasting about his division's victory.

"This is unfair! There is literally an ex-soldier, a cop, and a yakuza on that team! Rematch but every man for himself!" Ramuda demanded childishly, and nobody refused; maybe it was because Ramuda's blackmail was heavy.

Hence, they registered and Ramuda paid for another round.

This round was even worse than the previous, being a lot more chaotic, curse words and screaming filling the entire area.

After about half an hour, two people were left — Dice and Gentaro.

In the waiting room with several monitor screens that displayed live footage for the eliminated players to watch, there was a lot bickering, and few actually bothered to watch.

Meanwhile, in the arena, Gentaro was using one of the obstacles as a shield and cover to hide behind, looking at Dice, preparing to shoot. Normally, he wouldn't bother and would just let Dice win, but he made it this far, why not just win the whole thing? However, his eyes widened when he blinked and Dice was no longer there.

"Boo." Gentaro heard a low whisper into his ear, warm breath tickling him, and he jumped, head whipping behind him to see a smirking Dice.

Gentaro immediately pointed the laser gun at Dice's vest, but the latter grabbed Gentaro's wrists with one hand and pressed him against the wall, to the author's surprise, and he struggled against his grip, although he tried to keep his normal, cool composure.

"Dice, are you insane? What are you thinking—"

Gentaro's eyes as Dice connected their lips, his eyes closing. Gentaro felt his own eyes close and his lips move against Dice's to return the passion, his body moving of its own accord.

Gentaro felt Dice smirk into the kiss; before a laser sound and a loud buzz rang out around the arena, Dice pulling away as a computerized voice announced, "Player 7, victory."

Gentaro glanced down to see Dice's laser gun pointed at his vest, and he looked up at Dice, appalled as he fought down the blush those rose to his cheeks. "I can't believe you kissed me just to win. That was such a dirty trick, Dice."

"But you did enjoy it, didn't you, Gen?" Dice chuckled, and Gentaro opened his mouth to protest, but one of the staff came to shoo them out for the next group of people to play.

Unbeknownst to them, Hifumi had gathered everyone's attention to the monitors from the moment Dice had Gentaro pinned, and when the two walked in, Dice blinked, asking, "Why are you guys looking at us funny?"

Gentaro spotted the monitors, and the pink hue returned to his cheeks when he realized that everyone in that room probably saw that kiss.

Now that the game was over, everyone else didn't really see a reason to stay, and leaving Dice's question unanswered, they each left with either a short goodbye or saying nothing at all.

Fling Posse was the last to leave, walking back and making idle chat, and once they reached Shibuya, Ramuda suddenly spoke, "Hey, I got something to do, so if you need to crash somewhere, go to Gentaro's, 'kay? Just for tonight." The gremlin spoke, before running off to god knows where as Dice and Gentaro were left standing there awkwardly.

"Um... Are you coming?" Gentaro questioned, clearing his throat softly as he turned in the direction of the street that would lead to his apartment building and beginning to walk.

"Yeah." Dice nodded, jogging to catch up with the author and slowing down once he had.

"So... Are we gonna talk about that?" Dice asked after a moment of awkward silence.

"About what?" Gentaro asked, just to humor Dice.

"The... y'know, kiss."

"That was something you initiated." Gentaro spoke as they arrived, and he fumbled for the key, unlocking his door and pushing it open, entering and taking his shoes off as he did so, Dice following suit, locking and closing the door behind him.

"But you kissed me back."

Gentaro froze, and he turned to Dice, and for once, his expression seemed completely serious, as did his tone.

"Let me ask you, was that kiss just something for you to win, or did you kiss me because you like me?"

Dice stepped closer to Gentaro, grabbing one of his wrists and tugging, causing the author to stumble forward into his chest, and Dice's other arm wrapped around Gentaro.

Gentaro's cheeks flushed as an expression of shock and speechlessness crossed his features and stuck there and he stuttered out, "D-Dice! What are you doing?!"

It was like a scene out of a shoujo manga, so cliche, but Gentaro supposed he couldn't fault those empty-headed girls for acting that way if a grown man such as himself was that flustered, but he couldn't help it.

Dice was attractive. He was hot. He was cute. He was dumb, but that was incredibly endearing.

Oh, no.

Gentaro was in love with Dice.

Somewhere, Gentaro was sure he could hear Ramuda screaming, "Congrats, you are like, the second last to know!"

"Both," the gambler shrugged, responding to Gentaro's initial question, "I love you, Gen."

Swallowing his pride, making sure he didn't start lying out of embarrassment, Gentaro spoke the truth.

"... I love you too, Dice."

"Not a lie?" Dice's eyes held hope within them.

"Not a lie." Gentaro smiled and confirmed.

Chuckling, Dice pressed a kiss to the author's lips, and it was gentle and sweet.

#hypmic scenarios #hypmic imagines #hypmic #hypnosis microphone #hypnosis mic #scenarios #hypmic headcanons #headcanons #dicegen #arisugawa dice #arisugawa daisu #yumeno gentaro #dice x gentaro #gendice #hypmic oneshot #oneshot

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obsessivefinch · 4 years ago

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Growing Feelings

Hello! I think this is a pretty good way to start of showing my writing! I like G/t and I like the owl house, so why not combine them? I know this probably won’t show up in the tags, but that doesn’t matter... It’s just a surprise for my future followers! (If I ever get any) Might be a little OOC... But what better way to learn than to try?

ao3

Anyways, onto the summary

*** Summary: Luz has somehow been turned into a giant! She runs into Amity, but she turns out not to be very helpful for anything other than... discovering some new confusing feelings...

***

Luz didn’t know how it happened, but she was a giant.

To make matters worse; she had no idea how she could turn back to normal. That was why she was heading out to find one of her friends. The only upside to this; was that it had happened outside.

Luz pondered, whether or not she would be in trouble, if she was found like this. Not that she wouldn’t be able to handle it, but she still didn’t want it.

She wandered through the forest, before she heard a startled shout. She immediately recognized the voice… which might have been a little concerning, but she didn’t think about that. Either way; it was Amity. “Amity!”

She flopped down on her knees, right in front of her. And, without thinking, she scooped her up in her hands. “HI!” She shouted, pressing her up against her cheek, effectively giving her a hug. There was a slight startled squeak from Amity.

“Hi, Luz,” she sounded a little winded.

Luz lowered her down from her cheek. “It’s been a while, huh? Your leg has healed!” Amity’s face was a bright shade of red. “Anyways, I was looking for you!” Luz paused. “Actually, not really you you, but… well… I think you can tell what my problem is.” She used her unoccupied hand to gesture to herself, as she spoke.

Amity’s eyes flicked around. “What am I supposed to do?”

Luz suddenly felt a little awkward. “You don’t know how to fix this, do you?”

Amity shook her head lightly. “sorry, I… have never seen anything like this before. I’m guessing it’s not normal for humans?” Luz looked down at her in confusion. Man… witches really don’t know anything about humans, do they? “How did it happen anyways?”

Luz was careful not to make her usual wild gestures; she didn’t want to send Amity flying. “That’s the other problem!” Amity’s ears shifted downward, like an irritated cat, before she covered them with her hands. “oh, sorry; I guess that was a little loud.” Wait… she can move her ears like that? That’s so cute! It made her a little… nervous? Why? “B-but, still, I can’t figure out how it happened. I was just about to head inside, when I was suddenly…” She looked around. “how tall would you say I am?”

Amity looked Luz up and down. “I don’t know, maybe…” she did a double take. “Can you put me down for a moment?”

Luz did as she was asked.

“uh, can you stand up?”

She did so, once again.

Amity froze. “Oh wow, that’s… scary.”

Yet, Luz both saw, and felt, Amity press her hand against her leg. “If my height is…” she trailed of before continuing a little later. “and I go to about there…” She backed away a little pointing, her up Luz’s height in a measured pattern. She stopped once she reached Luz’s head. “Eight times my height.”

“and how tall are you?” Luz didn’t really question her weird way of figuring out her height. Even if it wasn’t the way she had expected Amity to figure it out. She had half expected her to tell her to focus on the matter at hand.

“About five-foot four.”

Luz sat back down and subtly brought her fingers out to count. If a foot was twelve inches, and four times three was twelve… wait, how far was she along? She was never good at doing math in her head. If you want the answer you need to focus, Luz. She wished telling herself that worked, but it wasn’t so simple. After a bit of thinking, and Amity sitting down in front of her, she spoke up. “wait, exactly eight times?”

Amity shook her head. “no, I think it’s a little more.”

Luz ripped the branch off a nearby tree. Amity shrieked and jumped up in surprise. “Sorry, Amity; I need to write something down…” she said absentmindedly. 2.8, she wrote on the ground; writing down a + to the side of it. Five times eight was much easier. She added a 40. “about forty-three feet! Man, I did not expect to be doing math today!”

Amity stood, clearly shaken, in front of her. “Amity?” Luz called out, moving her hand down towards her.

Amity backed away. “Don’t!”

Immediately, Luz drew her hand back.

“…give me a moment, okay?” She watched as Amity drew in a deep breath, before letting it out. She sat back down again, already a lot calmer. “I’m alright now.”

The regular sized girl smiled at her; making Luz feel… what was that feeling? She felt happy, but more than that… Like no smile would be big enough for her to express her joy. All the feelings came from seeing Amity’s smile… Her heartbeat sped up, the longer she kept looking at her. Amity was… cute? But not in the way King was… She was… pretty? No, that can’t be right… But why else would she want to… Why do I want to kiss her?

Suddenly, she didn’t know what to do with her hands. “oh, heh, maybe, I should get going; I need to figure out how to fix this.”

She was about to get up and leave, when Amity stopped her, “Wait!” Her face had reddened once again. “Can I come with you? I could help if…” Amity paused. “…If you needed to get to someone!” Again, she hesitated before continuing. “It’s probably not going to be easy to get inside houses, if you’re about forty-three feet tall… you know?”

Luz swallowed nervously. “Well, I guess you’re right.” She put her hand down to the ground, letting Amity climb up. She nearly jumped onto her hand; at the speed she went. She brought her hand up to her shoulder. Amity carefully climbed onto her shoulder, before freezing up. “Is something wrong?”

“I was just thinking; would it be better, if I climbed into your hood?” She laughed nervously. “it’s kind of a long drop, if I fall…”

Luz hadn’t thought of that. “Uh, sure! You can climb in!” She felt her easing herself into it, before she was just a little weight tugging at it. She adjusted it a bit, before getting up. “Well then, let’s head out to figure this out!”

***

Hope you enjoyed! I might continue this, but I’m not sure... I do want to, but if people aren’t interested, then I don’t want to bother them with this. I probably will because I like the story... but we’ll see... we will see...

Anyways!

Thanks for reading! And have a nice day! :D

#lumity #luz noceda #amity blight #toh amity #toh luz #the owl house #finch writes #finch draws #giant tiny #gt toh

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merryfortune · 5 years ago

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A Fear Unfounded

Ship: Forte/Margaret

Fandom: Rune Factory 4

Word Count: 2,004

Tags: Love Confessions, Light Angst, OOC

Forte was stunned when she arrived at the lake to the west of town. Margaret seemed to relish her surprise as Forte, clinking armour and swishing dress and picnic basket and all, drew in closer to where Margaret had set up not a camp but a picnic.

She looked the perfect picture of hedonism, sprawled out as it were on a check stripe blanket, light and cottony with interlocking colours of white, pastel pink, and cherry red. She also had a woven straw picnic basket nearby, as well as her lute, all entwined with flowers and her love of music. She laughed blithely when Forte lugged her own basket towards her at the glistening lake’s edge; delicately so, her delicate hand in front of her lips.

“I couldn’t stop Kiel; the moment I mentioned that you wanted to go on a picnic, he insisted on making some treats for me to share with you.” Forte sheepishly explained as she knelt down awkwardly and joined Margaret on the picnic blanket.

“Now we definitely have enough to feed an army.” Margaret joked.

“As Selphia’s sole knight, I will certainly prove that. I won’t let a single morsel go to waste.” Forte sounded as though she were taking some grim vow upon saying that but her earnestness only amused Margaret further.

It also endeared her further. That was her ever so serious Forte, alright. She wouldn’t have this young woman any other way.

“May I?” Margaret asked once the moment had cooled off from the japes and the like.

“Of course.” Forte replied and she let Margaret have at her picnic basket. Meanwhile, almost gluttonously, Forte made her move on Margaret’s picnic basket. She glanced back towards the elf. “May I?” The words barely left her mouth, she was near soundless as her hands grappled the vine-stricken handle.

“Yes, of course.” Margaret replied

“Thank you muchly.” Forte beamed; even her happier expressions grave.

Margaret was quick to find cupcakes stocked in Forte’s larder of a picnic basket. She was all to overjoyed to peel back the waxy casing and eat it. The plush cake’s sweetness danced on her tastebuds and was quick to disappear as Margaret had a swift appreciation for the flavour of it.

“Simply scrumptious!” she crooned, clasping her cheek in her hand, crumbs splayed over her chubby cheeks. “My compliments to the chef.”

“Kiel will be pleased to hear that, though let’s pray that he doesn’t develop an ego over it, I adore him but I’m certain he would be insufferable.” Forte smiled.

“All boys - even men - are like that though but I truly do love Kiel’s baking, it is a very narrow second to Porcoline; he will be an excellent chef once he matures a bit more.” Margret continued to gush.

“Yes, I agree.” Forte murmured, head dipping slightly as she contemplated whether the accent taste to the egg sandwich that she had taken from Margaret’s picnic basket was mustard or not.

Unlike Margaret, Forte has opted for a savoury option first. She thought it was gauche to have sweets before something decent, but for once, not to protect her image. Margaret knee her too well for that which was why she could eat freely, without prettiness or essential etiquette making that maybe the order of food eaten didn’t really matter. But it was probably, no, almost certainly, mustard in her mashed egg sandwich which really was delectable.

“It’s a splendid afternoon, don’t you think?” Margaret asked Forte quietly.

“It is. Your foresight to pick today of all days for this get together is impeccable, Margaret.” Forte said.

“Thank you. I did put a lot of thought into it. I chose today because it’s still summer but is nicely on the cusp of autumn, making for beautiful sunshine and crisp weather without being painfully warm.” Margaret explained; her face drew lines of concern. “I worry about you in summer, seeing you in all that armour. I understand why but still. I worry.”

“I know but my constitution is vast.” Forte assured her.

That bittersweet grimace didn’t disappear from Margaret’s face. That, in turn, concerned Forte. Margaret’s fist clenched by her side and Forte suspected that this wasn’t the saccharine outing which she thought that she had been invited out onto. It was just like Margaret to play games like this; to set the mood right, create a lull of false sense of security so that she may exploit emotional and conversational vulnerability. She didn’t like open confrontation, after all, as it was too violent for her. And it was just like Forte to fall straight into such a social faux pas of a trap. That was how she played Margaret’s games, after all. After all, she didn’t like underhanded means of working out aggression, preferring the simplicity which came with the swing of a sword against a foe.

“I want to support you and your endeavours as a knight, but I worry about you.” Margaret said.

“Fear not. I am strong.” Forte said with her chest puffed out. It wasn’t a boast, she possessed far too much humility to boast but it was not arrogance to be rightfully confident as her abilities as a swordswoman were without match, in Selphia at least.

“I know. You are very strong but...” Margaret murmured. “But I’ve been thinking, with Frey as our acting princess, I fear that your glory is tarnishing as more people rely on her rather than you to keep our town safe. You patrol every night and just looking at you fills people with ease. People who are not me, at least.”

“Margaret...” Forte didn’t know how to reply to that.

“You work tirelessly, thanklessly. At least I, when I busk or when I perform at Porcoline’s, I get tipped but no one ever does so much for you.” Margaret continued.

“I don’t mind. I don’t need to be paid or thanked. My pride is all that I need.” Forte gently rebuked Margaret.

“I can wait endlessly, you know, but can you?” asked Margaret, tears shimmered in her eyes.

Her sudden shift in conversation caught Forte off guard. “Can I wait for what?”

Margaret was silent. Thinking. Grimacing. The sunlight overhead seemed far too sharp, all of a sudden, with an unbearable heat gracing them thickly. Yet a breeze blew around them, cooling them, nonetheless. It rustled the leaves of the trees and the grass too, toyed with their hair as Forte waited for Margaret to come to some explanation both in her head and in her voice.

“Elves are very long lived compared to other humans...” Margaret murmured. “But normal humans are so short lived compared to Elves. I can wait, wait for you to retire so that I don’t have to worry about you being injured, or worse, but can you?”

“Margaret, I do not follow what you’re asking of me.” Forte sounded like her heart was breaking, she was fighting back tears.

“I love you, Forte.” Margaret confessed empathetically, placing a hand on her breast.

Forte’s eyes widened as the words continuously rang through her head like an echo. Over and over. Her heart hammered in her chest.

“Oh.” she murmured, gaping, really.

Margaret looked away from Forte, “I love you now, I know I will love you in many years to come, but I just fear that our circumstances might keep us apart. I find it unideal, to merely pine for you until your duties are done.”

“Why… Why do you think my duties as a knight have to be concluded for us to be together?” Forte asked.

“Selfishness, mostly. I can’t distract our most dependable knight, after all.” Margaret was lying; though, there was likely a nugget of truth in what she had said, the way more tears streamed down the side of her face betrayed her. She pawed at them, hopeless. “You were an illicit affair, yes? Your mother had Kiel at an advanced age, compared to you, yes?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry for your losses. Even all this time later, I am.” Margaret said. “But from them, I assumed that it was wrong for a knight to show that much emotion, attachment to people like that. I thought a knight, especially one as prominent and dear to us as you, were expected to uphold all values and virtues, including chastity.”

Her explanation followed to reason. The underlying implication that Margaret perceived Forte as just and noble flattered her. But it was in that explanation that Forte saw where her dear companion faltered. Ever sure of her perceptions of her the world, it took a lot to convince her of contrary evidence and the like, completely unlike another elf who shall not be named, Margaret prided herself on the vision she carried and sometimes exerted over others.

“Whilst it is true that a knight ought to be a paragon of virtue, there is no rule disallowing fraternising with the general populace. We have codes of honour for that too, my lady.” Forte told her.

Margaret prickled to hear that, her lips pursed in surprise. It appears that she had wasted tears but Forte thought otherwise. She leaned in and wiped away what remained of those shed tears in Margaret’s forget-me-not coloured eyes. She smiled gently beneath her choppy and blunt fringe.

“Thank you kindly for your consideration but you are mistaken, I am afraid. Your observations, whilst keen, have misled you. Though I will admit, I find it rather romantic that you are certain that you could wait for me but fortune smiles on your field, you do not have to wait a single second longer for me if you wish to court me.” Forte told her.

Perhaps Margaret should have been embarrassed for coming to such conclusions, but she wasn’t. Only relief coloured her cheeks pink as she found her empathetic reply, replying with her whole chest.

“I truly don’t want to spend a second longer, Forte, thank you, I love you.”

Her words were sweet but her kiss sweeter. She caressed Forte’s face as she kissed her so swift to cross the middle of the picnic blanket, over the basket and over the distance of all those years alone that Margaret had envisioned would divide them, so lonely.

Margaret kissed Forte ardently. Her passion was dulcet, and Forte could not crave it more. Margaret’s kiss was divine. Experienced and yet new; for the first time, in a way. Forte became intoxicated on the floral perfume which drifted around her lover. Her lover. It felt sublime to acknowledge that, even quietly in her own mind, as she was kissed. She felt as though she had become a new woman with a renewed sense of what she heroically owed her dear hometown.

Forte broke the kiss. She wished very much that she didn’t have to but alas, she needed breath. But this was a breathlessness like she had never known before. She often felt satisfied with how she painted after a particularly challenging round of training, but this was different. Though it did set her heart racing, quite similarly. No, this was something more tender than steel blades and broken hilts. It was more precious, like flowers and cakes. She smiled though, unguarded and somewhat grateful.

“I really enjoyed that, Meg.” Forte said.

“I did too.” Margaret chortled. “Though you tasted like mustard and egg salad.”

Forte blushed. “My apologies.”

“You’ll just have to fix that then.” Margaret told her, both playful and uppity. So, on Forte’s behalf, she retrieved another cupcake from the picnic basket bearing sweets.

Forte received it graciously and without her usual, and forced, bellyaching. “I suppose I shall.” She then sank her teeth into the treat.

She smiled a little wider, a little bigger, as she ate the cupcake. Seeing that made Margaret happier than Forte could know, but what made her happiest of all was knowing that this was all happening in the present. And not some precarious far off future. It was good, even great, she thought, to enjoy things in the moment.

#rune factory 4 #rf4 #forte (rf4)#maragret (rf4)#forte x margaret #margaret x forte #writing tag #i might have some more rf4 fics up my sleeve depends #i've only beaten arc 1 lol

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sheikah · 7 years ago

Note

Did you happen to tag your story as literally "Jealous Jon"? Cuz if so, that explains a lot actually. A vast majority of the stories on archive that have that tag portray Jon as an unhinged, jealous psycho. A borderline rapist as well. A lot of people's guards probably went up when they saw it.

I tagged it that way because if people don’t like it, I was hoping that would allow them to avoid it. Same with the inclusion of Jaime. But it had the opposite effect. Honestly, since I originally posted about it, things only got worse and I got pretty pissed. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to use this ask to rant a tiny bit because I’m annoyed.

As someone oh-so-kindly pointed out on my fic today, comment sections are not only there to “stroke a writer’s ego.” Comments that aren’t positive are allowed. But comments that aren’t constructive, comments that are simply complaining about the story’s existence, are not helpful and are frankly more disrespectful than usual “hate” comments because they’re on a piece of literature that took time and effort to write.

If someone took issue with a particular plot point they felt was OOC, if someone had notes on my writing style, etc, I would welcome suggestions. But I’ve been getting comments basically just bitching about the fact that I am writing something involving Dany and Jaime at all. This pisses me off for two reasons.

1. If you see I tagged the pairing and hate it, why read the fic and take the time to comment telling me you hate that pairing? What the hell?

2. If you did read the fic, you’d know that Jaime and Dany are not at this time in a relationship in said fic, which is why I tagged it “light Dany/Jaime,” that way people who absolutely hate it could stay away, but everyone else could read it and understand that there is no actual pairing but that Jon is paranoid and worried about there being a relationship there–hence the jealousy.

(When I say “you” here I mean the general “you,” not YOU, anon.)

Fanfiction is something that many people write for fun and (in my experience) all people participating do so for FREE. It is still something that takes time and effort, though. So I am getting a little sick of readers feeling ownership over what the authors write. I realize that fanfiction is unique from other fiction in that it utilizes characters already well-known and loved by its readers. But that does not give those readers the right to try and dictate what sort of fanfiction is and is not allowed in a fandom. I had comments on this work suggesting that Dany/Jaime should not be included as a possibility at all and is “OOC” just because those readers don’t want to see it, and don’t want to see Dany ever moving on from Jon.

Look, I’m not here to say it will happen in current canon. It won’t. But it is not out of character for Dany to be attracted to a man like Jaime Lannister. She has a history of attraction to strong, physically powerful, self-assured and even “cocky” men. Sound like anyone you know?What’s more, Jaime is, canonically, charming and exceptionally handsome. It’s not a huge leap for Jon to think, in a moment of insecurity, that Dany would find Jaime handsome and desirable.

Because YES–Jaime is the Kingslayer. But all Dany has heard since she landed in Westeros is what a god-awful man her father was and how he was murderous and evil, the opposite of what she wants to be. That being the case, I think her meeting with Jaime is very timely. She is at the prime time in her life to accept someone like him and to acknowledge that while he might have been disloyal to her family, it wasn’t necessarily out of line or unwarranted for Jaime to kill Aerys when he did.

It’s also in-character for Dany to make marriage alliances with people she doesn’t like *cough* Hizdahr *cough*. Dany, anti-slavery advocate no. 1, was betrothed to a former slaver. She will go to almost any length to protect her people and do what she thinks is best for them and for the realm in general.

And we have to explain Tyrion’s canon reaction to boatsex somehow. My fic offers an explanation for that, and it understandably makes Jon anxious. So put all of this together and I don’t think it’s very strange for Jon to be wary of whatever is happening between Dany and Jaime (which so far is NOTHING).

So whether I tagged it “jealous Jon” or not, I don’t feel the complaints I’m receiving are warranted. They read as petulant and the result of people who are worried about the future of Jonerys in canon and thus revile any presented alternatives to a happy and smooth course for their relationship.

I’m even getting comments saying it is OOC for Jon to be thinking about this so much. But in a SHORT (i.e. three chapters) romantic angst fic, there isn’t really room for the characters to think about too much aside from one another, now is there? I’m not setting out to rewrite ASOIAF here.

At the end of the day, my fic that people are so riled about is still a Jonerys fic. That seems clear to the vast majority of people who read it. And in it, Jon is neither content to sit by the wayside and cry over his lost love nor trying to start a fight with potential rivals like some OOC, hyper-masculine macho caricature.

I am just still baffled that these couple of people can’t see that. The Jonerys fandom growing has been lovely, and my blog followers should know better than anyone how fiercely defensive I am of this fandom, of Dany’s character, and of Jon’s. So whether I decide to examine a possibility of Jon’s jealousy or not, I think certain people in the fandom in general need to learn some respect when offering their “commentary.”

#ranting #fandom wank #answered

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grace-facing · 7 years ago

Text

Y’ALL NEW JACKET FIC LMAO SURPRISE

so like a million years ago i posted about making a new jacket fic. well. here it is. NOBODY ASKED FOR THIS BUT ENJOY IT NONETHELESS. also please read my authors note because reasons. thanks.

you can also read it here, yay!

Hyacinth, in Blue Perhaps

Three's Company AU where Jack Tripper is a PI in Santa Monica, and Janet Wood tags along at some point to help him out. Romance and mystery and action ensues.

A/N: so. This is a thing! Short, and fairly simple. It would've been a full, fleshed out story, but I loose motivation rather quickly so it's been reverted to just this. Enjoy! Also, characters are out of character! Ooc! Ooc! Ooc! They are hella out of character lmao! ALSO, also! I literally know NOTHING about how 80's detective work went down. I know nothing at all. Pretend everything you are about to read makes sense, yeah? Coolio. He knew he should've shoved the tissue box into his overcoat pocket when he left the apartment this morning, for the vulnerable blonde sobbing in the middle of his claustrophobic office.

His eyes flickered to the photograph in his hands of an adolescent girl, with bright blonde hair in pigtails and big blue innocent eyes. She says the picture is fairly recent; taken by an amateur photographer whom her elementary school hired for picture day only a couple of months ago. It's a perfect picture to keep for reference. It's mostly up to date, lighting is decent. Her face is clearly shown and her features are visible. Numerous other descriptions were even written on the back, courtesy of the mother, whom still sat in a crumpled mess. This photo will do quite nicely. "Miss Snow..." Jack began, slightly unsure of how to comfort this woman. "I know you are experiencing a lot of pain right now, but please, trust me when I say I'm going to find your daughter." The woman ceased her uncontrollable sobs and managed to look into his eyes. She dabbed at the trail of tears that raced down her reddened cheeks and offered a very small and grateful smile. "Thank you," she squeaked. Jack nodded sympathetically and placed the picture on the surface of his desk, atop of all of his files that littered it. The woman eyed the mess and resumed her loud wailing, almost as if accepting the negative fate of her missing daughter. That's never good. Jack's face quickly fell, shooting straight up from his seat and dashing over to kneel next to her. "Miss Snow..." "Chrissy. Please...just call me Chrissy." She muttered, running the sleeve of her arm over her dripping nose. Jack cringed at the action but hastily nodded at the request. "Of course...Chrissy. I'm sorry things had to turn out this way for you and your family. I'm confident I will bring her back safe to you." He patted her knee soothingly. After more crying and awkward displays of comfort, Chrissy stood to part ways with the PI. "I'd appreciate it if you don't let me down, Mr. Tripper." Jack almost smiled but quickly remembered the serious situation at hand, so he settled with a single nod. She cast a final solemn glance at the photo on the desk and disappeared out into the hallway. Blowing out much-needed air, Jack buried his hands into his pant pockets and lulled his head back in efforts of cracking the tense muscles in his neck. Cindy. 8 years old. Daughter of Christmas Snow and Alan Grover. Divorced parents, so naturally Chrissy blames the father. Because of that, Jack must pay a visit to Mr. Grover, despite the state police have already done so, and him being cleared of any suspicion. Going to Jack was Chrissy's last resort. She had previously been involved with the cops in looking for her missing child, but after three weeks, she's given up on them, and even worse, they had too. According to Santa Monica police, Cindy Snow is a part of the cold case and her files are probably buried in someone's desk drawer, awaiting transfer into a box to be shipped off to an over packed filing storage unit. Jack shakes his head at the thought. One of the many reasons he's left the law enforcement ages ago. Jack Tripper is now a lone wolf in the big city of Santa Monica. He managed to attain a license and afford himself an actual office, albeit cramped and hidden in the depths of a multi-purpose establishment. It works for him and that's all that matters. With very few actual authentic PI's in the area and almost all of them being terribly busy with other matters, Chrissy had no choice but to recruit Jack. She had heard some decent comments about the man when she had asked around and felt that she had to at least try. She'd figure she'd give him a week or two. Jack wanted to give himself less time because he felt fairly confident that his strategy will reward him the girl, safe and in her mother's arms. Sitting back down in his large rolling chair, Jack picked up the telephone and quickly dialed a number he knew all too well. Waiting for the dial tone to disappear, he tapped his finger on the photo. A familiar, charming hello sounded from the other end. Jack leaned back in his chair. "Hey, Larry." ... It had been raining for a few days now. Jack hadn't thought much of it until he stepped out of the building with no umbrella in hand. His suit is practically drenched by the time a car pulls up and he slips inside of it. Larry Dallas has been waiting, in reality, for a short while, but in his mind, it's a 'short while' too long, so he will argue that striking up an intriguing conversation with the busty waitress is more than reasonable. That's exactly how Jack finds him, and that's exactly what Larry argues. "Money and girls, Lar, that's all you choose to see in this world, are money and girls," Jack shakes his head amusingly, watching the way Larry's eyes light up in mischief. The boys talk business. Business, in terms of money, girls, and maybe that basketball game they've happened to catch here and there. Eventually, it comes down to actual business. "How old?" "8." "Sheesh, too young to be stirred up in that shit," Larry mutters, he's dark eyes losing a bit of its shine. "I'll find her," "You really think?" "Of course." "Well, then. You'll find her." The conversation seemingly dies there. The two resume their drinking, minds obviously worlds apart. Larry brings them back to the same place. "You looking for any help?" Jack turns to stare at his friend. There's silence between the two for a few moments. "No. Why?" Larry leans back in his chair. "There's a girl. Short, brunette. Feisty. Threatened my leg," Jack snorts at that, "hear she's good at what she does," "And what does she do?" Jack raises an eyebrow, sensing where this may be going. "She's into detective stuff, too." "Oh? And she's here?" "Yeah. Recently moved. She's hiding out as some flower girl, Arcade Flower Shop or something. You should look into her." "I should?" "You should." "Hm." It's silent again. Jack leaves the restaurant with a strange woman's name on a napkin, and no ride home. The rain has stopped, so he walks. ... Several days later, and Chrissy Snow is in worse shape than before. She had somehow managed to obtain Jack's address and proceeded to visit him there---without any warning. She left just as suddenly and unexpectedly as she arrived, wailing all the way to her car. Jack tried following after her, worried about her condition and emotional state. She shouldn't be driving like this. Many visions of accidents and car wreck scenarios swam through Jack's head, unsettling him further. "What is all of this commotion! Oh, Jack," a grumpy, irritated voice spoke, startling the young PI. He sees Chrissy tearfully getting into her car and speeding off, a knowing grin growing on his face. "Oh, I see, another girl bites the dust, eh? Had to let her down gently?" Jack sighs before turning to his older landlord, Stanley Roper. Somehow, the elder man has gotten into his head that Jack is gay, and no amount of real explanations can convince him otherwise, so Jack begrudgingly plays along. It's easier that way. "Something like that, Mr. Roper," Jack shakes his head and begins to head back up to his apartment. "Wait a minute, Jack," Mr. Roper disappears back into his home and returns a few moments later with a card in hand. "I need a favor. Mrs. Roper is out for the day, and I'm expecting a package. Do you mind stopping by this shop today and picking me up flowers? It's very important." Jack takes the card and inspects it, immediately recognizing the name of the shop. "Uh, sure. What's the occasion?" "A ticked off wife," Mr. Roper grumbled. He dug into his pocket in search of some loose bills. He hands it to Jack and thanks him before entering his apartment, a string of muttered curses following behind. The detective sighs and begins his long trek to the Arcade Flower Shop. ... It's empty when he enters the shop. There's no one in sight, so Jack rings the bell that was thoughtfully placed on the counter; among it are flowers and flowers and more flowers. "Just a moment!" A silvery voice calls from the back. Jack waits patiently, picking at the scattered flower petals. He steals a few glances toward the archway of what he assumes is the back room where more flowers must reside. It's another few moments, and then finally a figure emerges. The woman is short. Not devastatingly so, but short nonetheless. Her hair is dark and cropped, reaching just below the nape of her neck. Jack thinks it compliments the slight tan of her skin and the rich, earthy brown of her eyes. She's wearing a red buttoned blouse, tucked into a navy tight pencil skirt. If the man had to guess, since he can't see over the counter enough to get a look at her choice of foot ware, he would guess nude colored heels. Maybe black. Either way, this woman could probably both defend him and prosecute him in a court of law. The thought leaves a ghost of a smirk on his lips. "Hello, there," the silvery voice hits him again, "Welcome to Arcade, how can I assist you today, sir?" Her smile is as bright as a neon sign, he'll give her that. However, the dark circles give her seemingly flawless features away. Jack digs into the inside pocket of his jacket and feels around for the card that Roper bestowed him. He finds it and flips to the back where a word is scrawled out with a pen. A name of a flower, maybe? "Uh, a friend of mind wanted me to pick up some flowers. He handed this to me. Think you can read it?" The woman leans a little closer, allowing Jack the pleasure to get a whiff of her floral perfume. The smell penetrates his senses for a moment, enough to get a high and curl his toes. She squints adorably and scans the word several times. Jack stares for a while. He's slightly startled when she suddenly speaks. "Hyacinth. We have a variation of colors; any specific preference?" "It's for his wife. A ticked off wife." "Ah. Purple, then. He needs purple." She turns and leaves the safety of behind-the-counter to search. "What's the meaning?" Jack inquires, following her move. "'Sorrow. Please Forgive Me, I'm So Sorry'," she fingers a couple of flower stems and manages to acquire a handful of, what he guesses is purple Hyacinth. The flowers are beautiful. Mrs. Roper will love them. "These flowers are beautiful. His wife will surely love them, that is if she generally loves flowers." Jack's eyes shoot back to the woman, taking in every facial feature and every word. "You're Janet Wood, yes?" There's a glint that flashes over her dark eyes. They stare each other down, and eventually, she nods. "Are you...a friend of Larry's?" Jack lets out a breathy chuckle. "I apologize on his behalf for anything he has done or said to you." Janet purses her lips and nods again. They talk for a while and Jack leaves the shop as empty as when he came in, a brunette florist following closely behind. ... "I hate when young children are involved," Jack turns to look at Janet, her grip tight on the steering wheel and her brows furrowed. He sighs and glances back to the photo in his hand. "Where did you say you worked out of? What office?" "Building on Ocean Vista," "Okay, I know where that is." They drive to Jack's office. Entering said office, the duo makes haste of the case. With more detail, Jack catches her up to speed and relays what he has done so far up until that point. "Are there any more family members to question?" Janet asks, searching eyes too busy scanning documents in hand. "Uh, yeah. A lot. Most live out here in California. Some are scattered throughout the country. Some out of the country. All of them cleared." Janet clicks her tongue. "Sheesh, not off to an easy start." "No kidding. I'm currently looking into non-family members. Strangers off the street, see if it's some random kiddie abduction." Janet's face contorts into a crinkly frown, desperately wishing that the child is not suffering harshly from this kidnapping. A young girl so precious, so curious, so worthy of life, doesn't deserve a kind of world where monsters and dangers can arise for tiny tots like her. It settles uneasily in the short brunette's stomach, forcing a heavy breath of exhale. Jack notices the uneasiness from his new partner and suddenly regrets taking her on. Cases like this tend to weigh drastically on a person's mind, no matter who. Even Jack himself is slightly more perturbed than usual. He decides to reach out a tentative hand to cover Janet's own soft one. He easily engulfs it, and it puts the man a little at ease. "I'm sorry for asking for your help," he says soothingly, "it's a lot to think about. Especially since we're going against time." Janet manages a slight tug upwards on the corner of her lips, looking eternally grateful for the caressing words of a man she's met a few hours prior. "I've handled worse. It's just never easier." The words live on forever in the depths of Jack Tripper, and when this is all over, he thinks, he wants to stay by her side. ... There's a sister-in-law they've never checked out before. Chrissy mentions her offhandedly during one of her tearful visits, and the duo decides to pay her a visit right after Chrissy detangles herself from a bone-crushing hug to Janet's smaller frame. Alan's sister-in-law, more specifically. Well. Ex, really. The good news is that she resides right there in Santa Monica. They jump into Janet's red car and speed off. It takes a total of 14 knocks for there to be an answer at the door. The answerer is someone they wouldn't expect. A man shorter than Jack, and still taller than Janet, albeit only slightly. He sports a goofy surprised expression, and kindly declines their offer of being let inside. While Janet attempts to talk their way in, Jack steps back a bit and cranes his neck to peek inside the large home. All he can scope out are expensive looking furniture and an ugly carpet. There's a dragon vase on top of a mantle over the fireplace that catches his attention for a nanosecond, before he decides he doesn't like it and continues to glance around. A small, framed photograph on the wall half obstructed by the door snags his attention too, but before he can stare at it a little longer, the door is being softly shut and Janet exhales a tired breath. She turns to face Jack and notices his wide look. He beckons her to silently follow him back to her car. "We need a way in," He says as soon as they slide in beside each other. "Yeah? We just tried the polite way. What's the probable cause?" "There's no search warrant yet. I saw a picture hanging up on the wall," "And?" "Of this." Jack holds up the school photograph of Cindy Snow. The very same one given to him by Chrissy Snow over a week prior. Janet nods and drives away. ... "Motive?" "We know she's babysat more than a few times years ago, we know she's become estranged after supposedly divorcing Alan's brother, we know the man who answered the door is Alan's brother, we know the home belongs to the sister-in-law, and we know she's had a past filled with petty theft and bribery, not to mention many threats directed at her co-workers. They sure loved throwing her under the bus when we questioned them." "And," Janet continues for him. "And?" "She can't have children. Biologically." Jack smiles at her, and he stills for a moment as he watches Janet Wood solve the world. ... They go back to the large house. It's dark now, and this time they're knocking a lot longer than when they did the day before. The lights are off, and they don't sense any form of movement from inside. Jack doesn't like the looks of it. At all. He tells Janet to wait on the porch while he jumps over the side railing and continues on to the back of the house. His hand inches closer to his holster strapped to his belt and rests it on his gun. He circles the house and finds nothing. Janet waits for him to meet her where he left her and sees the detest in his eyes. She offers a weak smile with furrowed brows as if to say that they have done way more than they should've, so they should at the very least not blame themselves for the outcome. It's simple to register that they've gotten away. Obviously, they packed up what they can and ran. A tiny 8-year-old in tow. Jack doesn't care anymore and kicks down the door. Janet is only slightly startled but follows him in like a shadow. She looks around on the first floor while Jack jogs up the stairs. There's plenty of evidence to see that there lived a young girl here. Scattered crayon drawings lay around, dozens of pink hair clips and purple headbands, a rainbow child sized rain jacket and a pair of small pink sparkly jelly shoes. The brunette stares at the shoes solemnly. The sound of someone running down the stairs catches her attention. "Do we know where Phillip lives?" "Even if we find out, they wouldn't have run off there." Jack's shoulder slumps defeatedly because of course, they wouldn't run off there, Jack. "But maybe there is someplace we can check out..." Jack follows Janet's stare and finds himself facing a large portrait of two people. Vicky Bradford and an older man. They can both guess whom that might be. ... James Bradford lives outside of Santa Monica. Way, way outside. They drive for what seems like hours, and finally, make it to his enormous estate. Someone answers after the first ring of the doorbell. "May I help you?" She's a plump, young woman, with beautiful curly hair tied in a ponytail. She's also wearing a rather plain housekeeping uniform. "Yes, hello," Janet speaks for them, "I'm Janet Wood and this is Jack Tripper," "Hello," Jack waves politely. The housekeeper nods. "And we're here to visit Mr. James Bradford. Is he available?" "Just a moment," the housekeeper turns and disappears back into the house. She comes back after a few seconds. "Please, come in. You can wait in the study." The two follow after her, giving their thanks when she leaves to find the man of the house. They wait for a total of seven minutes. Jack kept count. "I'm James Bradford," The duo immediately perks and stand up from their seats once they hear him introduce himself. "Who are you and why are you here?" Jack swallows almost audibly and casts a look to Janet. Her mouth forms into a line, holding out her hand for the older gentleman to shake. "I'm Janet. This is Jack. We're here to discuss a few important things regarding your daughter, Vicky," A flash of knowing ghosts over James's face, his eyes twitching slightly. Jack notes this and lets Janet continue their introductions. "We went to see her earlier, but she wasn't home. Do you mind telling us about her? If you might've seen her lately? Where she might be?" James stares at her as if she grew another head or two. It makes Jack a little uncomfortable and wants to punch the look off of the guy. Instead of answering straight away, the man moves to make himself a drink from the bottle of brandy that was sat out for anyone to take. Jack and Janet watch him intensely, silently beckoning him to say something on the matter. Silently, for the time being. "Well," he starts, after taking a long, hard sip, "Vicky. You see, I haven't seen or spoken to my daughter in months. I honestly have no idea where she might be if she isn't home. Out shopping, perhaps?" In his mind, Jack knows that he's lying. He decides to take the initiative to press further. "No. Not out shopping, is she? We asked around. We talked to her neighbors, her coworkers, we gathered a general draw up of her day to day schedule, and no. She's not out shopping." The intense stare that was shared between the two could melt mountains. Whatever that means. Janet decided this was a little too forward, so she easily stepped between the two who seemed as if they were going to throw down at any moment. "Mr. Bradford, we all know Vicky is not out...shopping. We need you to cooperate with us, please," she said, on the verge of pleading but not willing to at the moment. "A young girl is involved. Think if this was your daughter, if this was Vicky. 8 years old and away from her parents." The idea of a missing 8-year-old Vicky seemed to do some kind of trick. His tense shoulders sagged, elating a sense of hope within the duo detectives. He allowed his eyes to roam around the room, avoiding any gazes with these two strangers. It irritated the older man; how much they could look into this, respectively. A sigh escapes him. "I would like to help you, I really do. My daughter...is an emotional person. I don't ever wish harm upon her. I love her," Jack and Janet anticipate a reveal to help further their investigation. James finally looks to the two of them. "I don't know where she currently is. I want to help you, but I can't. I apologize. I am of no use." Jack clenches his jaw at the remark, silently willing himself to walk away before he explodes at the older man. Janet doesn't succeed in that, however. "No. You are not useless," she whispers and her gaze is set on the floor, "you are completely useful. You are completely useful to us because you know exactly where your daughter is. You know, and you've known this whole time," her tone is venomous, it almost makes Jack's skin crawl. He looks to James and smirks at his uneasiness at the moment. "I-I really can't help--" "Mr. Bradford. If we find your daughter--excuse me, when we find your daughter, you all will be in a lot more trouble than if you just told us where she is. You can help us. You can help her." He falls silent. Janet is losing her patience rather quickly. Jack stares at James with a stern gaze and a frown. Janet clears her throat. "Well? We can stand here all day." "South of here. We own a summer cabin. Spacious, livable. I can jot down the address for you. I honestly don't know if she's there or not, but if she isn't at her home, and she isn't here, then she may very well be there." The relief that washes over the two is astounding, to say the least. Janet doesn't thank him when he hands her the slip of paper with the address, and just tugs on Jack's sleeve to lead him back to the car. James calls out and wishes them luck. They ignore him and drive off. ... The cabin is pretty much secluded. There's a trail that leads up to it, but many hikers would split off from the path in favor of not stumbling upon a private abode. Janet parks her car at the start of the trail and the two begin the fair trek. Just before leaving, however, they call in for backup on Jack's radio, just in case things turn awry. The sun is already setting by the time they reach it. "You stay here, behind this tree, and I'll take a walk around the cabin," "Hold on a second, Jack!" Janet said, pulling on his arm. "Why do I have to hide behind a tree? I'll knock on the door while you go around back, that way they'll have nowhere to run." She suggested instead. Honestly, that idea didn't sit too well with him. Jack didn't want Janet in the middle of the action in case one of them had any weapons. He didn't want her to get hurt. He never wanted her to get hurt. The fire and pleading in Janet's eyes were unfortunate enough to not to want to let her down, so he reluctantly nodded his approval of her plan. "Jack, she's got to be in there. We'll return her back to Chrissy." The smile she formed shined brighter than the stars that began appearing above. Jack stared after her as she made her way to the stairs of the cabin. Shaking his head, he himself made way for the back of it. Janet knocked on the door without hesitation. Waiting patiently, she strained to hear any movement coming from inside. So far, no dice. Knocking again, she put her ear up to the door. She decided to say something. "Hello? Is anyone in there?" As soon as she said that, she heard a loud crash coming from inside and shuffling. Janet tried for the doorknob, but it was locked. She started pounding on the door and calling out to whoever was making the noise. She can finally make out a door being slammed open and Jack shouting. She darted from the front of the cabin and hurriedly dashed toward the back, where she can see Jack pointing his gun. He saw her running up from the corner of his eyes. "Stop right there, Janet," he said. "Jack..." "Don't move! Anyone!" Janet whipped her head and found two adults standing with a child. Cindy. She was being held protectively by whom they assumed was Vicky. The man they met at Vicky's home stood in front of them with his own gun aiming at Jack. Phillip. "Phillip," Janet started, "please. Put that down," she stepped a bit closer, her hands raised. "Don't fucking move!" "Janet, please, stay where you are!" Everything was unfolding too fast and too intensely. Neither party was enjoying this. "Make the guns go away!" Cindy shouted. She hid her face into Vicky's side. "We will, sweetie," Janet said in reply to Cindy, she looked back at Phillip. "Put that down! You're putting Cindy in danger!" "Shut up! I will never hurt my daughter!" "Phillip, she is not your daughter. She is your brothers and we need to return her back home where she belongs," "She belongs to us! Don't you dare touch her!" This time it was Vicky yelling, her face red. Janet shook her head. "No, Vicky, no. You couldn't have children. We know how much you wanted them, but this is not the way. This is hurting Cindy, this is hurting Chrissy and Alan and her friends," Janet steadily made her way closer and closer to Vicky and Cindy as she continued talking to them. "Chrissy misses her so much. Cindy, your mother wants to see you again. She wants to hold you in her arms, and braid your hair like you would every night before bed. She wants to sing you songs and teach you how to care for animals. She wants you back." Cindy eventually looked away from the safety of Vicky's side and shyly glanced at Janet as she crept closer. All the while, Jack had his eyes trained on Janet and on Phillip, his heart thumping heavily and his head swirling with worry and ache. The palms of his hands are beyond wet with sweat, and he just wants all of this to be over. For the first time in a lengthy while, Jack is genuinely terrified. "I want my mommy, too..." Cindy whimpered, looking at Janet. The brunette nodded her head and chanced a look at Vicky. Her eyes were wide with anger and her nostrils flared. Her grip on Cindy tightened uncomfortably for the young girl, making her squirm. "Vicky, please..." It was a whisper, and it was all it took to shove Cindy aside and charge after Janet. Everything happened at once. While Vicky knocked Janet to the ground and rolled on top of her, Jack automatically ran to Janet's aid. Phillip took the opportunity to grab Cindy and whisked her away. Jack was thankfully able to tackle Vicky off of Janet, which gave her the chance to spot Phillip running off with Cindy sobbing and dangling over his shoulders. She pushed herself off of the ground and sped off after them. With Vicky clawing at him, Jack felt helpless as he watched the three of them disappear into the woods. ... Her heart is pounding. Luckily, she hasn't lost sight of them yet. She yells, and he ignores her. He almost drops Cindy when the girl wriggles violently in his grasp. Janet urges Cindy to wriggle some more but keeps her mouth shut when she fears that the girl will get hurt. It's all about keeping that girl safe. Phillip doesn't look like he'll be stopping anytime soon. ... Jack manages to restrain Vicky. Being stronger and a lot taller can go a long way in this business. Unwilling to wait any longer for that backup, he leaves her handcuffed to the railing of the cabin in favor of going after Janet and Phillip. He prays things haven't escalated quite yet. ... Janet corners (not quite) him near a river. She can see that Phillip is out of breath and Cindy remains to be a hassle in his arms. Janet resists a smirk at the way Phillip's eyes blow up in anxiousness and fear. "Phillip," she says, cautious as ever. "There's nowhere to go...put her down." "I just...I just wanted a family," his voice wavers, and tears begin to build up, but don't fall. "Sure you do, Phillip. Wanting a family isn't the problem here. It's that you hurt an innocent child," "We never hurt her!" "She's right now sobbing and is probably uncomfortable by the way you're holding her and running off!" "Shut up! You don't know anything! Just leave us the fuck alone!" He shifts Cindy onto one of his arms and pulls out his gun with the other. He points it right at Janet. "Turn around, keep running and I won't shoot." "Stop this, please. Shooting me won't solve anything or make things better for you or Cindy." Phillip hesitates. Cindy sniffles. Janet holds her breath. ... Jack is running. With his gun pulled out and ready, he's running. Jack is severely unsure of where he's going, but he continues to go. He sees bodies way up ahead, and a stream of water. He also sees a familiar gun and a familiar brunette. Jack stops running. ... Cindy finally speaks. Softly, but speaks nonetheless. "Please...I want to go home and see my real mommy." Janet can see the way his heart breaks at that statement. No ounce of sympathy is given, however. "Do you not love us anymore, Princess?" "I want to go home." Phillip's jaw clenches and his hold on the girl tightens to the point where Cindy winces in pain. She lets out a whimper, and Janet wants nothing more than to pounce on this man and punch him in the groin or something. "You'll go home, honey. I'll let you go home." He suddenly drops the girl onto the ground roughly, and she scrambles to get up and run towards Janet. The gun is still pointed at her. Janet reaches for the girl and pulls her behind her, away from the wrong end of the gun. Her heart has not stopped pounding. She realizes her grip on Cindy is tight, so she loosens it. Hastily swallowing and licking her lips, Janet has lost all adrenaline and is now in a state of pure panic. Phillip has not dropped the gun. Someone can still very well end up hurt. Possibly worse. "Put it down," she whispers pleadingly. She'd drop to her knees and beg him if she has too. The tears spring to life and trickle out of the corners of her eyes. This whole situation is stressful as hell, and if she makes it out of this, she's gonna put all of her energy into taking a thorough nap. After making sure Cindy is reunited with Chrissy, of course. "That man," Phillip says, "Alan. He's not my brother." "We know he's your half brother, Phillip. That's still family. He is still your family, and you are hurting your family." "No! He's never been, nor will he ever be my family!" The statement clings heavily to the air, spoken too harshly and intensely for it to be considered a bluff. Janet can recognize the hatred and passion in his voice. She doesn't doubt his exclamation in the slightest. She wonders about the history between the two men, but she quickly remembers their current situation, and any sort of curiousness is dissolved. She has to put a stop to this; it has gone on for far too long. "Okay. He's not your family. But, does that mean you get to have the right to hurt him like this? To hurt Chrissy and Cindy?" "No...this has nothing to do with Chrissy or, or, Alan, even. I hate the guy, but what this is has nothing to do with him." "Phillip...you stole their daughter. This has everything to do with that." "We just wanted a family," Phillip is beginning to sob. "Vicky...she deserves a daughter. I wanted to give her a daughter. We tried so, so hard, but it just couldn't happen. We went to all of the best doctors. We went to foster homes. We even tried just getting a fucking cat or dog. But she didn't want that. She wanted her own little angel, someone she can hold and love, and protect and teach, and, and---" he chokes up a bit. Janet waits. "And...she couldn't have that with me. She wanted her own child." His tone shifted. He lowered the gun considerably. "Every time Cindy would come over, Vicky's eyes would light up in a way I wouldn't see if it were any other time. She laughs more, her smile doesn't seem...farce. She touches me a lot more. And those times, those times make me the happiest. I just want to be my happiest with her always. And when Cindy had to leave, leave back to her mother and father, Vicky isn't the same. I couldn't keep living with that. I told her one night that I was growing tired. She started crying, and told me over and over again that she'd change. That all she needs is this extra warmth in her life, and we'd go back to how things used to be. The happier times. It didn't take a lot of convincing on her part, so I agreed to help her in any way I can. I knew this was wrong. I knew this was harmful. That's why I tried to be as careful with Cindy as I could be. I never tried to hurt her, or do anything dangerous, but Vicky...once we had her, she didn't want to let go. She was desperate." Janet glanced at the gun. "That's her gun, isn't?" Phillip nodded. "I really did try to talk her out of this, but...Vicky had her heart set on it. Cindy was the one. Cindy was her daughter. Everything else be damned." Phillip said as if quoting Vicky herself. So. The truth has finally been brought to light. Janet had a lot to swallow but was more than capable of doing so. She still had a protective grip on Cindy, who stayed hiding behind her and sniffling every so often. Now that the confession was out of the way, Janet had to bring this situation to a complete close. This would...probably be the most challenging part. No ideas have been formulating, so Janet's gonna have to wing this. It unsettles her to no end, and she's gonna wanna word with her mind later about this... "This can end, Phillip. We can end this whole thing right now. Put down the gun." A flash of movement from slightly afar catches Phillip's attention. He peers over the shoulder of Janet, while she continues to watch him. The sight of Phillip not glaring at her, but at something behind her, starts to make her sweat and tremble a little more. This delicate moment is going to start crumbling in the most undesirable way in any second, she can feel it. She truly wishes for the ability to stop time, or teleport, or see into the future, or something. No such powers surface and Janet is stuck to rely on her normal self. Or, whoever may be lurking behind them. She prays for Jack. It's a prayer that adds to her pros and cons list of the existence of God because here he is. And there Phillip is in all of his panic. It all happens so rapidly, that all Janet can register is the high shrill scream of Cindy and the vigorous force of being shoved to the ground. A thundering shot echoes throughout the forest. A thick layer of silence envelops the surrounding area; only the distinct sound of the stream of water serves as background noise. That, and the sound of Jack cursing. "Shit," Janet hears this and immediately sits up to survey the current situation. Cindy is thankfully tucked into her side, her face buried near Janet's chest. A sigh of relief escapes her, her eyes softening as she quickly inspects the young girl, only to find that she is physically okay. Then, she looks up from the girl. Her breath hitches at the sight before her. It becomes a little---or a lot---more difficult to just breathe properly and things are getting a tad fuzzy and words are really failing her at the moment. "Shit, shit, shit." Jack is trying to put a lot of pressure on the wound, but blood just keeps pouring out. If he could, he would shrug at it, but he's hit in the shoulder and it would hurt too much. Well, a better term would be grazed. It hurts like a bitch, nonetheless. Jack curses again, and when he does, he notices the rest of the world. He sees many figures running past him, and people shouting, and people asking if he's okay. He realizes that it's the backup they called a while ago, which leads him to question where's the second part of they, which further leads him to finally find Janet and Cindy, on the ground, not that far away from him, staring as if he were a ghost. Jack entertains the thought for a moment, but the look of utter desperateness on Janet's face is too much and Jack wants nothing more than to assure her over and over again that everything is going to be alright. He's fine. She's fine. Cindy's fine. Jack, at that revelation of a conclusion, offers her his signature goofy grin. His goofiest grin yet. It's more than safe to say that he is relieved to see Janet beam right back at him. ... Jack forgets how much he hates hospitals. It seems as though Janet loves them, however, because she hasn't left his side in hours, despite telling her multiple times that he is really okay and that the shot wasn't as fatal as it could've been. Janet doesn't listen. A blonde nurse walks into the hospital room and he watches as Janet squeals like a schoolgirl and gets up to hug the taller blonde. It's fascinating to see, and it allows Jack time to recompose himself as Janet turns to him to introduce her friend, Terri the nurse. "The best nurse in Santa Monica," Janet asserts confidently. Terri laughs at the statement, and Jack doesn't try to argue. He's delighted to find Terri just as friendly and skillful as Janet, and he's told that he's well on his way to a full recovery. He notices the way Janet breathes a sigh of relief but doesn't say anything about it. Terri manages to convince Janet to have a snack with her in the cafeteria, and Janet leaves Jack for the first time in a while, promising to bring him back something to eat. "So," Terri starts, when they're out of the room--and out of earshot of Jack. "So?" Janet has a strong feeling she knows where this may be going. "That's Jack, huh? He's cute." Terri waists absolutely no time and Janet is rather amused by it. But she's not gonna give Terri the smug pleasure of teasing just yet. "You think he's cute? Terri, you think everybody's cute. You called Larry cute." "Well, I can't help it if everyone I meet happens to be cute! And that's not the point here, Jan." The brunette rolls her dark eyes sharply and the two stop just in front of the vending machine in the cafeteria. "What's the point, Ter?" Now Terri's rolling her lighter eyes because Janet's really going to make her say it. "Janet Wood, I can't believe you. Every day for a week all you could talk about on the phone with me is 'Jack this' and 'Jack that', and now that I see you two together in the same room, it's clear as day." "Please indulge me! What is clear as day?" "As our dear friends, the Brits say: he fancies you! And you fancy him!" If anybody ever asked Terri, she would without a doubt, straight up say that when it comes to the absolute obvious, Janet is shit at acting. The woman spends a total of ten seconds just scoffing and rolling her eyes as if merely doing so would distract the blonde long enough so that she could change the subject and hope for it to be never brought up again. Terri is a brilliant cookie, though, so Janet is severely out of luck. "Janet. You're gonna give yourself a headache. Relax, honey. If anything at all, I approve. He's sweet and charming," Terri begins to walk ahead of Janet, only stopping once to make another comment over her shoulder, "and cute." The short brunette watches her walk away. Standing there alone, it gives her the opportunity to truly process this whole mess of feelings and emotions she's got going on. Cute, huh? Janet, thankfully, has enough sense to not try to act innocent to herself. Terri returns to Jack's room to find Dr. Tom Miller and a shorter older male laughing with Jack. Dr. Miller is the first to notice Terri standing in the doorway. "Terri! We were just talking to your patient, here." "Hello, Dr. Miller. What are you doing down here? Shouldn't you be in the mental ward?" "I came down here for a chance to be with him for a few moments. Don't you worry, Terri, the patients aren't going anywhere," the Doctor says with a wide, toothy grin. He turns to his companion and scrambles to offer introductions. "Oh, this is Ralph Furley!" The older man smiles at the nurse and gives a big show of waving. "How goes it? It's good to see that my buddy Jack is in great hands!" Jack laughs. "Hey, Terri, he's a handyman that works in my apartment complex." Just then, Janet makes an appearance from behind Terri. She is slightly startled to see new faces in the room. One of them being a doctor. "Is everything alright?" "Yes, Jan. This is Dr. Miller, and his partner Ralph Furley," Terri gestures to the two men, while they both bow their heads rather gentlemanly. "Dr. Miller works upstairs. I guess he's here making friends with Jack." "Oh, I heard about the accident and I rushed over to see if Jack was okay. And here he is! As good as new! No need to worry about all of those men now thinking you're dead!" Mr. Furley lightly jabs at Jack's good shoulder, earning a nervous chuckle from the detective. Janet covers her mouth in an attempt to smother her own giggle, as she's heard of the wacky tale of Jack's sexuality being mistaken by his landlord and their building repair man. Terri stands just a lot more confused and will need an explanation at a later time, but for now, at such a late hour, Terri has to shuffle everyone out so Jack can properly have his rest. Janet is, of course, the hardest one to kick out, but is kicked out regardless. With many, many promises of being back the following morning. Jack doesn't doubt that for a nanosecond. ... Jack gets many visitors in the three days that he had to remain in that hospital room. Including the visit of two lovely blondes. Chrissy and Cindy came bearing gifts. Gifts, and lots and lots of kisses and hugs. Janet feels a flood of warmth at the scene before her, and she would very much enjoy a camera right now so she can capture the moment forever. Memories will do just as well. Jack's landlords even stop by for a bit, and it takes a few moments to realize that Jack wasn't kidding when he said that Mr. Roper will not listen to him when he tries to correct the older man of his true sexuality. He brushes it off for another day, anyway. Jack is checked out, and Janet offers to drive him home. "Actually, I'd rather go to my office. Some things I have to do." Janet doesn't ask him about the things and happily drives him there instead. She does ask if he needs any help, or a ride home later, and it gives Jack the perfect excuse to have Janet stay with him. If only for a bit longer, because the case is solved, and all. Janet really doesn't have any more business to be with him anymore. The thought sits heavy and uncomfortably in his head. The feeling sits the same way in his chest. This will be a horribly dragged out goodbye, it seems. Jack spends a good ten minutes mentally cursing. And then he sees her smile. A tired smile, granted, but a smile nonetheless. The smile allows him to reevaluate it all. They did it. They found Cindy. They brought her back to her real parents. Safe. That, truly, is enough to contrast the negative emotions in Jack and gives him the strength to smile too. With that strength, there is more. "How do you feel about...being partners?" Janet knows--she knows, dammit--he means that in a detective way. Business partners, law partners, PI partners. It doesn't stop her from pretending he meant that any other way. "Partners. That'll feel good." Janet's life is never the same again. Jack knew he should've shoved the tissue box into his overcoat pocket when he left the apartment that morning two weeks ago, for he can definitely use a tissue right now. ... Y'ALL WTF DID I JUST WRITE. Fun fact: this took me all year to write this. It's because somewhere in the middle, I lost interest. But, baby. I'm back. THAT WAS LAME BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS WEIRD AU. Also. Since I love hurting everyone, I left this kinda ambiguous, but you know DAMN WELL they hook up not that much longer after this and they marry and have a hundred kids and retire together. They also solve a million more cases along the way! Go JackET!

#three's company #JackET #otp #fanfic #Jack Tripper #janet wood #tc stuff #tc #lol it really took me so long to finish this #y'all can probably tell the rushness of the story BUT WHATEVER #this was a good idea to me at the time and now im questioning everything #idk i just love the idea of jack and janet solving crimes together okkaaayyyy #let me live #writing action sequences is hard as fuck for me as you can probably tell aswell #hahahah but i love this dumb story anyways #ALSO I DONT FEEL LIKE SEPERATING THE PARAGRAPHS SO HAVE FUN READING THIS AWFUL LAYOUT

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chokememrstark · 8 years ago

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A Dangerous Game // Samifer

Chapter: 4/15

Words: 2200

Summary: Sam comes across a very interesting book that describes a ritual in which one can play a game with the Devil. His curiosity is sparked and even if he doesn’t think he will ever actually do it, Sam soon finds himself face to face with this very entity. Things take a very unpleasant turn, but despite that, Sam is going back, as if something pulls him towards Lucifer.

abuse, violence, bullying, black magic, no hunter!au

Note: Because I feel I need to add this: Dean is pretty much a complete asshole in this story, so if you’re uncomfortable with that you might want to reconsider reading it (or tell yourself he is completely ooc, fine with me too xD)

Thanks to @sassysupernaturalsweetheart & @brieflymaximumprincess for their wonderful beta reading and keeping me company while writing this story ♥

Tagging: @spnyoucantkeepmedown @samlicker83 - if you want to be tagged, just drop me an ask or contact me via IM.

The day was rather mild for the beginning of May, which surprised Sam a little. A few days before it had been almost freezing cold outside, but now the sun was warming him up as he walked through the streets. Normally, Sam wasn’t one to enjoy the sun, but today he didn’t mind too much - everything was better than being caught between his dad and brother fighting and yelling at each other.

He went to his school first, without a real reason, and spent some time in his favorite spot on the property - a group of weeping willows that created a small hideout in the middle. He often sat there during the breaks when he was in school, which earned the tree group the nickname “emo cave”. Sam wasn’t surprised, not really. He was picked on at home and in school alike, but he liked this place and the silence it provided, especially when no one was around.

Sam stayed there until around noon, browsing through the book he had bought and smoking the cigarettes he had pickpocketed from his dad the week before. Somehow, he wished to have taken a bottle of booze too, but it might cause more problems if he came back home drunk, so he shrugged it off. After finishing one of his sandwiches and a can of coke, Sam got up and decided to pay the occult store he visited the day before another visit. Maybe it was open on Sundays, who knew?

Unsurprisingly, the store was closed when Sam arrived, but he didn’t mind. The decoration in the window had changed and now displayed something that looked like an altar, with the statue of an angel in the middle - all black and with wings that made Sam wonder how it was held up straight. He knelt down and took a closer look. The angel was incredibly detailed and beautiful, especially for a rather small statue like this, and if he would have wanted, he could have counted the single feathers on the wings. He was stunned by how many details he noticed now, like the chains wrapping around the legs and lower body of the angel and the expression on his face. The angel seemed to be in horrible pain and agony, which made Sam feel sad for no reason.

Draped around the angel were black roses that looked very real and different pendants - pentagrams, crosses and a different symbol that looked kind of familiar, even if Sam couldn’t recall where he had seen it before. Candles were there too, black and red, and a single book in front of the angel. Its title finally gave the whole arrangement a meaning. It read: “The Fall Of The Morningstar”.

Sam had to admire the beauty of this decoration, it was really special and unique. He made a mental note to come visit the store again after school the next day, if only to compliment the woman who had sold him the book the day before on the beautiful arrangement. And he kind of wanted to know if the statue was for sale, too. Not that he would put it up in his room or anything, but he really liked how it looked. It was probably too expensive for him anyways, but asking wouldn’t hurt, right?

Sam spent the rest of the afternoon on the railroads near the old abandoned church of the town, only once being disturbed by an old lady, who asked what he thought he was doing there. One glare from the dangerous looking teen was enough to scare the woman away, though. Sam didn’t even have to speak, but he was used to that. People got scared of him easily; he was tall, pale and wore black, tattered and spiked clothes. Combined with his dark makeup and the look of utter disgust he usually had on his face when he was with others it was a reaction he expected. He was not dangerous at all, he just wanted to be left alone, but they didn’t know that of course. Even the ones that knew - Dean, for example - didn’t care much.

The town was dying, Sam knew that, even at his young age. Factories closed since they were here, businesses closed just as fast as they appeared and the majority of the citizens were way over fifty - everyone who could simply moved away to a more lively town. Because of that, the train station had been closed a few months ago and the tracks were only used once or twice a day now, if at all. Sam had his beloved silence here too, apart from this one disturbance, and when the sky turned dark he decided it was time to go back home.

On his way back to the apartment, Sam passed the abandoned church. Curiosity got the best of him and after making sure no one was on the street, he carefully tried the handle on the verger’s door. For a moment he was confused because the door actually moved - then he quickly closed it again and left the building. No, this was a dumb impulse, he wouldn’t go inside and sneak around.

The fact that the door was not locked, however, stayed on his mind for a long time after that. If it was unlocked - and the verger would stay in the hospital for as long as he had been told - the church would stay like this for a few weeks. Long enough to…

“Enough.” Sam suddenly said loud, stopping this trail of thoughts and startling a young mother in front of him, who came into his direction. She quickly pulled her little son closer and walked past him as fast as she could, but Sam didn’t pay attention to her.

No, he couldn’t allow himself to even think about this church or what possibilities an open door would provide him - it would only lead to something he didn’t want to happen. Sam buried his hands in his pockets again, lowered his head and stomped back home.

This evening, things got bad again. Apparently Dean had ‘borrowed their dad’s car during the day to impress some girls and brought it back with a huge scratch on the driver’s side. He came home around ten in the evening and that was when the fight began. Sam, knowing full well what would come, locked himself in his room when his dad began yelling. They argued, they yelled and even threw stuff around for almost an hour, without any of them getting tired of the same things being said over and over again. Sam had no idea how Dean could have been so dumb, they both knew the Impala was their dad’s treasure and even touching it without permission was a sacrilege in his eyes.

Still, Dean had managed to get drunk, drive the car along a wall and came back without thinking much of it. While they argued, Sam tried to distract himself by reading some of his school books, but to no much success. He still heard every single insult, all the dumb excuses his brother managed to come up with and then - followed by a deadly silence - a loud slap.

Sam held his breath, waiting for one of them to start yelling again, but there was no sound from outside. Finally, when the tension got so intense that he could barely take it anymore, he heard the shaking voice of his brother.

“D-dad, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to -”

Dean’s voice was cut off by what sounded like a grunt and then Sam heard a loud bang and his brother gasp in pain and surprise. He didn’t dare to move while listening to what followed, but it was worse than ever before. His dad was raging. Several loud bangs echoed through the apartment, various things were broken - one of them definitely the ugly vase in the kitchen - and when the noise died, Sam heard a quiet whimper, which scared him the most. He had never heard his brother whimper, not even during the worst times their dad came home drunk out of his mind.

“Get out of my sight, Dean.”

The sound of their dad’s voice was suddenly eerily calm and Sam heard heavy and very slow steps pass by his room before the door to Dean’s was shut quietly. He still just sat there with wide eyes and stared at his own door, waiting for his dad to turn his attention to him now, but this time it didn’t happen. A few minutes of silence later, Sam heard the apartment door being shut with force and silence filled the air once again.

Whatever Dean had done - Sam expected he finally had enough and had actually lashed out to their dad - this time he had gone too far. Yes, John wasn’t one to hold back with hitting his sons when they misbehaved - whatever he deemed misbehavior at the state of his mind - but Sam had never heard him lose control like this. In the silence, the teenager pushed himself off the bed, pressed his ear against the wall to Dean’s room and listened.

For a moment, he couldn’t hear anything because of his own blood rushing through his head, but after a while the same whimpering sound from before came from Dean’s room. Sam swallowed hard. His brother was never one to cry or show weakness, so he really didn’t know what he was supposed to do right now. Finally, after a few minutes of listening, he summoned all his strength to act.

“Dean?” he asked, loud enough so the other would hear him. “Are you okay?”

“Shut up, Sam! I don’t need your pity!” The answer was angry and hurt Sam a lot, even if he would never admit it to Dean.

“What happened? Did you… hit him?”

“I said shut up you stupid baby!” Dean suddenly yelled and hit the wall Sam leaned onto, causing his younger brother to jump back from the sudden bang. “If I need pity from a chick I’ll go find one!”

Sam was used to his brother calling him names, but the tone of his voice when he said that was filled with so much despise and hate that it was ten times worse than anything else he ever said to him. How could he be so cruel and mean when all Sam wanted was to be there for him? Even after all he had to suffer from his brother, Sam still loved him - he was his brother after all. Why couldn’t he see that?

After nothing more came from Dean, Sam turned back around and sat down on his bed, holding his face in his hands. Whatever John had just done to his brother, it must be the reason he acted out like this now. He just couldn’t believe that Dean was not out of his mind right now, that couldn’t be.

Suddenly, Sam heard mumbling from the other room and listened up. Apparently, Dean thought his brother couldn’t hear him - or he didn’t care if he could - because what Sam heard through the thin wall made his body tense up completely.

“Stupid emo crybaby, thinking he can give me his childish attitude. Can’t even drink legally and thinks he has anything to say to me. Stupid brother, stupid father, I should just fucking leave and let them rot without me. They’ll see what they have in me when I’m gone, dumb retards. As if I’d need any of them…”

Sam listened to this rambling for several minutes, one sentence worse than the other and every single one like a knife, cutting through his skin. Dean called him a cunt, a stupid idiot, a little bitch, a coward who couldn’t even defend himself and, worst of all and the one thing Sam wished he wouldn’t have heard - because he could stand everything else but this - he called him responsible for their mother’s death.

This, more than anything else, was the worst Dean had ever said or did. Sam already knew this was how his dad thought about him, but his brother - the one who basically raised him and whom he had adored as a small child like a god? He never expected him to feel the same about him.

Tears shot into Sam’s eyes and when he began processing the weight of these words and what they meant. He couldn’t believe it - didn’t want to believe Dean felt about him like this - but he had heard it, there was no denying it. Dean blamed Sam for taking his mother away from him, just like his dad did.

Sam didn’t know how long he sat there, but eventually he got off the bed and got dressed - he didn’t even realize what he was doing, he felt like a marionette that was moved against his will. His hand was numb when he grabbed his backpack and then unlocked his door, his eyes completely empty, apart from the veil of tears he looked through. He slowly dragged himself to the kitchen, grabbed something from the counter and then left the apartment, without looking back. He didn’t know where he was heading yet, but he couldn’t stay in this place any longer, not with knowing the truth about the only person that was still important to him.

#samifer #sam x lucifer #sam winchester #spn lucifer #myfics #a dangerous game #chapter 4 #series

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carina-debayle · 8 years ago

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Helping Therron | Part I: Crystalized

Log Date: 12/1/16

OOC Note: The text in these logs are strictly for the readers enjoyment. Anyone using the knowledge displayed within this text without the participants knowledge risks the potential of blacklisting from future communication and roleplay. Please do not meta-game! Warning: Long-ish log

Tags: @dancingnlancing

I had just picked Hestia from her class in Gridania. It seemed to be helping her some with progressing her communication skills, plus I could see she liked interacting with the other children. Although I had made attempts to see if she had any friends she wanted to invite over to play with, it seemed she was hesitant. I was unsure if this was due to her own somewhat shy nature... or perhaps she was struggling to make solid friendships. I knew due to her size and her slightly slower behavior due to the aetherical imbalance that she might have some trouble... but perhaps there was more that needed to be done. Watching her sit and play with her watch contently, I glanced about the tavern some, allowing for my tea to cool. Little did I expect my day to turn how it did...

Therron Basque stepped up from the airship landing, a decently sized crate in his hands. He panted softly at the top of the stairs, leaning his package on the railing so he could wipe sweat from his brow freely-- as it required two arms to carry. A familiar figure stuck out blaringly across the room. Pupils shifted rapidly about the inn before he finally stepped forward.

Carina Roussos finished slicing up the apple she had order for her daughter, placing the slices down on a plate before sliding it over to her toddler. "Remember not to eat too fast Hestia, you don't want another tummy ache. You are still getting better from your last one. Make sure you finish you juice as well," she nods, reaching toward the center of the table for a sugar cube, plopping one or four into her tea to stir.

Hestia De'bayle happily grabs one of the pieces, bringing it into her mouth to chop onto. Holding still a moment, the girl let out a whine as she may or may not have hit parts of her exposed gum on the fresh apple. Trying not to start crying, she merely slowed down her chewing.

Therron Basque stared down at Hestia who had surely grown in his time away. He looked from child to daughter apprehensively before progressing further. Strides carried him slowly, unable to stop staring.

Carina Roussos glancing over toward the close walker-by, most due to habit, Carina raised a brow toward the familiar face, "Basque? Is that you? Might have hardly not even recognized you through that fancy hat of yours."

Therron Basque jerked to a stop. The heavy box he was carrying gingled. "Ah I... You think it's fancy?" Eyes flicked to the rim of the brown hat.

Carina Roussos: "Fancier than mine," she grinned, pointing to the top of her empty head, "how have you been?"

Hestia De'bayle looks toward her mother, copying her motion as Hestia too pointed to her head.

Therron Basque made a quick double glance about the inn. "Oh, me? I've been well, honestly... Err, what about you? How is your family?"

Carina Roussos: "Oh how good to hear, we've been doing well. Taking each day in stride," Carina looked over to her daughter, who was now cautiously looking over her plate toward the stranger, "dear, why don't you introduce yourself? You're a big girl aren't you?"

Hestia De'bayle shoves another apple slice into her mouth as she chewed through it and swallowed, "ah.... uhmmmm..." she said out bashfully, her more than likely sticky hand going to mess with her hair nervously, "h-hello... I'm Hestia... good night...." she murmurs out, her hands going to hide her red face.

Carina Roussos: "Oh Hestia..." Carina laughed, "wipe your hands first please, I don't want to hear you crying later when your hair is tangled and stuck together," she 'tsks' handing the little girl a napkin. Looking to Therron with a smile, Carina shrugged her shoulders, "she's... a bit shy around new people."

Carina Roussos: "She also still doesn't understand the difference between good night and good evening..."

Therron Basque couldn't help but crack a light smirk upon seeing the child's display. "Good night?" He chuckled good naturedly. "It's not even time to sleep yet. H-hey, but your words are pretty good for a kid your age." His shifted over to Carina as she spoke. "She'll get it haha... I'm pretty impressed, honestly. How is Armont?"

Carina Roussos: "We are pretty happy with the strides she has been making, all things considered. She was having a tough time... learning things for awhile..." her eyes drifted off in thought, her words fading along with them. Once her attention was caught again, she offered Therron a kind stare, "he is will. We have finally worked to establish the De'bayles as a Minor House under Fortemps. He is quite enthused about this."

Therron Basque smiled and nodded. "That's great news. I'm glad you managed to, and that your kid's learning alright now." Eyes flit between the table and Carina herself. "Do you mind if I set this down while we talk?"

Carina Roussos: "Oh by all means! I'm sorry, I should have offered sooner," she motions a hand forward toward the empty chair across from them, bringing her cup up to sip from, "tell me ah... how has your..." her eyes glance around the wood grain of the table a moment before raising again, "...that 'portrait' you've been creating. How has it been? Any new issues or has it... progressed more?"

Hestia De'bayle looks at the toy watch on her wrist, munching on her apples still as she began to play with it wistfully.

Therron Basque stepped forward and set down the immensely heavy crate. Metalic objects inside all crashed against each other loudly. "Portrait? Oh..." Sheepishly, the Elezen rubbed his bicep. "Nothing but bad news, I'm afraid... Ah, but it's alright. I've sort of come to terms with things."

Carina Roussos: "I see... you know there is still a way to make it better you know? Some different tools perhaps, you went away awhile... I found there was little I could do to get in contact with you about it. Were you still looking for assistance?" Carina Roussos eyes the crate with a raised brow, but simply stays quiet on it.

Therron Basque pressed a hand into his jaw, turning every which way pensively. "Ah, I apologize... I should have giving you my personal Linkshell... Regardless, what exactly is it you are proposing? I would rather hear you out before I give an answer."

Carina Roussos: "Well it is as I said before... there are ways to fix most issues. Some more taxing than others, more so a task rather than a complete fix. But it is possible. I have looked into your portrait and I can say that there is certainly something I can do to make it a bit better."

Therron Basque tilted his head. "Do... You have time to talk in depth?" he set a hand on the box and pat it. "I'm just on my way to a casual delivery job. I still have a lot of extra time before I have to be finished."

Carina Roussos: "Yes I am not in any hurry to go anywhere currently, would you rather we went somewhere a bit more quiet?"

Therron Basque nodded vigorously. "Please... I think outside the city gates might be safest for all parties involved." He glanced toward Hestia briefly.

Carina Roussos: "Lead the way,” the woman stands, placing some gil to the table to pay for her daughter and her’s outing.

Therron Basque nodded slowly. "I think this is far enough the road, but close enough to the city there aren't any monsters out."

Hestia De'bayle follows behind her mother with Joseph, humming a song happily as she pat her friend’s head.

Carina Roussos glances about before returning her gaze back to Therron, "we would be fine either way, Joseph would care for Hestia, myself included. Now then... about this issue. There is a way to subdue it, at least from my last tests. I would need to know how it has progressed though, as more drastic measures may need to be taken now."

Therron Basque 's eyes shifted around to be extra safe. He pulled off his glove, pulling back the sleeve to reveal blackened elbows. The skin around the area was dry, cracking, and in places it even had scalelike looking growths. He was quick to hide the malformed flesh back behind his sleeve quickly, however. "I sort of gave up on searching, really..."

Carina Roussos inspects his arm curiously, tapping a finger to her lip. "While not exactly the same, this condition quite reminds me of a time when I had my blood tainted. It blackened my veins with poison, and I would have surely died if not for a rare antidote myself and my group searched for and found. It was a very close call. I took two leaves, one for myself and one just for use some other day. That leaf may be able to revert these, as it would clear this right up. As for the full issue itself… more would still need to be done to prevent it from happening again. It is merely a treatment, not a cure."

Therron Basque rubbed his chin. "I just have to... eat a leaf? That sounds simple enough... I can look for more, I'm sure. There aren't any huge risks with this, are there?"

Carina Roussos: "Ah I mean nothing serious, it just puts you into a crystallized state for a few hours and the plasma will help repair you. It is... actually best you not eat the entire leaf..." she laughs nervously.

Therron Basque tilted his head. "Crystallized state? Hmm... What happens if you eat the entire leaf?"

Carina Roussos: "I couldn't really really tell you... I was nearly at the cusp of death when I took it but from what I told it was... a frightening sight. The antidote is very strong to say the least, but it can also be overwhelming."

Therron Basque: "Well... If you think it will help, let's do it. As long as it can't make it worse, then I don't see a problem." He glanced about. "Should we find a safer spot to do this?"

Carina Roussos: "We should probably go somewhere that we know your body would be safe. What about your delivery?

Therron Basque waved his hand. "I'll tell them I got delayed on travel. This is... More important... Can your kid teleport? We can go to my house in the goblet."

Carina Roussos: "The goblet is rather far, we have an apartment here in the Shroud."

Therron Basque considered for a moment. "Alright, if you think it's safe... Let's go, then. I'll follow behind you."

Carina Roussos: "Welcome, feel free to make yourself comfortable, I will set up the leaf to be the most optimal for you."

Therron Basque glanced around the quant living area. "It looks lovely." He said despite his anxiousness. "Ah, alright,” the man waved meekly to Hestia after situating himself onto their couch.

Hestia De'bayle looks over to Therron, having plopped herself on the opposite end of the couch to play with her watch. "Mommy call you basket? Is that name?"

Therron Basque sighed good naturedly. "Basket... haha. Sure. And they call you hysteria?" He stuck out his tongue impishly.

Hestia De'bayle: "Hystery? No no, I am Hestia. Basket is pretty name," the little girl points to the aquarium behind the man, "that Jamie, he is a blowfish. He gets really big, it's funny. I like it. Do you like blowfishies?"

Therron Basque glanced over his shoulder at the fat fish, tilting his head. "Jimmy? That's sort of a cute name. I've never seen one of these types of fishes. He's lovely."

Hestia De'bayle flashes Therron a wide slightly toothless smile, "lovely! Yes he is! Lovely, lovely! We also have kitten, she is small and black. Papa brought her home."

Therron Basque glanced at the girl with a grin. "I LOVE kittens. You know, I have a kitten back home. He's about your size, but with wings and spotted."

Hestia De'bayle: "WHAT!" the little girls says shockingly, "wings?! That's amazing! What is name? Flying kitten!"

Therron Basque: "His name is Mittens. I named him after my favorite sort of gloves. Have you seen the snow before, Hestia?"

Hestia De'bayle: "Mommy and Papa told me I was born where snow is, I don't remember it. I wish I remember, Papa loves snow. He talks about snow place a lot. Is snow pretty?"

Therron Basque: "Oh yes."He nodded slowly. "I've always loved the way it twinkles in the moonlight. A thousand lights dancing silently... And great weather for wearing mittens in."

Hestia De'bayle: "Lights dance? Like fairies?" she asks curiously scooting over to Therron, "I like my mittens, oh! Let me show you!" she hops off, running into her room before returning back with her chocobo mittens, "see! Mommy's mommy made them for me."

Therron Basque smiled softly, rubbing his sides anxiously. He tried to drop all worry from his face when the girl reappeared, however. "Those are absolutely adorable. I love the little buttons on them."

Hestia De'bayle: "Mommy's mommy is nice lady, she made them just for me!” she said happily, climbing back onto the couch beside him before settling her hands into her lap, "Mister Basket are you okay?"

Therron Basque blinked at the girl. "Don't you worry your pretty head. I'm a tough Dragoon. I've arm wrestled a dragon, you know." He grinned mischievously.

Carina Roussos finally returns back into the main room, a medium sized flask of bright blue liquid in her hand, "how is everything?" Carina smiled between them.

Hestia De'bayle: "A dragon!? Papa wrestled dragon too! He said that where he got his eye, it's very colorful!"

Therron Basque: "Well enough. Your kid was showing off her mittens." Pupils briefly flicked to Hestia, "Huh... That's intense." With that, he glanced back towards Carina and her tonic. "Should I just stay here on the couch or...?"

Carina Roussos bites her lip some, keeping a calm-ish expression in front of her daughter, "it might be better we bring you into Armont and I's room. Hestia you sure do love those mittens don't you?" she cooed out toward her child.

Hestia De'bayle waves her mittens happily.

Therron Basque nodded, rising from the couch. "Alright... I'll see you later, Hestia. You keep working on your words. You'll be writing novels in no time, kid."

Hestia De'bayle: "Have fun Mister Basket!" she waves.

Carina Roussos: "So... here is how this will go... you will still end up in a crystallized state, though it shouldn't bring you to the brink of death. You'll be out for awhile though, so it is best we put you somewhere safe," Carina glances at their bed, "worry not about the sheets, we have plenty of extras."

Therron Basque slipped carefully into the room, eyes lifting towards the ceiling then flicking all about. "Ah... Alright... Shouldn't bring me to the brink of death?" He laughed anxiously, then sat on the bed.

Carina Roussos: "Some things are worth the risk. I made sure this tonic was was the perfect amount for your body size. As I've said, this is but a treatment for the severity of your condition spreading. It won't cure it though, so we will have to work after that, though I do have plans for that."

Therron Basque nodded slowly. "Right... Right..." He extended his palm for the tonic. "Should we just discuss it when I wake up? It might be better just to see what happens first."

Carina Roussos: "I think that would be best. One step at a time after all," she places the tonic into his hand, "be sure to lie down after you drink it."

Therron Basque stared longingly at the vessel in his hands. "Thanks, by the way... I really appreciate you looking into all this for me." With that, he turned the flask upside down and chugged the tonic as fast as he could. Before he had time to react to it's taste, he laid back in the bed.

The rush of the tonic would send a chill down Therron’s body, before igniting a burning throughout him. Before long the man should feel sick, before soon enough a blue substance would begin to drain out of the mans mouth. It would begin to coat over his body, and the man would begin to lose the feeling throughout him. Soon enough, he would feel the world around him fading away, as he seemingly drifted into a sleep as the strange gel substance began to cover him and harden.

Therron Basque's skin prickled the moment the fluid touched his lips. He grunted loudly, not fully making it down into the bed before simply collapsing on this side from the pain. Numb, he drooled out the fluid from the side of his mouth before going totally still. Fears washed over the twilight of his waking consciousness. And then, nothing, blankness all around.

Carina Roussos hummed to herself, reaching over to her table for a notepad as she began to jot down notes. "Finally get to witness this myself..." once the man was completely encased in the smooth blue crystal, Carina brought her pen over to tap it gently, "it isn't hollowed..." she murmurs, writing some more before glancing out the window, "should be another bell or so..."

Therron Basque Blackness faded away slowly in a sudden wash of white. Soon it was clear the cause of all the blankness was actually a blizzard. Snow swirled around various shapes as they came into crisper view. In the center of this frozen field laid the corpse of an Aevis swarmed by ragged looking black birds. They plunged their heads deep into the half frozen carcass despite how difficult it was, plucking out entrails. One of the creatures glanced upward, and Therron was shocked into realizing that he was standing there in front of the corpse himself. As the birds feasted, their appearance became more and more diseased. Soon, their feathers were falling out. Yet, then continued to hunger. Even as their flesh slipped off of bone, the carried on and on until they were nothing but dust lost in the blizzard. The storm swallowed them up. These ashes fell together with the snow and coagulated into the horrifying shape of a monstrous wrym of white. If Therron had been able, he would have begun to toss and turn. But he was locked in place, paralyzed by this creature which glowered directly through him. "Giving away such gifts. A pity." It vanished, yet, and Therron was left to wander alone in the tempest.

Carina Roussos monitored the man's condition. Moments turned into a bell swiftly. Carina changed into her sleeping wear, preparing her daughter for bed before getting a cup of coffee to continue watching Therron through stasis.

Therron Basque wandered through the blankness for what felt like thousands of years. The scenery never changed, and he was beginning to see repeats of his own footsteps in the snow. Fatigue was baring his movements now. Muscles began to shut down one by one until he was face down in the snow. He felt the ice gathering over his back, over his hands and feet. Overwhelmed, he lay there until the cycle was repeated. Birds came down anew, picking at his bones and withering away.

Carina Roussos stands, inspecting the crystal formation. It was difficult to see through, and Carina had no way to tell if the man was even alive or not still. "Mmn..." she sipped at her mug, some uncertainty coming over her.

Therron Basque struggled despite the numbing hopelessness. On the outside, the case was beginning to crack. Without much warning to him, he was pulled awake from his dream and into dark consciousness. His muscles twitched and he started fidgeting.

Carina Roussos looks over Therron’s crystal curiously, noticing the cracks as she knocks her knuckle against it gently.

Therron Basque The prison shattered around him, plasma fluttering about before disappearing into nothingness. Nothing but a slight stain to the bed from the initial slime remained. He came out gasping for breath, skin totally palid. His eyes darted all around the room, slowly backing himself up into the headboard.

Carina Roussos stepped back swiftly as lights seemed to fly about, the same plasma's she remembered from her time before in Mor Dhona, the woman approached back to the bed shortly after the crystal case was gone. "Basque? Basque, respond to me if you can."

Therron Basque stared with side eyes at Carina for some time. He made motions to speak, but his tongue felt fat and heavy. The man swallowed a deep breath and hugged his knees until the sensation stopped.

Carina Roussos places a hand to his shoulder, "it might feel a bit strange at first, you've been out for awhile. Here..." the woman grabs a glass of water she had on her table, "drink this, it will help clear your throat."

Therron Basque reached out with a trembling arm, fingertips just barely touching the top of the glass before he recoiled, gasping suddenly. He gripped his forearm with one hand, dragging it down to his knee. He rocked backwards and forwards until it subsided. Once more he'd attempt to speak, but his try mouth choked down any words he may have had.

Carina Roussos sits down beside the man, putting a hand to the man's back to rub it soothingly, "deep breathes Basque, everything will be okay. Once the feeling subsides, you will feel better."

Therron Basque took deep, but ragged breaths until his panic began to subside. He reached for the glass again, muscles seeming to misfire and still tremble.

Carina Roussos: "Let's have a look at that arm, it should be cleared up..." Carina murmured out, reaching a hand to tug up his sleeve.

Therron Basque flinched a little as she grabbed his arm, but ultimately would allow her to do so. Painful looking sores took the place of where scales once were.

Carina Roussos: "Good... good" the woman stood up, going over to her table to jot that down and grabbing for a silver container. Upon opening it, there was a cream inside. Moving back over to him, Carina took some of the salve and gently rubbed it onto the sores, a gentle cooling sensation going over the affected area. "This is great progression I'd say."

Therron Basque: "Ow, ow ow..." He whimpered as he was touched. "Hhnng... Well at least it doesn't itch any more, right?" He said weakly.

Carina Roussos: "It's simply a rash, tends to happen with fresh skin. Add some salve to it every day and it will clear up in no time. As for the issue of it happening again, we will need to secure you with a collar or bracelet perhaps. It will neutralize you. If you ever start to turn, it should block it. Now I just need to get some magicite… Unfortunately, I have no basis for a cure of this issue, but we can keep treating it so that you can at least live comfortably,"

Therron Basque: "M-magicite?" He asked softly. "Where do we find it? I can start looking...Ah..." Therron stared over at the window. "No escaping it, is there?"

Carina Roussos: "Do not worry, I know where I can find some and I've already made plans for a trip there. Some things aren't avoidable, but we do what we can to work with them. I know you'll be alright..."

Therron Basque 's stomach churned uncomfortably with this revelation. Only two people had been so blunt. "Y-yeah... I'll be fine."

Carina Roussos: "In the end, even if it sounds like a defeat, in truth it is a victory. As an Ishgardian allow me to put it into better perspective. The Dragon Song war is over, but the battle will never truly end. That being said though, Ishgard has found peace and knows how to achieve it. You are the same... Therron. The battle will always rage on within, but you know what must be done to upkeep peace. With that knowledge, you can live on even with this condition, and you can thrive."

Therron Basque chuckled bitterly under his breath. "That's true. And even if worse does come to worse, the entire city is topsytervy and I'll probably still be aloud in bakeries. As long as I can eat bread, I'll be fine of course."

Carina Roussos bumps an elbow into his arm, "I assure you, you most certainly will be able to eat all the bread you can fit into your belly. So long as you keep on your blocker, you will be fine. It will essentially redirect the spike of aether that begins to form when you change forms, keeping you in a normal state. At most you will probably feel ill. Headaches, stomach aches. But no dragon form."

Therron Basque: "I'll happily take the trade off." He nodded steadily. "I really only have two choices... Either I give up an except my fate or keep fighting and have a good time. If some rock is really the answer, that's... Actually sort of funny in a sad way.”

Carina Roussos laughs, "trust me... I lived a life where every moment I was ready to give in, ready to give up. Once I made something of myself, found myself for once in my life though... I realized that the life that was given to me... from my brother, my mother and father... that time was something I should not take for granted. I fight every day still, but every moment I am alive I am grateful that I made it this far. I hope the same for you."

Therron Basque bowed his head in agreement. "Yes... Absolutely. I didn't waste all that time fighting in the war for nothing. I should be able to enjoy the peace I helped buy, damnit..."

Carina Roussos nods, "did you wish to stay here? Or perhaps you would like me to escort you back to your home? It would be best for you to get some rest after this. I will have your accessory as soon as I can."

Therron Basque: "I can make my way home by myself." Therron said. However, when he tried to rise up to his feet, he found his limbs too weak. He tried over and over again, but every time he'd just sit there in an awkward squat, shaking.

Carina Roussos stands, helping Therron up. "You sure? Seems you can barely stand on your own," she laughs out, patting his arm, "we can have Hestia sleep with us tonight..."

Therron Basque frowned awkwardly, reaching out for Carina's hand. "Ah... I... I do feel very weak..."

Carina Roussos: "Come with us, her room is our guest room... least while she's still young," she chuckles, leading him forward.

Therron Basque wobbled unsurely as she helped him up. He leaned much of his weight to her shoulder, staggering. "B-by the Fury... I'm so sorry. My feet feel like led."

Carina Roussos: "It's quite fine, it is probably better you stay the night any how. We can see how you feel in the morning,” she scoops Hestia up out of bed, the little girl in her feety behemoth pj's and snuggled up with her tonberry plush.

Therron Basque stared down at the small children's bed. His feet were going to stick off of it for sure. Without Carina's support, he had to collapse onto the bed. "I uhh... Don't know how to repay you for all of this... But I want to."

Carina Roussos: "It is quite fine for now..." she smiled down to him gently, rocking her sleeping toddler in her arms, "just rest for now and ease your mind. The antidote may leave you queasy now, but I assure you that you'll feel much better in the morning. I remember how rejuvenated I felt when I awoke the next morning after the antidote."

Therron Basque lay rather uselessly on the bed, nodding into the pillow. As she said, his condition seemed to worsen. "Hopefully your rocks make is so I never have to do this again..."

Carina Roussos: "I hope so as well, as I do not have any more leaves..." she laughs out lightly, "rest easy Basque."

Therron Basque nodded again. "Thanks... You too... urrp..."

When morning came, Basque was gone. Not that I truly expected much else, nor could I be upset. I myself have been in a similar situation in the past. I hoped to hear from him soon, to check up on his condition. If there was one thing I knew, is I would need to be journeying out soon for quite a few things. The weight of what people needed from me was beginning to grow heavy.

#Journal #Therron Basque #Hestia De'bayle

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ikagrp · 6 years ago

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Welcome, Dia! You’ve been accepted as your first choice of Genevieve Cortese as Alchemy Rose. Please send in your account within the next 24 hours.

Also, please follow these tags: ikag starter, Ikag social, ikaghh, ikag important, ikag task, ikagfollow, ikagunfollow and ikag event

[ OOC INFORMATION ]

NAME / PRONOUNS | AGE | TIMEZONE

Dia / she/her / 22 / PST

YOUR ACTIVITY:

After this week I’ll be on break - so lots of free time to write whenever! - but otherwise, evenings and weekends will be my most active times.

ROLEPLAYING EXPERIENCE

Too many years

IC INFORMATION

WHO ARE YOU BRINGING TO THE SHOW?

Please keep this layout for us. So that it is easier for us to update everything.

FACECLAIM: Genevieve Cortese Secondary choice: Dichen Lachman

NAME: Alchemy Rose

AGE: 30

BIRTHDAY: July 4th, 1988

OCCUPATION: matchmaker & wedding planner

HOMETOWN: Brisbane, Australia

PETS: zero

BIOGRAPHY:

During the ambrosial hours of July 4th, the chirping of awakening birds was abruptly interrupted with the piercing sound of a baby’s cries, followed by the sound of sobbing. Gabrielle Rose had delivered her first child, a daughter, with her husband Alexander Dumitru standing stoically by her side. No one could have predicted that this day meant to be remembered as one of celebration would also end up being a day of mourning. Alchemy Dumitru’s birth began a chain of tragic events; her existence causing damage before she was even conscious of it. Born at her parents’ home on a vast coastal acreage in Brisbane, Australia, as soon as she took her first breath and began her life, it was the premature end of her mother’s. Although it was clear to everyone else in the room that something was wrong with her mother’s health at the time, Alchemy never had the opportunity to learn about the specifics of the situation. All she had been told, years later, was that within the following hour Gabrielle Rose had taken her last breath.

For the first 13 years of Alchemy’s life she was as carefree and happy as any other typical child, growing up with a seemingly ordinary childhood - as far as she could tell. Unexplained visits to her home from quirky looking characters always insisting on talking with her father in the other room in his native Romanian language probably happened to everyone, right? For that over a decade, the information that she had caused her mother’s death through delivery also remained purposefully undisclosed. Alchemy genuinely believed her mother was the woman her father had remarried a mere fortnight after his daughter’s birth: Anamaria Augustin. She could not have children, and treated Alchemy as her own the only way she knew how: pretending.

Only one other family member knew the truth and was willing to spill secrets - the mother of Alchemy’s father. Her Grandma was the epitome of the crone archetype; all white hair, wise eyes, half moon glasses, and a pipe cradled in her palm with which she would thoughtfully take a pull on whenever her curious granddaughter challenged with endless questions. Alexander considered his mother a crazy and unreliable character due to her age, despite her profession lending to her advice being paid for (a psychologist), but seemed content with her presence so long as it went hand in hand with providing free babysitting. In retrospect, Alchemy’s close bond with her Grandma may have inspired her own interest in studying human behaviours. She spent far more time with her Grandmother than her busy parents, and had thought it was normal until she started talking about it at school. The older she grew, the more things appeared obviously off kilter.

It happens one afternoon, no different from any other. Alchemy is sprawled on her Grandma’s floor with a pile of craft material making a handmade card for Mother’s Day. She’s been at it in silence for several minutes before she asking for clarification on how to spell her mother’s full name, to which her Grandma absentmindedly replied with “Which one?” It was swiftly revealed that Gabrielle and Alexander had been extremely private in their relationship. He had gone overseas to visit his hometown in Romania for covert business reasons, and returned with a wife on his arm. She had been a tourist; on vacation from Australia. Grandma suspected it was was more to due with him being allowed Australian citizenship than for the sake of genuine love, and had been more surprised to hear they had had a daughter than the fact that her mother had died. Apparently Gabrielle had been terminally ill for a while, seemingly unfit for pregnancy, and had been secretly been receiving therapy from Grandma to cope with Alexander’s lack of emotional investment in their relationship.

Upon learning Anamaria was not her real mother, the world Alchemy thought she knew was spun on it’s axis. It was the first time she felt the need to strategize a battle plan. She knew little of what her father did, only that he was a strict and powerful man of influence in circles related to crime (and she only figured out such because he claimed to be a work-from-home artist yet did not own a single pot of paint). Throughout her years spent at home, at least twice a week she would answer the door to ominous looking men in suits with strange accents, bearing envelopes of money owed to her father. So, she sat on the information for a few days before confronting her father, knowing very well that one wrong move could end up with unreconcilable circumstances. With her stubborn determination against his equally headstrong attitude and repetitions of ‘you’re too young to understand’, their conversation soon escalated into questions too personal and met with threats, each stepping on each other’s toes so much a physical fight seemed inevitable. They were at each other’s throats within minutes. That was the first time her father raised his hand at her, and she surprised even herself with how willing she was to welcome the advance without flinching, but he was unable to follow through. Anamaria appeared to disperse the conflict. Alchemy was disorientated, unsure whether to resentfully cold shoulder them both or press her (step) mother for questions as well. Cornered, she decided to flee the scene to lock herself away in her room to regroup her approach. Taking advantage of her scattered state, Anamaria knocked on her door sometime after midnight, leaving at her door a short written apology and a bottle of something that burned Alchemy’s throat. Addicted to the sensation and numbness which ensued, she accidentally (and blissfully) became drunk for the first time. It only took a small amount before she fell asleep, but it activated a new kind of unquenchable thirst within her.

The relationship between Alchemy and her parents grew increasingly strained, and she held onto a heavy grudge toward the two figures she once would have laid her life on the line for. How could she be expected to sleep in a bed swathed with a fabric woven of deceit and secrets? Since she was legally forbidden to leave home until her 18th birthday, she found a loophole in being bound to her parents by escaping to sleepover at her grandmother’s as much as possible. An unspoken agreement was present between the two of them; don’t ask, you won’t learn. Ask, and you’ll receive the honest truth; no matter how much it hurts. As a result, they didn’t talk much about serious subjects, for Alchemy never knew when to stop asking once she started. Coping mechanisms prevailed. Under the radar, her budding alcohol addiction carried on throughout her years in high school. Every beverage she sipped always spiked with something. Anamaria unknowingly enabled the habit by supplying Alchemy with a steady allowance of a handsome sum, wanting to be involved on good terms with her step daughter even if the feeling was not mutual. The everyday dull buzz of inebriation paired with Alchemy’s dyslexia led to a very short attention span, and the majority of her classes ended up skipped or failed. For better or for worse, detention became her second home. There was one other regular in detention, Rasmus, and the two of them soon clicked with the common desire to create more chaos together, both on the streets and in the sheets. Recklessness was their hobby of choice, and co-creating was their strongest suit. Alchemy’s father had always been particular about her behaviour in public and the impression she made. He had ingrained in her that anyone carrying the Dumitru surname should not strive to draw attention to themselves unless establishing a creditable role of dominance. A teenager in revolt with a vicious grudge, it was hardly surprising when Alchemy started disregarding the household rule in favor of testing every limit. Together, Raz and Alchemy committed various offences such as stealing, severe property damage, and public debauchery. Alchemy was always able to flirt or bribe herself out of sticky situations, and often ended up with a new set of digits too. But it was her partner in crime that she fell for with unwavering devotion. He was her first love, her first kiss, her first scar, her first time, her first everything. She couldn’t imagine anything coming between them. She always assumed the feeling was mutual.

At 17 years of age, Alchemy looked down to see a pink ’+’ sign in the center of a pregnancy test stick. Knowing it was Raz’s, she was driven to keep it. Her excitement toward their potential future together crashed down the moment she told him the news and he laughed. Within a week, all forms of communication she extended towards him went unanswered and silent. Broken hearted by the abandonment from the one she adored, in a rare moment of desperation she sought out her parents. Her father was inexplicably angered by the news. She knew it was so by how quiet he became and the fierce clench of his fists, which remained anchored at his sides by a glare from Anamaria (who also gave little to no reaction to the news). Without looking his daughter in the eye, he instructed her to leave. Evidently, Alchemy was forced to live at Grandmother’s.

A month later Alchemy didn’t bat an eye when her Grandmother informed her that Alexander had gone missing. She ignored Anamaria’s calls and letters. No one mentioned Raz, but she dreamed about him for a year before she finally stopped looking for his face in every crowd. Jezebel ‘Ella’ Rose was born a few days shy of Alchemy’s 18th birthday. She was a perfectly healthy and beautiful baby. For the first three hours, Alchemy did nothing but hold and gaze down upon her. She refused to let go, knowing that once she did it was unlikely she would see her miraculous daughter ever again. Without a steady income or supportive home life, Alchemy had decided soon after Raz left that she would not be able to raise a child on her own. Even with the support of her Grandmother, it wasn’t clear how much longer the old woman would be alive, and she knew it would be selfish to rob the child of opportunity due to how much was lacking in Alchemy’s life. No father, no money, no real home. With little else than an apology note and a basket, Ella was left under Anamaria’s care. She understood now, why her father had done what he had done. Being loved, even if it was illusion, hurt considerably less than not knowing how it felt at all.

Wanting a fresh start, after Alchemy graduated from school (barely) she and her Grandmother moved overseas to the UK. It was there that Alchemy dropped her father’s last name in favor of her mother’s in an attempt at a truly blank slate. Deep down, Alchemy had wishful thinking that whilst abroad she’d find a high paying job that would allow her to one day return to Australia where she could support her daughter as her own. It only took a few months for her to make fast friends amongst the London nightlife, picking up the local lingo easily, yet never able to completely shake off her own accent. As a fun social experiment, she began setting up her single acquaintances on dates together… but when the results came back unexpectedly positive, she realized she had a natural skill for recognizing compatible chemistry a mile ahead of anyone else. Naturally, she then proceeded to busy her time with meddling in other people’s affairs. She was fascinated how universal love was. No matter which country she was in, everyone seemed kept afloat by it in some form or another. At the very least, being able to study of the emotions of others kept her from feeling so depressed about her recent personal estrangements. Feeling useful to others for the first time in a while, slowly but surely, her confidence began to rise again. The infamous cupid had earned her wings.

Not long after, Alchemy’s grandma passes away. She doesn’t host a funeral, but has her cremated and spread among a rose garden. With no one keeping her tied to a particular place anymore - and refusing to return to Australia until she has enough money to be a reliable and supportive figure for her daughter - fate seemed to intervene with the path her life would take when, a library book on 'Wedding Planning For Dummies’ (quite literally) fell into her lap after a stumble into a bookshelf. After a few years of slowly booking appointments independently, eventually she was hired by a wedding agency. Professionally pulling romantic strings for heart eyed couples became what sustained her. If there was any a moment where Alchemy questioned her sexuality, it was at it’s highest when the bride’s final look was revealed on The Big Day™. Her infatuation towards the beautiful princess-like figures was hard to deny, yet thankfully a sight always in abundance thanks to the new clients sent her way each week.Nonetheless, 'speak now or forever hold your peace’ became an instance she’d have to deliberately bite her tongue over, lest she make an impulsive fool of herself. Ironically, her own love life and was the one she always gave the least amount of thought to. With her gifted knack in setting up others consistently reaping excellent results, no one would have ever guessed the lack of success Alchemy had experienced in love. The idea of getting invested in someone that could leave her behind the next day was far too unpleasant to dare endure again. But her inner idealist begged to differ, every time someone particularly pretty crossed her path. Maybe it was worth trying again? Or for the first time, all things considered…

RELATIONSHIPS:

None yet!

FOR RETURNING CHARACTERS ONLY:

ANYTHING ELSE:

I used to be a part of this RP waaaay back when. I’m stoked to see this revival happening. Thanks for all your effort and time! <3

#ikagaccepted #who were you waaaayyy back when? im curious!#submission

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