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where-dreamers-go · 4 years ago

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I’d love a platonic Boba Fett x Mandalorian! reader where reader worked with the clones as a kid, so she got really good at telling them apart by the tiniest details! So when he meets her on a hunt or something she recognizes him immediately and they catch up over a meal. Then they maybe finish the hunt together or just just talk about fights they’ve been in? Thank you dear!!

“Reunion” Boba Fett x Mandalorian!Reader

(A/N: Requested by the awesome @the-and-sign-anon.

Here’s some platonic Boba Fett fanfiction for yah! I feel like this has taken me a year to do, but it hasn’t, obviously. I just want it to be cool. I hope you like it! This is my first time writing for Boba Fett.

Aliit - family

Beskar’gam - armor

Buir - father

Vod - brother

Warnings: Canon violence (blasters). Death (no details).

Word Count: 1,445 words)

Late afternoon on an Outer Rim planet was not out of the norm for you. The system’s small sun casted long shadows behind the roughly structured buildings. A coolness crept into the air as evening grew near.

Perched atop of a well used cantina, you awaited a clearing near your intended location across the main square. You preferred less attention where you were going. The less people at small tucked-away building’s entrance the better.

It should not be much longer, you thought.

Earlier in the day, you had staked out the surroundings and where exactly you were to get the object. The bounty of the hunt. Was the objected named by the one who hired you? No, they had only told you who had it and where. Then added that it was valuable and quite decorative.

Helpful, you mused sarcastically.

Standing up, you decided that you would make it the right time to grab what you needed. The shortcut route would be best. Not the fastest way per se, but more your style. Rooftops were fine walkways in their own right. You were more interested in keeping the high ground. Only being in the area for less than twenty-four hours was a semi-followed rule of yours. Plus there were sightings of other bounty hunters.

It was prime opportunity to get the object of the bounty and leave. No more further delays.

Armor glinting in the sunlight, you kept your shadow hidden within the growing darkness cast by buildings and their antennae.

Three buildings and clothesline away from the unguarded door, you paused.

A bounty hunter.

You knew of course that there were others hired to grab the same object, however the one that caught you eye did not tickle your fancy nor did you care for their style. Too flashy with his large weaponry and inflated attitude. He was strutting a little too close to the door of your objective. Not to forget he was causing more trouble than needed. Pushing citizens around physically and verbally was unnecessary.

Can easily get passed him while he’s occupied. You thought, boot pointed in the direction of a small balcony below. Just—

Green paint grabbed your full attention. A very specific colored Beskar’gam in the next structure over. The sight of the colors and their arrangement lead you into a pursuit. The Mandalorian was steadily leaving a building. Closer. A small dent on his helmet.

You smiled, your thoughts on the bounty pushed aside.

Time to say ‘hello’, you thought as you leaped down into the dusty path.

A blaster was already lowering from its aim as you rose to your full height, meaning he recognized you.

The Mandalorian’s stance was slightly relaxed yet bent and ready to move. There were a few moments of long silence. Two Mandalorians watching one another.

“Are you just gonna stand there quietly?” A modulated male voice spoke from the green helmet. An accent in his voice pulled the air from your lungs. The familiarity striking and comforting.

“I wanted to give dramatic effect.” You said as you lifted one of your blaster pistols.

“Not sure your knees will approve.”

“Probably not.”

The grin you held disappeared as someone rounded the corner. A tall weapon in their hand. The bounty hunter you had spotted before. Not a well known one, you had not heard much of him. Only disliked any time you crossed paths, however briefly.

“Two Mandalorians? What…are you two after the bounty?” He laughed. “Why don’t you go shine your armor.” With loud steps, he walked closer. “Something you’re good at, right?”

That one’s unreasonable, you thought.

“If you’re after the bounty, why stop and chat?” You asked.

“What are you gonna do about it?” They clicked their tongue. “I’m going to get it anyway. Can’t have dusty troopers in my light.” A gloved finger edged to the trigger of his weapon as he continued forward. “Rona Olien. I’m that good.”

You and Boba turned your helmets to face one another. A silent conversation and decision transpired.

click

You charged forward in a crouch as the first round of blaster fire came from the bounty hunter’s modified weapon. The blasts stopped as the bounty hunter, Olien, staggered back as a blasterbolt hit them in the shoulder. Boba’s doing. Using the blunt end of your blaster pistol, you hit the side of the man’s head. The bounty hunter landed on the ground in a heap, groaning.

Walking up beside you, Boba kicked the large weapon out from Olien’s grip.

“If you’re going to shoot a Mandalorian, next time have better aim,” said Boba.

The two of you started walking away from the man. That was until a laser fire hit the wall of a building beside you.

In a flash of color, Boba had angled in a twist and had fired his blaster.

thump

“They were quite rude,” you said as Boba turned back to you.

“No honor.” Your brother lowered his weapon and walked with you to the destination.

It did not take long for the both of you to enter the building and find what you were after. A little digging and Boba had it in his grasp.

“A vase?” You tilted your helmet-protected head.

“An expensive vase.” Boba clarified. Rotating the piece, he examined it.

“Is it more or less than the job?”

“A bit more. Not by much.”

“Is it enough for you?”

His green and silver helmet turned in your direction. “It’s enough that we can split the difference for the job. And don’t tell me you don’t need it.”

You raised your hands in mock defense.

“Come on,” Boba turned on his heel. “They can wait one more day for their vase.”

His words surprised you. Yet you knew deep down that family meant a great deal more to him than a job.

You and your brother walked to a decent hotel and rented a room for the night; after grabbing some food of course. Neither of you wanted to part ways immediately. Besides, communicating via two separate ships was not an ideal way of spending time with family you had not seen in years.

Once in the quiet and privacy of the room, you relaxed. The food, vase, and weapons were put aside.

“It’s good to see you, vod.” You walked up to one another and inclined your helmets together.

“I’ve missed you.” Boba took a step back. “There’s a dent in your shoulder piece.”

“I know,” you groaned. “Too bad it wasn’t on my helmet then we’d match.”

“Hardly.”

You shook your head, smiling. There were more scuff marks on his armor than you remembered. Then again, so did yours. You had not seen one another in more than two years. Taking different opportunities tended to do that.

Living in an Empire was much different than whatever it really was when you were younger. You and Boba practically grew up together on Kamino. A rainy world where all you two saw was the insides of the cloning facility. The three of you, your shared father included, stayed there together. Jango Fett, your buir, had found you on a battle-worn world and brought you into the aliit, family, where Boba was your constant companion. A vod who was your only aliit after the battle on Geonosis.

Lives could always change so suddenly. Ones who lived together and depended on one another could find themselves on opposite ends of the galaxy.

Comfortable where you were, you started removing your armor and setting it down in your preferred arrangement. It was strange to have your helmet off while in the presence of another, however your vod was a major exception. The was a freedom to it all, the familiarity and the opportunity to just be yourself with on you trusted.

“That guy from earlier…,” you started as you yanked off your boots. “Have you seen him before?”

“Once or twice. He’s sloppy.”

“And had an ego the size of a rancor’s butt.”

He chuckled at your comment.

“Tomorrow,” you sat back in your seat, “I think you should give them the vase. Just in case they think of shortening you credits because I’m with you.”

“Changing subjects fast….They wouldn’t dare.”

“Just in case. Plus the whole bounty hunter image…”

He scoffed. “You’re my aliit.” Sighing, he nodded. “Fine.”

“Now that’s settled.” You grabbed the food and brought it closer. “Let’s eat.”

And eat, you did. Lounging about, the two of you talked and joked about the past. Catching up was half the fun. Making new memories was even better.

“I really have missed you, Boba.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

~~~

Best wishes and happy reading.)

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

coffee

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Star Wars Tags: @darkenwolfy @sweetheartliz07

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

#Boba Fett x Reader #Boba Fett x Mandalorian!Reader #Boba Fett #where dreamers go #star wars #requested

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modern-inheritance · 3 years ago

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I don’t really know where I’m going with this but do you have any Oromis/Morzan headcanons? Before or during the fall, or Oromis’ feelings towards Morzan afterwards?

I have a few! More than a few apparently, I'm just finishing this up and uh...yeah that got longer than I thought!

I’m going to do my best to leave Glaedr and Morzan’s dragon out of these because while they’re large parts of each other's lives and even maybe personalities considering how deeply bonded Riders and their dragons can be, I want to be sure I’m keeping the characters separate. Kinda like how you shouldn’t constantly group identical twins together as a single entity, ya know?

Alright let's start off with Morzan. Time for some backstory!

Modern Inheritance!Morzan

Morzan was born into a family of low level nobles. By the time Morzan was about six or seven though, the family had fallen out of favor and was struggling to keep up appearances, spending money they didn’t necessarily have on lavish items and acting increasingly narcissistic in a desperate attempt to hold onto the standing and power they once had.

Morzan probably started showing antisocial behavior around this time, mainly impulsive petty theft, inserting himself in dangerous situations, and manipulation through charm with adults and intimidation and violence with other children. Due to his family’s last shreds of political strength and their long time in the area, most of these incidents were swept under the rug or outright ignored by his family. This generally left a very angry, disgusted-with-others, burgeoning narcissistic young Morzan to his own devices.

When Morzan was chosen by his dragon, his parents were quietly glad that he wouldn’t be their responsibility anymore. They didn’t disclose any of his troubling behaviors and Morzan was quick to understand that he would need to tamp the more obvious ones down and manipulate others into hiding his transgressions.

Despite all this, Morzan and his dragon do deeply care for each other. Due to Morzan’s mind linking with the hatchling, there was a sort of evening out of his behaviors as some were ‘shared’ do the hatchling and some of the hatchling’s personality was ‘shared’ with Morzan. This is what helped Morzan fly under the radar for so much longer until his eventual betrayal.

On a lighter note, Morzan shot up like a weed when he hit puberty, once growing nearly five inches (~12.7 cm) over the span of a year. It took a year or so for his muscles to visibly bulk up, so he was this tall gangly teenager for a while. His clothes constantly needed altering.

Initially Morzan doesn’t really know what to think of Oromis and Glaedr. His family was always distracted from giving him the attention and nurturing he needed, and suddenly he has not only this baby dragon who he can share his frustrations and emotions with but also parental figures.

Eventually he warmed up to them, but more in the sense that he became attached to their attention and the praise he got when he did well in magic and other lessons. He didn’t showboat as much, but would push himself to get more compliments, praise and attention from Oromis. Oromis saw this more as Morzan taking his training seriously. There were a few instances of Morzan and his dragon being pointed out as instigators of some scuffles or small acts of possible, unproven acts of sabotage harming or tripping up other Riders-in-training, but these were generally believed to be accidents or bad luck.

Morzan’s bullying and belittling of Brom was the result of Morzan feeling like his unfettered access to Oromis and Glaedr’s attention was being threatened. He knew he couldn’t get away with physically injuring Brom and Saphira I, so his physical actions never really went past ‘accidental’ full force hits in sparring and roughhousing. If Brom got praise or compliments from Oromis, Morzan would seethe quietly, eventually exploding in rage at some later point after it built up. Again, Oromis merely thought this was just adolescent growing pains.

Wooo! That is getting LONG, eh? I’ve got more, but for now I’m going to move on to Oromis and his feelings around Morzan’s betrayal and link you to whatever extra stuff I add later. I’m really unsure about the timeline of when Morzan betrayed the Riders and when it was known that he had, so I’m mostly going to skip that chunk. Let's go!

Modern Inheritance!Oromis

Even without 100% knowing/being sure of Morzan’s betrayal, I think there was a whirlwind of confusion and general chaos when Galbatorix murdered Shurikan’s original Rider. Who was a child. A Rider had murdered a child Rider and while everyone knew Galbatorix was unstable I don’t think anyone would have expected that. Oromis was swept up in all this and didn’t have time to really ask where Morzan was. I mean, Morzan was a grown man at that point and well beyond Oromis’s control.

Morzan’s involvement was probably confirmed without a doubt at the initial attack on Ilirea, and Oromis and Glaedr didn’t have time to process this until after their brief capture.

Oromis felt some really strong guilt. That’s putting it bluntly. Let’s expand it, shall we?

First off, I think Oromis felt some guilt over not being able to help in the sort of final big battle at Ilirea. He was previously quite powerful since he was on the council that refused Galbatorix a new dragon (that’s a whole other topic to look at later on btw), and despite his age and wisdom I think it’s safe to assume that any sudden event causing massive life changes can be pretty shocking. Oromis felt powerless and after the deaths that occured in Galbatorix’s initial attack with the Forsworn on the Riders, I think he knew that there would be more. And all he and Glaedr could do was hide in Ellesméra and tend to their wounds and new maladies.

As they healed I’m pretty sure Oromis spent a lot of time thinking ‘how could I have stopped this?’ Hindsight is...well, whatever-elves-have/20, and Oromis would have put all the signs together that were telling him that there was something off about Morzan from the start. He probably thought subconsciously that he was fixing Morzan and didn’t want to acknowledge just how dangerous that little 10 year old boy and scrawny hatchling he had met all those years ago had become as he grew. There was also a lot of guilt post-Ilirea’s final fall around not protecting Brom from Morzan enough, and feeling like a lot of Brom’s pain was Oromis’s own fault because of this.

Oh man, Oromis also has heaps of survivors guilt about the Riders that, while he does work through it and focuses on extending his life to train the next Rider, never really fades completely. He understands that he could not fight in his condition, but there’s always the nagging ‘what if’ questions that can rear up unexpectedly.

Once he learns of Murtagh and Thorn and their forced fealty to Galbatorix, I think Oromis’s guilt probably pushed him over to definitely join the fight at Gil’ead. It’s likely that he feels that if he had separated Brom and Morzan, had taken the signs of Morzan’s growing antisocial disorder seriously and gotten him proper help, and hadn’t been so blind during the Golden Age, then in some strange way he may have prevented everything from happening. Morzan wouldn’t have let Galbatorix into Ilirea, Shruikan wouldn’t have been stolen, the Forsworn wouldn’t have been influenced by Galbatorix and Morzan (who used his manipulative charm to sway some), and it all comes to, in the end, Murtagh and Thorn, both relatively innocent in this and dragged in only due to parentage and some situations which they have no control over, would have never been forced through torture and cruelty to join Galbatorix and fight people they once saw as friends and family.

Overall I think Oromis, while having processed/processing and come to terms with the Riders Fall and the hand he inadvertently had in it due to his connection to and, in some ways, his failures surrounding Morzan, he still carries this deep feeling of guilt. He doesn’t let it simply sit there though, as he pushes himself to be able to train the next generation, but it’s always there.

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH okay that’s what I’ve got for now. Holy shit that’s a lot of bulletpoints, huh?

I spent some time researching antisocial behavior and Antisocial Personality Disorder, but per usual I want to state that I am by no means an expert, and the behaviors and traits portrayed here are not the only results, symptoms, or scenarios that can occur when someone has antisocial behavior or ASPD. Mental health is a difficult subject to write about, especially when I have no personal or second hand experience with the specifics, and I’m always open to educating myself on these topics. I am doing my best to learn so that I don’t stereotype or offend. If there are comments/concerns/critique please please don’t ever feel bad about messaging me privately, via the comments, via reblog, or through the ask box point out what I got wrong or if you simply want to share your experiences or concerns.

I’ll probably have more Morzan specific backstory and ideas later on, but for now I need to make some dinner and get to work on the other ask. Cheers!

Thank you again to @siriusly-misunderstood-creatures for the ask! I always appreciate asks and comments, they make my brain work!!

#modern inheritance #modern inheritance cycle #inheritance cycle #the cyclists #eragon #brom #morzan #oromis #modern inheritance ask #modern inheritance asks #modern inheritance lore #glaedr #morzan's dragon

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rpmemesbyarat · 4 years ago

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RP Meme from " Corax" in "Chapter Two: The Changing Breeds" from the World of Darkness "Changing Breeds" book (20th Anniversary edition)

Seriously? Who writes this stuff?

You’re never going to learn the real story about who you are from that hack.

You know how the littlest kid is always the one who runs to Mom with every little thing their siblings do wrong? That’s us. We’re the tattletales.

You know why we can’t settle down? Cuz they’re everywhere, so we have to be, too.

We’re built to go everywhere, see everything. No homebodies allowed.

If there are secrets going on, you can bet there’s one of us, listening in, poking around, getting a gander — so to speak.

We see something going on — we gotta spread the word.

No, I don’t mean porn — well, not just porn, anyway.

We make the Net look like a buncha clay tablets with “Cleo Was Here” scrawled on them. We’re bleeding edge, eyes-in-the-sky, grade A, number one know-it-alls.

Information’s no good if the messenger can’t deliver it.

Oh, we’re nasty enough in a scrap, and we’ve got a few tricks up our sleeves, but the truth is we’re not built for going toe-to-toe.

Fight sneaky, the way we do everything else, and you’re more likely to survive to tell a tale — or pull a prank — another day.

Most of the time, there’s a method to our madness, a lesson in the lemon-meringue.

See, some folks just don’t listen the easy way.

You should know where your allegiances lie.

Find stuff. Tell people.

Laugh, because the world ain’t getting any prettier.

You’re learning already. But, here’s something you gotta know; Once I finish teaching you the basics, you’re on your own.

Now, don’t look like that.

I mean, what’s the good of gathering stories if you don’t get to tell them in front of a group every now and then?

As for specific operations, well, I can’t tell you much beyond “they exist”, because I don’t know.

If you’re heading in a way that crosses winds with one of them, they’ll find you and tell you what you need to know about hooking up with them.

High tech, big business, politics? We’re there too.

Japan? Europe? The Middle East? You name it, one of us has an eye on it.

Well, let’s just say that if you turn over enough stones, you’re eventually going to find more than dirt underneath one.

Do your job right, and there’s a good chance you’ll find yourself in a heap of trouble soon or later.

Quit thinking so literally!

The possibilities are, as they say, endless.

Between Facebook, Twitter, and all that jazz, almost everyone has some sort of internet presence — and online friends — these days.

A couple of dummy accounts armed with stock photos and a fake bio, and suddenly I’m “friends” with whatever patsy I’m looking for more info on.

If I’m lucky, he’ll keep a running dialogue with his hundred closest buddies about where he’s “checking in” for the meeting I want to listen in on.

If I’m really lucky, he’ll jump on instant messaging and try to impress his new “follower” with some handy details that can be used against him.

Of course, if I’m unlucky, I might end up with pictures of his naked junk, but even those can be used for blackmail or sold off to the highest bidder — it’s gross, but hey, them’s the breaks in the info business.

Government agencies are required to make certain files accessible to the public. So, a lot of that stuff we used to have to wing it down to the archives office to get a gander at is now available on a point-and-click basis through one website or another.

If you can get a hacker on your side, there’s almost nothing you can’t find out about someone.

Debit card transaction records, ISP cookie files, internet site caches, phone and text message logs? Easy breezy, lemon-squeezy, if you know what I mean.

Don’t get me wrong. We were made to do what we do — and to do it well. Like any fine piece of equipment, form follows function, and all that jazz.

I thought that might get your attention.

What? You don’t know that one? I’ll tell you later.

The thing? Where you drink the stuff from a corpse’s eye, and you see the last thing it saw before it died?

Oh, come on now; don’t make that face. You’ll take to it quick enough.

There’s no better way to get information on what killed some poor schmuck, or why it was done.

See, that’s another thing about being one of us. That whole discretion thing? Not so much. We can’t shut up.

Hey, don’t tell me you noticed; that’s disrespectful.

Information wants to be free, and it’s hard as hell for us to hold back when we know a juicy tidbit.

You probably have noticed that there’s some differences between, say, me and you.

You’re probably more comfortable that way, cuz it’s how you were born.

Y’all are usually pretty cliquish, talkative — even by our standards — and a little fuzzy on the notion of property rights where shiny things are concerned.

We tend toward the twitchy loner type.

We’re generalists, built to survive anywhere, under any circumstances.

Sure, it’s fun to go poking after spooky stuff; all kinds of interesting things hiding out in the shadows.

Just make sure if you join up with a band of these guys, that at least one of you has the brains to keep an eye on where the exits are.

Don’t be dumb enough to think stumbling onto something interesting means you’re tough enough to deal with it yourself

Oh, and once they start talking? Pack a lunch. You’re gonna be there a while.

But their big money makers aren’t “things” at all — they’re secrets.

Passwords, bleeding-edge code, blackmail fodder, and anything else that someone doesn’t want brought to light?

Their CEO is riding the headwinds of technology at this point, and there are big things on the horizon for the “company”.

It’s creepy as hell.

You either high-tail it out of there, or prepare to be a part of the fighting, cuz things are about to get crazy.

They’re always picking fights, causing trouble, and generally being the biggest bitches they can get away with.

Trying to be bad, yep, yep, yep. Pulling it off? Sometimes.

Oh, and it’s a girls’ club only. No boys allowed.

Most of the time, they’re never heard from again.

There’s stuff out there that would eat a little-bit like you without even needing to spit out the bones.

I mean, time works different out there, and the rules are all wonky.

They were pure, once upon a time.

They’re the trickster’s tricksters, and they take the job damn seriously, which means they’re always practicing — and pissing people off.

It looks kind of goofy, and you walk funny while you’re in it.

Most of us are thin and don’t tan well, which makes us kinda look like underfed Goths.

It’s not a sure-fire giveaway, but it can be a clue.

Hold your head high.

We’re big, we’re smart, we’re fast, we’re beautiful; what’s not to love?

I don’t even want to talk about the feet.

It's just humiliating.

We look out for you, and you look out for us. Capische?

They talk too much, but if you know what to listen for and what to ignore, you can learn a lot. Assuming you don’t kill them first.

They irritate without making enemies.

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

#rp meme #rp starters #rp memes #roleplay memes #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #changing breeds #corax #world of darkness #wereravens #werewolf the apocalypse #owod

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thattimdrakeguy · 4 years ago

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New 52 TEEN TITANS #3 Read Along - The fact this got made is still shocking.

It’s been a while since I done one of these. It’s probably been since last year or so. This isn’t so much of a formal review where I try my best to explain why something doesn’t work, with tons of back references, or interviews, and contexts, and such. I might do some of that, but I’m mostly just writing this along the same time I continue to read it.

I’ve already done the first two issues, and if I can I’ll link them in the post somewhere.

Basically, this series gets about everything wrong about the returning Core Four for this reboot. They made Cassie the tomboy a “girly” thief, Conner the punky flirt a creepy emotionally numb stalker, Tim the insecure dork a super genius that blew up part of a freaking skyscraper, and Bart the teen with an attention span problem into an arrogant jerkwad loudmouth.

With the origins later given in the series, the boys are revealed to not reaally be the characters we knew at all in a more literal sense. This Conner is a clone of an alternate version of Jon, not Clark and Lex. This Tim Drake, is literally only Tim Drake in name only, as that’s the name this teen got in witness protection. And this Bart Allen, isn’t even related to Barry.

So these are versions of the characters that are them in literally name only, bar Cassie (sadly). Although, they’d later retconned Tim’s origin back (which doesn’t make sense). But what else can I compare them to but the originals?

A really common criticism of this series, and one that’s pretty dang valid in my opinion. Is just how unlikable everyone is-- or at least the Core Four, because I feel like we can all be honest and say that most people just read this for the Core Four, and sometimes Bunker. (Like Bart’s condescending here. Like “I’m Kid Flash, girl.” Maybe I’m just reading it too 1940s, but it comes off as really dickish.)

I mean seriously, how many people do you know talk abut Skitter? The original characters that Lobdell came up with are really hit and miss for me, mostly miss. Because I find Skitter so forgettable, that even though I’ve read the first few issues of this series just for entertainment value, I still forget she exists. She could’ve been so much more interesting, but he just doesn’t give her much.

To me, a good character has a personality that you can notice, grab onto, and have lots of unique stories with, that simply work, not even because it causes a great drama, but just because the perspective the character will have in any situation depending on the circumstance will be interesting.

Which is one of the reasons why I find Tim an interesting character, because his perspective is one that’s very interactive with any given circumstances but will still work for me. An insecure, super hero fanboy, that’s doing his best to be brave, but is secretly scared, with the cleverness to do things, but the anxiety that he can’t. Which the circumstances they give him, like having to make sure he proves he should be Robin, having parents at home, not feeling like he’s good enough, constantly seeing others better them him. It’ll just make him an interesting perspective to read from that won’t get too repetitive in any way that interferes with the enjoyment, because there’s a lot of levels you can take his harsh feelings, or things to interact with, that it won’t always be predictable what’s going to happen with him, and you want to read to see more.

With this series and quite a bunch of other original characters made, they have soap opera writing. Which works with fleshed out characters like the iconic 80s incarnation of the Teen Titans, but when the new characters don’t have a well-formed personality that you can really grab onto and gain constant interest and intrigue from, you just have a lame duck.

When your main character’s traits are “I’m angsty and sad”. No one is going to be able to invest themselves with that. They need to be more third dimensional and genuine to make them a character you want to pick up each issue for.

This series even with the old characters fails at that, by making them into absolute butchered heaps of rotted rump rather than their full personalities.

At least the art is pretty creative early on in it’s second page, I will give it that.

Then there’s Bunker--

--who I really want to like, but just can’t find myself enjoying.

A lot of these characters I’m unfamiliar with I want to like. They’re minority characters with very interesting concepts, but writing so flat that it ruins any chance of paying attention to them. A common curse when it comes to POC and a bad writer like Lobdell.

But Bunker actually has a personality, but the reason why I can’t find myself attaching myself to him is because he feels like an uncomfortable stereotype character. An outdated one that you’d see in the 80s or 90s to either seem inclusive or use as a joke rather than a true deal character.

Bunker is a flamboyant, religious, fashion involved, gay, Latino. Something that feels like you’d really bet he wouldn’t be if he wasn’t gay or Latino, because it’s just all based in stereotypes. Like if the pages weren’t colored, and you didn’t have the context he was gay, you’d probably still guess what he’s supposed to be just because of how much they involve stereotypes with him.

However, despite the stereotypes, he is the one most people can remember from this series beyond the core four, because he at least has a personality, and they actually try to build up a unique mystery to him, that would make you want to continue to know them.

And there is something about his confidence and religious beliefs, and determination that does feel very genuine, and makes you actually like him despite the stereotypes.

You want to know what makes you able to tell he’s a better made character than the other relatively new, to straight up new characters? You can actually talk about him, and have a lot more to say about them then his backstory, two personality traits, and angst. Even if his personality seems limited at first, they still write it in a way that’s genuine enough that you can get more out of it, a lot like what I was describing with Tim earlier.

He still feels like a character that you could write a solo about, and with a good enough writer and personal life, would actually make for a very rereadable series, because you just enjoy seeing him on his journey, because it won’t always be the same exact things. He has loyal personality traits about him, but depending on his circumstances, it won’t be the same side of him you’re seeing, and it won’t feel contrived. He has potential to become a true third dimensional character, and not one that just feels like he looks like one, but isn’t really.

But that depends on where the writing goes with him-- and I can’t remember where it goes. But take away the dated stereotypes and there’s actual good potential with Bunker. Making your character feel like another decade’s minority caricature is kind of a turn off when it comes to feeling comfortable reading them.

Which is why some don’t tend to like him.

There’s not a lot to say about this quick page of Cassie, besides the fact they make her come across as apathetic and nuts. She’s also mildly sexualized given it looks like she’s posing for a fashion shoot and not just closing a door, which feels pretty typical of the team that made this book.

And because of Lobdell’s bizarre writing and tone changes, I don’t know if this is supposed to be taken as serious or comedy, because of how abrupt it is, and how a fight broke out right after and we find out the old guy is Tim somehow convincing someone he isn’t like-- 15? I think he’d be either 14 or 15, not because that’s how Lobdell intended him to be, because I believe in a now lost interview he said Tim was “probably” 16 or 17. However, they didn’t settle on Tim’s age till Damian was near thirteen, meaning Tim would’ve been either fourteen or fifteen here, depending if Damian was eleven as I remember, or ten at the start of the New 52.

And here’s some more out of character Tim, because New 52 is what you get when you skim through Red Robin without any context, and being edgy is still really popular with the teenage demographic at the time.

This is a Tim that blew up a building, is an incel towards Cassie, and is overall an arrogant prick.

How Lobdell thought anyone thought any of a good idea is beyond me, but I figure he’s just not self-aware enough to realize that he just made one of the most unlikable protagonists I’ve ever seen, and absolutely bastardized who was once a mega-fan-favorite.

Although, this is pretty cute and in-character. It’s something that definitely fits in with a classic Tim comic, but down let this make you think Lobdell knows how to write Tim, because he makes it really obvious all the time that he doesn’t really.

And that’s basically everything relevant that happens in this issue-- not a lot when you actually read it, and not just me spouting off the proverbial mouth as I try my best to mentally process this freaking comic.

Conner doesn’t even show up, most likely because he was the only one with a solo, that Lobdell was also writing (you can probably guess accurately what the quality of that was too).

A lot of it is just more of the same, and it’s tedious, although it’s tedious nature is not so much on Lobdell, as he’s said in interviews before that it was editorial or a publisher (I can’t remember to be honest) that made him not have them previously know each other. So he had to work from that.

Which goes to show just how much DC knows how their characters and teams work, given the reason why Young Justice worked so well was because Tim, Conner, and Bart, already had stories where they duo’d up, and teamed up before they were even official. Which allowed them to have a preconceived friendship, they could build dynamics that were naturally built off of their unique personalities, which made everything feel natural and good to go when they did have an official team comic.

Here you have a Tim, that’s supposed to be very much a rookie of only one year, acting like he’s the greatest protégé talent ever, searching out for metahumans and coincidentally running into them, just to make some kind of story that would explain them being together for a team.

I’m not saying they have to redo the duo stuff again, because I’m pretty sure most readers already know their dynamics, and as for new readers, it doesn’t take a lot of time to say “We’re just good friends that like hanging out” does it? They have issue zeroes for each comic for a reason, they could’ve easily had a nice summary there if they wanted.

New 52′s obsession with trying to fit everything they can in, but have everyone still be relatively new, made everything a mess.

Like isn’t it weird that Superman only started being a super hero FOUR YEARS before Tim was? Doesn’t that sound entirely too squeezed in?

Then because they messed with the characters so much it works less for old readers as well. Like they have Tim, only a year in, acting like all the out of character elements of Red Robin, with an origin that’s a Bizarro styled mirror of his original one, with nothing that made him the popular character he used to be.

Same for the others.

New 52 is partially scary, because it shows just how little they know about what made them work.

I’m not against reboots in comics as a concept, they do need some modernization, and clean-ups every now and again, but you have to keep what works in there, or else the reboot will be a total failure. And paint-jobs and fan service like Rebirth aren’t gonna work either, when the heart of it all is still just so bad.

All this is a lot easier to say in hindsight, but DC Comics really has to work towards remembering their mistakes if they actually want to get better again. They’re doing a bit better at it, as forced and contrived as it can be sometimes. So they are getting somewhere.

But this is only the start of a Didio-less era. Looking like good things are coming, and little presents that truly make it seem true, is something that’s only going to last for a little bit. They have to still do the work, and learn what worked for their characters in the first place, and reremember who they all are.

Otherwise sales will just get worse again.

But I’m genuinely hoping they’ll at least begin to learn from mistakes. No one gets a win otherwise.

Oh, and he’s the entirety of the fight advertised on the cover. “Red Robin vs. Bunker”.

They stop fighting right after this.

It’s the comic book equivalent of clickbait if I’ve ever seen it in my entire life.

#Tim Drake #Robin #Red Robin #Bart Allen #Kid Flash #Cassie Sandsmark #Wonder Girl #New 52 #Teen Titans #DC Comics #Only tagging them because odds are those are the only tags people will check

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dustyard · 4 years ago

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I am sorry if you have already answered this. I know you are not doing analysis anymore but I am curious, given your unique and I think compelling method of form finding, what it is about a mountain lion that fits you.

Sure, why not.

So the first aspect of mountain lions that I obviously relate to is their socialability. By which I mean, despite the long-standing belief that mountain lions are solitary, highly territorial animals, they actually have pretty active social ties, and have "friends" that they make within overarching territories (females live in smaller, sometimes overlapping territories with one male that defines the larger group's territory) through reciprocal acts of sharing kills with one another. They will also spend time with their (non-relative) "friends" just hanging out, though they don't hunt together. Reciprocity is hugely important for mountain lions; if one shares their food and then doesn't recieve the same treatment, boom, friendship revoked. Males tend to be more likely to approach females to share kills than vice versa, but it definitely goes both ways.

As a dæmion, I interpret mountain lion souls to be people who are private, relatively solitary people who nonetheless like to develop relationships based on mutual advantage. Mountain lion people are not the types to be taken advantage of, and if they aren't getting what they want out of a relationship they have no qualms about leaving. I relate to this, as someone who does have a few, close ties, despite being quite fickle in relationships. If I felt I was giving my friends more than I was getting, especially long-term, even though I love them, I wouldn't waste my time. Also, in line with a semi-solitary form, I not only need a lot of space, but also a lot of alone time. Like, a lot. Including the people closest to me. I am also a very private person. While cougars are quite communicative souls, and I greatly enjoy expressing myself, if I feel like something is personal, nobody will know about it, not even my closest friends (all two of them lmao). Case in point, this blog. I don't like to share my interests, and if I do, it's going to be on my terms, and no one else's.

Another aspect of mountain lion behavior is their ambitious, competitive natures, which are more nuanced than you might think. For example, while male mountain lions are not fond of other males, and will even kill their cubs (they don't like direct competition), they will defer to larger carnivores higher on the food chain that they share territory with. Grizzly bears, wolves, and jaguars can actually change the hunting habits of cougars, as cougars will hunt prey that their "superior" competitors don't hunt so that they don't have any conflict. This speaks to a soul who hates direct competition (think someone of the same skillset vying for the same promotion), but does not necessarily need to be at the top of any given heap. I, similarly, can be extremely competetive with people who I feel threaten me (metaphorically speaking, of course), but overall am content satisfying my needs, and don't feel the need to stir up unnecessary conflict just for the sake of my ambition. Unless, again, it is for something that is incredibly important to me or directly threatens my happiness/comfort; then, I'll fight tooth and nail to get what I want.

Cougars are also very logical, methodical people, and I relate. Their social intelligence and overall awareness makes them very good at manipulation, because they understand the underlying motivators behind people's actions, which is a pretty common cat trait in general. However, due to their reciprocal relationships, cougars can also be very straightforward and honest—but that's based on feeling they've recieved the same. I'm the same way.

Cougars are assertive, confident people, but their general air of independence doesn't prevent them from being cautious. Being predators, they're vulnerable, and they have to be careful not to take unneccessary risks. While some people might describe cougars as brave, they're actually very careful creatures that don't like to do anything that could risk their happiness/comfort, unless the possible outcome would make them significantly happier/more comfortable. I like to call this common sense, but y'know.

As I mentioned in my carnivores post, predators are generally very efficient beings who don't expend unnecessary effort. I highly relate, and so do mountain lions. This can be physically, emotionally, intellectually, whatever. This also ties into cougar sociability, as mountain lions only expend effort socially if they feel like it's really worth it, and if they don't think they'll get anything for their efforts, they won't bother. I, personally, am very aware that if things don't directly affect me... I don't care. Selfishness is a common trait in both predators and cats in general, and I am not any different. I am, first and foremost, concerned with myself. However, (again with the reciprocal relationships) I believe in fairness. I won't necessarily involve myself if someone/something is being treated unfairly, because I am pretty conflict-averse (like cougars, funny that) but I highly value fairness, and justice.

Another interesting trait of cougars I relate to is their complicated version of adaptability. Cougars can live in a huge array of different biomes and hunt a lot of different prey. Basically cougar people can be comfortable with a lot of different lifestyles in a lot of different ways. However, being wild animals, cougars are very sensitive to forced change. If you know anything about wildlife rehabilitation, wild animals (cougars obviously included) are extremely sensitive to sudden changes or strange stimulation. They can get sick and even die from forced, sudden change. So how can cougars be both highly adaptable and also sensitive to change? By only being adaptable when it's something they choose, not something forced on them. Young cougar cubs leave their homes and travel hundreds or thousands of miles looking for territory because they've outgrown their mother, but being picked up in one state and plopped in another can cause serious issues for these cats. Similarly, I am very comfortable making changes to my own life, but I hate being press-ganged into them. I'm extemely independent, and I don't like doing anything for any reason that isn't my own.

This was probably a lot longer than you expected, but I could honestly keep going. I'm going to cut it short here, though, because the short version is: I, like mountain lions, base my relationships off reciprocity, am nonetheless highly independent, can be selfish and manipulative, as well as competitive, and live efficiently, with a focus on my own happiness and comfort above all else. I can be very adaptable and communicative, but only on my own terms, and tend towards being extremely private, even in my close relationships. There's probably other things I'm forgetting, but that's the general gist of it.

#dæmons #ask me #mountain lions

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butterflyinthewell · 5 years ago

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Dear worried person: I appreciate your concern, but I don’t have any eating disorders.

It’s genetic! All the women on my mom’s side of the family are tiny twigs who tend towards underweight. We eat like anyone else and our bodies don’t hold onto it. That changes after childbirth because that somehow makes the bodies average out.

And since I’ve never been pregnant or had kids, well, I am super twiggy small. Always have been.

My mom weighed 105 lbs till she had my sister and later on had me, now she averages to around 125 lbs. She is 5’2.

I’m 5’1” and my weight tends to fluctuate between 76 and 80lbs depending on where I am in my menstrual cycle.

Do not hurt yourself trying to get my body.

Do not use me as thinspo.

I would love to weigh 90 or even 100 lbs, but that’s not in the cards for me. It’s hard to find clothes that fit because I still have the figure I had at 13. I’m almost 40!! I look way younger than I am. I wear kids clothes most of the time because they fit my proportions better than adult clothes do. When I do find a rare outfit made for petite adults, it’s like finding a needle in a haystack!

I spent much of my life hating my body because I was bullied for what I look like, and I’m still struggling to love it every day. Shaming anyone’s body is terrible. I know what I look like and it hurts when people tell me I must be anorexic or bulimic in order to look how I do. I’m not, and I never was.

Those are serious eating disorders that take lives, and not everybody with an ED is skinny like me. That’s a stereotype and it causes people who aren’t super thin to fall through the diagnostic cracks. I wish for everyone struggling with eating disorders to find peace and health again.

I know the person asking means well and I don’t fault them for their concern, but it still hurt.

Don’t worry, I eat. I eat like Goku in Dragonball Z. I have a normal appetite. I love food. I love discovering new foods. I’m fortunate to not have a lot of food issues like many autistic people do. I still have my “I will never eat that because of the taste / texture” list, but it’s quite short.

I am more likely to try something new and discover if I like it or not vs refusing based solely on appearance. Only exception are things that still resemble the organ they were, like liver, because that’s a mental thing. (Sausages and hot dogs are no problem though, I love them.) if you cut up a liver and didn’t tell me it’s liver, I’ll probably eat it and love it till you tell me it’s liver, then it’s like “eeew nooooo.” Lol!

My ‘absolute no’ food list includes marshmallows, cranberries, jello with nothing suspended in it, anything spicier than nacho cheese and organs that still look like organs. So if it’s none of those I will probably taste it at least once! 😇 My favorite dish is seafood Alfredo; I love Italian food and I love seafood, so that’s the best of both.

I grew up in an environment where I wasn’t made to clean my plate. I could eat to satisfaction instead of discomfort, so the only times I get way too full is if I really like what I’m eating and want to enjoy as much as I can, or I ate really fast because I was really hungry. If I go to a potluck or buffet, I will take tiny portions of many things to try them and go back for a bigger heap of whatever I really liked. I feel it’s the polite thing to do.

Anyway, tldr I don’t have any eating disorders, I’m tiny because it’s in my genes to be that way. I love food and I love eating.

ALL BODIES ARE BEAUTIFUL BODIES!

#actuallyautistic #body #genetics #tw pregnancy mention #tw childbirth mention #tw eating disorders #tw menstruation #food mention

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alternatearchiver · 3 years ago

Text

Fall of the Head Disciple

It wasn’t all that concerning to Wei Wuxian when he was told that Madam Yu wanted to see him. It would take hardly any effort at all to think of the many possible things he might’ve done that had warranted a complaint. He could take some scolding or whipping, so he had no real reason to be worried. Madam Yu often tended to wait until Uncle Jiang was outside of Lotus Pier to punish Wei Wuxian harder, so he was pretty used to it by now.

He walked into the hall where Madam Yu was waiting for him, and furrowed his eyebrows when he didn’t see her two shadows lurking around like usual. Probably off on some secret mission that nobody else was allowed to know about. He internally shrugged, and focused on the Jiang matriarch. “You wanted to see me?”

Madam Yu frowned as she stood up and walked over to Wei Wuxian. “Yes.” There was something about her expression that Wei Wuxian couldn’t quite read. It was like her usual disdain, but with a strange new addition. Almost like amusement? Though Wei Wuxian could not figure out why she’d be amused, considering how lowly she thought of him and his antics. “Wei Wuxian, as the head disciple of the Jiang Sect, you have certain obligations. You must never shame our sect, or do anything to ruin the reputation of my children.” She pressed her lips together for a moment, and stared off into the distance, not wanting to even look at Wei Wuxian. “I have been far too lenient on you in the past. Clearly none of your punishments have convinced you to change your ways. Someday you will bring about the complete ruin of the Jiang, unless I do something to stop you.”

Wei Wuxian felt an uneasiness stirring in his belly, but he offered up one of his usual pleasant smiles. “I understand. I promise I’ll do better next time.” Then he bowed for good measure.

While he was bent forward, he was abruptly knocked to the ground, where he sprawled into an undignified heap. In a coordinated attack that was far too fast for Wei Wuxian to react properly, Jinzhu and Yinzhu had taken away Suibian and tightly bound up all his limbs, leaving him lying there like a trussed up chicken.

This was certainly unlike any of the punishments he had faced in the past, and Wei Wuxian looked up at Madam Yu with uncertainty. “What…?” She stepped over him to head out of the hall, and spoke with her back facing Wei Wuxian. “Since you have not yet learned your lesson, I am determined to make sure that this one sticks. I should have known from the moment you came to Lotus Pier that you are just as big a whore as your mother. Well, it is of no matter. From now on, I will ensure that you are treated exactly as you deserve.” Before Wei Wuxian could protest or ask a question, or do anything, powder was sprinkled in his face that made him sneeze, and then everything went black.

,,,

Wei Wuxian woke up shivering and uncomfortable. It didn’t take him long to realize that he was both naked and strapped down to a sturdy wooden stand. He heard snickers coming from behind him, but it was impossible to crane his neck back far enough to see what was going on. The most alarming part was that he could not for the life of him remember how he’d wound up in this situation, but he refused to let even a drop of fear show in his face. “Alright, alright, you’ve had your fun. Congratulations on capturing your Xian-xiong, we’ll all be laughing about this one for years to come.”

Someone finally spoke, and Wei Wuxian recognized the voice of one of the seniors. “We’re not even close to having had our fun. Madam Yu promised us two weeks.”

A shiver ran down Wei Wuxian’s spine. Two weeks? Two weeks of what? Then he realized that Jiang Fengmian had said he would be gone for about two and a half weeks, which meant that whatever was about to happen here was probably something he would disapprove of. That didn’t really narrow things down, though, considering how much he knew Madam Yu hated him. “What’s this, a public flogging? Nice. Real creative.”

A different person laughed and spoke, and Wei Wuxian was horrified to realize it was one of the juniors that was a few years younger than him, one of the many kids to learn archery from him. “Wei Wuxian, you can’t seriously be that stupid, can you?”

A large hand suddenly smacked against his ass, and Wei Wuxian jumped more from the shock than the sting. “We’re all here to do you a favor, and make sure that you understand your place in this sect, you slut.”

The heavy feeling in Wei Wuxian’s gut seemed to weigh about a million pounds by now, but he refused to beg. “I’m pretty satisfied with being head disciple, so I’m alright without a promotion right now, but thanks.”

He heard someone spit, and then he felt the slimy liquid land on his lower back, which was propped up at a perfect height for very sinister activities. Then the large hands returned, prying Wei Wuxian’s asscheeks apart without any warning, before he was spit on again. He could hear several different disciples spitting on him, and he had absolutely no idea how many of them were present. “It’s hilarious that this whore thinks he’ll have any time left to be head disciple once we’ve introduced him to his new role as the sect cumdumpster.”

Screw his pride. Wei Wuxian began to squirm around, but he was strapped in so tightly that he could barely even twitch. “Please, enough of this! Just let me go now, and no one has to-”

He was cut off by a harsh sting as he was slapped across the face, and he looked up to see Madam Yu sneering down at him. “You won’t be going anywhere, Wei Wuxian. After all the trouble you’ve caused for this sect, the least you could do is repay your martial brothers and sisters with your useless body. We’ll see if you ever cause trouble again by the time these two weeks are up.”

It was somewhat difficult to focus on what Madam Yu was saying, because Wei Wuxian was all too aware of the feeling of many hands roaming all over his body, pinching and slapping and rubbing. “Please, no, I’m sorry, I promise I won’t cause any trouble, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t-”

She roughly grabbed him by the chin and yanked his head back so that they could look each other in the eyes. Because of the flat angle his neck was strapped down at, it caused a lot of strain for him to have his head tilted up like that. “What I want is for you to shut up and accept that this is all you are good for.” Then she let go and walked away, not even sticking around to witness the humiliation.

Something was shoved into Wei Wuxian’s hole without any warning, and he let out a grunt of pain, tears building up in his eyes. “Ha, this slutty cunt is sucking my finger right in. Who would’ve thought our shixiong is actually just a bitch in heat?”

One of the other disciples laughed. “It makes sense. He was just a stray on the streets, afterall.”

More fingers wriggled their way into Wei Wuxian’s hole with only drying spit to ease the way, and it burned worse than pretty much any pain he had felt before. He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to actually start crying in front of these freaks.

When the fingers were suddenly removed, Wei Wuxian hated the way he felt way too open down there, but then he hated it more when something big and hard pushed into him, bullying its way through the aching flesh. The owner of the dick let out a deep moan. “Ah, it’s so warm and tight inside this pussy. Thanks for letting me go first. I can’t wait to compare it to later, when it’s going to be loose and sagging and worthless.” He spit onto Wei Wuxian’s back just for good measure, then began sawing in and out of Wei Wuxian’s body. His balls slapped against Wei Wuxian’s, the sound of it obscenely loud.

“I don’t want to have to wait in line forever,” one of the disciples announced after a few minutes. He walked around into Wei Wuxian’s field of view, already stroking his cock. “I’m going to test out the slut’s throat.” He glanced down at Wei Wuxian. “And if you even think of biting me, well. Let’s just say that you’ll regret it.” The dick was pushed into Wei Wuxian’s mouth without another word, and the disciple grabbed onto Wei Wuxian’s loose hair to use as a handle to drag himself back and forth.

Despite the warning he’d been given, when the dick forced its way down his throat despite his gagging and coughing, he chomped down as hard as he could. He was immediately smacked hard enough to leave his ears ringing and his lip bleeding as the disciple pulled out his injured dick. Tears were streaming uncontrollably down Wei Wuxian’s cheeks, but he grinned victoriously up at the offender.

“This untrained bitch needs some help with its manners,” he ground out through his gritted teeth. He tucked himself back into his robes, then limped out of sight.

Wei Wuxian couldn’t feel satisfied for too long, though, because suddenly his attention was drawn back to his ass, as the thrusts into him sped up and then stopped, the disciple pressing in as deeply as possible. A moment later, burning hot warmth shot out and felt like it filled Wei Wuxian to the brim. When the man pulled out, someone else snickered. “Look at how much that pussy is leaking! Clearly this bitch is enjoying this!”

Someone else rammed in without warning, and they were bigger than the first person. Their dick pressed up against something that made it feel like sparks were fluttering through Wei Wuxian’s body, and he let out an involuntary moan. The same spot was hit several more times, and then someone grabbed Wei Wuxian’s dick far too roughly. “The whore’s little clitty is getting hard!” they crowed as if it were some damning evidence.

“This is supposed to be a punishment, though. It’s no good if it enjoys itself too much.” Someone appeared in front of Wei Wuxian, and ripped his signature red ribbon out of the small high ponytail that he typically wore. Having his scalp roughly tugged at like that brought more tears to his eyes. They walked away, and then Wei Wuxian felt the ribbon being wrapped around the base of his dick, tied tightly enough that it hurt. As much as he hated it, he was glad that he would be unable to cum. He didn’t want anyone to mistake him for a willing participant to this.

Several more disciples had the chance to fuck Wei Wuxian before the one he’d bit returned. He was holding a clamping tool that was generally used for construction. “Someone hold its head,” he snapped, and one of the younger disciples was quick to obey. They grabbed Wei Wuxian’s head and pulled it back, then they stuck fingers from both hands into his mouth, stretching his lips back so much that he could feel them dry and start to crack and bleed. “I’m going to make sure that you’ll be a good bitch from now on,” he growled. Then he clamped the tool down on one of Wei Wuxian’s teeth, and he only had a split second to understand before the tooth was being yanked out of his mouth.

No matter how much he cried, and how much his gums bled, the disciple didn’t stop until there wasn’t a single tooth left in Wei Wuxian’s mouth, then he let out a satisfied sigh. The one who’d been holding Wei Wuxian’s head let go, and Wei Wuxian was barely aware of how uncomfortable his lips felt, because he was far more focused on the pain inside his mouth. “Wow, that was a good idea, shixiong! Now the bitch’s mouth really is only good for one thing!”

After that, it seemed like an endless, exhausting parade of dicks in his mouth and ass, until Wei Wuxian was so bloated with cum that he felt like he’d barely be able to move if someone were to set him free. And it was never ending, because even when the male disciples needed to rest and recharge, the female disciples would take whatever objects they could find that were even slightly phallic, and would fuck Wei Wuxian with them. They liked to make a game of it, fucking him with various miscellanous things, and asking him to guess what they were. Of course, it was impossible for Wei Wuxian to guess, because even when his mouth wasn’t occupied with dicks, his throat and mouth were far too sore to try speaking without teeth to make the sounds clearer.

As it got darker out, the cum on and in Wei Wuxian’s body rapidly cooled down, leaving him much colder than before. He was barely aware of any individual part of his body, because all he could focus on was the pain and soreness and cold that seemed to be everywhere on and in him.

Several of the disciples headed off, but Wei Wuxian could barely summon enough energy to be relieved by their absence. He didn’t have very high hopes that he’d be released and cared for just because everyone was heading to bed.

“Madam Yu!” called out the disciple who was currently lazily fucking Wei Wuxian, the one who seemed to be the ringleader of it all. “Ah, I was just about to wrap things up here and then go relieve myself. It’s good that you can supervise-”

“No need for you to go anywhere,” she interrupted. “The slut is already so full, I’m sure it won’t notice some extra volume. Besides, it’s not much good for anything else at this point.”

It seemed to take the disciple a moment to understand what he’d just been told, and then he let out a chuckle, like he’d just been told a funny joke. He thrust a few more times before coming, but didn’t pull out as he softened. He just waited, and then Wei Wuxian could feel a faster and hotter stream of liquid enter him as he was pissed in. He wanted to cry, but he was all out of tears.

Madam Yu gave him a long, indecipherable look. “You were made for this, Wei Wuxian,” she muttered. “It’ll be much easier on everyone now that you know your place.”

Once everyone finally retired to bed, Wei Wuxian was left tied up, covered in various fluids, cold and naked and sore and tired. He wasn’t sure how he’d survive another two weeks of this hell.

#-dont #mdzs #the untamed #rape

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zahneundklauen-retired · 4 years ago

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Uncaged||Nessa and Alcher

TIMING: Sometime before the dream stuff started PARTIES: @dance-with-sum1 and @zahneundklauen SUMMARY: #FreeTheAnimals

Nessa never liked the zoo. Animals shouldn’t ever have to be in cages, particularly not for human enjoyment. It wasn’t right. They were wild and untamed and should live a life that mirrored that. Feeding on what they want, when they want, doing whatever they want, whenever they wanted. But humans liked to try to tame things that were different from themselves. It was one of the things Nessa despised about them. They were so intriguing in so many other ways, and yet, some of her mother’s stories weren’t wrong. Some of them were so disgustingly terrible to the things that were here long before them. Maybe that’s why the glaistig not often found herself in this part of town. It made her both too sad and too angry, two emotions she did not enjoy feeling if she could help herself. But today’s meal had led her all the way down Hambry road, much further away from the bustling scene of Downtown than she was used to. She gazed up at the building, sadness washing over her as the lights went off and the humans went home to their families while the poor animals stayed in the same small cages locked away from their own kin. It just wasn’t fair.

Zoos were atrocious places. Alcher had spent almost the last of her money to get inside-- such a strange, human concept, paying to see imprisoned animals-- and now she stood, anger in her eyes, facing the cage of her brethren. Anger surged in her veins. How dare these humans imprison the wolves, they deserved to be free. And their cousins, the foxes, so near by. And so many others, trapped here. Nails scratched down a wall as her anger manifested physically. The intercom told her it was time to leave, but Alcher wasn’t going to leave without them. She slipped inside a backroom, lock picked with a nail, waiting for her chance. She waited until the time was right before slipping out, feet silent across the ground. Just like she’d trained to be all her life, a mere shadow and whisper. As she slipped around the back of the building, she hardly noticed the on-looker, too focused on her task. The smell in the air hadn’t changed, just a sour tinge, and so she continued her work.

Nessa’s body buzzed with anger, a feeling she didn’t often possess, until she couldn’t stand still anymore. She began to pace back and forth, wondering what, if anything, she could do for these poor souls. Later, of course, she could find the owner of this monstrous place and give them a piece of her mind, perhaps with a big heaping of nonsense. Maybe she’ll lock them in their homes for a few years, see if that doesn’t change their mind on animal cruelty. But at the moment there were more pressing issues. A quick movement caught the fae’s eye, so indiscernible it was nearly missed. Instinctually, Nessa followed at a distance, curious to see what business someone might have after hours, around the back and creeping around like a ghost. She narrowed her eyes for a moment...no, not a ghost. Her hooves crunched a few leaves along the way, the only sign of her presence as she neared the other person, craning her head to see what they were up to.

It was finally the crunching of hooves that alerted Alcher to her on-looker. She did not move to confront them right away, but rather, waited for a minute to see what they would do. The sour air told Alcher that whoever this was, they were not human-- human had such a distinct smell, and so much of the world smelled of them. She hated it. Finally, she turned her head to look towards the noise, eyes sharp and glinting in the little moonlight that showed from the waning sliver. “If you wish to follow someone,” she called out, eyes searching the darkness, “you ought to take more care with where you step.” She turned her body fully then, ready to strike. Even without claws and teeth, she was a vicious fighter. Her human-like form was not her favorite, but it was a part of who she was, and her father had taught her well on how to use it. “Come out,” she called, her voice still hushed. There was no need to draw more attention to this spot. “There’s no point hiding anymore.”

Nessa fought the urge to disappear, a defense mechanism from so many years in the Aos Sí hiding from humans. But this person wasn’t human...not fae, certainly, but they didn’t seem quite human. So probably not robbing the place… Nessa crept out of the shadows, craning her head to see the woman more clearly. “Perhaps I wanted to be heard. It’s rude not to give some sort of heads up if you’re not intending on ambushing someone.” She took a tentative step forward. The woman was in a fighting stance, clearly having some sort of training, but whether or not it was Hunter training was yet to be seen. “I can’t say I expected to see anyone here this late, mind if I ask what you’re up to?” Her voice was light, holding no accusatory tones, simply full of curiosity. It made no difference to her if they were trying to deface the place, so long as the animals were left alone.

Alcher didn’t reply to that first comment. She didn’t need to. Her body untensed for now, but she was still alert and ready, listening and waiting. Whoever this other woman was, she did not seem hostile-- she could tell by the intonation of her voice. But people could be liars and people could easily fake intention. She stayed where she was as she looked her up and down. “I can say the same,” she answered, voice low. She didn’t need to look around them to know they were alone. “I am here to let my brethren free. Humans keep them caged like they own them, and they deserve to be free. If you are here to stop me, I will tell you now, I will not allow that.” There was danger in what she was doing, but her entire life had been nothing but facing danger. If staring down a hunter loaded with silver bullets didn’t scare her, than neither did a human police officer.

Nessa cocked her head to the side, a sly smile creeping across her face. “Your brethren?” Curiosity and intrigue washed over her, replacing the sadness and anger that was there only a few moments before. If this woman was talking about letting the animals in this wretched place go, she was in. She was all in. What luck? How was she supposed to know that the one night she ended up in the saddest place in town would be the one night she ran into an animal vigilante? Shifting her weight from one leg to the other, Nessa settled into a comfortable stance, crossing her arms over her chest. “You want some help with that, love? ‘Cause if you’re about to set these angels free, then the last thing I wanna do is get in your way.”

The smile that crept across the other woman’s face caught Alcher slightly off-guard. Not many people-- humans and other alike-- were on board with committing such a crime. They believed, even as non-humans, that human law was the only one to follow. Alcher did not believe this, and it seemed as if this other woman also did not. Alcher’s body entirely relaxed. If this was a rouse, it was a good one. Though distrustful still, she allowed her intrigue to pass. “You wish to help me? Even knowing that this is frowned upon?” she asked, making sure the other woman knew exactly what she would be getting into here.

Nessa scoffed, moving her hands to her hips as if to deft human law. The only “law” she prescribed to was the law of fae, and even that was a bit hazy depending on who you were speaking to. Certainly it did not contain any limitations on fucking with human buildings or cages or anything else. “Frowned upon! You know what’s frowned upon? Caging innocent creatures. Ripping them from their homes, shoving them into tiny boxes away from their families and communities and for what? The enjoyment of a lesser species? Hah!” Nessa felt her mother’s words flowing out of her. It was rare when she agreed with the woman who’d raised her, but as much as she enjoyed watching and living amongst humans, they were still fragile, frail, disgusting little creatures at their base. Nessa ticked her chin at the back door, a conspiratorial grin popping up on her lips. “So are we gonna do this or not?”

A smile curled onto Alcher’s lips. The statement was bold, but shared. Finally, her body relaxed entirely, though still at the ready for any other noise or intruders, ears sharp. “I could not agree more,” she said, stepping aside to let the other woman approach. “You are not human, but you are not animal, either.” She sniffed the air again. “Forgive me, but I do not recognize your scent.” Alcher knew of fae, but the fae tended to keep their distance from wolves. Sometimes they even frowned upon interaction with them, considering most wolves were humans made into weres. Born weres, on the other hand, held a higher status. Alcher would correct any and all who called her human. “You are...of fae, yes?”

Nessa took a step forward, her skirts swirling around her hooves. She tilted her head, sizing up her accomplice for the night, just as the other woman was doing to her. Not fae, she would have recognized her immediately. But obviously not human. But the way she was sniffing the air, probably some sort of lycan. Not ideal, but still not entirely human. Not that Nessa had the prejudices so many of her kind had, honestly being half human was almost even more intriguing to her. “Fae, yes. You, however, are not.” Nessa gestured for them to creep alongside the outer wall. “Not human, though. I mean, you could be some sort of activist but you hold yourself too strictly,” she mused aloud. “But you don’t have to tell me. Really, I don’t care. Only that you’re on the right side of all of this,” she gestured to the prison, malice alight in her eyes.

Alcher tilted her head as the other woman approached. “I have not met too many fae,” she said back, stepping back towards the door she’d been attempting to unlock. She pulled out the lockpick she always kept on her and went on her way with it. “I am a werewolf. Born. I do not identify as human whatsoever. Though I have form of one, it is not who I am. Just as your glamour is not who you are,” she spoke slowly, carefully. As much as she despised being called human, she was aware of the misformation people had about werewolves. Even some weres were misguided in this way, clinging to their more human side. The lock clicked quietly and she opened the door. “Soon, we’ll all be on the ‘right side’ of this wall,” she gestured.

Nessa knelt down, watching the woman expertly work the lock. “Ah, that explains the,” she sniffed the air, smelling nothing out of the ordinary, though she was sure this wolf could smell much more. She smiled, her head listing to the side. “You’ve probably met more than you realize if you’ve been in this town for any amount of time.” Nessa chuckled to herself. It wasn’t giving anything away, if a wolf felt comfortable here, why would any other species not feel the same? The lock clicked and Nessa beamed. This would be an acquaintance worth having. “After you,” she bowed overdramatically before following the woman inside. “But I don’t think I caught your name. I’m Nessa. If we’re going to be setting these babies free, I’d love to know who I have the pleasure of helping.”

“I’ve only just arrived in White Crest,” Alcher said, slipping inside, “but I’m inclined to believe you still.” She closed the door behind them quietly, and glanced around the darkened room. With her night vision, things bloomed in and out of view as she glanced around. “I met a few in my years. My pack in Canada was close to a community of Leshy who lived with us in the woods. They smelled of dirt and fresh bark, lilacs.” She turned to look at Nessa. “You smell of spice and earth. Similar but not quite as...leafy.” She ruffled her nose. “Sorry, my English is...limited.” She glanced around the room again, going over to the desk with the computer. “There must be some mechanism to unlock the animals’ doors…” she muttered, “do you see anything?”

Nessa smiled lightly. “It’s best you do.” Not that she’d stop any of her sisters from pulling anything on this wolf, but Nessa liked her. It was best she knew to watch her words around town. Her eyes lit up as they found their way into the computer room. “Leshy! Awww I love the leshy! They’re just so sweet!” The glaistig breathed in deeply, remembering the scents she was speaking of. Earthy, deep, yet so nuanced depending on which leshy you were near. It felt like home. Gods, it had been ages since she’d seen one. She giggled, shaking out her curls. “I do appreciate not being quite so leafy,” she tittered, moving deeper into the room. Her eyes might not be as good in the dark as a wolf, but they weren’t half bad. “It’d just be so easy if they had a ‘MASTER CONTROL’ button with a giant sign that said ‘DO NOT TOUCH’, wouldn’t it? Like in the movies!” Her fingers danced over a set of switches, most of which labeled with shorthand she didn’t understand. “What abouttttt this one!” She slammed her hand down on a large red button, hoping for the best. “It’s big an red and- oh!” A loud ringing echoed around them, soft red light pulsing from under the door. A crunching mechanical noise shook the foundations. “There’s the alarm! But that’s normal, right? That’s gotta be it!” She skipped over to the door, placing her ear against it, listening for any sort of animal commotion. Goodness could you imagine a stampede? How wonderful that would be?

Alcher moved along the desk, looking for any sign of something to let them unlock the cages. It was likely a set of keys. Her eyes went over to the fae, prancing about the room excitedly. It reminded her a little bit of her youth, when she could be free-spirited and awed, discovering the forests for the first time. “I’m Alcher, by the way,” she said, turning back towards the wall of buttons the fae was hovering around. “For personal reasons, however, I go by Ada in public.” Hiding from hunters wasn’t fun, but if they didn’t know you existed, then it was much easier to hunt them down. “Wait, don’t--” she started, trying to stop Nessa from pushing the clearly marked alarm button. But she was too late. The noise grated against Alcher’s ears and she winced, slapping her palms over them. “Turn it off!” she snapped, trying to find the right off button, but it was no use. Footsteps echoed underneath the loud beeping. “We need to go,” she said, rushing to Nessa and throwing the door open, glancing around. “This way.” Gliding down the hallway almost silently, ready to transform at any moment, should the need arise.

Nessa froze, her smile fading quickly into a frown. “I’m sorry! I don’t know how!” One hand raced over the series of buttons as she slammed down on the big red one again, hoping if she pressed it again it would turn off. She cringed at the noise that continued to blare all around them. “But we don’t have the keys or anying!” The fae nearly pouted as she followed Alcher out into the hall. Well she’d certainly made a mess of things. Luckily it seemed like the place was running with a skeleton crew, as no one immediately jumped into their path, but Nessa knew it had to be a matter of time. A small bit of hypnosis could help if it was only one or two guards, but she stretched her fingers, preparing her long nails just in case. She wasn’t a fighter by any means, but she could at least distract a few so Alcher could get away, should she need help. Glancing down at her claws, an idea popped into her head. “Hey-” she reached out as quietly as possible, placing a light hand on the woman’s shoulder. “We might not need keys,” She grinned, letting her long claws dance in front of her eyes, hoping they could at least get to one of the cages before they had to escape.

The claws danced in front of Alcher’s eyes and she felt her chest alight. Nessa was more courageous than Alcher initially thought. She’d have to give her credit for that later, once they were out of here and safe. She lifted her glance to Nessa’s eyes and gave a nod, running them down a dark alley as two guards ran by. Waited until she was sure they were gone before pulling her back out into the path with her, pointing to one of the cages. “Them first,” she said, leading her over to the wolves’ cage. “I want to help them first.” Alarm blaring behind them, lights flashing. They didn’t have much time, but hurrying this could cause them to mess up. Footsteps echoed closer and Alcher looked over her shoulder. Shit, the cameras. “They know we’re here,” she hissed quietly, “we have to work quickly.”

Nessa fell behind Alcher and let the other woman take the lead as they silently made their way to the first cages, bypassing a few guards. Nessa’s breath was taken away. This whole thing was just so exciting and exhilarating! It had been far too long since she’d done something fun like this. As they approached the wolf enclosure, the fae’s heart sank. They looked so helpless, so forlorn. Of course Alcher would want these babies taken care of first. “Of course,” she whispered, hurrying over to the lock. Her long nails slipped easily into the mechanism, but it took a few moments for her to remember how to pick a lock like this. “Sorry- it’s been a few- Ah!” A soft click announced her job was done, at least for this cage. “Come now, loves!” She yanked on the heavy metal door, swinging it open and gesturing for the creatures to move out towards their freedom. “What next?!” Her eyes alight with excitement, Nessa bounced on the tips of her hooves for the next target.

Alcher waited slightly impatiently as Nessa fiddled with the lock. It took her a long moment before she heard the click. A little rush of relief. They yanked the doors open and Alcher whistled to them, in a pitch her father had taught her to get the attention of their more wild cousins. But before they could be sure they were heading towards their freedom, footsteps sounding in a nearby hallway. “Now,” she said, tugging on Nessa, “we must run.” The girl was more excitable than Alcher thought, but she certainly didn’t mind. Unfortunately, not leaving now would leave them in a position she did not want to be in. Killing human security officers would draw too much attention. The best move for now was to escape in the shadows of night and return another day to finish this job. “We will come back for the rest,” she said to her, giving her an earnest look, “I promise.”

Nessa’s face fell as the soft paws of the newly freed wolves disappeared, quickly replaced with the pounding of very human boots. The night wasn’t a total waste, but she really wished they could have helped more. That was on her, however, and her lack of tact in the control room. She’d berate herself for being so impulsive later, but for now her focus had to be on getting out of here unseen. More importantly, she didn’t want to screw up Alcher’s night even more than she already had. Nodding and gritting her teeth, Nessa followed the woman’s lead, knowing all too well the benefit of living to fight another day. “You promise?” She asked, halting them before they went any further. If the woman knew anything of fae, she knew how powerful those words were.

Alcher had been told tales of the fae and their trickery. They had power over words, and special phrases. Promise, she’d been told, was one of them. It had a binding effect to it. Her father had told her to watch her tongue around them, but the few fae Alcher had met in the forests had always been kind and generous with their words to her. She wanted to believe Nessa was like that, too. And she owed her at least a chance at trust. If she betrayed her, Alcher would not hesitate to kill her. She was not wolf, after all, and they were the only ones that truly mattered. She looked into the other woman’s eyes and nodded. “I promise,” she said, reaching a gentle hand out to brush her shoulder, resting on it. “I never answered your question earlier, either,” she went on, knowing they had a moment of reprieve here, “I am Alcher.” Then the footsteps were back and she nodded towards the exit. “Shall we?”

Nessa smiled lightly, tears welling up in her eyes. What they had done here tonight was not enough, not by a long shot, but Alcher promised. Nessa didn’t often use promises as weapons, only ever betrayed the binding spell if it was in jest, but she had no intention of using it against this wolf. She nodded, her curls bouncing around her face. “Then we will be back for the rest of these poor souls.” A joking smile replaced her tearful one. “I’ll be holding you to that, Alcher.” She whipped her head back towards the awful stamping of human security. “Lead us out of here, friend!”

#chatzy #chatzy: nessa #nessa #uncaged

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worryinglyinnocent · 5 years ago

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Fic: The Real Housewives of Storybrooke (14/?)

A fic based on this premise here, following the lives of Storybrooke’s elite wives, with all the scandal, bitching and backstabbing that goes on behind the scenes of high society…

This verse is open for prompts!

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[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten] [Eleven] [Twelve] [Thirteen] [AO3]

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ARIEL

With the party preparations in full swing, Ariel thought that it was high time for her and Belle to sit down and work out a strategy for how they were going to survive the evening, or rather, how Belle was going to get through the evening without being the subject of a scene.

Belle didn’t really cause scenes; they tended to happen to her instead. Still, they’d managed to get through Regina’s garden party without any mishaps and whilst her own birthday celebration had been marred by Zelena’s intervention, Ariel would admit that they’d got off pretty lightly considering what had happened on previous occasions. They’d never yet had a party dissolve into a food fight, but when one considered what could happen when tempers frayed and people started acting like five-year-olds, Ariel didn’t think that such occurrences were completely out of the question.

She rang the Golds’ doorbell and rocked back and forth on her heels as she waited for someone to come and let her in. The Cadillac was gone from the drive so Cameron was obviously out, and who knew where Bae might have gone now that his summer vacation had started, and he was free for a few weeks? Tilly had gone back home the previous day, and according to Regina, Robyn was already missing her.

There was no reply to the doorbell and Ariel’s brow furrowed. Belle knew that she was coming over today, surely she wouldn’t have forgotten and gone out. She made her way round to the front room window and peered in through the glass, but there was nothing to see. Maybe the back door was unlocked.

Ariel picked her way cautiously round to the back of the house and the kitchen. She didn’t know why she was being so furtive; anyone would think that she was a burglar casing the place rather than an invited guest, but the fact that no one appeared to be around to greet her made her wary, and although she considered herself to be somewhat sensible in a crisis, she had fleeting visions of the entire family being struck down by a serial killer and buried under the patio.

Reaching the garden, she found that the patio was intact and there were no signs of freshly dug graves, so her mind was set at rest for all of a minute until a helpful voice told her that the serial killer might still be inside.

She tried the back door and found it unlocked, so she stepped inside warily. At least there were various kitchen implements to defend herself with if necessary.

“Belle?” she called out. “Bae? Mrs P? Anyone?”

There was no response, and Ariel began to worry. They wouldn’t have all gone out and left the doors unlocked; Storybrooke was a comparatively safe town but that was just ridiculous.

“Belle?” Hopefully, her friend wasn’t lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs having fallen off her stilettos. Ariel was no stranger to killer footwear herself, but Belle’s fascination with it seemed to border on dangerous.

It was as she reached the foot of the stairs - thankfully free of collapsed Belles - that Ariel heard it, and suddenly several things fell into place. From upstairs, she could hear the faint sound of someone retching.

“Belle? Are you ok?” It was a stupid thing to say because she obviously wasn’t, and Ariel wondered why it was everyone’s default question. She went up the stairs slowly and pushed open the master bedroom door, immediately seeing Belle through the crack between the bathroom door and its frame.

Belle looked up from the toilet bowl, her face grey and drawn, and she gave a weak smile as she saw Ariel.

“Morning sickness is a bitch,” she muttered.

Ariel had to smile as she tiptoed into the bathroom, perching on the bath. For all the times she’d been to events with Belle where copious amounts of alcohol had been imbibed, usually it was the other way round as to who was holding the other one’s hair back.

“I was wondering if it had finally happened,” Ariel said. “When I came back to Storybrooke I thought that there was something different about you. Something brighter and happier.”

Belle nodded. “Yep. That was before the morning sickness started. Don’t feel quite so bright now.” She gave a soft little laugh. “I know I’m grousing about it, but I’m honestly happy to be pregnant. I mean, I was prepared for this, it’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“There should be a packet of ginger tea on the side in the kitchen. Cameron bought it at the weekend and it’s the only thing that helps.”

Ariel went to make the tea and Belle joined her in the kitchen a few minutes later, wrapped up in her robe. She had a little more colour now, and Ariel hoped that the worst was over for the day.

“How far along are you?” she asked.

“Seven weeks.” Belle took a sip of her tea. “It’s not common knowledge yet, but all things considered I thought you’d probably guess anyway. Can we keep it between ourselves for now? Just until I’ve had the first scan and made sure everything’s all right. I needed someone who wasn’t Cameron or Bae or Mrs P to know. I mean, they’re all being great about it, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not like sharing the news with a girlfriend.”

“Of course. I’ll be the very picture of discretion.”

“I think of all our circle of friends, you’re probably the one I trust most. Much as I love Carrie and Ursula, I don’t think that anything stays secret with them for very long, and since Carrie’s solution to everything is to add more gin, I’m not sure she’d be very good at helping with morning sickness.”

“That’s very true.” Ariel had not really met Carrie and Ursula outside of various parties and functions, but the tales that Belle and Cameron told certainly painted a vivid picture. She made herself a cup of tea and sat down at the kitchen table with Belle. “On the other hand, the morning sickness does give you a great excuse for not going to the party.”

“Yes, but I’m slightly concerned as to what the rumour mill might start doing if I don’t attend. People are already starting to wonder why I’ve not been at the library these past few mornings. It generally wears off by about lunch time so I should be ok for the evening.”

“Just maybe steer clear of the buffet table. And the bar.” Ariel thought about the planning sessions at Regina’s, with Robin being promised that he could monopolise the buffet table with Belle instead of having to socialise.

“Yeah, maybe it would be a good idea to sit this one out.” Belle sighed. “It’s a toss-up between everyone wondering why I’m not there, especially since Cameron’s so involved with the whole project and definitely will be there, and everyone wondering why I’m there but not eating or drinking. Which do you think would be worse?”

“Well, we can hope that everyone gets so drunk that they don’t notice. I think that’s usually the way to get around these things.”

She managed to get a laugh out of Belle this time, and Ariel took that as a good sign. Presently, her friend’s stomach grumbled, and Ariel raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I haven’t exactly had any breakfast,” Belle muttered, her still-pale cheeks beginning to colour.

“You’re pregnant. Your stomach’s going to be doing weird things for the next nine months.” Ariel reached across and patted Belle’s hand. “Don’t worry about it. Can I make you some toast or something?”

“That sounds like a good idea. You don’t have to get it. I’m the host here.” She looked down at her pyjamas and bathrobe. “I’m not doing a very good job of it, but I can try.”

“Belle, you’re in a rather tender state at the moment. Just let someone else take care of you for once. You know that if Cameron didn’t have to go and save the world as we know it, he’d be here waiting on you hand and foot.”

“Yeah, I practically had to push him out of the door this morning.” Belle glanced down at her belly. “If it wasn’t for the constant throwing up, I’d still be wondering if this was all a dream.”

Ariel set about making some toast. “It’s strange. I’ve never really thought about being pregnant,” she said. “If you go swimming whilst pregnant, does that make you a human submarine?”

“Ariel.” Belle gave her a pained look. “Sometimes I wonder where your mind goes.”

“Submarines, evidently. In all seriousness though, I’m really happy for you. This is all you’ve wanted for so long and I’m so glad that it’s finally come good in the end. Even if you are now as sick as a parrot.”

“It’ll pass.” Belle nibbled on her toast. “Have you ever wanted children, you and Eric?”

“No. We talked about it early on, back when we were first starting up the business, and it was just never a priority for us. We’ve always been happy just as a duo. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if we had an accident, so to speak. Things might change then. But we’ve never planned on it. I’ve never really had maternal urges. I’m the cool fairy godmother instead. That was a hint, by the way.”

Belle shook her head with a laugh. “We’re nowhere near thinking that far ahead yet. We just want to get through these first few months with no mishaps, then we’ll start appointing go-to babysitters. You do know that the job doesn’t come with a wand and special powers, right?”

“I can always dream. Have you thought about names yet? Come on, you’ve been thinking about this entire adventure for months, you must have thought about names.”

“I’ve always been more concerned with actually getting the baby rather than naming it,” Belle said, but it was clear that she was already off in a little world of her own as she pondered names for her future child. “I like Gideon for a boy. I know it’s a bit unusual, but it’s not too out there. And I like flower names for girls. Rose, Lily, Iris.”

“Chrysanthemum.”

“You jest, but I may call your bluff in nine months’ time, and then where would you be.”

“I’d be congratulating you on your excellent taste in names.”

They both fell about in laughter after that, and Ariel smiled. It was good to know that even though Belle was not feeling at her best right now, her enthusiasm for motherhood had not been dampened, and her patience had finally paid off in the best possible way.

#Belle French #Ariel #OUAT Fanfiction #Fic: The Real Housewives of Storybrooke

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degenerate-perturbation · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening Relationships: Female Amell/Female Surana Characters: Female Amell, Female Surana, Anders, Velanna, Nathaniel Howe Additional Tags: Established Relationship Summary: Amell and Surana are out of the Circle, and are now free to build a life together. But when the prison doors fly open, what do you have in common with the one who was shackled next to you? What do you have in common, save for the chains that bound you both?

Yvanne decided she wanted a garden.

Why not? The rebuilding was happening anyway, she may as well make some changes. The Howes had had a garden in the inner courtyard, but it had withered and died, and now only rotting leaves littered it. Well, not if Yvanne had anything to say about it. Her garden would have rose bushes and stone benches and black and white marble tiles. In the foggy depths of her childhood memory there was such a garden, in those memories where she still had a mother, although surely the garden in her memory was brighter and warmer than any real one had ever been.

Why not a garden? Everything else were being rebuilt. The Vigil’s beautiful walls were nearly all torn down, the keep itself riddled with holes. It would take so long to fix. So why not a garden? At least it made her feel better.

It could have been worse. It would have been worse, if not for the high iron walls and the strong armor of silverite. Yvanne comforted herself with this thought, in the moments when little else brought her comfort.

Loriel was sympathetic, Loriel was nothing but soft to her about it, but she didn’t understand. She hadn’t been there. She hadn’t lived it with her, and Yvanne was coming to realize that what had happened during the siege had changed her in some important way, shifted her soul just slightly to the left. She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t pin it down, but the person who’d left Loriel outside Amaranthine was not the same person who met her again in the courtyard.

It was a small change, a small shift, the cry of a young sparrow in the dense wood. But it was there, nonetheless.

These days Yvanne focused on learning more spirit healing. She rarely picked up a sword anymore.

She regretted looking in on Loriel through their Fade connection. She had seen a version of her that she’d never seen before, a strange cold woman who Yvanne didn’t know at all. She didn’t understand that Loriel, and maybe didn’t want to. In retrospect, it felt like a violation, although Loriel never said so. She’d told her everything, but now Yvanne didn’t know if she’d done it because she’d always intended to, or because Yvanne had already seen it.

Loriel tended to keep things to herself, it was true. She hadn’t mentioned learning blood magic when she’d first learned it, hadn’t mentioned her secret chamber below the Keep when she’d first claimed it, but those things made sense. They’d grown up in a prison tower filled with armored men ready to kill them for any perceived transgression. There wasn’t a Circle mage alive—and still possessing all of their faculties—who was not a master in hiding and deceiving. It wasn’t something you could easily turn off.

Yvanne wasn’t much good at it. She figured she was only alive now because Loriel had done the work for both of them. So she could hardly blame her for tending to be a little secretive now that they were out.

She shouldn’t have looked.

Slowly the walls of Vigil’s Keep rose again. Yvanne helped re-raise them. She took charge of the resupply logistics. She built her garden.

Sometimes she forgot Varel wasn’t the Seneschal anymore.

The weeks passed by, and with every passing day it seemed more and more likely that Velanna was gone for good. Whether she was dead or simply not returning, she was gone.

And then one day the elf appeared.

She strode through the gates as though she had every right to be there, as though no time had passed at all. Yvanne had been with the victims of a recent construction accident, but when she heard, she finished quickly and ran straight to the outer courtyard, where she could do the important business of Yelling.

“And just where the hell have you been?” was what she lead with. Velanna flinched. She looked so gaunt and drawn, like she’d been living rough for all these weeks, that Yvanne almost regretted yelling. Almost. “Have you any idea how many men I’ve wasted looking for you? What an uproar you caused? And here you are looking fine as anything.”

Yvanne waited for the cutting reply, but it never came. Velanna mumbled something apologetic, and then Nathaniel appeared out of the Keep, unconcealed joy radiating from his face. He asked her no questions and demanded no answers, only embraced her tightly—as a comrade?—and Velanna didn’t protest. She even closed her eyes, leaned in to the touch, and consented to being taken inside for food and a long bath.

Really? she thought, watching them go. Them? Those two? Well, stranger things had happened.

When she had no more duties to assign herself, Yvanne went back inside and collapsed in relief, not quite realizing how heavy a burden she’d been carrying.

—

“I need to tell you something,” Velanna said, closing the office door behind her.

Loriel nodded and gestured for her to sit. That was a major part of her leadership style, all the nodding and gesturing. It got most of the job done, depending on the job.

Velanna, looking a little better now than when she’d first arrived, eyed the petitioner’s chair with suspicion. She gingerly took a seat. “I went looking for my sister.”

“Yes, I assumed as much.”

Velanna glared. “You’re really mocking me?”

There was a time when that would have flustered her. “That isn’t what I meant, and you know that isn’t what I meant. Say what you have to say.” Why couldn’t Velanna have simply told Yvanne whatever she’d had to say? Why was she talking to her?

“I heard what you did at Drake’s Fall,” Velanna said. “You spared it. The darkspawn.”

Loriel tightened. “The Architect. Yes. How do you know that?”

“Sigrun told me.”

Loriel didn’t flinch, but it was a near thing. Sigrun had been so angry with her. She’d even thought things would come to violence; the disabling spells had been on the tip of her tongue. She would have spoken them, if Sigrun had gone for her axes. She would have. She knew it.

She hated knowing that about herself, that she’d slay a friend and teammate at what now felt like so little provocation. At no other time had she wished more bitterly that Yvanne had been with her. Yvanne would have known just what to say to make Sigrun come around. It had been her who’d made them a real team, always passing out presents and bothering everyone for their life stories. Loriel was the Commander, but she knew who they were really loyal to.

Now Sigrun didn’t trust her. She still smiled when she saw her, still went about her duties. But she didn’t trust her. Loriel had tried so hard, and still ruined it before the end.

“I see,” Loriel said evenly. “What about it?”

“It was the right thing to do.”

Loriel blinked, and said nothing. Velanna was growing more uncomfortable beneath her gaze by the moment.

“I meant that as a peace offering,” Velanna said irritably. “Can you accept it so I can tell you what I’ve been doing?”

The Commander sighed. “I...apologize. Please, do tell me.”

“I have been in the Deep Roads.”

Not surprising. “The way I heard it, you disappeared in the middle of the battle, beneath a heap of rubble. Yvanne was very upset.”

Velanna scowled. “I was in no danger. I can move through the earth. But when I called to the earth to protect me, I fell through, into the tunnels below the Keep. They lead to the Deep Roads.”

“You didn’t think to rejoin the battle?”

“I thought I saw Seranni. In the shadows.”

Ah. “And you went after her. Or what you thought was her.”

“Yes.” Velanna leaned her forehead against her wooden staff for a moment. “I don’t know if it was really her, then, or just my imagination. But I had to check.”

She said nothing for long enough that Loriel was compelled prompt, “How did you survive down there? You were gone for weeks and weeks. Were you down there that entire time?”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Velanna said, gripping her staff tighter. “I survived, that’s all that matters. And I did find Seranni.”

Loriel held still.

“She was with it. Him. The Architect.” She scowled. “We talked.”

“What did you talk about?”

“None of your business,” Velanna said, muttering an elvehn curse Loriel couldn’t understand. “I used to hope he would release her. But I was wrong. He’s never going to release her. She doesn’t even want to be released. She believes in it, what he’s doing.”

“And you don’t,” Loriel surmised.

“I don’t give a single mihrnig about what the Architect is doing,” Velanna said. “I just wanted my sister back. But I…” She inhaled sharply. “I have accepted that she has made her choice. So whatever you and that thing are doing, whatever idiot plot you have to end the Blights and bring peace amongst the darkspawn, this thing that Seranni was willing to throw away her life for—it had better be worth it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Loriel said delicately.

“The Architect had a message for you.” Velanna let out a long, slow exhale. “He said...he said that he accepts your terms. And that he looks forward to working with you.” She said it all in one breath, as though the words had been imprisoned in her mouth and were now being set free.

She practically threw a leather bag onto Loriel’s desk. “Now take this thing off my hands before it poisons me.”

It landed with a heavy thump, and did not bounce.

“That’s all I had to say,” said Velanna. “Do I have the Commander’s permission to depart?”

“You do,” Loriel said. “Thank you for delivering the message. We are all glad that you are back.”

Velanna probably hadn’t heard the last part. She was already out of the petitioner’s chair and at the door when Loriel got to it.

As the echoes of her rapid footsteps died away, Loriel reached for the leather bag, a small thing suspended on a length of chording. Inside was a crystal, perfectly black. Its faces were smooth and it seemed to pulse from within with some kind of anti-light, some energy of its own. It resembled lyrium, more than anything. But it wasn’t lyrium. Interesting, Loriel thought. She would study it carefully. And of course she was pleased to hear from the Architect.

She had no other meetings for the day, and it was late enough that it was reasonable she not be in office. She headed down to the chamber she could only describe as her laboratory.

Loriel had tried to aid in the rebuilding effort at first. It was only right. She was the master of this Keep, she could help in its re-raising—besides, Yvanne cared about it, that made it important. But somehow she seemed to only get in the way. She didn’t have the skills for it. Unparalleled master of entropy magic she might be, perhaps even a genius not seen for over a century, she didn’t know a single spell that could have been remotely helpful for rebuilding a Keep. With a faint start she realized she was a battlefield mage, and good for little else.

Well, one other thing, perhaps.

She recalled the conversation she’d had with Yvanne on the eve of her return to the Keep, down in the lower levels. She had explained everything, what she’d been working towards, why the darkspawn and the Architect were so interesting to her. The idea hadn’t occurred to her until recently—it had been percolating quietly for a long time.

She was going to cure the Calling. She was going to put an end to the Blights. She was going to transform the world, and she was going to do it her way.

Loriel told Yvanne everything, carrying on about all her ideas, about such and such reagents and that sort of distilling process and how she was going to write Avernus and wasn’t it good that they’d kept him alive after all, and how the Architect was going to help her and how it was all going to come together.

And Yvanne had listened long and careful and finally put her hands on Loriel’s shoulders. Loriel realized suddenly how much tension she’d been holding in them and tried to relax under her touch, letting her sentence trail off.

“That’s all great. But, listen,” Yvanne said, sliding her palms up to Loriel’s jaw, rubbing small circles on her cheek. Down here amongst the stone, her warmth was all-encompassing. “Are you happy?”

Loriel didn’t know how to answer that.

“Because you realize of course that you don’t have to do this. If you really want to, I’ll do everything I can to help you. I think you can do it, because you’re a bloody genius, and therefore probably won’t need my help, but you’ll have it. But you know you don’t have to.”

“Of course I know that.

“So why are you really doing it?”

“Because...you were right all along.” Loriel closed her eyes. “I should have gone with you. I should have protected our home. You needed me, and I let you go, and I’m so, so sorry.”

“Oh, you—stop it, won’t you?” Yvanne muttered, twining fingers into her hair, massaging her scalp. “You saved so many lives. What kind of monster would I be to wish you hadn’t done that?”

They didn’t want me to save them, Loriel thought. I should have stayed with you. She noted that Yvanne had not exactly said that she didn’t wish for that.

But this she didn’t say. If Yvanne needed to believe that what had happened had been best for the both of them, then Loriel was going to let her.

“I’m a terrible leader,” Loriel said. “I never should have brought us here. You were right not to want to come—”

“I never said—!”

“But I knew! I knew you didn’t want to, I knew you might hate it, and I insisted, because I didn’t know what else to do with myself.”

“It worked out, though,” Yvanne said softly.

“That’s right. It did. And I’m so glad it did, Yvanne!” Loriel found herself smiling. “I’m so glad you have this. I’ve never seen you so happy in my life. You’re alive in a way you never used to be. Do you have any idea how beautiful that is to me?”

“I pointedly note that you didn’t answer my question,” Yvanne said sharply. “Are you happy?”

Loriel thought about it. She wanted to answer honestly. “I’m as happy as I possibly could be, with everything as it is. There’s nowhere we can go where I think I would be better off, nothing I want to be doing more than I want to be doing this, and nothing you can do to make it any better. Except, just be with me. And be happy.”

“I can’t just…augh, I should never have left you! I was panicking, I thought you’d be right behind me, I didn’t think—oh, it doesn’t matter what I thought. Result was the same, wasn’t it?”

“You saving the Keep? That result?” But not saving everybody, Loriel thought. Not the Seneschal, not all those young soldiers, not all those farmers and their families hiding in the Keep for protection as the darkspawn army fell upon it. Not all the people that would have been saved if Loriel had joined her, had been there to spare her some small part of that suffering, and then maybe the Seneschal would still be alive. As these dark thoughts darted through Loriel’s mind, she could see them darting through Yvanne’s mind, too, and suddenly she felt worse than ever.

“What I mean to say is—you’re important to me,” Yvanne said. “More important than anything else. And I do mean anything. I’ve built up this Keep, these lands, but that’s nothing to what I’ve built with you. Nobody in the world knows me like you do. I couldn’t replace that if I lived a thousand years. And I want you to be happy. And if that means we have to leave, find somewhere else—”

“You make me happy. And the work makes me happy.” Loriel cracked a smile. “No, there’s nothing for us out there. We’ve found a home. Now we just have to live in it.”

“Then we will.” Yvanne said it almost dazed, as though she hadn’t been expecting this. Like she’d been ready to give everything up, and was surprised to realize that she wouldn’t have to.

It still hurt, that she’d left. And Loriel could tell that for all her apologies, Yvanne was no less hurt. But was it any different from all the other times they’d hurt each other? There’d been many such occasions, more than she could count.

That was what real love was about, Loriel had concluded. You hurt each other, maybe even hurt each other a lot, because how could two lives be lived in such proximity without some measure of pain? You hurt each other, and you stayed, because it was worth it, all of it. It was worth it.

—

They were in bed. Normally they’d be asleep by now, but Yvanne wasn’t sleeping well lately. Ever since the siege, she was taken to waking up suddenly, and taking a long time to get back to sleep. Wine helped, a little. So they were having wine.

“The garden’s almost finished,” Yvanne was saying, “you should see it, it’s beautiful. Not quite like the one I remember, but only because it’s better. Only flowers I like in this one, no stupid carnations or anything. I know it’s indulgent of me, isn’t it? But we should spend more time in it now. It’s a peaceful place, you should see the roses, and I’m thinking perhaps a lemon tree seeing as it’s so warm up here in summer…”

Loriel fiddled with her hair, letting Yvanne’s voice roll over her.

“...but anyway. How was your day?”

She gave the question serious thought, then finally hazarded, “Has Justice...talked to you recently?”

Yvanne wrinkled her nose. “Why? Has he been hassling you about mage freedom, too? He’s been at it for weeks with me, and Anders for even longer, and he’s nearly talked him round. Now they’re both insufferable and I have no one to talk to at all.”

Loriel paused midway through winding her longest lock of hair around her finger. “Why? Don’t you think mage freedom is just?”

“Just?” said Yvanne, and rolled her eyes. “Show me one gram of justice in the world, one morsel of mercy. The world is what it is. The best we can do is find something worth protecting and protect that. Justice just doesn’t know it yet because he’s the spirit equivalent of a baby.”

“Maybe he’s right.”

“Who cares if he’s right? Him being right won’t change anything. Anyway, if he’s been hassling you, you should tell him to knock it off and bother somebody who hasn’t saved the world a handful of times. Maker knows you’ve done your part.”

“He hasn’t been hassling me,” said Loriel. “He asked me about...well, he asked me about love.”

“Oh,” said Yvanne. “What about it? Has he been getting on with Aura? I know that’s important to him.”

Loriel thought for a while about how to put it delicately, even though she’d thought of little else all week. “He wanted to know why it is that we love each other but aren’t married. He thinks it’s—er, a requirement. Marriage, I mean.”

Yvanne actually laughed . “Married!” she said. “Imagine that! What with us being mages and all. Not to mention women.”

“Well,” said Loriel, growing heated. She’d had some wine. They’d both had some wine. “Why not? We aren’t Circle mages anymore. We’re Wardens, and Wardens aren’t forbidden to marry.”

“It’s still a foolish idea. What Chantry would recognize such a union?”

Loriel sniffed. She got out of bed and threw on a robe, suddenly remembering about some paperwork that she had to do right now immediately. “Well if you hate the idea of marrying me so much you could have said so from the start.”

Yvanne sat as though struck by lightning. “Does that mean—are you asking? Are you proposing?”

“I’m not doing any such thing,” Loriel said primly, “Seeing as you’ve made your feelings on the matter perfectly clear. Excuse me. I’ve forgotten something I need to do.”

“No! no no no no, stop that!” Yvanne leapt out of bed, dragging the sheets with her. “Are you serious? You’d marry me?”

Loriel huffed, crossed her arms, and looked away. “You know perfectly well…”

“What is it? What do I know perfectly well?” She struggled with the sheets, tangled. “Damn you! Did you really mean it?”

“Yes, I meant it,” Loriel managed. “I’d marry you, if you’d have me. Which you already knew perfectly well, and you should be ashamed of yourself for making me say it as though you need any more proof.”

“If I’d have you!” Yvanne closed her eyes, dragging her fingers down her cheeks. She opened her mouth, but seemed only capable of repeating herself. “If I’d have you! Well! Isn’t that a fine thing to say!

Loriel could feel the beginnings of the blush. “I’m being difficult, aren’t I?” She sighed. “Alright, let me start again. Yvanne Amell, my love, will you—?”

“What are you doing?” Yvanne said, scandalized. “You can’t do that here. This is the entirely wrong place.”

A gentle lifting of an eyebrow. “What’s more suitable, then?”

Yvanne thought, rapidly pulling on whatever articles of clothing were nearest at hand. “The balcony! The moon’s almost full. It’ll have to do.”

She seized her by the hand and they ran through the deserted corridors, to the best balcony. Yvanne threw open the door and pulled Loriel through.

“There,” she said. “That’s better. Do you have a ring? Wait, I think I have one—it grants protection from fire, it’ll do—”

“I can hardly give you a ring you already have,” Loriel protested.

“Fine, then, I wanted to be the one to ask, anyway. No, don’t argue! You’ve mucked up your attempt already, that means it’s my turn! Fair’s fair, even Justice would agree to that.”

“Oh—you’re absolutely beastly, you know that? You’re taking advantage of me.”

“One word from you and all this ends.”

“Hm. Very well. Ask, and maybe I’ll consider it.”

Yvanne took out the ring of fire protection, or whatever it was, and sank to one knee. Moonlight bathed Loriel’s face, silvering her hair and glittering in her eyes. How could Yvanne have ever thought her plain? She was the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Loriel Surana, my only love, my truest and my dearest, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Loriel had fully intended on hemming and hawing and making a big show of thinking about it. But now that Yvanne was kneeling in front of her like that… “Yes,” she whispered.

She rose from her kneeling position, smoothly into a kiss. It was the most recent of many, and they would both remember it, later.

“We ought to get real rings,” Loriel commented, at length. “Sometime during the course of the engagement.”

“Engagement?” Yvanne whined. “How long’s that going to take? I want to be married to you now. I want to be married to you yesterday. Months ago. Five years ago. But now would be almost as good.”

“Now?” Loriel thought about it. “What’s the time?”

“Three hours or so til dawn, I think.”

Loriel nodded thoughtfully. “The Amaranthine chantry is still standing,” she said slowly. “We could make it there by morning. If we rode.”

“By sunrise if we rode hard,” Yvanne said eagerly.

—

They didn’t make it by sunrise, but that was just as well, since Revered Mother Leanna generally didn’t rise until nine at the earliest. Perhaps this wasn’t very holy of her, but, she reasoned, she had spent many long years righteously, diligently rising with the sun to go about doing good works. So in her old age, she felt entirely comfortable giving herself a break.

Which was why it was so annoying to have the gates to her Chantry banged upon no later than seven in the morning. She swore—with Andraste’s pardon, thank you—and shouted that alright, alright, she was on her way, just let her get decent first, and hobbled to the door. She was expecting something dire, perhaps a premature birth or sudden death or abandoned baby, and so was rather put out when instead she found two apparently quite healthy adult women.

Then she blinked, and realized, to her horror, that one of these women was in fact the Arlessa, the Warden-Commander, the odd pale woman who raised the dead and drained vitality from the living—and the only reason the Chantry was standing at all, Revered Mother Leanna sternly reminded herself.

She fell to profuse apologies for her lateness and rudeness, and if there was anything she could do to express her gratitude—

“It’s quite alright,” the Arlessa said mildly. “We’d just like to get married, please.”

Revered Mother Leanna looked between the two of them. “You’d like to get married?” she repeated.

“I’ve got the rings and everything,” said the Arlessa’s—betrothed?—and proudly flashed her left hand. As far as Revered Mother Leanna could tell, she had quite a number of rings, on both hands. Most of them were glowing faintly with enchantment. But the Arlessa was nodding along, displaying her own ring.

“I—well,” said Revered Mother Leanna. Well, she could hardly refuse. “Come on inside, then.”

Most of the sisters had risen already, and watched the proceedings curiously. “You have no witnesses?” said Leanna.

“Oh,” said the Arlessa. “Do we need them? We didn’t think of that.”

“No, no, er, the Maker and his Bride will serve for witnesses. Come along to the altar, then.”

Some of the altar candles had burned down. Leanna lit them hurriedly, then cleared her throat. Usually there was quite a bit more pageantry involved, but the essentials were all present. “Have you any vows you’d like to speak?”

The two women stared blankly at her, then at each other. “We didn’t think of those, either.”

“It’s alright,” Leanna said hurriedly. “It’s traditional, but not necessary.”

“No, I want to vow something!” said the Arlessa’s betrothed—bother, Leanna couldn’t remember her name, though she’d seen her about town before. “Let me think!”

But before she—Yvette? Yvonne?—could come to any conclusions, the Arlessa took her by the hands. “I vow to honor and protect you, to...to love you for all time, and…”

“Slay any enormous fuck-off dragons that might bother us,” she suggested.

“Yes, that, and also, spend some time in that garden you worked so hard on—”

“I vow all that, and also to take care of any irritating paperwork that you don’t want to do—”

“—and make sure you don’t sleep through breakfast because I know you like it when everyone’s together—”

“—and not to loom, not on purpose anyway—”

“—and not to be difficult for no reason.” The Arlessa looked at Leanna. “Is that suitable?”

Leanna realized she was being addressed. “Yes, it will serve,” she coughed. “You may exchange rings.”

“Wait, sorry, I’m confused,” said the Arlessa’s betrothed. “I thought rings were exchanged at the proposal, not the wedding?”

“I thought so, too,” the Arlessa said. “Should we find another set? Is the jeweler’s open?”

“Not necessary!” squeaked Revered Mother Leanna. “The Maker blesses your union! May your days be long and fruitful! You may kiss.”

They kissed. A particularly emotional sister, who loved weddings and always cried at them, ran to go ring the bells before it was too late.

“That’s it, then?” said the Arlessa when they broke apart and the wedding bells were ringing. “We’re married? Just like that?”

“Yes, you’re married,” said Leanna. The whole affair had taken less than ten minutes, and she was wondering whether she might be able to go back to bed for another hour or two.

“Well, good,” said Yvonne or Yvette or whatever her name was, smugly putting her arm around her new wife’s shoulders. “We should do it again sometime. Now we’d better get home; we haven’t slept in a while.”

Leanna wished the newlyweds the best of luck and all the joy in the world, and went gratefully back to bed.

—

They ambled back to Vigil’s Keep late in the afternoon, hand in hand and thinking of more vows to make for the next time. They were met at the gate by a stern—and rather matronly-looking, with the particular set of his crossed arms—Nathaniel Howe.

“Commander,” he said tersely. “You were missed today, I’m afraid. Lord Guy was here around noon, expecting a meeting and throwing his weight around mightily when he found you absent.”

“Oh,” said Loriel, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Sorry, I forgot completely. I’ll write him an apology later tonight. We were out getting married.”

“It’s fine, I handled it,” said Nathaniel, “Only he’ll be back next week wanting—you were out getting what?”

Yvanne showed him the ring. “It grants protection from fire, too.”

He stood dumbstruck, then started grinning. “I—well—congratulations!”

“ Please don’t make a big deal out of it,” Loriel urged. “It was spur of the moment, more of a formality than anything.”

Nathaniel nodded very seriously and promised not to make a big deal of it. Only he made the mistake of telling Anders, who told the whole Keep, who subsequently proceeded to make a big deal out of it.

The ambush lay in store in the Great Hall, during what was normally the dinner hour. Anders was there, tapping his foot. “I cannot believe,” he said, at the sight of them, “that I would be betrayed in this way, by my two favoritest mages in the world. I trusted you, and I am hurt so deeply.”

Loriel almost went into a panic, and started mentally backtracking through every interaction she’d recently had with Anders and whether any of them might be construed as a betrayal. She started mentally composing an all-purpose apology, but Yvanne was already laughing and telling him to fuck off. It dawned on her in stages what was happening.

“You really didn’t think I’d let you get out of this without a wedding reception, did you?” he said seriously.

They were being thrown a party.

She wasn’t sure who’d put this together—Maker knew it wasn’t all Anders; perhaps Garavel?—or how they’d managed it so quickly, but somehow the whole Keep was in on it. Wine flowed, as well as other stronger things, and all the residents of the Keep who were so much as passing fair at a musical instrument cobbled together a makeshift minstrel troupe.

Apparently Velanna knew how to play the flute. She was pretty good at it, too. Anders was terrible on the lute, but it wasn’t stopping him. It didn’t take very long at all for Oghren to start a long and bawdy wedding night song about a nug and a bronto, and apparently Sigrun knew it, too, and it had a structure simple enough that soon enough more than half of everyone present was singing on it, and by then Loriel had drunk enough wine that she wasn’t embarrassed by any of it.

What she remembered most clearly was dancing with Yvanne. They’d never danced together before, and they were awful at it, and everyone was watching and laughing and cheering. How strange a thought, that they had never danced together—surely they must have tried it at some point? But no, there’d been no dancing at the Circle, and during the Blight they’d always been staring over each other’s shoulders, and then during the celebration at Denerim it had all been too heavy, despite the joy of victory, and after that, what with one thing or another…

But she would always remember this dance. Yvanne flushed and happy and looking completely ridiculous, looking at her and at nothing else. She would remember that for a long time, even when she had occasion to remember little else.

Shortly after that someone—probably Oghren, but maybe Anders—persuaded her to try the aqua magus, and her recollection of the evening grew rather fuzzy. What she did remember was that close to midnight Anders declared that it was time for the honored tradition of the bedding, and before Loriel could even begin to wonder what that was, they were being lifted bodily by the crowd and spirited away. Dozens of hands carried them through the Keep, up the stairs and to the Commander’s bedchamber, where they were dumped upon their bed amidst a great deal of hooting and hollering. Then the crowd, shouting helpful suggestions, were ushered out, until finally the door was shut and they were alone on their wedding night.

They were far too drunk to do anything but struggle under the covers and fall right asleep, and nothing went wrong for nearly an entire month.

#dragon age #femslash #amell #surana #dragon age: awakening #please read my wizard lesbian fanfiction

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shy-badger · 5 years ago

Text

Cyborg stepped as softly as he could. He knew he needed a plan. He wasn't going to get very far without one. Stealth wasn't his strong suit, but he was no stranger to it either.

Before he knew it however, he had reached his destination, still with no plan in mind. Deciding to wing it, Cyborg opened the mechanical door with a barely audible swoosh.

The room was dimly lit thanks to the early morning light peaking in through the blinds. Not quite bright enough for his human eye to see anything, Cyborg relied on his robotic eye to navigate his way to the bed opposite the door.

Carefully he made sure that he placed his foot away from any loud toy, or precarious stack of junk and noticed that he had much more space to work with than he was expecting. Last time he was here, the place looked like a tiny trash heap, now it simply looked like any other teenager's room.

After a tense minute of tip-toeing, Cyborg finally reached his goal. Beast Boy lay in his bed in aware of the multitude of plans being cooked up in his friends head. Cyborg ruminated on the best way to wake up his teammate. He didn't want to rip his covers off, as Beast Boy was known to sleep in the nude. He didn't have any cold water either. So he settled for a jarring musical number.

Cyborg qued up a popular song, set his communicator speaker to play the music, and got ready to press play... Until he noticed something else was off, besides the lack of comedically sized trash piles. The blankets were covering more than one person, he was certain of it. He couldn't see who it was as they were completely covered from head to toe by the soft emerald comforter.

As if on que however, the second inhabitant of the bed rolled over and began cuddling the sleeping shapeshifter, revealing her identity, and nearly giving the cybernetic titan a heart attack.

Beast Boy walked in to the Titan's common room groggy, but content. Seconds later, that would change. Cyborg, Robin, and Starfire all jumped out from their respective hiding spots waving colorful party poppers or flags.

"Surprise!" The three of them shouted, causing the shapeshifter to jump back and shift into the form of a very startled green cat.

After realizing what was going on, Beast Boy changed back.

"What the heck guys? You almost gave me a heart attack. I though you weren't coming back until next week."

Robin stepped forward and handed Beast Boy a party popper. "Well we finished things with the Justice League a bit early. I may have let it slip that your birthday was coming up, and Cyborg decided that since you're always trying to throw us parties, we should throw one for you too."

"Yeah well, we gotta show our little green ball of sunshine some love am I right?" Cyborg said as he slapped Beast Boy on the back hard enough to almost knock him over.

"Come friend! We have set up everything your Earth party needs. We have the sweetened baked goods, the drink known as punch, as well as games. Like the one where you reattach a poor animal's limb." Starfire was pulling Beast Boy buy the arm to display everything she had named, with the infectious joy of a child.

Beast Boy stood shocked for a second before saying anything. "Dudes, this is awesome. Thanks you guys."

Cyborg shrugged. "Of course man." Then he took out his communicator and flipped it open. "Raven says she'll be here in a minute. So I'll grab the ice cream out of the freezer. I didn't put it on the table yet since I figured you probably stayed up late playing video games." He began walking back to the kitchen when he threw under his breath "or you know, other things."

The common room door opened with a swoosh as Raven walked in to join the party. Cyborg called her over to the kitchen as soon as he saw her signature blue cloak.

"Speaking of 'other things.' Mind giving me a hand with this ice cream?"

As Raven walked over to the refrigerator, she gave Cyborg a questioning look.

Cyborg smirked at Raven as he handed her a tub of chocolate ice cream.

"Oh nothin. So how did you and BB get along while we were gone? I imagine three weeks alone with him left you two... at each other's throats."

Cyborg's smirk widened a little as his robotic eye picked up something his human eye couldn't.

A passive scan proved that a spot on her neck was covered in makeup, and was warmer than the surrounding skin, indicating a light injury such as a bruise, or, more likely, a hicky.

"I'll grab the big buckets of Neapolitan and Cookies and Cream, would you bring over those two tubs of sherbet?”

Raven grabbed the two plain looking pails and brought them over to the table where Beast Boy was enthusiastically telling Robin and Starfire about one of the only criminals that had bothered them in the rest of the teams absence. She tried to hide the small smile when she realized that he was exaggerating the whole thing to make raven and himself look better.

Cyborg started to hand out plates of cake and ice cream, giving Beast Boy some lime sherbet, Raven some grape, Starfire some orange, and Robin received some red velvet ice cream.

They enjoyed talking and eating until Starfire decide to get some of the favorite yellow condiment/ drink from the kitchen with Robin accompanying her. As they took their time, doting on each other as lovers tend to do, Cyborg sat down with a plate that he finally made for himself.

“Dude, You color coded our ice cream but not yours?” Beast Boy asked as he noticed what was on Cyborg’s plate.

Instead of having some sherbet or ice cream that would match his color scheme, Cyborg instead had one scoop of grape sherbet, and one of lime.

“Nah,it was kind of a last minute decision. Besides, I like this combination of flavors.” His tone was becoming more and more teasing. “The contrast actually works well together. Oh sure the lime and the grape may seem and unlikely pair, but you know, I think they belong together.”

Beast Boy and Raven looked at each other, Raven with growing suspicion, Beast Boy with confusion.

“Don’t you two think that they work really well together?” Cyborg teased some more. “I mean, I can’t see one of these and not think of the other now.”

Beast Boy was starting to piece things together when a portal opened up below the three of them dropping them in the main hallway.

“Okay what do you think you’re doing?” Raven said pointing at Cyborg accusingly.

“Rae?” Beast Boy was just getting a grip on his surroundings.

“Oh nothin. Just makin conversation.” Cyborg retorted looking smug.

“Uh huh. I don’t believe you.” Raven replied still pointing.

“Raven come on. You act like I’m going to blow your cover or somethin. Like maybe I discovered something when I snuck into BB’s room this morning to scare him.”

“DUDE!” Beast Boy yelled “You broke into my room?”

“Hey you would have thought it was funny any other time. You’re just mad I caught you with miss cuddle queen over here.”

“Cuddle queen?” Raven seethed.

“Oh yeah. You were REAL cozy with string bean here.” Before either of them could respond, Cyborg raised his hand in surrender. His tone shifting to gentle. “Look, guys, I’m not the enemy here. Honestly, I think that whatever it is you have going on, it’s probably good for you. You two ARE good for each other. I just want to make sure you’re not going to get hurt. Either of you.”

Beast Boy put on his signature cocky smile. “Relax dude. We know what we’re doing. Raven wants to keep this no stings attached right now and I’m alright with that. Thanks for worrying about us, but we got this. Right Rae?”

Raven nodded, staring at the floor. If Cyborg didn’t know any better, he would say she was blushing. Cyborg leaned down and whispered in her ear.

“You really sure you don’t want any strings Raven? Or are you just scared?”

Raven didn’t respond, instead sliding her hood over her head.

Beast Boy wanted to know what Cyborg had said but the doors to the hallway opened to reveal Robin and Starfire looking confused.

“There you three are. We were wondering where you went” Their leader commented.

“Oh yeah. I figured while you two were busy makin out in the kitchen I’d give BB his birthday present.” Cyborg lied.

“Oh yes! We have the birthing day presents for you as well Beast Boy.” Starfire said clearly excited. “Come Robin, we must fetch them. Friend Raven, did you get a present for Beast Boy or did you not know in time? I would be thrilled to got to the mall of shopping with you to get him one.”

Cyborg cut in for Raven. “Oh don’t worry Star, I’m pretty sure Raven already gave grass stain here a present.”

Raven hid deeper beneath her hood as Starfire apparently found no issue with that comment and carried her boyfriend down the hall to get the presents in question.

“Dude, really?” Beast Boy shot at Cyborg.

“What? You really think I’m gonna stop making jokes?” Cyborg jabbed back.

The trio returned to the common room while Cyborg told Beast Boy what his present was and that he would give it to him later. After Starfire returned with Robin they all sat down so he could unwrap them. Starfire gave him some strange looking device that she claimed was a ceremonial given to men during their coming of age back home. He still had no idea what it did. Robin had found a collector’s edition of one of his favorite comics, to which he was thanked profusely for. Cyborg eventually found a moment to sneak away and grabbed the present he had promised, one of the new video games that Beast Boy was excited about.

As the night Beast Boy and Raven excused themselves. Raven claiming that she was going to meditate, and Beast Boy bragging about a date he had with what he said was a “total ten on all accounts.”

As they were leaving Robin called out to then. “Have fun on your date you two.”

Beast Boy and Raven both turned around looking mortified. Raven looking to Cyborg like he had betrayed them. Beast Boy stuttering out an unconvincing explanation that he wasn’t going with Raven.

Robin raised one hand calling for silence. “You remember I was trained by Batman Right? Besides, why do you think I chose to leave YOU TWO to stay behind?” He said with a smirk.

Beast Boy began another shaky attempt at a defense when Raven grabbed his hand and led him out the door. He could have thought she would be mad or upset, but she had a shy smile on her face instead. Beast Boy could help but smile as he waved a farewell back to his team.

It was a good end to his Birthday.

#bbrae #fanfic #Beast Boy #Raven

84 notes · View notes

lovelylogans · 6 years ago

Text

my eyes are wide to all your lies (’cause you’re not that discreet)

ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, mentions of getting rid/lessening anxiety, human experimentation (not as dark as it sounds, but still figured a warning would be good), fusion, deceit

pairings: royality

words: 6,269

notes: april fools, i got you! and now i present the idea that warranted my first block in four years of internet friendship and had me cackling in unholy, childish glee the whole time i was plotting and writing it: it’s a phineas and ferb au! yeah, you read that right. title from “busted” from phineas and ferb.

There was one hundred and four days of summer vacation before school came along just to end it.

So the annual problem that the Sanders-Prince brothers had was finding a new way to spend it. They’d built rockets, fought mummies, climbed up the Eiffel tower, discovered things that didn’t exist, given monkeys showers. They’d surfed tidal wives, created nanobots, located Frankenstein’s brain. They’d found a dodo bird, painted a continent, and driven their brother insane.

The question that was posed every day over toast-with-heaps-of-jam then had to be posed:

“Logan, what are we gonna do today?”

Logan Sanders nudged his glasses up his nose with a thoughtful expression. Logan had the expression of the teacher’s pet, the nerd that never got in trouble beyond perhaps reading during class, or correcting a teacher, but behind that calm, know-it-all expression and dorky glasses laid a mad scientist who had not yet graduated high school.

“We could recreate Tesla’s death ray again,” he suggested mildly.

“Logan, we did that three weeks ago.” Roman groaned. “No doing things again! It has to be bigger, better, bolder, newer.”

Roman Prince, on the other hand, had the exact look of a troublemaker that tended to have teachers hollering “Put that away!” and “Prince, principal’s office!” and got him parked in the front row of the room before he could scoot off to the back (usually next to his stepbrother, which compounded the problems, not that Logan would ever let himself get caught.) He gladly lived up to the reputation and strove for each spectacle to be bigger and grander than the last.

“Mom!” Virgil exclaimed, eyes huge, made to seem even wider by the dark eyeshadow smeared beneath them.

Their older brother (or stepbrother, to Roman) Virgil Sanders, had the exact face of a punk-rock emo kid, the sort of boy who skipped school and missed curfew and never cared. In actuality, he was kind of a tattletale, or perhaps more like the boy in back who muttered “I don’t know about this guys” while the other kids were doing things like experimenting with fireworks that they’d stolen from their older brother’s stash. Virgil’s ongoing pursuit of the summer was to catch Roman and Logan in the middle of one of their dangerous plots, which would surely end in their serious injuries and or deaths I know I look like the bad guy but you two have to be safe okay you could get seriously hurt or seriously DEAD do you understand me Roman and Logan D-E-A-D dead!

“That’s nice, dear,” Caroline Sanders-Prince said absently from where she was at the stove. Virgil groaned and put his head down on the table, floppy bangs narrowly missing the butter dish.

“Why do I even bother,” Virgil grumbled.

Roman batted his eyelashes at his stepbrother. “Because you love us?”

“Gross,” Logan muttered, from behind a thick tome entitled Understanding Chinese Engineering Doctoral Students in U.S. Institutions: A Personal Epistemology Perspective that he’d pulled from nowhere, because he was a boy genius who read books with very long titles like that. “Emotions.”

“Gross,” Virgil snapped. “Mom, Roman has the platypus on the table!”

“That’s nice, dear.”

“Aw, Deceit wouldn’t do anything, would he?” Roman crooned to their pet platypus, inexplicably named Deceit, who knickered at Virgil dutifully. Virgil pulled a face at him, because he did not trust that platypus.

“He just wants some bacon!” Roman exclaimed.

“Can platypuses have bacon?”

“Platypi,” the book corrected from where Logan’s face had been. “They’re technically carnivorous, so—yes. He’d probably prefer larvae or freshwater shrimp, though.”

“Gross,” Roman said, as he ensured Deceit had all the bacon he wanted and lowered him back onto the floor. “And so not the point! Logan! We have to figure out what to do today!”

The brothers continued to bicker, not noticing as Deceit the platypus crept outside, looked around, and pulled on his hat before entering into the secret chute that would catapult him to his day job: an animal agent for the OWCA, protecting the tri-state area from one inator-enamored mad scientist at a time.

“More Tesla?”

“Logan. We spent all of that week. On Tesla. We have to do something fresh! Something bold! Something we invent!”

“I still can’t believe you invented a death ray and you thought that was a good idea,” Virgil said, ready to work himself up into an anxiety-induced tizzy. “It’s a DEATH ray, death is right there in the name!”

Logan frowned at him over the pages of his book, which he was somehow halfway through already. “We wouldn’t have killed people,” he said. “Flies, probably. Or mosquitoes. Most likely.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better,” Virgil said. “Thanks, a death ray for flies or mosquitoes, most likely! What could have possibly gone wrong?!”

“How is it possible for you to worry so much?” Roman said, from where he was constructing an elaborate toast-tower with the remaining slices they hadn’t eaten, yet. He was currently sealing together the walls with jam and carefully carving out the windows for the tiny toast-people to survey their kitchen table kingdom. “I never worry so much.”

“Yeah, I worry enough for you, and Logan, and your little scout friend,” Virgil grumbled. “I have all the anxiety of this neighborhood combined into one person.”

Roman perked up, nearly sending a tiny toast-family sprawling. “Hang on, what did you just say?”

“Oh,” Virgil said, because he knew his stepbrother well enough to see his “new idea! new idea!” face, and he also knew him well enough to fear it. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” Roman said gleefully. “Logan! I know what we’re gonna do today!”

“Run me through it again.”

Roman sighed loudly from where he was stationed in a treetop, twisting a screw carefully into place. Half of Logan’s body was underneath their latest monstrous machine.

“Okay. So. The basic plan is, we’re going to see if we can put you in this machine to ease out some of your worries, your fears—enough so that it doesn’t overwhelm you constantly, not too much to change who you are as a person,” Roman began. “And if you hate it, we can reverse it, no problem.”

“When you say basic plan,” Virgil said apprehensively, and Logan rolled partially out from under the machine, lifting the welding mask off his face so that he could squint at Virgil, looking strange without his glasses.

“Without the scientific explanations that would inevitably confuse those of lesser intelligence.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“You know what he means,” Roman said, and then, “Oh, God, here he comes, quick, I—“

Roman made a half-aborted gesture as if to climb down the tree, and then hastily redirected his energy toward straightening his shirt, patting his hair into place, and setting up the most swaggeringly handsome pose he could manage in a tree. Virgil, looking down the street, tried his best to hide his smirk.

Patton Hart had lived down the street since they’d moved in after their parents got married, and his crush on Roman had ignited not long after the first box was taken off the truck. Patton Hart had the exact face that had teachers picking him for messenger duty, to guide a new kid around the school, or to provide a good face for the school—if he hadn’t volunteered for it already. He had quite the sprawl of extracurriculars under his belt, including, amongst others, Knitting Club, Baking Club, Pun Appreciation Club, and, most notably, leader of the Fireside Scouts—as noted by his constant orange sash that clashed horribly with his usual blue polo and gray hoodie.

The mutual crushes were a subject of constant private heckling between Logan and Virgil at Roman, and it would have been proven to further public mocking if Patton wasn’t so deeply, genuinely nice.

Patton bounced into the yard, beaming. “Hi, Virgil!”

“Hey, Patton,” Virgil said gruffly. (Patton had even charmed Virgil, a feat which back in the feuding-stepsibling days had stunned Roman to no end.)

“Hi, Roman,” he said, grinning up the tree at Roman, batting his eyelashes. “Whatcha dooo-in’?”

“Hey, Patton,” Roman said. “We’re trying to see if we can make Virgil less scared all the time without erasing who he is as a person.”

Patton flopped out on the sun-soaked grass that was trying valiantly to live in the drought of summer. “Sounds hard, but if anyone can do it, it’s you two. Hi, Logan,” he added to Logan’s knees.

Logan grunted and extended a hand out from under the machine. “Round-nose pliers.”

Patton cheerfully plucked the necessary tool from the expansive kit (tool-fetcher for the Sanders-Prince brothers was an unofficial but important extracurricular of his, one that he’d considered making a badge for) but held it in his hands, not yet handing it over. “What’s the magic word?”

“There’s no such thing as magic.”

“Logan.”

Logan let out a long-suffering sigh that he was probably extending, to compensate for the lack of eye contact, which meant no eyeroll. “Please pass the round-nose pliers.”

“Sure thing!” Patton said, carefully placing them in his hand, only to watch his arm disappear back under the machine.

Roman had managed to get down from the tree, and hastily straightened out his shirt before he leaned against the machine in a way that could not, in any universe, pass as casual. Virgil rolled his eyes and instead resorted to picking at the latest rip in his jeans rather than focus on any of the big and admittedly very scary-looking machine that would somehow help his anxiety.

Shouldn’t it be, like, painted with sunshine and daisies or something, not just some kind of metallic alloy? If it was about taking away fear?

“I’m telling Mom,” Virgil said, mostly out of routine at this point.

“Aren’t you involved today?” Roman said. “And therefore, you’d get in trouble too, so—”

“It’s not about trouble,” Virgil said irritably. “It’s about—it’s about danger. You can’t just keep ramping up experiments without safety measures and without making detailed plans or prototypes or something that you run through any potential side effects or faults that would happen, you could get hurt badly, you could hurt someone else, you could—”

Logan had wheeled himself out from under the machine, removing the mask, and his stare was so knowing that Virgil clamped his mouth shut, looking at a patch of brown grass that wasn’t quite in the reach of the sprinkler.

“We aren’t Dad, Virgil.”

Logan’s voice was pitched low, almost kind, and Virgil screwed his eyes shut.

“Hey,” Roman said, blessedly oblivious as always, “where’s Deceit?”

Deceit was currently parachuting his way onto the balcony of his nemesis’ secret evil lair/tower. As a platypus without opposable thumbs, this was more difficult than most would think.

Especially when a platypus without opposable thumbs was dodging a series of dodgy traps, only to stumble into a table where his nemesis had set up tea.

“Oh. Deceit the platypus, there you are,” Dr. Doofenshmirtz said. “You’re late, and as such, I have revoked your access to cucumber sandwiches!”

Deceit stared at him blankly.

“Oh, I just can’t resist that face,” Dr. Doofenshmirtz said. “Fine, catch!”

Dr. Doofenshmirtz hurled a cucumber sandwich directly at Deceit’s beak like the world’s tiniest, most confusing projectile, which hit his beak, and then expanded outward into a series of wires and cables, snaring Deceit against the wall.

“And now that you are trapped, I shall explain my evil plan!” He said gleefully.

Deceit let out the platypus equivalent of a sigh, tipping his head back to the ceiling.

“Okay, that should be the last of it,” Roman said, stepping back and wiping his brow free of sweat. Virgil, who had long since retreated to the shade of underneath a tree, grimaced at the machine, and began picking at his freshly-painted black fingernails with a renewed sense of fervor. There were already tiny chips of black littered around him in the dirt.

Patton proffered a little tray of lemonade, and Roman perked up.

“Oh, hey, thanks, Patton!” He said happily, picking up the ice-cold glass and pressing it against his forehead for a moment, before taking a healthy gulp from the red-and-white striped straw.

“Logan, Virgil?” Patton offered, lifting the tray. “I have cookies too.”

There was a brief break as everything went snack-crazed for a bit, the boys bumping into each other and elbowing each other aside as they took their cookies of preference.

“So,” Patton said, taking his own sip of his lemonade (blue-and-white striped straw) “Virgil goes in there, you press that switch, and he’ll just... he’ll be less worried about things?”

“Well—” Logan began, but Roman broke in, smiling winningly at Patton.

“Essentially, yep!”

“Well,” Logan repeated, “Actually, Patton, I was surveying the mechanics, and it could potentially be aided if someone who produced... less worry and had a... how should we say, sunnier outlook on life stepped into the machine, too.”

Patton blinked at him, and Virgil was already surging toward the machine, spreading his arms, as if to bar anyone from approaching it.

“No. No way,” Virgil declared immediately. “It’s bad enough that you looped me into this plan, but there’s no way that you’re bringing Patton into it too!”

“Patton joins our plans daily,” Roman pointed out. “Honestly, it’s really more of a shock that you joined in, Fret-a-lot-saw.”

Virgil squinted at him. “Are you calling me a tool?”

“Shucks, kiddo, if it’ll help, I’m helping,” Patton said, setting aside his lemonade.

Virgil was already shaking his head again, eyes wild, like a spooked horse.

“Why did I even let you get this far?” He asked himself. “Forget it! I’m going to tell Mom, and she’ll—”

“—say that’s nice dear without looking up from whatever else is taking her attention?” Logan asked archly.

“Fine,” Virgil said, undeterred. “Roman’s Dad, then.”

“It’s baseball season, no chance,” Roman said with a shrug.

“The police, then! The FBI! Anything!” Virgil said. “You two need a wake-up call, okay?! And apparently I’m the only one who’s gonna give it to you!”

“This is why you need the machine,” Roman said, and spread his hands. “Look around! You are literally the only one who is so freaked out about this.”

“Because no one else has common sense!”

“Because everyone else knows we can do it and doesn’t treat us like we can’t!” Roman snapped, and immediately shut his mouth, going bright red. “Um, I mean—I mean, obviously, more like haha, of course we can do it! Because we’re so smart and handsome and—”

Virgil hesitated, and lowered his arms to cross them over his chest. “I didn’t say you couldn’t do it,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Yeah, well, you act like anything we make will inevitably blow up a lot more than someone who thinks we can,” Roman grumbled, scuffing a sneaker over the grass.

“Because that happens, Roman! Even to really, really experienced inventors. Besides, aren’t you a little young to be making crazy inventions in the backyard every day?”

“Yes,” Roman said, jutting his chin up proudly. “Yes I am.”

Logan sighed. “We’ve run tests, we’ve made prototypes, will you please just step into the machine? This whole—” Logan gestured broadly with his hand, nose wrinkling, “emotional outburst thing is part of the whole reason we made it.”

Virgil hesitated even more.

“It can’t hurt to just try, can it?” Patton said, and proffered his hand. “Look, I’ll step in with you. It looks kinda scary.”

Virgil hesitated, licked his lips, and said, “You’re sure about this?”

“Positive,” Logan said, shoving Patton toward him, and hissing in his ear, “Quick, before he changes his mind.”

Patton shot him a fondly exasperated look, before taking Virgil’s hand. Roman glowered at their joined hands for a moment.

Virgil let out a slow breath, and his knuckles went white from how tightly he was squeezing Patton’s hand. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

“On it,” Patton said, and ducked through first, Virgil shooting a last look that seemed to say help to Logan, before following.

“All right!” Roman whooped, racing over to the machine. “Okay, power on, levels stable... you two ready?”

“I guess,” Virgil grumbled, as Patton chirped, “Yep!”

“Less worry, here we come!” Roman trilled, and flipped the switch.

A veritable lightshow ensued and the machine flared, and smoked, and sparked, as Roman and Logan hastily stepped back.

Roman leaned into his ear, shouting to be heard over the machine. “We are sure about this, right?”

“About 85% sure, yes. Perhaps 80%. 65% sure, at lowest. Probably.”

“Good enough for me,” Roman said, and returned his gaze to the machine just in time for the light and noise to die down.

“All right, Virgil, how are we feeling?” Roman called out. “Less inclined to bust us all the time? Maybe relaxed enough to, like, let us keep experimenting with death rays?”

There was no response.

Roman and Logan both frowned.

“Patton?” Roman called, a little more desperate. “Hey, sweet-Hart, you okay in there?”

“Um,” a voice floated out from the machine that neither of them had ever heard before, and yet was inherently familiar, “you guys?”

Deceit tuned back in, perfectly timed to excise the Tragic Backstory but to get the full effect of the eventual evil plan of the day.

It had taken years of practice.

“—to make everyone as fearful as I was that day in the checkout line!”

Deceit stared at the massive device cloaked by a sheet.

“Yes, that’s right, Deceit the platypus,” he said gleefully, and whipped off the sheet. “Behold! The Frighteninator!”

Deceit began to work against the bonds, wondering idly if he would break his record of forty-one seconds—very impressive, for a platypus without opposable thumbs, if you asked him.

“Yes, soon the whole tri-state area shall tremble in fear, and therefore, I will be able to easily subjugate them and become emperor of the tri-state area!”

Roman was still waving the smoke out of his face when a silhouette stepped free from the machine, seeming close to stumbling before holding out its arms to keep its balance.

Well. That wasn’t right.

“What,” the voice asked, in that same foreign-familiar tone, “just happened?”

“Oh, excellent,” Logan said, peering closer at the silhouette.

“No, not excellent!” The silhouette wailed and at last the smoke cleared, revealing—

Well, at first Roman wasn’t really sure.

It looked sort of like a person, if not for the extra set of arms protruding at the waist. Their eyes had a huge pair of round glasses set in front of it, but the bags underneath them were pronounced and darker than Roman had ever seen on an actual person. Their polo was stitched in an odd amalgamation of blue, gray, purple, and black, mixing plaid with solid color, and there was an odd sash that—

Oh.

Oh, wow.

“I dunno,” the stranger said cheerfully, “I think it’s kinda neat! Imagine all the cool stuff we can do with four arms!”

“Virgil?” Logan said, at the same time Roman said, “Patton?”

“Yes,” the voice answered—and that was why it sounded so strange, so familiar—

It was both of their voices at once.

“You,” the creature glowered. “are gonna get so—!”

“—famous, from all that nifty inventing you guys do!” the creature finished.

No, not a creature. It was Virgil and Patton. Patton and Virgil? Patton-and-Virgil, Virgil-and-Patton? God, his stepbrother had fused with his crush, he was so used to weird days (most of them he was responsible for) but this was so weird.

“You’ve fused!” Logan said gleefully.

“This was not in your plan!” Virgil—or at least, the part of him that was Virgil—cried out.

“Well, we thought it might be a side effect,” Roman admitted. “But hey! Take a few steps, swing your arms around, tell us how you feel, this was definitely on the to-do list, and now I don’t have to deal with any of Logan’s nerdiness infecting me.”

Logan threw a wrench at him half-heartedly and Roman ducked—a well-practiced maneuver.

“Why’ve I got four arms?” the creature said, taking a hobbling step forward, flexing its two right hands. “I mean, all the more stuff I could do with it, probably—Virgil, you’re left-handed, aren’t you?”

The two left arms stretched, almost sulkily. Roman hadn’t known that an arm could stretch sulkily, but leave it to Virgil.

“Fascinating,” Logan breathed, digging hastily and coming up with a legal pad and a pen. “How do you feel? Do you still feel essentially separate, or do you find yourself more as a cohesive, singular unit?”

“I,” the creature said, and then it frowned. “I dunno, I guess? I’m—we’re?—feeling a bit more like one unit the longer we stick together, I think. We think?”

“Singular pronouns, I think,” Logan said, taking notes hastily. “Male ones. As to the four arms question—”

“Forget that,” Roman said. “What do we even call you?”

“Hm,” The creature said, one of its right hands coming up to frame under its chin. “I dunno. Pattil? Virgin?”

Roman snorted a laugh, and the creature slanted a look at him that was distinctly Patton.

“Why’s that funny?”

“It—uh—it isn’t,” Roman admitted sheepishly. “Sorry. Um... how about Moxie? Like, you got moxie, kid, Moxie.”

“Moxie,” they—he—said. “Okay! Sure, sounds cool.”

“How’s it going, though?” Roman said. “Less worried? More worried? Still freaking out about having double the amount of arms as usual?”

Moxie frowned for a second, and then his eyes went far away.

“Oh,” he said, tone equally far away, splitting into two—distinctly Virgil and Patton speaking in unison. “Oh. I can feel what you’re feeling.”

“Is that... good?” Roman asked, but then Moxie wrapped all four arms around himself, as if giving himself a hug.

“Do I want a cookie?” Moxie mumbled to himself, and snorted as if he had made a joke.

“Perhaps that would be good, I’d imagine transfusing into a new form would burn calories,” Logan said. “Plus, I’d like to see your finer motor control.”

Roman picked up the tray, offering it, and Moxie took a few shambling steps closer, eyes squinted in focus, a set of arms spread to keep his balance.

“Hmm,” Moxie said, and then the right hand lunged forward, nearly knocking the tray over, before squeaking, “Sorry!”

“That’s okay,” Roman said. “New body. Also, can I tell you how weird it is that my friend and my stepbrother are combined into one person now?”

“It’s feeling less and less weird,” Moxie mused, before more carefully reaching and taking a cookie. “Thanks.”

Roman smiled at Moxie. Inexplicably, Moxie blushed, and then Moxie scowled, and then Moxie shoved the cookie into his mouth whole.

“Was that on purpose?” Logan asked mildly, who had not stopped scribbling.

“Mmmhmmm,” he said, trying his hardest not to spew crumbs. “Hungfwy.”

Logan nodded, marking something specifically. “Patton, what did you eat for breakfast? I’m curious as to how many calories this burns.”

“He didn’t,” Moxie blurted out, and then a right hand clapped over his mouth.

“Patton-cakes!” Roman scolded. “For all the times you talk to me about balanced eating!”

“That would explain it,” Logan said. “Take another cookie. Left hand, this time.”

Moxie reached forward with his left hand, taking another cookie, not even knocking over the tray this time.

“Oh, yeah,” Moxie added, “I feel less worried, but I... feel. A lot. So.”

He took another big bite of a cookie.

“So,” Roman said. “Um. Now that we have a fusion machine... what now?”

Roman and Logan exchanged a grin, and Moxie looked nervous for a second, before he grinned, too.

“—what?! Deceit the platypus?!?! How could you have possibly freed yourself from that cucumber sandwich?!”

Deceit held up his OWCA-issue pocketknife in answer.

“Curse you, Deceit the platypus!”

Deceit leapt, and smacked Dr. Doofenshmirtz across the face with his beaver tail.

Virgil had gone inside with the excuse of fixing Patton a plate of some leftover breakfast, but also mostly to avoid the light-and-smokeshow of the machine as Roman and Patton sequestered themselves in the machine.

It hadn’t quite died down by the time Virgil came out, awkwardly holding a plate.

“So,” Logan said, making a table on the notepad, “how long into the fusion do you think it’ll be before one of them gives themself away?”

Virgil snorted. “Five seconds.”

Logan sighed in relief. “I’ve been very tired of hearing about how Patton’s hair shines in the sun. Or about how his eyes sparkle when he laughs. Or—”

Virgil laughed. “That bad?”

“You don’t share a room with him,” Logan said darkly.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t get randomly hit with butterflies because Roman smiled at you while you were fused with Patton. Let me tell you, that felt very gross.”

Logan tilted his head. “Point,” he said, and stole a triangle of toast already spread with jelly.

“Aftereffects of the fusion?” He said, before jamming the toast triangle into his mouth whole and readying his pen.

Virgil paused, analyzing that, and said, “...weirdly calm.”

Logan nodded, writing this down, and at last the machine died down.

“Okay, Roman, Patton, how are you doing?” Virgil called out. “I’ve got breakfast for you here, if you want it.”

There’s a pause, and then, “I think we want to be Paman?”

“Paman,” Virgil amended, and the fusion stumbled out. He looked almost normal, really—blue and white and red seemed like a much more fitting combination, though the orange sash really was quite hideous, still—except for the four pairs of eyes, the bottom, normally-placed set wearing glasses, the top set clearly Roman’s.

“Ooh, jelly,” Paman said happily, and lumbered toward Virgil, taking the plate with a sunny smile that was obviously Patton. “Thanks!”

He flopped out on the grass, and tucked tidily into his breakfast, eating neatly and swiftly. Virgil and Logan sat, both staring at Paman—Paman seemed to stare back, even as he kept one set of eyes on the breakfast he was eating.

“I love jelly,” Paman said, and then,

“I know,” Paman said, “You always—“

A pause. Paman’s cheeks went a bright shade of red, and they put down the toast. Virgil offered a fist, and Logan reached out and tapped it with his own (a gesture that had taken some explanation for Logan to do on command, now.)

“You really...?”

“Is... are you...?”

Paman trailed off, smiled to himself, and went back to his breakfast, still blushing.

Crack! Pow! Bam!

“Not the nose, not the nose!” Dr. Doofenshmirtz wailed.

Paman was absently holding hands with himself when Logan finished his questionnaire, and nodded, flipping through the legal pad, which he’d mostly filled.

“I suppose the next question is, does a fusion more or less maintain its stability when another person is introduced to the fusion?”

Paman blinked. “You can add more than two people to a fusion?” He asked, and he answered himself in his next breath: “A fusion’s made up of all its parts—it can be anyone, as long as they’re comfortable with each other.” Paman then nodded, as if this made sense to him, and looked at Logan.

“Aren’t you curious?” He said, in his more unified voice, and Logan’s eyes gleamed for a moment, before—

“I suppose,” he said, attempting at casual.

“You sure about this?” Virgil asked.

Paman and Logan spoke as one: “Positive.”

Virgil sighed, but got to his feet. “Guess I’ll flip the switch, then.”

Slam! Pow! Ka-CLANK!

“NOT THE FRIGHTENINATOR!”

“Weird, right?” Virgil said, leaning against the machine, as the unnamed fusion (two sets of arms, two sets of eyes) staggered from the machine.

“Fascinating,” he said. “It seems that adding a person aggregates the unusual physical additions—Virgil, hand me my notepad!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, but fetched it for him, handing it to the left set of arms, which immediately uncapped the pen and began to scrawl.

“Will you two keep your emotions away from me,” the fusion complained, and in the next breath he snickered, “Sorry!”

The fusion scrawled away at length, before he offered a professional nod, and one of his hands.

“All four of us,” he said, and Virgil hesitated.

“It’ll be fine,” he promised, and Virgil sighed, before accepting the hand, and walking back into the machine.

With one last well-placed kick, Dr. Doofenshmirtz went down and stayed down. Deceit, after waiting a few moments, rushed over to the Frighteninator, intent on shutting it down, tiny platypus paws roaming the machine, before—

Deceit let out a knicker that would have had his platypus mother scrubbing out his bill with platypus soap.

He walked out, spreading his arms—one set. And one set of eyes.

“We must look like a normal person,” he said.

He wasn’t sure where the thought originated, and if he focused, he could sense the divide—Logan’s intense curiosity, Roman’s inherent passion, Patton’s ambitions of kindness, Virgil’s worry—but he was...

He was...

He reached in his pocket and dug out a phone, turning it to the front-facing camera to squint at himself.

The outfit had actually normalized into something a normal person would wear—a red shirt, a tan jacket, jeans. His face was...

He squinted at himself. He looked so much like—

my eyes—

—my nose—

—my ears—

—my cheekbones—

—and yet so utterly, completely himself. He was... he was....

The name came from somewhere deep inside of him.

“Thomas.”

He lowered the phone, and took a shaky, wobbling step forward, almost like a baby deer, arms pinwheeling to keep his balance. Then another, and another. They got easier all the time.

It’s like we’re a whole new person, one of them, or maybe all of them, marveled, it’s like we’re a real, actual person.

But he was missing something. He was missing...

Oh, but he was so here now, all together now, even if it was imperfect it was wonderful. The laugh that bubbled up from inside him was truly, wholly felt, until—

What’s that, a thought, sharp, that could only be Virgil, and he looked up in time to see the arc of green light split and head for him and for the machine.

“Uh-oh.”

There was no time for this newly-formed body to hurl itself aside, and so the green light caught him full in the chest, and he doubled over, hitting his knees.

What’s happening, what’s happening—

—green light, could have been gamma-based—

—it’s hurting him, it’s hurting usme, we have to—

—knew something bad would happen knew it knew it knew it knew it—

Distantly, an explosion could be heard—but he was on his hands and knees, vision narrowing in, and he tried to suck in a breath. He can hardly breathe. There’s something pounding in him, deep and strong, overwhelming all his other senses, and his vision doubles, and—

whatshappeningwhatshappeningwhatshappening

—their vision goes black around the edges, and the green-brown grass looms large in his vision, and what’s that noise, what’s that noise—

—heart rate increase, sweat increase, this is epinepherine, this is fear, as if you don’t know anything about it shut up shut up shut up they’ll hear they’ll—

There’s the scent of burning, but it’s so far away that he can’t focus on that right now, and their body feels like it’s splitting, like it’s—

—hurts why does it hurt I don’t want to hurt I want my friends I want to go don’t hurt my friends don’t hurt my friends don’t hurt my—

—but he feels molten, like lava, like he’s about to melt and spill everywhere, and he can’t hold, but he needs to hold, he needs—

—no, no, don’t do this to them, they’re just kids, I can take it, let me take it, I have to take it, I have to be the one who takes it, don’t do this to them, dontdontDON’T—

He tears down the middle, and there’s a pain for a moment, so sharp and unbearable that none of them can breathe, and—

Patton blinked up at the sky. For a moment, silence—streaky white clouds on the edges of the horizon not daring to intrude on the clear blue of the sky; a bird soared directly overhead as if to flout the clouds’ cowardice.

The silence broke with a horrible, rasping breath, and Patton pushed himself up onto his side to see Virgil, rolling onto his side, coated in a green glow. Patton hastened toward him, heart in his throat.

“Virgil—”

“Don’t touch him,” Logan said, already at his other side. “We don’t know if the gamma ray will spread back to us if we touch him—”

Patton’s eyes stung, and he swiped at them in irritation—he hated that he cried when he got frustrated, or angry, or scared. “Can’t we do something?!”

“M’fine,” Virgil choked out, eyes screwed shut. “M’fine, it’s getting better already—”

“Virgil, don’t you dare lie,” Roman said, pale and ashen and—and how is Patton almost fluttery at a time like this, can’t his emotions settle instead of seesawing wildly inappropriately from one end of the spectrum from another?!

Virgil took in a purposefully deep breath, let it out, and offered a weak, crooked smile to them. “I’m fine, see? I’m fine.”

The green glow had lessened, at least. He now just looked like he was bathed in the light of a green spotlight, instead of encased in some green, glowing Jell-O. He pushed himself up onto the elbows, and drew a hand over his eyes, before he squinted.

“Okay, how the fu—I mean heck—do you guys do that everyday?”

“Do what?” Roman said cluelessly, and Patton’s eyes are drawn toward the fusion machine. Or, where the fusion machine was. Now there was just black soot.

Roman shrugged. “Deus ex machina?”

Logan let out a regretful sigh. “Well, at least I have my notes,” he said thoughtfully. “And the blueprints.”

“Boys, I’m home!”

“Hi, Mom,” Roman, Virgil, and Logan called without looking up, Virgil getting a bit more color in his face by the second, green fading and fading until it was just about gone.

“Patton, I’m really okay,” he said, and Patton let out a shaky breath, remembering Moxie, remembering all the fear and worry he felt, but all the care, too—the soft side that he kept almost hidden.

“You better be, mister,” he said. “Or I’ll—I’ll steal all your cookies!”

Virgil’s lips twitched. He looked like a normal person now. “All of them, huh?”

“All of them,” Patton said, nodding judiciously. “For the rest of your life.”

“Sounds serious,” he said, well, seriously.

Logan nudged his glasses up his nose, clearing his throat. “Any lingering effects?”

Virgil held up a shaking hand in answer.

“Let’s get you inside,” Logan said. “And horizontal.”

“Probably a good idea,” Virgil said, and all three of them hastened to help him up—Logan and Virgil grabbing his hands, Roman pushing his back—and Virgil slung an arm around Logan’s shoulders.

“Help me in, would you?” He said loudly, and proceeded to “accidentally” kick Roman in the shin.

“Hey!” Roman said, but his response died when Virgil jerked his head.

And Patton and Roman were left alone in the backyard.

Patton scuffed his shoe over the yard. “That was pretty crazy, today,” he offered timidly.

Roman smiled at him and shoved a hand through his hair—Patton felt his cheeks going red, reminded at this, the most inopportune moment, that Roman knew how attractive he found that, now.

“Good crazy?”

Patton felt his face split into a grin. “You kidding?” He declared. “That was awesome! Well, until the random gamma ray of despair, I guess. But other than that!”

Roman laughed, too, and he said, “He’ll be okay. Gamma rays like that tend to be really temporary.”

Patton sucked in a breath, looked into the living room window, where he could see Logan already pestering Virgil, waving around his notepad before beginning to scrawl with a single-minded fervor. He smiled again.

“I trust you,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” Roman said, soft, and Patton inched closer.

“So,” Roman said. “Seeing jelly all over your face was what really sold you on me, huh?”

Patton smiled wider. “I think it was a cute look. But I think all of your looks are cute, so, you know.”

Roman smiled, and he offered, “So, um. Do you wanna... do you wanna get ice cream sometime?”

“I’d love that,” Patton said. His cheeks hurt from smiling so big.

“Because you don’t have to you if you don’t want to,” Roman added hastily. “I mean, I get it if you don’t—”

Patton put a finger on Roman’s lip, remembering too much of Paman’s self-criticism, his loneliness, his doubt.

“Roman,” he said. “Dearest. I’d. Love. That.”

Roman’s face broke out into his own relieved smile. Patton hoped he was remembering Paman, too—the butterflies in his stomach, the way he’d felt when Roman had smiled at Moxie, when their hands had first brushed together.

“Pick you up at seven tomorrow?” Patton offered.

“Yeah,” Roman said breathlessly, and he cleared his throat. “Um, yeah. Okay.”

Patton beamed, and leaned forward to press a kiss against Roman’s cheek, watching in delight as Roman’s face went red, too. Patton took his hand.

“C’mon,” he said. “We gotta go make sure Virgil feels better by giving him lots of hugs and sugar.”

“Okay,” Roman repeated, and Patton tugged him inside, where Virgil and Logan were already bickering, and curled up in a corner was—

“Oh! There you are, Deceit!”

#my post #text #my fic #april fools i got you so good!#it's a phineas and ferb au!#logan #patton #virgil #thomas #roman #deceit

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tisfan · 6 years ago

Text

Right Foot Red

Title: Right Foot Red Collaborators: @27dragons and @tisfan AO3 Link Square Filled: N5 - Silly Sex Ship: WinterIronWidow Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark/Natasha Romanoff Rating: M Major Tags: playing games, competition, strip Twister, cheating, flexible, gays can’t sit in chairs properly, poly relationships, extensive foreplay Summary: Steve says Tony’s not that flexible. Bucky and Nat don’t mind letting him prove Steve wrong. Word Count: 1767 Created for @mcukinkbingo

“Is there some compelling reason why you can’t sit in a chair like a normal person?” Steve demanded, pushing Tony’s legs off the arm of the chair, almost spilling his popcorn in the process.

“It’s a gay thing, Cap, you wouldn’t understand,” Clint said. He was also, Bucky noted, not sitting in the chair properly, instead practically perched on the back of his like he was expecting to take off in flight or something.

“Tony’s just got no spine,” Nat said, curling up even harder between Tony and Bucky, her feet in Bucky’s lap. “It makes him very flexible.”

“It’s true,” Tony said. “I’m very flexible.” He waggled his eyebrows lasciviously. “You should see what I can do with that in bed.”

Tony, like a cat, is liquid,” Bucky piped up. “He just sort of flows.” His boyfriend was amazing, graceful and delicious.

“Well, he’s not bad in the suit,” Steve said, sitting on the sofa and manspreading, like he was trying to prove a point by having both feet on the floor and his knees wide. “But, honestly, he can’t compare to an enhanced human. No offense.”

Tony’s eyebrow went up. “Precisely which enhanced human are you thinking of comparing me to?” he wondered in a dangerously mild tone.

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Nat sing-songed.

“Flexibility’s not enhanced by the serum,” Bucky said, scowling. “Nat an’ I got this way because we danced. Tony does yoga. He’d kick your ass in Twister.” He drew a few circles up Nat’s leg and ended with his hand on Tony’s shoulder. Even with Steve trying to make him sit up, Tony was determined to sprawl.

(more under the cut)

“I don’t even know what that is,” Steve said, and proceeded to ignore them for the rest of the evening.

“Twister might be fun,” Nat commented, on the way up to their apartment, later. “Add a little spice.” She stuck her tongue on Tony’s ear almost absently, playing with his hair. “Unless you don’t think you have anything to prove.”

“I don’t,” Tony pouted, “but it might still be fun.” He tucked his fingers into the back of her belt. “Strip Twister?” He waved at the furniture as they walked into the living room. “Clear us out a space. JARVIS, project a board for us, would you?”

“I’m gonna break my dick, and what use will I be to either of ya?” Bucky wondered, but scraped back his hair and twisted it into a bun, already counting items of clothing. He might have an advantage; he was always a little cold, so he tended to wear layers to avoid baking his lovers in his preferred temperature settings.

Despite his complaints, Bucky shoved the sofa back up against the wall.

Tony clapped his hands and rubbed them together cheerfully. “All right, let’s do this. Box rules? Anyone want a minute to stretch first?” He smirked at them like the brat he was.

Bucky did stretch, a little, twisting his hips and crackling his spine, because he wasn’t an idiot. Bucky was strong, he was fast, and sometimes he could be graceful, but his standard operating procedure was to walk at the bad guys like incoming death. Most of them got out of his way, rather than the reverse.

“I am fine,” Nat said, braiding her hair to keep it out of the way; Tony was the only one of them who wore short hair. “Should I offer you a penalty?”

“Are we playing for penalties?” Tony wondered. “Sure, why not. Give it a little edge.”

“If you win, I shall allow you to sleep in the middle tonight,” she said. The middle was a highly coveted spot that they actually had to chart out, to keep everyone from arguing about it. “And if you lose, you will tell Steve that you lost.”

“Agreed. If you win, I will go with you to the ballet,” Tony offered. “And not mock the costumes, or fall asleep during the performance. And if you lose, then you get to tell Steve that I cleaned your clock.” He slanted a look at Bucky. “You want in on this action?”

“If I win--” Bucky thought about it for a moment. “You cut your coffee habit in half for a week. And come to bed on time. If you win, I will let you upgrade the arm.”

“Sold. JARVIS, record the bets, please, and give us a spin.”

“Recorded. The first spin is: left hand, blue.”

Uncharacteristically, Tony paused to survey the projected board, waiting until Bucky and Nat had each claimed their spots, before carefully bending to put his hand down.

It didn’t take them very long to get all snarled up together, and Bucky was not above cheating, in that he made deliberate efforts to brush against his partners. He knocked Tony down once by depositing a kiss on the back of Tony’s neck as he moved by.

He’d expected Tony to cry foul at that, but Tony just gave him a cheerful salute and a wink that promised mayhem and revenge as he surrendered his shirt.

Losing the shoes seemed like the ideal choice after his first slip, when he and Nat were battling it out for Left Foot Red, but socks were even worse. The floor and JARVIS’s projected mat were probably not as slick as an actual plastic game board might have been, but Tony’s interior designer had put together a Look, at that Look had not involved carpeting in the public spaces.

They all went down in a heap when Bucky’s foot slipped on Right Foot Blue.

“Ooof,” Tony complained. “How did I end up on the bottom, again?” He wriggled distractingly. “Bucky’s penalty?” he petitioned Nat.

“You’re on the bottom,” Nat said, pushing herself upright again, which put her breasts mostly in Tony’s face, “because you are the Bottom.”

“He has a very nice bottom,” Bucky commented, helping himself to a handful before picking his way out of the pile to peel off his shirt. Down to a white undershirt, and his jeans, he was finding it difficult to imagine how many more wrong moves he could make before he’d get to sit back (naked, but that was okay) and watch Tony and Nat writhe around each other. “What’s the next spin, J?”

The game went on, and despite the distinct lack of attire they had, it seemed they got more competitive. The exercise was keeping Bucky warm, and watching his partners bend and flex and move around him was both distracting and an incentive to stay in the game.

JARVIS called a change of position for right hands, and Tony, instead of sensibly putting his hand on the spot right under his shoulder, twisted around and situated himself so his elbow was tucked up between Bucky’s legs, brushing the inside of Bucky’s thigh, bumping ever so gently against Bucky’s balls.

Bucky hitched in a breath and put a mission behind not falling over. Which was harder than it sounded as his knees buckled and his dick decided to perk up and pay attention. “Cheat,” he hissed.

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean,” Tony said in his most innocent tones.

Nat took advantage of both of her men being distracted to slither between them, one leg delicately balanced over Bucky’s hips and the other stretched almost flat to reach the yellow dot all the way in the back.

“That has got to be hard on your hips,” Bucky commented. It was an impressive split and Bucky could practically see the folds of her labia as her underwear plastered against her skin.

Oh yeah, he was going to lose.

Another couple of rounds, and Tony had managed to tuck himself almost completely up underneath Bucky’s legs, his perfectly-shaped rear rubbing up against Bucky’s crotch, while his face was somehow pressed against one of Nat’s breasts. “I’d say I was sorry for the awkward,” he said, “but you both know I’d be lying.”

Bucky couldn’t quite resist the temptation, rubbing down across Tony’s ass when he moved to their new spot, but his hand came down on Nat’s at the same time and he had to quickly replan his trajectory.

And he missed.

Which he might have been sorry about, except somehow that managed to put him with his mouth pressed against Nat’s thigh, so, since he’d already lost, he took advantage of the position to lick the gusset of her drawers and blow warm air across the wet fabric. “Hello there, kratsotka.”

Nat’s breath caught and her balance wavered, just a little. Tony turned his head farther than it seemed should be possible to see what was going on, and coughed out a laugh. “Ready to give up?”

“I’m out, I’m off,” Bucky said, climbing out from between them. “Now I can sit here and watch you two look pretty.” He stripped off his boxer-briefs, and might have deliberately tossed them in Tony’s face. Bucky took a seat on the shoved aside sofa and didn’t bother to pretend he wasn’t posing.

Tony and Nat were worth the watching. Especially now that they’d both apparently decided that the only way to win was to cheat. They chose their positions less for convenience and more to cause them to rub up against each other, pressing their faces into skin and teasing each other with subtle licks and extremely unsubtle nips.

But from his position on the couch, Bucky could see that Nat was being carefully herded to one side of the playing board, limiting her choices. Finally, Tony managed to beat her to a Right Foot Green call, leaving her only option to stretch all the way across him to the far side of the board -- a distance her shorter limbs simply couldn’t reach. She was determined to try, slipping her leg between Tony’s arms and sliding her calf along his thigh, but she couldn’t quite make it, and with an extremely unladylike curse, dropped to the floor.

“I win!” Tony crowed.

Bucky hauled himself to his feet, offering Nat a hand up. “Well, looks like you get to be the middle spoon tonight--” He glanced at Nat, who gave him a lopsided smile, resignation to being second place instead of being able to crow about it. “And, you know what that means.”

Nat took up his train of thought immediately. “He shall have the benefit of both our complete attentions.”

Bucky bent to bring Tony up to his feet, tugging at the last few pieces of clothing he had in place. “We will, indeed. Because, as the winner, you should definitely enjoy the spoils.”

A/n: Bad Russian Translating - “gorgeous”

#mcukinkbingo #bingo fills #winterironwidow #tony x nat x bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #silly sex #foreplay really

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seyaryminamoto · 6 years ago

Note

Do you have any Sokkla family head-canon? I'm craving some Mum Azula :)

Hmm, well, I have several, but I’d rather not be too spoilery so… under the cut!

In most my stories, Azula finds balance in her own life and peace in her role in the world. Said role varies depending on the story, but she generally grows, develops, becomes a better person without losing her edge, all those things we Azula fans adore about her character.

Naturally, Sokka has a great deal to do with all this, and it’s relevant because he helps her feel better about her vulnerabilities, helps her feel safe even when she’s defenseless in front of him. With this, Azula slowly but surely becomes more open and understandable of what love is, and she experiences it properly for the first time in her life through the man who shall be her husband and father of her children :D

This, then, translates to how she’ll relate to said children once they’re born. I’m not going to explain in full detail how certain things will unfold in the story I’m obviously talking about, but I’ve always planned for Azula to be very attached, to the point of paranoia, of her firstborn, a daughter. Azula takes care of her from the moment she finds out she’s pregnant and through every moment later because… well, I’m not going to explain the main reason why xD but in short, she doesn’t even think it through, she just has to protect her daughter no matter the cost.

When the baby is born, her life changes. Motherly instincts she never knew she had in her pour through, and the eagerness to protect the child only increases. So she’s careful with the baby, constantly making sure she’s okay, only trusts a handful of people with her and never is far away from her for too long. This doesn’t really mean she’s suffocating the baby… I like to imagine her talking to Hotaru even about serious things, when the kid is very young still. She’d also like to listen to her daughter, to try to understand what she needs and wants, whether it’s something simple like needing a new diaper, or something else, like being afraid of bad dreams. I think Azula’s only lesson learned from Ozai will be to treat her daughter as an ally, but Azula does that without treating her as a tool. As in, they’re in the same boat together and have to support each other through and through. And as Hotaru is still a baby, Azula needs to take the best care she can of her, since babies are pretty hopeless xD so Azula establishes a bond with the little girl pretty quickly, looks after her with surprising devotion and indeed makes difficult decisions to protect her if need be. Needless to say, Hotaru is seldom happy when she’s away from her mom’s comforting presence.

… I hope none of that was spoilery xD but either way, another headcanon: Azula sings this song to her children!

youtube

Admittedly, I borrowed this headcanon from someone else… but the voice is even similar to Azula’s in a few points of the song, so I said “DAMN RIGHT SHE SINGS THIS!”

Also, if anyone’s curious and thinking the song rings a bell… this is what she sings with Xin Long back in Gladiator’s 67th chapter :’D the ridiculous scene where Xin Long looks through her childhood memories, finds this song and TRIES to sing it despite being a dragon… well, it’s this one xD I planted that seed THAT long ago :’D

“Well, I wasn’t judging your weird song on sunsets and stars and whatever it was you were singing about!” Sokka said, proudly,

Anyways xD there’s a headcanon I am adamant about too, and it’s that once Hotaru is older she starts playing with dolls, of course! Which, as we know, is NOT Azula’s forte.

… But I suspect Sokka is pretty good at it, thanks to the unaired pilot episode xD

So one day Azula walks into their room to find Sokka happily playing with their daughter, and she’s blown away xD Sokka is flustered but defends his right to play with dolls, and eventually Hotaru herself convinces Azula to join them. Azula is very awkward about it because she doesn’t really know how to do this… but after a while she understands the rhythm of the game, creates a personality for her chosen doll and things just go bonkers from there xD for the first time in her life, a fully-grown Azula discovers dolls maybe aren’t so boring if you have someone worth playing with.

As for the other kids, Shun is a firebending fanboy who adores his mom on principle because she’s awesome and amazing (and he’s right to think so xD). Sokka would say it’s only natural that she’d charm their son that way, seeing how she charmed him too xD but anyways, their bond is quite positive and Azula helps him with training sometimes (Hotaru too, but as Shun is more devoted to firebending he usually asks for her opinion more often). He’s also pretty nerdy, loves history and learning about past events that no one even remembers, so both Azula and Sokka tend to get him books on history that he can eat up and later tell them heaps of things about.

I think Azula’s second pregnancy (Shun) is much smoother than Hotaru’s, she’ll have less reasons to be on edge this time. She’ll forge a similar bond with Shun since he’s a kid, trying to foster genuine trust between them both, trying to be in tune with whatever he needs, and that way she establishes since he’s very young that he can count on her. Ergo, he does when he’s older, all the time xD

Yuuna is the last, and as she was an apparent non-bender who then turned out to be a waterbender, things are pretty different here. Azula does her best to establish the same bond as with the two previous kids, but she worries that she can’t help Yuuna with developing her bending skills the way she can with her two older children. Yuuna is also a little more unpredictable and takes after her dad A LOT… but that resemblance to her father just makes Azula love her lots xD any sign of Sokka traits in their children is always something Azula loves dearly.

Yuuna is also the scientist, and she’s unpredictable in regards of the way her brain works. She is curious about EVERYTHING, asks unexpected questions like “what’s inside an eyeball? Is it gooey? How do we SEE through it? Why doesn’t Toph see even if she has eyeballs like us?” and so on and so forth xD she’s inquisitive, persistent, lacks common sense in most regards and disregards most of societal norms (that artwork I did recently with them and the babies? Well, Yuuna’s hair probably only stayed like that for like… 5 minutes and then she took off the hair tie and ran around investigating things in the Palace xD).

Azula of course has some trouble figuring out what to do with Yuuna because, on one hand, she wants the girl to cause little trouble, but on the other, she realizes some things are important to her daughter the same way some things are important to her. And she doesn’t want to shut down her interests, unless they’re genuinely dangerous interests. So Azula struggles at times with how to take care of Yuuna, but never to a point where Yuuna feels unloved or unwanted by her mother, not over her waterbending or anything else. They’re more prone to having conflicts than Azula is with the other two, especially if Azula sets limits that Yuuna fails to understand, but ultimately Azula respects her daughter, all her children, and that teaches them how to respect her too.

Azula is convinced she’s not their children’s favorite parent xD that they prefer Sokka, and she’s happy for it if anything. She loves seeing him with the kids because he has a way with them, always makes them laugh, goofs about and they love him for it. For once, she doesn’t care to be the best, the #1 at something, and ironically, that she’s not competing with Sokka over who’s the favorite parent makes her even better as a mother than she knows xD in the end, I can’t really tell you who’d win in a popularity contest with the kids xD

Pretty much all her children admire her, and if anyone messes with their mom they’re ready to throw down because of it. I think Hotaru will eventually hear stuff about her parents’ past at school and be very confused about what she’s being told, her school friends all have inappropriate crushes on Sokka because he’s sooo heroic and to her it’s just weird because he’s her loveable dorky dad? xD Either way, Shun definitely would get into a fist fight with anyone who badmouths his mom or dad xD Yuuna would probably just start asking insidiously WHY the other person is saying all these things before dismounting their entire insult via nothing but empirical evidence xD arguing with Yuuna is a bad idea for anyone, really.

As for their parents’ past, yes, I don’t think Sokka and Azula would tell their story to the children so quickly, and I also doubt the kids would expect much from the story to begin with. As far as they can tell, these are their parents, that’s their role in life and that’s all there is to it, right? It would take time for them to realize that woah, a Fire Nation royal married a Water Tribesman, that’s not exactly common in their world… how did that happen?

Of course, the questions begin eventually and by then Azula and Sokka end up agreeing to tell their story to the kids. They will of course skip a lot of things that are not appropriate for children to hear xD but theirs is quite the love story, and they take pride in it… so the day comes when they share it with their little ones, and after the MANY storytelling sessions, because as we know this story can’t be told so quickly xD the kids only admire their parents more.

So yep, happy family indeed! I have other ideas, more story-oriented, one where Sokka gets caught by a gang of criminals who don’t realize who he is, his guard is down, Azula has to go save him and, in pure The Incredibles fashion, Shun and Yuuna sneak aboard her ship while Hotaru is left at home to panic over what’s going on xD obviously, Azula and her two stowaways save Sokka, who’s fine and has every finger and toe still in place, Azula will give him the scolding of a lifetime before kissing him and being grateful he’s okay. Shun of course is grossed out by the kissing and amused by the scolding xD Yuuna is just happy her dad is safe now.

And I guess that’s more or less what I can think of right now. Hope that was a nice doseage of Sokkla family headcanons and Mum!Azula :D

#sokkla #sokka #azula #hotaru #shun #yuuna #they're my go-to steambabies #not even sorry #I must say talking about this dorky pretty family always makes my life better

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