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hazbinsillynight · 10 months ago

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Radiostatic week 2024 Day 2: Vintage

Vox had a really hard day and just wanted to enjoy some free time and relax. Alastor, on the other hands just wanted to discover who was listening to his radio emission at the V tower.

Vox could barely keep his eye open right now, and the pile of energy drinks he drank wasn’t helping at all. The Overlord worked all night and all day, only taking a break to eat once in a while. It wasn’t like he wanted to work that much, but it needed to be done, and it wasn’t some assistant that would be able to fix everything for him.

Between doing his job, helping Velvet to organize her first Gala, and calming Valentino down he didn’t even have a single moment for him! Or at least he hadn’t until now! With a precious box in his hands, he walked with a quick step to his bedroom, not wanting to see anyone tonight.

The door finally closed and he allowed himself to sigh, relieved. Finally, he could let down some pressure off his shoulder and just relax a bit. Vark happily came out of his aquarium when he noticed his master was finally here.

“Oh, Vark! They didn’t even let you out of the room? I swear, these coworkers! Don’t worry about it, they’re fired. I’ll find new people to take care of you.” The TV demon said, petting his pet with love.

When the shark saw the box he happily waved his tail, knowing that this box was the only thing that let his master relax and rest. With a few more pets and an entire bowl of threats, the shark started purring happily.

Vox smiled at the view and while one of his hands was petting the tummy of his shark the other was opening the box. Inside was an old retro radio that only belonged to the 30’s. It was covered with dark wood and in a perfect state, even the varnish was intact. It was a special edition he paid a small fortune to get his hands on.

If anyone knew what he was about to do this would be in every journal and TV show that existed but here in the safeness of his bedroom, no one would dare to disturb him. Even Val and Velvet knocked before coming in and if they came his alarm system would notify him.

Vark snuggled against his master, searching for the best and most comfortable spot before curling himself against the TV demon. Vox smiled at the adorable scene and turned the radio on.

*******

“-And with that dear auditors let’s conclude our weekly meeting! I shall leave you with this amazing song by Victor Youngs and his orchestra. Stay tuned!” Alastor declared cheerfully in his micro.

Something was getting him really happy today. When he was broadcasting he found out that the signal of his radio emission was coming out from the V tower. Now he didn’t know from whom but the idea of someone working for or with Vox listening to his emission made him really excited. Oh, how he would tease the TV Overlord about this once he’ll find out who’s listening to him.

It wasn’t the first time this signal was coming from the tower. When he perceived it for the first time Alastor decided to let it pass. It was probably a mistake or something like this, an employee could totally make some even if they worked for Vox, and the Overlord was quite meticulous when it came to his work.

But now it has been several times already, and even when he changed the time of his emission, the signal was always here. He really needed to know who listened to him so dearly.

With a snap of his fingers, he created a shadow portal, leading him to the source of the signal. For an unknown reason, it stayed on even when the emission was over, which sounded strange. What would that employee listen to if the emission was over? Only he had this canal.

The apartment or rather the loft was really huge. It couldn’t belong to any employee of VoxTech, perhaps of one of the Vees? This was even better! Just what kind of face would Vox do if learned that his colleagues listened to him every week? Oooh, this would be priceless!

The Radio demon followed the train of the radio-specific sound that could be heard in the entire loft. His shadow was nowhere to be found but it wasn’t a surprise, the little rascal tended to do whatever he wanted these days.

Humming an air of jazz Alastor walked to the source of the radio sound, this was funnier than bothering Vagatha! With a cunning smile, he entered the room. It was really dark here and except for a big shape on the bed, he couldn’t distinguish anything else.

He approached the small radio and lightened it with his micro-cane. It was one of the most beautiful radios he ever saw and he was once a very well-known radio presenter. It was polished, varnished and clearly cleaned often. It was a collector model from Earth when he was still alive. It must have required a lot of work to keep it in such a state, he was impressed.

“Well, dear follower, I'm more curious than ever to learn who you are.” The radio demon whispered, looking at the radio fondly.

A small and quiet muffled sound came from the bed, his fan was asleep, curled against something but he couldn’t see exactly what it was yet. The red Overlord turned the radio off, causing the person in the bed to move and whimper, now clearly uneasy by the silence or rather the absence of radio sound.

“So I’m giving you some peace uh? I won’t lie, it is quite unusual for me but if it’s for you, dear admiration I guess I can give you a personal show.” The radio demon said suddenly moved by the stranger curled in his bed.

“Mmmh Al just keep talking…” The stranger suddenly said in his sleep with a voice Alastor could recognize everywhere.

The radio demon put the light of his radio cane on the shape only to see Vox curled against some kind of shark and asleep. Now if it wasn’t a surprise! Vox, his old rival, his nemesis, his Vox, was the one who listened to him every show and kept the radio on for hours. Alastor was shocked.

Vox hated vintage, he screamed it at him for more than enough time. To be honest he was giving it back to him quite well but still. The TV Overlord was the last person Alastor imagined listening to his shows. The room was suddenly so silent. This wasn’t funny anymore but it tickled his curiosity. Why was Vox listening to him like that and why would he find comfort in it?

“Al…Don’t leave again please…” The TV demon whimpered while still asleep, curling closer to his pet.

Now Alastor wasn’t sentimental. Hell, he was the least sentimental guy in Hell if you asked Husker! But seeing this? Seeing Vox curled on himself, trying to find comfort in the presence of his pet and his voice? It was touching something in him, something he didn’t like at all.

“Oh Vox…”

Vox was a powerful Overlord, the strongest behind him. They often had to stop fighting because none of them could defeat the other. He was strong, smart, ambitious, and charismatic. Seeing him in such a state seemed unnatural and wrong.

“I’ll stay. I won’t leave like that again. Don’t worry stupid TV.” The red Overlord said, petting the edges of the screen of the other demon. Oh no, he wouldn’t leave him after that.

“You’ll never have to feel this miserable again.” The radio demon said before gently kissing the forehead of his rival.

#radiostatic week 2024 #vox x alastor #radiostatic #alastor x vox #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #tumblr fic

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sebastianswallows · 8 months ago

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The English Client — Eleven

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 3k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

Tom was displeased — not an uncommon occurrence. He was displeased with how familiar he’d come to be with the hotel and its surroundings, the lobby, the little restaurant, and how he knew by heart its every corner and the menu and the waiters. He was not a restless sort of person — on the contrary, he could lie in wait for a long time if needed — but it did disturb him how settled he now was in that muggle hotel.

He’d been picking at his breakfast since 6:30 AM. In fact, he’d been the first guest to arrive. By now it was nearly eight, and he had to be at Casa Ur by nine. His job…

He wasn’t suffering from a lack of appetite, not that he’d ever really had one. Living in an orphanage in London during the war had accustomed him to doing without many comforts. Rather, he dreaded going in. He may have been the last person anyone would suspect of laziness, but privately, he hated it. Hated having to report to someone, especially somebody inferior. Hated having his time wasted on the whims of others. Hated having to find his way through the sea of papers that were Oso’s home, always having to ask, or spend hours finding out where something was placed. Oh, to have a Time Turner and make this horrid morning last forever…

With a sigh, he downed his tea in one gulp, stuffed another fluff of omelette in his mouth, and left.

It wasn’t like he was going to meet Abraxas Malfoy, his old schoolmate, on his way to work. Indeed, they might never meet at all, if that old bastard Oso won’t let him work during the auction. But damn it, why did Abraxas have to be after the same book? It wasn’t like he was the most erudite of his old friends. Personally, Tom thought him a stereotypical dumb blond, getting by in his grades due to his good looks and family wealth. He could only hope Abraxas wouldn’t do anything stupid and blow his cover.

“Look on the bright side,” Tom said to himself. “Brax swore himself in service to Lord Voldemort. He wouldn’t refuse me anything.”

The end of the month brought summer’s end, and with it came Tom’s first payment — cut in half, as he’d only been there since the middle of the month. He’d finished analysing the three books and sent his notes off to the Baron, together with his confirmation that he would keep working there. He didn’t need the money, as he’d gotten into the habit of enchanting pebbles to be coins and newspaper pages into banknotes, but a salary was the perfect excuse to approach his target, his key of choice in that muggle institution, with an invitation.

“A date?!” she said, looking happier than he’d expected her to be.

“A date, an evening out among colleagues,” Tom smiled, leaning on her desk. “Whatever you like.”

“Colleagues, is it? So will Ambrogio be invited too?” she chuckled, eyes twinkling with a tease.

“Ugh, don’t.”

She laughed. “Is it that bad?”

“Let’s trade places one day. You’ll see.”

“No, I’d rather go on a date,” she pouted, coming around to lean beside him. “Where?”

“I had several ideas in mind… All of them a little selfish,” he said, slinking closer to her until their shoulders touched. “To start, maybe, the museum?”

“Really?”

It was not, of course, a selfish choice for Tom. He couldn’t care less about muggle history, ancient or otherwise, but he knew her to be the kind of sentimental soul that cared for it.

“And in the evening, I have tickets to a concert. We can have dinner in between. Your choice of restaurant, of course.”

She could barely contain her smile. Tom thought for a moment that she might even hug him, and his body braced for it, but it never came. The loosening of his muscles felt like a disappointment.

“Oh Tom, but you’ve barely earned anything yet, how can you afford —”

“Don’t worry about me.”

She sighed, clearly worrying regardless. It was a little cute, if he was honest. Through her open eyes, he read a thousand feelings, none of them seemingly connected with each other: fear and joy, anticipation, dread, and gladness.

“I want to spend more time with you,” he said in a low voice as he placed his hand over her own on the edge of the desk. “Being stuck down there all day while you’re up here and we can hardly see each other…”

“I know… I miss you too,” she confessed, blushing slightly.

“You do?”

He knew she did, of course. From early on in their acquaintance he’d attempted to seduce her, to get her on his side. He wore his tightest shirts just for her, even when the weather killed him. He walked her home a few times more since being employed there, and sat and waited for her to lure alleycats to pet them, or rushed with her to buy a baguette so she could feed the pigeons, or any number of useless things she thought to do in the evening.

“But… Tom, does this…” she started, chewing on her lip.

“Yes?” he asked, tension filling him as well.

“Does this make us boyfriend and girlfriend?”

His mind blanched, not helped by her looking up at him with those wide eyes, her lips so close, so kissable…

“W-would you like to be?”

He went back down to the basement smiling, his lips still warm after a little kiss. He touched his lips once finally alone, the taste of her already fleeting.

“Pull yourself together, Tom,” he said. “This is not the time to simper for a muggle.”

The rest of the day was compromised, naturally, as all either of them could think about was the coming Saturday when their date was arranged. There was a clandestine air about it too, as nobody else knew that they were going. It was exactly the sort of attitude he wanted to inspire in her about the two of them.

III

The museum Tom took her to was the Palazzo Altemps. In centuries past an aristocratic mansion, now home to a collection of art that spanned from antiquity to the Renaissance. It looked frail and solid all at once, full of colour and yet gloriously dead, the statues staring at them like beautiful corpses, frescoes billowing across the walls.

Tom thought it did well to cover the historical periods that she, too, was interested in, if her taste in books was any measure. He was right, she positively gushed when they came across the bust of someone whose book they had in their collection. But she was mostly fond of those displays that splattered across the eras, ancient Roman statues standing tall and cold against a faded fresco a thousand years younger, looking soft and fragmentary in shades of gold and blue that once used to be crimson and black before the ages changed them.

“Can you imagine living here?” she whispered, her head tilting back in ecstasy. A long, floral corridor stretched out before them, with a garden to the right seeping with a milky light. “So wide and open and beautiful…”

“I couldn’t,” he grumbled. “Think of how much maintenance such a place would require…”

His new girlfriend laughed at him, the chime of it resounding through the halls.

For Tom’s part, he was mostly struck by the conspicuous differences between things. Mainly those within himself. It was a strange experience to look upon the art of muggles as a wizard, and the art of Italy as an Englishman. He was, in this way, twice a foreigner, and yet…He felt like everything there welcomed him.

In spite of his criticism of the place, he knew he could be at home among those gentle smiles, the unseeing eyes, the outstretched arms, and even saw parts of himself in the leisure of a lean white leg or a smooth abdomen, or a gentle curl of hair. The thread-thin reeds in the distant landscape of a fresco, or the vaporous rays of a sunset over the horizon of a city.

Beside him, he heard his companion stop, standing in smiling contemplation of the same thing. Her hand brushed against his, and suddenly it felt right to take it. He did, and in a fluid motion, as if nothing else could possibly follow such a gentle act, her head leaned to rest against his shoulder. He felt her warmth in the crook of his neck, the softness of her hair against his cheek, and Tom couldn’t help but lean a little closer. He rested his cheek on the top of her head.

She took them to a nearby restaurant for lunch. She claimed not to know the area very well, as she hadn’t gone wandering there since her earliest days in Rome, but Tom had come to trust her choices.

“So you’ve seen all there is to see, is that it?” he asked with a lopsided smile. Suddenly, his whole itinerary for the day seemed lacking.

“There is always more to see in Rome,” she said with a dreamy smile, cheek resting in her palm.

She seemed genuinely happy, and that soothed Tom’s ego somewhat.

“How many years have you lived here?”

“Oh my, it’s been at least six by now, I think.”

“And you’ve been working for the Baron the whole time?”

“Only for the last four years. The first two, I drifted from job to job, just at other libraries and shops…”

“Why did you leave?” he asked, taking a sip of wine.

“Some went out of business. It was a more tumultuous period, after the war. Others, I wasn’t really happy at. Some owners were mean, rude, demanding…”

“Unlike the Baron?” Tom asked with a grin.

“He is a bit of all of that,” she admitted. “But the opportunity to work with those books was… impossible to refuse. His collection is unparalleled, at least in Italy.”

Tom smiled and looked down at his plate.

“You agree,” she said — not asked — as she looked at him intently. “You’re still after the Delomelanicon, aren’t you?”

“Is is a fine collection,” Tom shrugged. “But my employer has something truly worthy of envy. The most rare of ancient esoterica. I suppose that’s why he’s so keen on acquiring Torchia. It’s too good to be left with the Baron.”

To his surprise, she laughed, wine trembling in her glass as she held it. It was not a mocking laugh, but something truly amused and girlish.

“Typical,” she trilled, her eyes shining. “The arrogance of old collectors… Well, then I guess you’ll just have to compete with the French gentleman.”

“Who, Malfoy?” Tom smirked. “I don’t think he’s French.”

He wanted to slap himself for saying it, but could not resist bragging that he knew something that she didn’t.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I happen to have gone to school with him.”

And there it was, his flaw, his arrogance: the mad and senseless instinct to impress her. Yes, he too knew important people, he too rubbed elbows with the aristocracy, and had a life before all of this.

But she was far from impressed.

“You couldn’t have,” she scoffed.

“And why not?” asked Tom with a cold squint.

“Why? Because he must be at least fifty years old…”

“… Ah.”

And with that, all of Tom’s plans crumbled. Of course it had to be the elder Septimus Malfoy, not his son… He should have guessed it from the start. Abraxas would never have gone through so much trouble for something educational, and his father never would have trusted him with it.

“So, will you?” she asked, her cheeks full with an impish smile.

“Will I what?”

“Compete with him for the book.”

Tom stuffed his fork in his spaghetti bolognese and frowned. There were various ways to say yes, and various ways to lie. Out of all of them, he chose the riskiest one.

“I will, with your help, if you wish to give it.”

She smirked and looked up from underneath her lashes. “Are you trying to take advantage of our special relationship?”

“Only if you let me,” he winked.

The concert was held in a park, where a wooden stage was raised in front of a tall fountain, lights hanging all around with garlands of fake paper flowers. There were seats among the flowerbeds and stands in the back with drinks. Tom bought two glasses of champagne for them, and they sat shoulder to shoulder, their coats up to their ears like barn owls to keep the midnight cold at bay.

It was a jazz concert, a novelty for Tom for whom it meant nothing, but she seemed to enjoy it. The band, a local group all dressed in black, played tunes that ranged from the energetic to the dour, and the air was filled with so much sound that Tom felt it in his chest. It was a completely new experience. He’d never gone out to enjoy music on his own, nor did he enjoy it in private either. Unlike most of his Slytherin classmates, he actually knew how to work a radio, but he’d always found sound in the background to be distracting when he worked.

And as he sat and listened to the band, he found no reason to change his opinion. Music was a waste of time, he thought. After each song, the audience applauded, and with the champagne glass tucked between his legs, he did so too, but privately he felt nothing. Their music was too fast-paced, too rushed, too out of pace with his own feelings.

He used the time to think of Mr. Malfoy. What did he really know about him? He’d been invited to his house for Abraxas’ seventeenth birthday, so they’d met. He remembered sprawling gardens with marble pillars, swans sliding on a lake, and a large, cold house. Tom knew Septimus to be a tall pale figure, distant, resplendent, and utterly dedicated to his family — not that Abraxas ever appreciated it.

The Malfoys were faultlessly hospitable to him, no doubt having heard of his magical skills from their son, and perhaps of his heritage too. But behind their manners and their perfect smiles, Tom detected, without even having to use Legilimency, disgust at his half-blood status, and underneath that, a certain envy.

He could only imagine, then, what reaction Mr. Malfoy would have at seeing him working for muggles in a foreign country. He sighed and bowed his head, his soul swirling with anguish and horror at the mess that was to come. And there was no avoiding it…

At his side, he felt a gentle hand. She nuzzled close to him, turning to look at him, frowning, as if to ask what was wrong. Tom raised her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on it, and for a moment all his worries were gone.

They were walking side by side down the street that led to her home. After hours spent together, walking, briefly talking, looking at each other or just feeling one another’s presence, it was difficult for Tom to get back into the habit of hiding himself so well. He couldn’t even muster up the tried and true old charms he used with wealthy witches back in England. He was too much of himself that night, and he wasn’t sorry at being, however faintly, seen.

“What are you thinking about?”

He turned to smile at her. “You, of course,” he said.

“No you weren’t.” She was giggling, but through the midnight dark, Tom thought he saw sadness in her eyes.

He sighed. “Alright, I wasn’t.”

“Is it the books?”

He chuckled. She wasn’t far off, in a way. “Am I that transparent?”

“No,” she grinned, wrapping her arm around his. “Quite impenetrable, actually. It was just a lucky guess.”

“Is that so?”

“I used to think about books too, that’s all. Often even outside of work. It was fun, it’s… an infinite subject to get lost in.”

“Used to? What do you think about nowadays, then?”

That caught her off guard. “Erm, you know, everyday sort of things.”

Tom tightened his grip on her arm and made her look at him. With her gaze wide and open on his, he chanced a quick prod into her mind. He met no resistance, in fact, save for a milky smooth veneer, her thoughts were clear as crystal.

He saw himself. And one head shorter and a little less defined was a figure he recognised as her. Tom found it amusing that she saw him more clearly than she saw herself. They were kissing. His arms were around her, his hands gripping her head to hold her still. There was a swaying to their motions that seemed to change direction. It soon became clear to Tom that they were making love. His body covered hers in the middle of a plush darkness, their bodies like pillars of light, they moved together as smoothly as seafoam.

Her eyes went wide when he spent a moment too long looking at her, and she shifted her gaze away to the sidewalk. Her building was already in view. Did she guess that he had read her mind? It wasn’t possible…

Tom chuckled. He reached up and hooked a finger underneath her chin to tilt her face back up to look at him.

“Do you have something to tell me?” he asked, feeling more smug now than he had any right to be. “Hm? Do you want to show me something?”

She exhaled, and even that sounded shaky. “Maybe,” she said in a small voice. “W-would you like to come inside?” She didn’t even finish saying it before she blushed — more at her own phrasing than anything.

“I would.”

#Tom Riddle #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle x OC #Tom Riddle fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;englishclient

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softichill · 1 year ago

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The Sounds of Nightmares unofficial transcript

Chapter 4 - Two of a Kind

(As always, made with the help of @queen0fm0nsterz!!!)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

--------------

[CLICK]

[Something is booted up]

OTTO: Duality. A notion essential to psychology. We all contain a multitude of personas and change proverbial masks to match our present situations. [Shifting] The body is the container for this legion within, allowing us to maintain the important illusion of a singular self, the very basis of human experience. In Noone, there lies both the innocent child and the disturbed traveler. Both fight for control. But what happens when the duality is not only in the mind?

[Click]

Recording of NOONE: “T…Two breaths. Why could I hear him breathing? Why could I feel them breathing? My body was sh–”

[Tape is cut off with a click]

OTTO: Given her vanishings, I fear it is not only her inner self which has become subject to division, but her body as well. One child, torn between two worlds… Either I have lost my marbles, or we tread ever deeper into territories beyond the boundaries of rational thought.

[Click, tape rewinds]

[Intro plays]

[Click can be heard twice. Young voices scream joyfully in the background, muffled through a wall]

NOONE: Otto? What is this place?

OTTO: The reunion room.

NOONE: Is that cake they’re eating? May I have some? Can I go in there?

OTTO: I’m sorry, you may only watch. My colleagues don’t allow inpatients to mingle with outpatients. …Those who are ready to go home to their families, I mean. Sit tight, and I’ll get you some cake.

[Otto walks away]

OTTO, distant, fading: Get me a piece of cake. Piece of cake? Get me a piece of cake… [Door closes]

[Otto walks back in]

OTTO: There! A fine chocolatey slice.

NOONE: They’re not waving back…

OTTO: Ah, it’s a two-way mirror. We can observe them but they can’t observe us. …(inhales) I’d – like to ask about last night.

NOONE, eating: Mh? Last night?

OTTO: You were in bed with the brain activity monitor on. One moment you were there, and the next – gone! Where… did you go?

NOONE: I don’t understand…

OTTO: (inhales) I watched you myself so I know you didn’t get up and leave the room.

NOONE: Wasn’t I asleep? I don’t recall any of this.

OTTO: ...You vanished, Noone.

NOONE: Huh?

OTTO: I – I thought I might have been mistaken at first, but the E.E.G. readings persisted, as if you were still there. Several minutes lapsed, then you reappeared.

NOONE, distressed: That makes no sense!

OTTO: This wasn’t an isolated event.

NOONE, even more distressed: What do you mean, I can’t just — [raising her voice] people just don’t disappear! [breathing heavily] You’re supposed to help me! You’re supposed to understand…

[Noone breathes hard in the background, on the verge of a panic attack]

OTTO: And yet neither of us do! It’s a major event, a bonafide anomaly. That’s why you must be sure that –

NOONE, interrupting: Is there some kind of trick?!

OTTO: It’s alright. [Noone is still breathing hard] Look at me. Focus on my eyes. Breathe. Noone, slowly.

[Noone’s breaths slow down slightly]

OTTO, under his breath: Breathe, two, three… Hold, two, three… Out, two, three…

[Noone follows his instructions, breathes slower]

OTTO: That’s it. That’s a girl.

[Noone stops breathing hard]

OTTO: Better?

NOONE: … Why did you take me here, Otto?

OTTO: I know solitude can be hard, and visualization is essential to developing beliefs that will –

NOONE: It’s being alone I hate. It’s being lonely.

OTTO: And I’m showing that, one day, you’ll be in the reunion room too! Just as relieved as those children, sharing cake rather than eating it by yourself. But you have to trust my process, even when it’s difficult for you to grasp.

NOONE: (Sigh) I understand more than you think.

OTTO: … Yes. I suspect so too. Hidden somewhere in your head. Come along! We’ve got preparations to make before tonight’s session.

NOONE: …Can we stay here? A minute longer?

OTTO: (Sigh) Alright. Just until you finish that slice.

[The recording stops momentarily and picks up mid sentence]

NOONE: – o many wires! T-They’re everywhere!

[Strapping, Otto preparing the machine]

OTTO: It’s the same E.E.G. machine I use to monitor your sleeping brain, only now I’d like to acquire readings during wakefulness, during your retelling to compare results.

NOONE: My last doctor made me do things like this all the time. [Otto prepping] Tubes into my stomach… I– I don’t much like being awake for tests and proddings.

OTTO: [hums] These electrodes may feel strange on your scalp, but there’s no pain. Nothing to worry about. If anxiety rears its head, take deep breaths. Same as earlier, yes?

NOONE: I– I’m not sure –

OTTO, interrupting: (slightly strained) Trust, remember?

[Shifting. The machine boots up, activates and Noone winces]

OTTO: Not so bad, is it?

NOONE: Can we get this over with?

OTTO: Of course! Begin as you like.

NOONE, narrating: I spun out of a dark place, and brilliant lights sparkled around. Then, far off laughter, and screams. But… screams of joy. Gathering my head, I… I saw other kids sitting on wooden crates nearby. As I approached, they were surprised to see me, but introduced themselves one by one.

[Quiet music begins, machine can still be heard]

NOONE, narrating: They were performers, they said. Each with different skills and talents. Juggling, fire breathing, trapy-something…

OTTO, correcting her: Trapeze?

NOONE: Trapeze! That’s what he said. (narrating) The boy called Rusty, he – he walked tightrope too. There were caravans all around: wooden ones, big yellow wheels, and all these colorful fabrics. I noticed the lights again. Fairy lights, shining down into the puddles from the rain that cleared before I’d arrived. Their reflection, swirling in the murky water, like a ballet. It was… beautiful.

NOONE: (sighs) As I lost focus, the others went on talking, fast and loud as teenagers do.

OTTO, interrupting again: Teenagers? And how long have they been there, performing in this place?

NOONE: Please, Otto! Let me get through it.

[Shifting. The carnival grows louder and distorted speech can be heard]

NOONE, narrating: From the way they looked, they’d been there a long time. But they were confident, or tried to be, and kind. As the clouds parted, Rusty asked if I wanted to go on a ride.

RUSTY, in the background, ov. with Noone: “Wanna go on a ride?”

NOONE: He said,

RUSTY, bg., ov. with Noone: “It’s the best one, because it lets you see clearly.”

NOONE: So, I said yes, feeling… a part of their gang. I’ve never had that before.

[Carnival games and music, steps]

NOONE: We passed by games and silly booths until we came to… the giant wheel. [The ferris wheel creaks] We climbed into the seats in pairs, me and Rusty taking the last cart.

[Sitting, the wheel creaks again]

NOONE: It went so high up that… I could see the whole carnival. It was… unnaturally high, like – like we were in the sky itself. [Wind blows, music quiets] Rusty pointed to these tall wooden polls, like- masts on a ship, as if that answered where we were, but… how could a ship be in the air? Rusty saw my face full of questions and said,

RUSTY, ov. with NOONE: “Look down, not out. You won’t feel sick that way, and we haven't much time.”

[Wind blows]

NOONE: I… I remember feeling, for a moment, things were OK. On the giant wheel, for the first time in such a long time I… I felt… happy. But, Rusty… he suddenly seemed so sad. His voice shifted and he continued,

RUSTY, ov. with NOONE: “That massive tent there, that’s the Big Top.”

NOONE: He said we’d be going there soon because him and his friends had a show to put on. I already knew the answer, but I asked anyway: “You don’t like performing, do you.” He looked glum for a moment before replying: “I hate it.” When I asked why he does it, Rusty mumbled to himself,

RUSTY, bg.: I…

NOONE: … But I couldn’t hear with the wind so loud. Finally Rusty turned and said,

RUSTY, ov. with Noone: “They force us. And whatever they say, goes.”

NOONE: I didn’t know who “they” were, but a bad feeling came over me and… I understood why we were really on that wheel. Because, all the way up there, he could say what was in his heart without worrying about being heard.

[Creaking wood]

NOONE: As the wheel came around, he began explaining very fast how him and his friends had been planning. Rusty wanted me to be part of a special show, where they would try something they’d never done before. He told me that my job was to be lookout. That if… I saw a man in a purple suit, I needed to give him the sign while he walked the tightrope. I asked, “Is this the man who makes you put on shows?” Without really answering, Rusty kept talking.

RUSTY, ov. with Noone: “In the spotlight, some glow, while others shrivel into shadows. We glow, and do as told, or…”

NOONE: He didn’t finish the thought, but, I understood. The times I was on TV, I’d have done anything to avoid all those lights. So I said, “A simple sign won’t do. I’ll have to shout. A code only we’ll understand. How about… Big Top?” He agreed it was a good idea and I realized he didn’t tell me what they were planning, but… when I saw him staring out at the clouds, I asked, “You mean to escape, don’t you? The carnival?” And he quickly said,

RUSTY, ov. with NOONE: “This entire… rotten world.”

[Silence. Narration stops.]

[Machine whirring]

OTTO: Was the boy expressing knowledge of a world beyond this carnival?

NOONE: I hadn’t thought about it until now, but… I guess so. And, I felt that too.

OTTO: Then – All the places you’ve been are one and the same?

NOONE: Sort of. It’s like how this basement is connected to the upper floors, but don’t work- together.

OTTO: Why didn’t you ever express this before?!

NOONE: What’s so impo–

OTTO, interrupting: You’ve sensed that the dreams you visit hold a tangible, sustained existence?! That these spaces are objective!? Physically… there?!

NOONE: I — uh, I think so? I don’t know how it works, but… it feels that way, yes. …Do you finally believe me?

OTTO: Giving the mere thought validity would have my license revoked! Yet I admit there’s potential that what you say is true. It offers some explanation of your… spiriting away, last night.

[Pause, machine running in the background]

OTTO: …I’d need to see it for myself.

NOONE: See it yourself?! You’re supposed to help me avoid going there!

OTTO: I need to reach it with you! To find that… quidity of consciousness we spoke of!

NOONE: Why would you want that?

OTTO: …

NOONE: How can I trust you if you don’t answer my questions sometimes?! It isn’t fair!

OTTO: (Sigh) …I… I lost someone dear to me, you understand? A long time ago. …Part of me believes that they may be there.

NOONE: (Upset) So that’s the reason you’re so fascinated by me, isn’t it?! [Starting to breathe hard again] That’s why you have me do- all these tests and experiments, to find them!

OTTO: Now you’re the one being unfair.

NOONE: Well, you can’t even get there!

OTTO: Why not?!

[Noone’s breathing quiets, still upset]

NOONE: …it’s Nowhere.

OTTO: Nowhere? What do you mean??

NOONE: It’s a place… that Is… and Isn’t.

OTTO: Did the boy, [stuttering] Rusty, say that? The Candleman??

NOONE: Neither.

OTTO: I can’t help you if you hide things from me.

NOONE: I tell you everything! You know what’s in my brain- more than I do!

NOONE: [breathing harder] There’s things on my head.

OTTO: Breathe, Noone… breathe…breathe. Deep. Follow my rhythm.

[Noone and Otto take deep breaths, pulsing notes rise in the background]

OTTO: Alright, okay. If the theatrics are done, we must press on.

NOONE: I want to stop.

OTTO: The sooner you finish, the sooner we’ll be free.

[Noone pauses, takes a few more deep breaths]

NOONE, narrating: We went to the Big Top. Rusty, and the others got all dressed up. In- amazing costumes. Black and white with sparkles. And another in… a fancy red coat.

NOONE: Rusty lead me round to the towering stage, placing me in the front, saying,

RUSTY, ov. with NOONE: “Best seats in the house.”

NOONE: I felt… so special. [distant music starts] Until, Rusty looked around, with that worried face again. Without another word, he went backstage, as the crowd started pouring in.

[Distorted speech]

NOONE: These… “people”... were the wrong shape. Faces like… bad drawings come alive. [thunk] One sat down in the seat to my left, eating… [crunching] a candy apple. It… it stank horribly [Dream!Noone gags] and, the center was mushy and raw.

NOONE: These… plump bodies filled the seats, too big for them, crushing and… spilling into one another. [Crunching and chewing] At the same time stuffing their faces with- rancid snacks, all grisly and chewy. I thought to throw up, but, as the lights dropped, [lights shutting off] everything went still.

[Pause, light turns on]

NOONE: Then… [drumroll, faint trumpet] a spotlight [cheering] illuminated the stage, and the kid in a red coat walked to the middle. He put on amazing magic tricks, [whoosh] that almost made me forget where I was. For his final trick, he waved around the swirling cloak, smoke spilling out, and topped off with a bang! [sparkles pop, cheering]

NOONE: When cloak dropped, he had disappeared, [whooshing] and in his place, were two different kids. They had sticks near their mouths, blowing fire. That did it for the crowd. [Distorted cheering gets louder] Then I remembered– I was playing lookout! But I saw no man in a purple suit, and I was distracted as the firebreathers finished and, jugglers came on.

[More cheering]

NOONE: They took the flaming sticks from their friends, and threw them so high in the air, [Dream!Noone cheering] I… I found myself cheering with the crowd! [Dream!Noone clapping and cheering] And then the lights went down again, [click, drumroll] marking the final act.

NOONE: (Quiet) The spotlight blared again, shining at the top of the tent. Way up… standing at one end of a rope between two ladders… was Rusty. The others stopped, staring in complete quiet. He started walking… slowly… then with more confidence. The silent went on too long, like we were all under a spell. And… that’s when I noticed… [quiet breathing] something beside me, in the seat that had been empty a moment ago.

OTTO: (incredibly distant) The man in the purple suit?

NOONE: I heard him before I saw him. [breathing] T…Two breaths. Why could I hear him breathing? Why could I feel them breathing? My was shaking but, his attention was on Rusty.

[Cheering, Dream!Noone gasps]

NOONE: Noticing that I wasn’t cheering, the man turned. He had no eyes. But I felt him look at me. How can someone with no eyes look at you?

[More breathing, cheering picks up again]

NOONE: Then, I saw a smaller man in his lap. [A smaller, faster set of breathing starts] A- dummy, only… he wasn’t made of wood or plastic, and had hair atop a lumpy face where… a wider mouth had been carved out. Unlike the man, the puppet had eyes, staring at the spotlight above.

NOONE: Suddenly the crowd burst into a cheer, [cheering] as Rusty reached the middle of the rope, but, the dummy’s face crinkled, full of hate- wanting those cheers for himself. I was the only one not clapping, and he turned to face me. I’m not sure if they spoke, or- if it was in my head, but with a smile, they invited me to be part of the show.

NOONE: [Cheering gets louder] That’s when I shouted “Big Top! Big Top!” But the crowd was booming! Rusty made it across the rope, but… but instead of climbing down the ladder he began climbing towards a small cut in the fabric at the top of the tent. I turn back… and the man was still there, limp, but his dummy… his dummy was… [Noone’s breathing picks up] gone, right near- Rusty–

NOONE: [Breathing heavily now] “BIG TOP!” I tried to scream– tearing my throat, but– I had no breath!– And then– [Attempts a deep breath] I saw the dummy– It’s lumpy face peering out from the shadows– at the top of the tent– Waiting for Rusty.

[Ambience become more intense]

NOONE: The man beside me grew shy– both loving the praise, and– regretting the attention. [Noone’s breathing gets faster, ambience picks up] I can hear him breathing again– between breaths– (unintelligible)*– I tried and tried to shout but– it was too late!– Rusty was finally out of the spotlight!– And the tiny doll man lunged!– And– Rusty!– Rusty–

OTTO: [Dream ambience suddenly stops, loud machinery] Did he escape, did he manage?

NOONE, not narrating: Get this thing!– off my head!!

OTTO: Was Rusty able to get away?!

NOONE: [Hyperventilating] NO I DON’T LIKE IT! Rusty!!–

[Noone continues hyperventilating, machinery gets louder]

OTTO: Okay- okay okay- alright, alright, deeep breaths. Deeeep breaths, follow me. Like this now, one-

NOONE: AAA! TWO!! BIG TOP!!

[Otto attempting to get Noone to breathe, Noone having a panic attack]

OTTO: Slow down, slow down, slow down- breathe.

NOONE: RUSTY!! TWO!!! TWO!!!

OTTO: Just breathe-

NOONE: BIG TOP!! THE BIG TOP!!!

OTTO: Two… three… One… two…

NOONE: Deep breaths– One– One body**–

[machinery suddenly shuts down]

OTTO: Noone? [suddenly standing up] Noone! Noone!

[Shifting, moving furniture, crashing. Audio cuts]

[Pause]

[Click, audio starts]

OTTO: Mercifully, the only irreparable damage this evening was the wound cut in Noone’s confidence towards me. (Inhale) What concerns me more is the lack of detail in her retelling. A step backwards, which may be the result of her preoccupation with the testing equipment.

OTTO: Her body dysmorphia was exacerbated. That celebrity doctor’s to blame, whatever he put her through. And all those poor children… but it’s causing her to become furtive.

[pen clicks, paper rustling]

OTTO: I’ve exhumed the journals published by my outer circle of colleagues, with whom I’ve lost touch. [pages turning] While I previously entertained the possibility of a multitude of realms, a singular space seems more probable, and in line with their transcendental musings.

[Closes paper]

OTTO: While their studies are conjecture, I can no longer deny the empirical signs pointing towards such peripheral existence! Why then, are my senses unable to perceive it whatsoever? There’s a veil up. Ha! Yes, like a two-way mirror. Only I’m the one stuck on the side of blind, deaf, and dumb ignorance.

OTTO: (sigh) And the lurking presence of the Ferryman. While he may be a master of dream manipulation, he’s no denizen here. Noone said it many sessions ago: He does not belong in our world. And yet, he’s the connective tissue. I am determined to find his arcane hinterland- to cross into the place she calls… “Nowhere.”

[Outro plays]

--------------

*It's really hard for me to hear what she says here, sorry!

**Take this with a grain of salt, I'm not entirely sure I heard right

#little nightmares #ln #the sounds of nightmares #tson #noone #otto #ln noone #ln otto #otto ln #noone ln #transcript #the sounds of nightmares transcript #No Ferryman appearance this episode beyond Otto's mention of him...... hrmmm #Otherwise GRARARAGRHGR!!!! GRAAAAHG!!!!!!!!!!! /POSITIVE #THE VOICE ACTORS WERE FUCKING AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#AND THE STORY IS RAAAGH #This episode was written by Supermassive WHICH MEANS this is probably the same Carnival location that'll be in LN3!!!!!!!#Otto. Otto. I am fucking strangling you. You are doing mad science NOT therapy #You deserve to get your license revoked goddamn. You suck at this

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peskellence · 9 months ago

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◎ AO3 // peskellence ◎

Multi Chapter

More Than Our Parts

Pairing: Reed900 // Warnings: Explicit Content 18+

Summary: A lot has changed since the revolution. Crimes against androids are now being treated with greater severity, with many being subject to the same penalties as crimes against humans. While anti-android attitudes are on the decline, transforming the mindset of an entire city is no simple task.

A reluctant Gavin Reed and his new partner, RK900, have been assigned to investigate a string of disturbing murders. Despite the shift in Detroit's social climate, Gavin still holds reservations about whether or not androids are truly alive. Will his developing feelings for 'Nines' prompt a shift in perspective?

Status: Complete (28/28)

Unbound

Pairing: Reed900 // Warnings: Eventual Smut 18+

Summary: In the aftermath of Detroit's android revolution, Nines grapples with the complexities of his newfound deviancy. As he seeks to establish his place in a newly transformed society, his resolve is put to the ultimate test when he is paired with Detective Gavin Reed—a notoriously volatile human with a well-established hatred for androids—to investigate a series of murders.

While initial impressions of his partner seem to suggest his reputation is well-deserved, the more time Nines spends with him, the more he is forced to challenge his judgments. As they form an unexpected bond, the RK900 is also pushed to examine truths about himself he would much rather seek to forget. Nines POV Retelling of 'More Than Our Parts.'

Status: In Progress (7/?)

Rule Of Nines

Pairing: Reed900 // Warnings: Graphic Violence, Smut, Non-Con Elements 18+

In a world where loyalty is currency and compromise is weakness, Gavin Reed, a ruthless mobster, lives by his own rules. When an old enemy resurfaces with a deadly demand, his life is thrown into chaos—as his trusted second-in-command, Nines, is put to the ultimate test of allegiance. Will he stay committed to Gavin, or will the loyal guard dog begin to stray? Human Mob!AU

Status: Complete (5/5)

My Friends Call Me Richard

Pairing: Reed900 // Warnings: Explicit Content 18+

In a bid to improve his partnership (and secret intimate arrangement) with Detective Gavin Reed, RK900 embarks on a noble quest to spice things up. The solution? A new biocomponent. Three Part Comedy Fic.

Status: Complete (3/3)

Oneshots

Law & Mistletoe

Pairing: Chen300 // Warnings: Explicit Content 18+

Summary: At the yearly DPD Christmas party, Tina Chen is desperate to find company in someone other than the precinct Grinch. This comes in the form of Jasmine, a charming ST300 who works at reception. Following a kiss under the mistletoe, things quickly begin to escalate - with the night concluding at Tina's apartment. Takes place before the events of 'More Than Our Parts'

More Than Want

Pairing: Reed900 // Warnings: Explicit Content 18+

Summary: After a heat-of-the-moment kiss, Gavin finds himself increasingly preoccupied with fantasies of what might have happened next if his partner hadn't run away. Takes place during the events of 'More Than Our Parts'

Part Of You

Pairing: Reed900 // Warnings: Explicit Content 18+

Summary: Gavin and Nines have been dating for some time now, but unfortunate circumstances early in their relationship meant that they weren't able to 'push the limits' of their intimate life quite as much as they would have liked. This is about to change. Takes place after the events of 'More Than Our Parts'

up in smoke.

Pairing: Reed900 // Warnings: Explicit Content 18+

Gavin couldn't stand parties. Least of all, the ones that were hosted by his pretentious older brother. When the ‘small festive gathering’ he has been invited to turns out to be a networking event, he's quickly left wondering if things could possibly get any worse—and then he runs into Nolan, his former colleague and ex-boyfriend. Modern-day Human!AU

stay with me.

Pairing: Reed900 // Warnings: Explicit Content 18+

Summary: After the untimely death of his older brother, Gavin becomes the sole beneficiary of his substantial wealth—as well as his impressive estate. Upon investigating the property for the first time, he discovers that the house is managed by a hyper-intelligent Domestic AI known as Nines. As well as being able to complete any and all domestic duties, Nines goes to tireless lengths to ensure its user feels happy and fulfilled at all times. When you've got things this good, why would you ever want to leave? Domestic AI!Nines AU

Gavin Reed's Guide to Lowering the Bar

Pairing: Reed900 // Warnings: Explicit Content 18+

Gavin reluctantly embarks on a blind date set up by his best friend, Tina. First impressions of his date are promising until he notices the LED on their forehead. Will he be able to set aside his prejudices for a chance at love? (Or, at the very least, a chance to get laid.) Blind Date AU

Fail Safe

Pairing: Reed900

Summary: Gavin and Nines are on security duty when an unexpected cyber attack results in the android's synthetic skin being compromised. Despite his worries, Gavin reassures him that their bond runs deeper than the pieces they are made of.

#a comprehensive archive of all my fics to date #because i was struggling to find them all so i cant imagine how hard it was for everyone else #will update regularly #dbh fic #dbh #dbh fanfic #dbh fanfiction #reed900 #chen300 #tina chen x st300

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ineffableautism · 3 months ago

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Reverse Omens Files (2)

[Angels Part 1] [Angels 3]

Archangel Kushiel, the angel of punishment

Info:

Kushiel hands out punishments on individuals in hell on behalf of the angels. In the past though, he’s taken delight in casting angels down to hell around the time of the fall and usually has the threat on hand that if anyone else was to be sent to him- he would absolutely not act kindly towards them and make the punishment quick but painful. If not outright erased from the Book of Life. He’s one of few angels that hasn’t quite gotten a grasp on modern technology in heaven, 9 times out of 10 sticking to traditional ways of just noting things down on paper and handing them off to the relevant angel- or speaking to them in person.

Appearance/Outfit:

There’s one word to describe how Kushiel looks in comparison to other angels… and it’s “unnatural”. If there’s one disturbing thing about Kushiel that low ranking angels tend to say about him, it’s his brightly coloured eyes that almost seem to radiate light. Aside from the fact that they also appear to be not just gold irises, but the full eye seems to be gold as well. His unnatural looks don’t stop there though. His skin is very sickly looking and a pale grey (think “glacier grey”) that is weirdly complimented by silvery-white hair. Their ensemble is also different to his fellow angels; a brown tweed scarf, pale green coat and complimentary brown trousers. The style of clothing has usually just been put down to how close Kushiel works with hell.

Miscellaneous rambles

Kushiel has dragonfly wings as opposed to the standard feathery white wings angels tend to have.

Contrary to a lot of other angels, he feels constantly cold in heaven. Hence the scarf.

One of his colleagues had to visit Scotland for official business and ended up acquiring a tweed scarf from the Isle of Harris, giving it to Kushiel as a gift.

Temeluchus, an Archangel who cares for the souls of deceased children at the hands of their parents

Info:

Despite another angel having contacts with hell to deal punishment, Temeluchus acted as a bit of an informant with a demon- passing and trading information between the realms and each other. He also doesn’t smile much which some say goes hand in hand with his job. On rare occasions of sending information down to Kushiel, he allows his colleague to take part in dishing out the punishments, which he enjoys.

Appearance/Outfit:

Luchus is a demon who is of a warm, coloured tone. He shares golden eyes with his compatriot Kushiel, though they’re not fully golden like his own. They look rather “normal”, thank you. Outfit wise, he has a knitted amber coloured sweater and dark trousers. When it’s called for something a little more formal, a white blazer might sometimes be thrown on over- or just a generic white coat. Wait- is that a chameleon on top of his head? It likes to match the colours of his outfit or be pure white, often changing the colours of his markings (which also tend to just stick to his forehead).

Miscellaneous rambles

Kushiel gave him his sweater and despite acting and pretending like he absolutely hates it, he really does love it.

Bearded dragon.

Selaphiel, the angel of prayer and worship

Info:

In command of several legions of angels and a Virtue, Selaphiel has always worked very closely with the Archangels despite not being one herself. She enjoys listening to any sort of gossip about things from anywhere- whether it be about the ones in hell, on earth or even in heaven. Some say it’s definitely a ploy to try and get a promotion if they figure something out that could put heaven in jeopardy, but she’s absolutely not above using lower ranking angels to go and do something instead of her.

Appearance/Outfit:

Selaphiel is self described as the most stylish of the angels. While she has a variety of outfits, the most common one is golden coloured trousers, a red sweater with a white shirt, gold tie and “egg-shell white” brogues. Her hair’s a cool, brown colour with many streaks and hints of gold that shine through.

Miscellaneous rambles:

Selaphiel spent some time on earth as a circus ringmaster

Male peafowl vibes. Both are simply FABULOUS.

#good omens #oopsie!omens #reverse omens #reverse omens files #good omens angel shax #good omens angel hastur #good omens angel ligur

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zerogate · 2 years ago

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To properly understand the theurgic process from such a perspective, it remains important to emphasize the crucial importance of mental expectations and ritual context, for these are largely responsible for what is actually seen and heard in any drug-fueled experience.

Since our female practitioner in the “Mithras Liturgy” has been told that she is about to see the gods, she is prepared for awe-inspiring experiences of fire and light. She must have expected to be overwhelmed and deeply impressed, and we know that the exact content of her experience will have been determined by how the subjective contents of her own mind (including her belief in the gods, the stories she knows about them, fears about their awesome power, and so on) interact with the objective impact of a specific psychoactive compound.

Furthermore, she is being guided through the experience by a ritual leader who gives her precise instructions about what to do and say at any moment. If we reread the text with this information in mind, we discover that in fact he does not begin by asking his daughter to inhale the pneuma. Rather, what happens is that he recites the long opening invocation while simultaneously “anointing her face with the mystery” – that is to say, with the hallucinogenic ointment. While it is beginning to take effect, she is instructed to do the inhalations, three times in succession, “drawing in as much as you can.” The drugs must be responsible for the ensuing sensation of ascending upwards and floating weightlessly in midair.

Having been enveloped by deep silence (another possible drug effect), initially the practitioner feels threatened by the awesome presence of the divine powers, which are glowering at her and seem ready to attack her. To keep them at bay, she must put her right finger on her mouth and say “Silence! Silence! Silence! Symbol of the living imperishable god. Guard me, Silence! Nechtheir thanmelou!” Then she has to hiss at them and make a popping sound, followed by a longer formula of incomprehensible words, all of which will have the effect of restoring them to peace.

Likewise, when disturbed by a sound of crashing thunder, she has to repeat these same words, reassuring the gods that she is no alien intruder but an immortal being like themselves: “I am a star, wandering about with you.”

[...]

Interestingly, a reverse logic seems to govern the virtual taboo on discussing psychoactive agents in such texts as the “Mithras Liturgy.” While most classicists keep speaking of “magic” in spite of its pejorative connotations, they avoid mentioning “drugs” probably because it carries such connotations! This fact can be explained from the history of the field.

From the 1980s, a new generation of excellent scholars began challenging the old patterns of prejudice against theurgy and finally succeeded in restoring it to academic agendas. But while it is one thing to convince your colleagues that theurgy is governed by “a rationality of its own,” having to tell them that it involved drugs is something else entirely – the latter suggestion might easily lead them to conclude that those old prejudices were perhaps not so wrong after all, and those alternative rationalities might not be so rational. The effect that such information can have on nonspecialists is even harder to control, and very few scholars have been willing to take the risk – especially in the field of ancient religions, where several established academics have seen their reputations ruined by mediatized sensationalism about “religion and drugs.”

No won-der then that most scholars would like to avoid those “herbs” and their troublesome effects. Nevertheless, the references are there in our sources, and much more abundantly than is often thought. The information is obviously important for understanding how these rituals may have worked and why practitioners could be so impressed by their efficacy. If our own hinterland of cultural biases makes it hard for us to consider this dimension seriously, then the burden is on us to do something about it.

-- Wouter J. Hanegraaff, Hermetic Spirituality and the Historical Imagination: Altered States of Knowledge in Late Antiquity

#quotes

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vedictreat04 · 3 months ago

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Unlock the Benefits of Stress Management Therapy

In today's fast-paced world, stress has become a common part of life. From work pressures to personal challenges, we often find ourselves overwhelmed and anxious. While some level of stress can be motivating, chronic stress can have a negative impact on our health, productivity, and overall well-being. This is where Stress Management Therapy plays a crucial role in helping individuals regain control, balance their emotions, and lead healthier lives.

What is Stress Management Therapy?

Stress Management Therapy involves various therapeutic techniques designed to help people cope with stress more effectively. It aims to reduce physical, emotional, and psychological strain by teaching coping mechanisms and relaxation strategies. Whether through cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), mindfulness, relaxation exercises, or physical activity, stress management therapy provides tailored solutions to suit each individual’s specific stress triggers.

Key Benefits of Stress Management Therapy

1. Improved Mental Health One of the major benefits of Stress Management Therapy is its impact on mental health. Chronic stress can lead to mental health issues such as anxiety, depression, and burnout. Therapy teaches individuals how to recognize their stress triggers and offers tools to address them. Techniques like meditation and mindfulness help in grounding the mind, leading to reduced anxiety and a more positive mindset.

2. Better Physical Health Stress doesn’t just affect mental well-being—it can also have detrimental effects on physical health. High levels of stress have been linked to heart disease, high blood pressure, and a weakened immune system. By managing stress through therapy, individuals can lower their blood pressure, improve heart health, and strengthen their immunity. Regular practice of stress reduction techniques, such as deep breathing exercises and yoga, can have long-term health benefits.

3. Enhanced Emotional Resilience Stress Management Therapy equips individuals with emotional resilience, helping them manage challenging situations without feeling overwhelmed. Emotional resilience is the ability to bounce back from setbacks and maintain emotional stability in times of crisis. Therapy promotes emotional awareness and teaches coping skills that allow individuals to respond calmly to stressors, rather than reacting impulsively or negatively.

4. Increased Focus and Productivity Stress often makes it difficult to concentrate, which can reduce productivity both at work and in personal life. By engaging in Stress Management Therapy, individuals learn techniques to calm their minds and focus on tasks without getting distracted by worries. This improved concentration leads to better decision-making, enhanced creativity, and overall increased productivity.

5. Better Relationships When stress levels are high, it can negatively affect relationships with family, friends, and colleagues. Individuals may become irritable, withdrawn, or emotionally unavailable, straining their interactions with others. Therapy helps people manage their emotions better, allowing them to communicate more effectively and improve their relationships. With reduced stress, people can also spend more quality time with loved ones without being preoccupied by their stressors.

6. Improved Sleep Quality Sleep disturbances, such as insomnia or poor-quality sleep, are common symptoms of stress. Inadequate sleep can exacerbate stress levels, creating a vicious cycle. Stress Management Therapy can break this cycle by introducing relaxation techniques such as guided imagery, progressive muscle relaxation, and breathing exercises that promote restful sleep. When stress is reduced, sleep quality improves, and individuals wake up feeling more refreshed and rejuvenated.

How to Get Started with Stress Management Therapy

There are several approaches to Stress Management Therapy, and the choice depends on the individual's needs and preferences. Some of the popular methods include:

- Mindfulness and Meditation: These practices help individuals stay in the present moment, reduce anxiety, and promote relaxation.

- Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT): This method teaches people how to identify and change negative thought patterns that contribute to stress.

- Physical Activity: Exercise is a natural stress reliever. Engaging in activities like yoga, tai chi, or regular workouts can release endorphins, the body's natural mood elevators.

- Relaxation Techniques: Techniques such as deep breathing, progressive muscle relaxation, and guided imagery are commonly used to calm the mind and body.

- Professional Counseling: Talking to a trained therapist can provide insight and personalized guidance to manage stress more effectively.

Conclusion

Stress is an unavoidable part of life, but it doesn’t have to control us. Through Stress Management Therapy, individuals can unlock numerous benefits that enhance their mental, physical, and emotional well-being. From improved mental health to better relationships and increased productivity, the advantages of managing stress effectively are far-reaching. By incorporating these therapeutic techniques into daily life, individuals can take charge of their stress, leading to a more balanced, peaceful, and fulfilling life.

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emeaentrepreneur · 1 year ago

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The Smart Ways to Handle Crisis in Business

In this fast-moving world, where things are extremely unpredictable, especially when it comes to the business world, there are moments when you will achieve success and some moments when catastrophes can strike at any time, which can put your experience and adaptability to the test. But knowing how to handle times of crisis is extremely important, whether it’s a financial crisis or an emergency in the organization. But most people don’t know how to contain themselves when situations like these arise, which can make the problem more messy.

So in this post, we will help you find smart ways that you can apply to get out of the problem in business.

Understanding the meaning of crisis

Understanding the crisis is very important before we jump into finding ways to get out of it.

A crisis is an unstable or crucial time that can affect anyone. The timing of a crisis is unpredictable; it is a difficult occurrence in one’s life that can tend to disturb the routine.

Ways to handle a crisis

Staying calm

The first thing you need to keep in mind is not to lose your cool. Instead of losing your peace, try to think of things like how the problem arises and focus on solving the issue. When you panic, it can have a negative effect on your judgment, which can push you into a messier situation.

A clear mind can help you make informed decisions, which can help you tackle the problem more profoundly

Communication

Clear, effective, and honest communication is always important, but during times of crisis, it becomes essential to maintain open and honest communication with your colleagues and keep them updated about the situation and the things you are applying to tackle the situation. You can reduce your stress by talking to your colleagues and it will also make them feel included. When everyone involved is transparent with each other, it fosters trust and honesty, which can help you solve the problem more easily.

Response to crisis

Having Crisis recovery techniques prepared beforehand is an essential thing that every organization should practice. It is vital to identify probable crisis situations and ways to handle them.

Create a plan that should include all the Crisis recovery techniques

Make a clear plan about the roles and duties everyone should perform.

Verify that the staff is well-trained and ready to bear if things go sideways. Review and revise the plan on a regular basis to adjust to changing conditions.

Crisis recovery success stories

Let’s look at some of the inspiring stories of great individuals who handled the crisis very well and made their companies so successful that they are now giants in their respective business worlds

Apple

Apple, which is a giant in the world of technology, has not always been successful., It is very strange to believe that, despite being the world’s most valuable firm by market value, it was once in trouble

In 1997, Apple was on the edge of bankruptcy, and at the very last minute, Microsoft, which was the rival of the company, came in with an investment and saved it.

Steve Jobs didn’t think about the rival angle when it came to saving his company in a time of crisis but rather trusted Microsoft and accepted the assistance that Microsoft provided.

During the Macworld Expo in Boston on August-06-1997 Steve jobs said

“We have to let go of this notion that for Apple to win, Microsoft has to lose,” Jobs said. “We have to embrace the notion that for Apple to win, it has to do a really good job. And if others are going to help us, that’s great because we need all the help we can get. And if we screw it up and don’t do a good job, it’s not somebody else’s fault. It’s our fault. ”

Walt Disney

From the early 1920s and 1930s, there were many crises that struck Walt Disney, from the Great Depression to being rejected by many studios. Walt Disney was someone who didn’t give up, he made several strategies to turn failure into success, and one such strategy was introducing the character Mickey Mouse, which became a source of happiness and an escape for people suffering in the depths of the Great Depression. With the success of his characters, he created a global business that the world had never seen before.

Walt Disney said some inspiring words in 1957: “All the adversity I’ve had in my life, all my troubles and obstacles, have strengthened me… You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you.”

Conclusion

A crisis in business can come unannounced, and it can be a frightening experience but with the right tactics, like understanding the root cause of the problem, maintaining your coo throughout the crisis, and effective communication, you can effectively get through it.

Remember that every successful person has to taste failure in order to succeed. Keep in mind that crises are chances for development .

Visit More : https://theeuropeentrepreneur.com/management/the-smart-ways-to-handle-crisis-in-business/

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gazetteweekly · 2 years ago

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Khalistani preacher Amritpal Singh arrested, sent to Assam jail

The Punjab Police has already invoked the stringent National Security Act (NSA) against the Khalistan sympathizer.

The Punjab police arrested Amritpal Singh in Moga’s Rode village early Sunday, ending an over a month-long manhunt against the radical preacher who styled himself after slain Khalistani militant Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale.

The preacher was taken into custody at 6.45 am as he came out — in the traditional attire that included a sheathed sword — of the gurdwara in Rode, Bhindranwale’s native village and also the place where he himself took over last year as the chief of Waris Punjab De.

The 29-year-old was detained under the stringent National Security Act and flown to Assam on a special flight to be lodged at the Dibrugarh Central Jail, where nine other associates picked up over the past several weeks are kept.

Shortly after his arrest, a video surfaced online in which the extremist preacher is seen delivering a brief address, indicating that he is surrendering.

Another clip showed him sitting before a portrait of Bhindranwale, who died in a controversial Army operation in 1984 to flush out militants holed up inside Amritsar’s Golden Temple.

Inspector General of Police Sukhchain Singh Gill countered the preacher’s claim that it was a “surrender”, and said the fugitive was cornered.

“A joint operation was conducted by Amritsar police and the intelligence wing of Punjab Police. He was located in village Rode based on operational inputs with Punjab Police. He was surrounded from all sides. The village was surrounded by the Punjab Police,” he said.

He said police did not enter the gurdwara. “It was very important to maintain the sanctity of the gurdwara and police in uniform could not enter inside.” A message was conveyed to the preacher that he had no chance of making his escape, Gill said.

“National Security Act warrants were issued against Amritpal Singh and these have been executed today morning. Further, law will take its own course,” he said.

In a video message hours after the arrest, Chief Minister Bhagwant Mann said those who disturb peace and harmony in the state will face the law, and innocent people will not be disturbed.

Mann said he continuously monitored developments during the night, leading to the arrest.

Former Akal Takht jathedar Jasbir Singh Rode said he met Amritpal Singh at the gurdwara as the preacher prepared to surrender.

In the gurdwara clip, the fugitive recalled that Rode is Bhindranwale’s birth place, and the village where his own “dastar bandi” (turban-tying ceremony) took place – a reference to his taking over Waris Punjab De chief.

He claimed there were excesses by the government against Sikhs while he was on the run, appearing to suggest that the security agencies wanted to harass people rather than just arrest him. He said he would have cooperated with them had arrest been their objective.

“I have decided to surrender and this arrest is not an end, it is the beginning,” he said.

In the “court of the Almighty”, he said he is not guilty.

Police had launched a crackdown against Amritpal Singh on March 18, about three weeks after he and his supporters, many of them brandishing weapons, stormed into the Ajnala police station near Amritsar to secure the release of an arrested colleague.

There were concerns that the preacher had links with Pakistan spy agency ISI and was working towards radicalising the Sikh youth, in an effort to revive the call for a separate nation of ‘Khalistan’.

Amritpal Singh returned from Dubai last year and took over Waris Punjab De after the death of activist-singer Deep Sandhu.

Among the declared aims of the outfit was fighting drug addiction among young people, but intelligence agencies feared that this was just a front.

Several cases have been lodged against him and his associates for allegedly spreading disharmony, attempt to murder, attack on police personnel and obstructing the lawful discharge of duty by public servants.

While the preacher remained on the run for 36 days, authorities continued to pile pressure on him by arresting his key associates.

His wife Kirandeep Kaur, a UK-based woman he married in February, was stopped from boarding a flight to London from Amritsar airport recently.

Scores of sympathises were detained by police, but most of them were released as the Akal Takht and the Shiromani Gurdwara Parbandhak Committee claimed young people were being harassed.

Nine of the preacher’s alleged associates are in the Dibrugarh jail. They are Daljit Singh Kalsi, Papalpreet Singh, Kulwant Singh Dhaliwal, Varinder Singh Johal, Gurmeet Singh Bukkanwala, Harjit Singh, Bhagwant Singh, Basant Singh and Gurinderpal Singh Aujla.

The plane carrying Amritpal Singh landed in Dibrugarh on Sunday afternoon.

#Amritpal Singh #arrest

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wren-of-the-woods · 3 years ago

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Hi! I see you've reblogged a writing prompt list...now, how about #29 for Yennskier (because I adore them) or Geraskefer as that's probably more your thing? (Or if both leave you rather uninspired, I know you're a big Geraskier shipper)

But listen, the immortals putting flowers on Jaskier's grave is heartbreaking and a good idea

Thank you for the prompt, my friend!! This became 1k of oddly soft Yennskier -- I hope you like it!

CW: major character death. Prompt from this list!

Edit: Also on AO3!

~~~

Jaskier’s grave is beautiful in the spring.

“Put me somewhere nice, when the time comes,” he had said with a soft smile. “Cover me with growing things. That way I can live on, in a way. I can provide for new life.”

Yennefer has done her very best to heed his wishes.

She worked together with Geralt to choose the location. It was one of several places that Jaskier himself had suggested in his later years. It’s a little glade beside a small brook, far enough above the water not to be disturbed by a flood but close enough to always be green and shaded. It’s in the woods, about an hour’s journey from Oxenfurt. Jaskier had loved the place. He and Yennefer spent many afternoons there, talking or working or simply enjoying themselves.

The funeral was beautiful. Geralt and Ciri were there, of course. So were most of the remaining witchers and a large number of people from Oxenfurt, Jaskier’s friends and colleagues and students alike. There had even been a fair number of elves who remembered Jaskier from his work as the Sandpiper.

When Jaskier was alive, his favorite tree in the glade had been a majestic old oak that spread its arms over most of the glade. That day, the funeral-goers planted one of its acorns over Jaskier’s final resting place.

“What if it dies?” Geralt had asked. There were tears on his cheeks. It was the first and only time Yennefer has seen him cry. “What if it fails to sprout?”

“It won’t,” said Yennefer. She’s always been stubborn.

Jaskier has given her so much: laughter and love and music and grief. The least she can do is give him a garden in return.

She visited the spot every week, those first few months. She tended the oak as it sprouted and watered the buttercups and forget-me-nots that had been seeded throughout the glade. She talked to Jaskier as she worked. She thought he would enjoy the company.

She could have used magic for this. She did not. She found herself liking the feeling of the earth — Jaskier’s earth — in her hands.

After a while, when the plants were more established and her duties could no longer be ignored, she let herself slow to only visiting once a season. Every solstice and equinox without fail, whether alone or accompanied by Geralt or Ciri, she comes to tend Jaskier’s garden.

Time passes. Seasons turn. Jaskier’s sapling is a fine young tree now, many heads taller than Yennefer. Though Geralt and Ciri are not with her this time, she isn’t alone. “Jaskier’s Glade” has become a popular retreat among Oxenfurt’s bardic students. Yennefer likes to think that it’s because the place itself seems to be made of music; when the wind blows and the creek babbles and there are songbirds in the trees, she sometimes fancies she can hear Jaskier’s voice in the chorus.

Jaskier’s absence hurts, of course, but over the years it has dulled from a soul-crushing chasm in her heart to an old ache. It’s familiar now, more of a reminder of love than of loss. It’s something she never thought she’d get to have, this oddly comforting wound in her heart. A part of her will always remain with that ugly little girl who thought she would never love or be loved. Jaskier, more than anyone else, had shown her she was wrong about that. If this pain is the cost of all the joy and comfort and healing they had given each other, it is a badge she will wear with honor.

One thing that helps when the grief does become hard to bear: Yennefer knows she’ll see Jaskier again.

Yennefer doesn’t believe in the afterlife. Yennefer believes in magic. She also believes that she and Jaskier are possibly the two most stubborn people on the Continent.

Long ago, before Jaskier’s bones started to creak and his hair became more gray than brown, Yennefer conducted a ritual. It was something she discovered in a time-worn old tome, written in a near-forgotten language. It’s an ancient rite, created as a way of binding the souls of two sorcerers. It is, technically, a marriage ritual. Yennefer did not tell Jaskier this. He would have been insufferable.

He’ll find out when it works.

They did it here, in this very glade. With an incantation from Yennefer and a song from Jaskier, their spirits were entwined as they bound their hands together.

The spell was thorough. Their determination is strong. There is no possible way that their souls will be separated now; Yennefer knows this deep in her being.

All she has to do is wait.

~~~

All the bards of Oxenfurt know the sorceress who tends to Jaskier’s Glade. She weeds it and prunes it and waters it and cares for it in every way, as faithful as a lover. She has done so for untold decades — but, as it turns out, even mages don’t live forever. One day, peacefully and in her sleep, her life comes to an end.

She is buried in the glade: hers and Jaskier’s, now. A second oak is planted over her, a twin to the bard’s. The care of the glade, in which lilacs are now planted as well as buttercups, falls to Melitele and the students of Oxenfurt.

The place passes into legend, after a time. Most agree that there’s nothing to the tales but the overactive imaginations of bardlings, but the stories persist all the same. They tell of love beyond reason and hope beyond death, of tender touches held in the twining of leaves.

It’s not a legacy Yennefer ever expected, but those who loved her and Jaskier think it is a fitting one. She deserved to have such softness after everything she endured, and Jaskier deserved to be remembered for his love.

There are songs about the place, to no one’s surprise; no bard can resist a tale of romance. These songs, though, are rarely performed in taverns. They aren’t for laughing or clapping along, but they survive for far longer than the bawdier tales. These songs are for quiet evenings when the world is dark and the stars are bright. They are stories of quiet, unspoken hope and caresses held between the petals of a flower.

They are the best remembrance either Jaskier or Yennefer could have hoped for.

~~~

The secret glade of song, they say, Is full of life and love; The lilacs and the buttercups Seem blesséd from above.

The biggest branching oaks, they say, Can speak, though rarely heard; They laugh and banter, talk and joke With love in every word.

Sometimes at dusk, you see, they say, Two figures dance along; They fade and flicker, shine and whirl, To their sweet starlight song.

The place is full, they sing, they say, Of love on songbirds’ wings; The glade of bard and sorceress wife Is beautiful in the spring.

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edwardskhakipants · 3 years ago

Text

Forks, Washington. August 2004.

Esme and Carlisle stood in the middle of their grand living room, waiting for their five vampire children to arrive. Alice arrived first—prompt as usual. She settled herself gracefully onto the tufted sofa Esme had recently acquired, only to be immediately jostled by Emmett who heaved himself onto the cushions. A breath caught in Esme’s throat—she had lost many pieces from her beloved collection by that action—but it looked like this one was still in one piece. For the moment. Jasper took Edward’s normal spot in the only armchair, forcing Edward to wedge himself between Alice and Emmett.

“What?” Rosalie grumbled as she perched on the armrest of the couch beside Emmett, “Are we having another one of those How to Respect the Telepath in Your Life meetings again?”

“No,” Edward answered, fully aware of the intent of this meeting since it hatched in Carlisle's mind two days prior. “But there’s never a bad time to bring that up. Christ, Emmett, if you’re going to have a song stuck in your head for over seventy-two hours, the least you can do is learn the correct lyrics.”

Emmett’s eyebrows knit together, asking his brother a silent question.

“It’s ‘mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido,’” Edward answered.

Emmett’s brow furrowed doubtfully.

“No.” Edward shook his head, answering Emmett’s thoughts. “Why would he eat a beetle?”

Emmett grinned playfully and tilted his head towards Edward.

Edward wasn’t amused. “You know what it means.”

A silly grin plastered on his face, Emmett elbowed Edward in the ribs, silently egging him on.

Edward’s eyes darted to Carlisle, then Esme, and he shifted in his seat. “Sexual desire,” he muttered.

Emmett howled with laughter and clapped his hands once, “Wow, Eddie! You’re just going to say that in front of Esme!?” Edward scowled as Emmett’s bouts of laughter echoed through the room.

Esme ran a hand through her youngest’s ginger hair. “Boys,” she warned, and Emmett sucked in his laughter.

“Our meeting today has to do with all of you,” Carlisle began.

“We simply wanted to go over the rules of attending school with you kids before you start your second year at Forks High School,” Esme explained, unfolding and re-folding her hands in front of her. “There are already whispers, and we don’t want those whispers to turn into rumors.”

“I thought the only whispers about us at school were whether or not Edward liked girls,” Rosalie said, earning an eye-roll from Edward.

“No,” Alice chirped,” Some kids think we’re a cult.”

Jasper leaned back heavily in his chair. “We haven’t heard that one since the Seventies.”

“Kids are getting more creative these days.” Emmett nodded appreciatively.

Esme held up one, delicate finger. “Which is why it is best to take preventative action.”

Carlisle took the floor. “We thought a few reminders would be helpful before you started your first day of your second year,” Carlisle said. “We don’t want another incident like the one we had at the end of last year.”

Every head in the room turned towards Emmett.

“What?” Emmett threw up his hands in exasperation, “The water gun fight was the senior prank—I wasn’t the one who brought them to the school. Hell, I wasn’t even the only student who got suspended!”

“That’s true,” Carlisle agreed, “but you were the only student to shout, ‘Sit down, kids! Daddy’s gotta tinkle,’ and shoot the stream of the gun from your crotch.”

Jasper snickered—the sound was immediately silenced by a single raised eyebrow from Esme.

“I still don’t see the problem,” Emmett continued, “That’s not necessarily a vampire thing.”

Edward—who often mistook himself as the third vampire parent rather than the youngest son—sighed, “Yes, but it brings unnecessary attention to the family. Which is the first rule: do not bring attention to yourself.”

Esme ran her fingers through her son’s hair once more, “Yes, darling, you are especially good at keeping to yourself.” Edward’s eyes widened, despite Esme’s gentle touch, already aware of where her point was headed. “So much so, that I have been given the names of several child therapists to help my son through his depression. One was recommended for his exceptional work on spotting and treating the early signs of sociopathic behavior.”

Esme grabbed her son’s chin and forced him to look at her. “You have to talk to other people.”

Knocked off his high horse, Edward flinched back from Esme’s hand. “Friendship with humans never bodes well for us.”

“We’re not asking you to create lifelong friendships with humans,” Carlisle clarified, “We are simply asking you to be likable.”

“A nearly impossible feat for Edward.” Rosalie grinned. The comment went unnoticed, save Edward’s slight flinch. But the quick, little tick was satisfying enough for Rose.

“Look at your father,” Esme gestured towards Carlisle, “At every hospital he works at, he goes out of his way to ensure he is well-liked among his colleagues. He forces down countless lunches and coffees, solely to make sure they’re comfortable around him.”

Carlisle took over. “And your mother, a beloved member of her gardening club and a prized member of the PTA.”

“And neither of us have rumors started about us, and do you know why?”

All five teenagers grumbled the ingrained response. “Humans don’t want to spread rumors about people they like.”

“Exactly.” Esme nodded.

“I try!” Alice whined, “But Edward never lets me talk to any humans.”

“That’s because every, single thing that is about to come out of your mouth is incriminating. You might as well walk around with a neon sign that says, ‘I’m a psychic vampire’.”

Alice scoffed, “Is not!”

“You wanted to tell Nihal Howard not to audition for the musical.”

“And he broke his leg on opening night,” Alice challenged.

“You were going to tell Christiana Ward that pink was not her color.”

“And she lost prom queen to Ashley Kirby.”

Jasper put a comforting hand on his wife’s knee. “Maybe try not to meddle so much, darlin’. Natural relationships, first.”

“They would have been!” Alice wailed, “I would have played it cool and casual and made friends and you all would have seen it! But everyone’s hurt and I have no friends at all because Edward won’t let me try!”

Edward rolled his eyes.

Carlisle suppressed a heavy sigh. “You have to let your sister try, Edward.”

Edward’s mouth fell open. “You cannot seriously be siding with her on this!”

But Carlisle stood his ground. He and Edward stared at one another for a few seconds, engaged in a silent conversation. In the end, Carlisle tilted his chin and Edward slumped back. Victorious, Alice used both pointer fingers to jab Edward in the side several dozen times at vampire speed.

Rosalie flipped her golden locks over her shoulder. “I don’t know how you all struggle so much. I have no issues with becoming well-liked at school while remaining inconspicuous.”

“Oh yeah, you’re so inconspicuous,” Edward grumbled, now extra-petty that he had been called out two times in one meeting. “You dress like you're on your way to brunch at your second husband’s country club in Beverly Hills and you make out with your foster brother. The perfect picture of discretion in Forks High School.”

“At least I don’t dress like a sad, old man.” Rosalie grimaced, disappointed in her comeback. The light, humorous insults that were required in family situations were Emmett’s forte; Rosalie’s insults were meant to emotionally cripple a person.

Edward sat up in his seat on the couch and turned to face Rosalie. “I think you missed the main takeaway in that you make out with your foster brother.” Edward turned back. “I can read your minds, and I still don’t understand what made either of you think it was okay to bring your relationship to school?!”

Emmett smiled, unperturbed. “It’s hot.”

“It’s disturbing,” Edward disagreed.

Esme frowned, “You kids don’t really do that, do you?”

“Would it help if Jasper and I became an official couple too?” Alice suggested. Jasper perked up at the idea of being able to hold hands with Alice in public again.

“No!” Edward yelled at the same time Emmett and Rosalie muttered their acquiesce.

“It wouldn’t seem as weird if there were two couples,” Emmett agreed.

Edward dug his fingers through his hair. “Oh my god!”

“...maybe not, kids,” Esme intervened, but was ultimately ignored.

“So should we come out today like it happened over the summer, or make a little show out of it?” Alice asked Rosalie.

Rosalie waved a hand in the air. “Oh, it’s way more fun if you play up the theatrics.”

“A little more realistic, too,” Emmett agreed.

Alice looked to Jasper for his opinion. “It might be better if we were discreet about it,” she said. “Like we knew it was wrong, but we wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of our love.”

Jasper scooted forward to the edge of his seat. “Or we could let it be quiet and drawn out. Let others see our mutual pining, and root for us to be together.”

Gazing deep into the golden eyes of her soulmate, Alice sighed, “I love that.”

“If people wanted us to get together, it would normalize Emmett and Rosalie’s relationship.”

“Or Rosalie and Emmett could stop,” Edward suggested, bitterly. “That would be normal, too.”

“Oh, Edward,” Alice patted his shoulder, “You’ll find love someday, too.”

“That is not at all what bothers me about the situation.”

Carlisle made the decision for everyone. “Rosalie and Emmett, break up at school. Alice and Jasper, remain friends and siblings.”

Disappointment filtered into the room through Jasper.

“I heard that,” Edward grumbled at someone’s thoughts.

“You were supposed to,” Rosalie shot back.

“We are also initiating a new rule,” Esme brought the room back to the conversation at hand, “No more correcting your teachers.”

A chorus of complaints rang from the couch.

Esme clicked her tongue, “I’m tired of defending you all from entirely preventable issues. I have emails from curious teachers wondering why my foster daughter is taking French 101, when she already appears to be fluent.” Esme looked at Rosalie, who immediately tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Or why my son, at the tender age of sixteen, could not only deadlift three hundred pounds in his first weightlifting class, but also give his coach tips on improving his posture.”

Emmett glanced over at Edward before he realized Esme was, in fact, addressing him. “What!?”

Jasper snorted. The sound was a mistake, for it brought Esme’s wrath onto him. “And not to mention the emails from not one, not two, but three teachers warning me that my foster son has an intimate understanding of the mechanics of a point fifty-eight caliber rifle-musket.” Esme held out her hands, almost pleadingly, “How does that subject keep coming up, Jasper?”

A noncommittal grunt was the only answer Jasper had for that question.

“No more,” she commanded. “You can get good grades but keep your extra knowledge on any subject to yourself. Whatever your teacher teaches is all you know. Understand?”

“But what if we—” Edward started.

“Understand?” Esme repeated.

The five teenage vampires understood, even if they didn’t want to.

“I believe that all five of you will graduate from Forks High School!” Esme cheered.

The kids stared back, unable to muster the zeal Esme had over the prospect.

“Meeting adjourned!” Carlisle announced, and faster than fast vampire speed, the kids bolted from their seats.

Esme was able to get in a few more reminders as her children flitted around the house and filed out to the silver Volvo. “Remember to buy lunch with cash and not your credit cards. Emmett, please do not joke about being mauled by a bear. Do not address your teachers by their first names—I don’t care if you’re older than they are, Edward. Alice, please wear something a bit more causal, pet.”

When the house was finally empty, Carlisle pulled Esme backwards into his chest and began massaging her temples. The gesture wasn’t needed, but any touch from her husband was always welcome.

“Do you think they’ll listen?” she asked her husband.

“Not a chance.”

#this bad boy had been swimming around in my head for awhile #please enjoy #my other fics havent been cullen centric enough for me lately #so i had to do something #twilight fic #twilight fan fiction #and thank you to the editing queen edwardsmate4ever for beta'ing for me #youre a queen

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asset35-maya · 3 years ago

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I am sleepy but I gotta make a request before the busy tomorrow so 2 things on my mind! Sleepy and the 'oh my god they were roomates' vine xD with any characters and aus I love everything you write anyways xD Happy timezones and best vibes your way >^<!! 💖💞💕💕

Oh my god, they were roommates…

“The rental market in Detroit is absolute shit! How dare these bloodsuckers charge such high rates for the most under-developed properties! This city’s going to the dogs!”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have to pay your own weight in gold just to live in a shoebox for a year. Nonsense!”

“Uh…”

“Are you even listening to me, Tina!

Tina?

Goddamnit Tina!”

Gavin thumped his fist on her desk, but Tina’s eyes barely flicked up from her phone.

“Oh my god, you sound like my grandpa…”

Gavin turned red and his brain buzzed with a thousand colourful retorts. He was just about to pick one when Tina stopped scrolling and turned her phone screen towards him.

CYBERSCALIA @ NEW JERICHO

The suburban paradise for executive androids and humans alike. Located 25 minutes drive from downtown Detroit, with a full amenities.

Gavin’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He balked at her.

“You’re joking? How could I possibly…?”

“Get with the times, boomer…”

Tina lazily skimmed her thumb over the screen. The webpage promised plenty of greenery, good infrastructure and modest but spacious rooms. The extremely reasonable price tag was Gavin’s dream come true. He’d spent weeks apartment hunting in the wake of an early lease termination by his cantankerous landlord. Gavin knew he’d never find a better deal.

“Shit, this is so good, T! Why the phck does it have to be in that- that place!”

His friend arched a sceptical eyebrow.

“What place?”

“The Tincan ghetto!”

Tina smacked him on the arm. None too gently.

“It’s subsided public housing located in an android-friendly estate… because they’re the ones that need it most right now. And frankly, you seem to be in just as much need, so you should really get off that high horse.”

“Fine, fine. You’re right. I should seriously consider this place, even if my neighbours are gonna have more in common with my car than me. But damn, it seems a little too good to be true. There’s probably some fine print, hidden costs that’ll come out later.”

“Hmm… let’s see…”

Tina scrolled further and then let out a half-laugh. She held her phone up again.

“Nothing shady about the rates, but there is something you should know…”

At the risk of being called old again, Gavin squinted at the screen and read aloud.

“Bearing in mind the founding principles of New Jericho, all human occupants may only apply for tenancy in co-habitation with at least one android citizen of the United States of- JESUS PHCKING CHRIST! Absolutely not! I am not going to live with a plastic prick!”

Gavin had to get through half a bottle of wine before he could bear to scroll through the rental listings. Unlike other humans who had happily moved into New Jericho with their android friends or partners, he had to find an android who was also looking for a flatmate.

Some listings came from ardent supporters of Markus. These were the androids who wanted to ease the post-revolution transition by reaching out to humans. Some listings were put up by the android equivalent of frat boys. These individuals were clearly looking for someone on the fringes of human society, someone who could show them a good (if not illegal) time.

Other posts came from eccentric androids who craved company but had likely been rejected by their own kind. Gavin felt a strange twisting sensation, almost like pity, when he came across a post written entirely in third person by someone called Ralph.

He had almost given up hope when he came across a simple little listing for a two bedroom apartment in Cyberscalia.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: Seeking a neat, self-sufficient co-renter. Human or android, no preference. I spend most of my time working and will be out of your way for the better part of the day. I only ask for silence during my nighttime stasis cycles, timely payment of dues and upkeep of cleanliness.

Gavin sighed in relief.

“Your room is the first door on the left, mine is the second. The bathroom, laundry and kitchenette are shared, as is the living room. I scarcely find use for the latter, so you need not worry about my intruding on any of your social gatherings, or vice versa. As long as you adhere to the terms of the agreement, our paths will not cross much.”

The tall, stiff-necked android dropped a set of keys, both mechanical and digital, into Gavin’s open palm.

“Er thanks.. RK… sorry I forgot your full model number…”

“You may call me Nines. Although, I’d rather you didn’t call me much of anything. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

In a swish of black fabric, the android turned on his heel and disappeared into his room. Two rapid clicks indicated the shutting and locking of his door.

Gavin sighed and looked around the open-plan living room. It was nothing fancy, but it was far beyond any of the other properties he’d viewed in weeks of unsuccessful house-hunting.

He sat down on the simple black couch with a huff and contemplated his situation. He’d ended up where he’d truly never expected to go, but objectively speaking, things were good… barring the high-handed manner of his robot flatmate, but who gave a shit about that.

He pulled out his phone to text Tina his thanks.

“I can’t! I refuse to! It is a violation of my personal ethics and I will simply not take this assignment any further. Good day to you sir!”

Gavin nearly dropped his bowl of cereal one morning when his roommate burst out of his door and rushed into the open balcony.

He hadn’t seen Nines in days, which was perfectly normal. The android came and went at odd hours and made hardly any noise. It was almost like living alone. The only reminder of Nines’ presence was the sight of several dark shirts and trousers regularly hung out to dry on the rack above the washing machine.

Gavin set his bowl down and watched the android tightly grip the bars of the railing and take several unnecessary breaths to calm down. He’d seen deviant colleagues express emotion many times before, but this was the first time he witnessed such a potent mixture of rage and sorrow from a synthetic being.

Out of empathy, but mostly curiosity, Gavin approached cautiously.

“Hey Nines… is everything alright…?”

There was no response for several moments. Then Nines turned around with a grimace and hands held upwards in a placating gesture.

“I apologise for the disturbance. It was hypocritical of me to disrupt the very peace and quiet I demand of you.”

“Uh… no worries…? Are you okay?”

There was a flash of steel blue eyes.

Gavin kicked himself mentally as he realised too late that he’d broached uncharted territory. Their interactions didn’t extend beyond curt nods on the rare occasion they found each other in the same space. It was almost as if Nines engineered the lack of contact, which wouldn’t surprise Gavin at all if it were the case.

“I’m fine. I merely experienced some frustration with my work.”

Perhaps it was boredom, perhaps it was his usual lack of self-preservative instinct… Gavin threw caution to the winds.

“What do you actually do?”

Nines’ expression remained stoic but his LED went through a spectacular series of colours and flashes. His next words were reluctant.

“I’m a private investigator.”

“Oh shit! I’m actually a cop.”

Gavin pointed dumbly at himself and then let his hand drop when he saw absolutely no surprise cross the android’s face.

“I know. That’s why I let you stay with me.”

“For safety?”

“Certainly not for your fashion sense.”

“Wow okay, I didn’t think I’d be much protection for a big scary droid like you.”

Nines hummed dismissively and started to move out of the balcony, body language fully indicating the end of the conversation.

Unable to help himself for some strange reason, Gavin blurted out another ill-advised question.

“What pissed you off so much?”

Nines paused halfway through side-stepping the human. A thrill went through Gavin at the shards of ice he observed for the first time up close in Nines’ irises.

“If I tell you, will you promise to stop asking pointless questions?”

Gavin nodded earnestly, and frankly… rather foolishly.

“I helped a client gather evidence to initiate divorce proceedings on the grounds of infidelity. I provided ample photo and video evidence for his lawyers to work with. Now they want me to keep following the spouse to capture more details that could gear any future settlement in his favour.”

“So what’s your problem?”

“They’re offering me an incredible amount of cash to follow her 24/7. To stake out her workplace, her gym, her parent’s home. They want me to crouch under the window of the bedroom where her children sleep. I can do a lot of things, but not that. It’s deeply insulting that they even asked. That’s why I was so… pissed.”

Nines slipped past and was nearly back to his bedroom when Gavin spoke.

“I respect that.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I know, but for real though, I think ethics are important in our line of work. Not just because of we need morals or a sense of right or wrong blablabla, but because we need… clarity.”

Silence floated through the hallway as Nines paused with a hand on his doorframe.

“Clarity?”

“Yeah, like a sense of direction. We don’t just take cases right-left-centre because they make us money. I mean, we could, and people do… but they never become specialists or experts of any kind. You gotta strategise if you want a career. Ethics helps with that. I think…”

Gavin wasn’t sure what made him say any of that. He was neither one for small talk, nor a man of many words… but something about Nines prompted that unusual level of introspective discourse.

“Sorry that was weird. Never mind.”

“That was actually… very astute.”

Their eyes met and Gavin could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a smile.

“It’s good to see that not all humans are as one-dimensional as I thought.”

The door clicked shut, but there was no locking sound.

Since the morning of Nines’ uncharacteristic outburst, the frequency of their encounters in the common areas of the apartment increased. Wordless nods became hellos, and hellos eventually became full sentences.

Not that he’d admit it, Gavin actually looked forward to enquiring about the android’s day and the cases he was working on. It was utterly fascinating to hear about legal investigations without the constraints of police procedure.

For his part, Nines would share as much as he had the patience to, before disappearing into the confines of his room. Though the time he spent outside steadily increased every day.

Another morning, while Gavin was making his coffee, Nines emerged from his room, still in his pyjamas and looking as livid as he had the time before. Gavin had never seen him in anything but crisply ironed businesswear. Before he could voice any concern, Nines stiffly asked Gavin to keep a lookout for a homicide suspect.

He nodded and immediately reached for his phone to text the sergeant on duty at his station. By midday, there was an arrest.

That evening, when Gavin settled in front of the TV with his usual glass of wine, he heard the familiar sound of Nines’ door opening. The couch dipped beside him.

“Thank you.”

“Just did my job. I should thank you for the tip.”

“Hmm.”

Gavin chanced a glance at his roommate, and found him looking right back.

“What?”

“Nothing… I just had the realisation that much of my work is impotent without the authority and means to take any kind of action.”

The sitcom began to play and Gavin thumbed the remote to reduce the volume.

“Takes all kinds to keep the streets clean. PIs can do things cops can’t. We rely on guys like you for intel all the time, you know.”

“I know.”

No words were exchanged for a while thereafter. Gavin found himself unable to focus on the TV show with all the brooding energy emanating from his right.

“If you feel like being a private eye doesn’t make enough of a difference, then why didn’t you… um… you know…”

“Join law enforcement?”

“Yup.”

“Plenty of my fellow androids have done so. I know for a fact that my predecessor model chose to remain there. You might know him.”

“Connor? Yes. Very annoying.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

“Totally. But why didn’t you join too? You’d be brilliant on the Force.”

“My skillset is certainly well-suited, but I didn’t want to become another puppet of the state.”

Gavin really didn’t know what to say to that. He nodded uncertainly and looked back at the television. He wasn’t sure why Nines was suddenly this social.

“What are you… watching?”

Androids could scan and detect just about anything in the world, so there had to be something else to the question. Gavin, strangely, was happy to oblige.

Nines made an appearance every evening, without fail. He would sit through the TV shows if they were of interest, or he would bring his case material and notes to the coffee table to work in silence beside Gavin.

Sometimes Gavin liked to work on jigsaw puzzles on the dining table. Nines would sit beside him, pretending to read a paperback novel, but actually scanning the puzzle and passing the right pieces over from time to time.

Against all odds, an evening ritual and a tentative friendship developed. It was simple, but it was warm. Comfortable. Like nothing Gavin had ever had before, even with humans.

He awoke one morning with a slight crick in his neck but the feeling of being very well-rested.

His eyes flickered open and fell upon the window. Familiar greenery came into view… but wait… had everything slightly shifted to the left? And was that the New Jericho Capitol building? He couldn’t see that from his room! There was a tree in the way! A tree that was now a few feet away from where it used to be.

Gavin sat up in alarm as he realised that he was not in his own bed. His heart flew into his throat as Nines walked through the open doorway. Shirtless and carrying a mug of blue liquid.

“Oh good, you’re up.”

“Wha-what happened!?”

Nines frowned and sat down on the edge of the bed. He set the mug on the floor and pulled on a plain black t-shirt.

“You passed out on the couch last night. I think you finished a whole bottle waiting up for me? Sorry, I was out working later than expected.”

Gavin looked down and sighed in relief as he found all his clothes still on him.

“I didn’t want you to injure yourself sleeping at an odd angle so I brought you here. Your door was locked.”

“You could’ve easily opened it.”

“Yes, but that would’ve been an invasion of privacy. I reserve that for working hours alone.”

Gavin looked deep into the sparkling blue eyes and as usual found no trace of humour.

“Thanks…”

“Don’t mention it. Now get out. You’re ruining my silk sheets.”

Against his best efforts, Gavin could not keep the thought of being carried to bed and tucked in safely out of his mind. How many years had it been? Since something like that had been even remotely possible for him?

He knew that Nines was just being kind in his own pragmatic little way… but Gavin found that he wouldn’t mind the prospect of waking up in the android’s bed in a wildly different context.

He realised he had it bad when Tina caught him smiling to himself at work one day.

“Why so happy?”

“Oh… nothing. Just remembered something my roommate did… He’s a… funny guy.”

“Huh. Well, look at you getting along so well with androids.”

“Android. Singular. Just him.”

“Wowwww… he sounds special.”

“Who did this?”

“Gavin, the damage is merely superficial-”

“Who phcking did this??!”

He reached forward and gingerly touched Nines’ split cheek. His synth skin was smeared with blue blood and glitching in and out. Nines winced at the contact.

“Shit, sorry. That must hurt like a bitch.”

“Androids do not feel pain.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m merely experiencing a surge in sensory input wherever my chassis is exposed. I’m fine.”

“Shut up and give me your first aid kit or whatever toolbox equivalent you tincans have.”

A shade of embarrassment appeared over the android’s features.

“I… actually don’t have one. I didn’t think I’d ever need it.”

“Didn’t think anyone could kick your ass, huh?”

“No… I didn’t think anyone would ever spot my hiding place.”

“Huh. How’d that happen?”

Nines’ eyes dipped, but as always, he answered the question.

“I was… distracted.”

Something in the air solidified and both of them felt it. Gavin cleared his throat and slapped his knees like an old man about to stand up.

“Right. Let me go check if the neighbours have anything that might help with your face.”

“So who’s this dapper young gent you’ve brought to the party, Gavin?”

“Er… he’s my uh… roommate.”

Captain Fowler nodded and winked.

“That’s what they called it in my day too.”

Nines shifted beside Gavin and cleared his throat.

“He’s a PI. But I think he’s wasting his talent taking pictures of cheating spouses. He’s quite interested in police work. Maybe we could get him to assist on a couple cases now and then?”

Fowler put down his drink and extended a warm hand to Nines.

“Oh thank RA9!”

Nines came running to the cluster of police cars and enveloped him in a giant hug. Gavin laughed as he patted him weakly on the back.

“Watch the ribs, big guy.”

“I was so worried.”

“Why? Your info was good. No chance of error.”

“I meant about you.”

Gavin pulled back and regarded Nines with confusion. The flashing red and blue lights of the cars made it hard to read his LED.

“Why?”

“I can’t believe you have to ask.”

The android pulled him into a bruising kiss. The officers standing nearby broke into wolf-whistles and applause.

“What the-”

“Oh I take full credit for that, sir.”

Fowler glanced at Tina.

“The case, Chen?”

“Oh of course. I solved the whole thing. But I mean that specifically.”

She waved a hand in Gavin and Nines’ direction. The two held each other tightly and seemed unlikely to come up for air anytime soon.

“Like I helped Gav find an affordable place in New Jericho and then he met this handsome investigator droid and they were roommates.”

“Oh my god, they were roommates…”

“Yeah legit.”

\\\

Thanks so much for the request @jude-shotto

This ended up being a lot longer than expected, but I couldn’t help it. Your prompt just took me on a whole journeyyyy <3

#maya bday ask event #reed900 #rk900 #gavin reed #dbh gavin #dbh nines #gavin900 #gavin x nines #gavin x rk900 #dbh fanfic #dbh rk900 #dbh #dbh writing #my writing

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years ago

Note

Ok i got an monster tom x scientist reader au universe thing and no it does not take place in the red army base

Reader is a scientist and is asked to run some tests on a new specimen/monster they found, and when reader sees the specimen/monster they actually think it's kinda cute but then some other scientists shock him and even stick some needles in him and reader just feels bad for the specimen/monster at this point so nighttime rolls around and they hack into the cameras to shut them off and wear a mask so they won't get caught and go to the main room where the specimen/monster is they the reader introduces themselves to the monster the monster, thinking they're gonna hurt them, immediately backs off obviously scared and reader convinces the monster that they're not gonna hurt them and the monster shrinks as he's mostly human and says "your not gonna hurt me?" And they reassure him that they're not gonna hurt him and they sneak into the readers car and drives off the lab that the monster was in and reader asks what the "monsters" name is and says their name is "tom". Then reader makes a pit stop to a store real quick to get tom some clothes and then reader drives to they're home and introduces tom to their room and asks if they want some food/ take out or not an he says yes and they get some chinese food and watch some TV, after eating they both go to bed and reader suddenly finds themselves in Toms arms whimpering a little, and reader just kinda decides to pet his hair and rub his horns a little bit which make him purr then tom wraps his tail around reader and asks them to do it more and they do do that untill they notice that he's asleep then they both fall asleep.

Whew, I enjoyed writing this one ^^

Summary: Reader, a scientist, rescues Monster Tom from the lab that experimented on him and brings him home

...............

"Dr. [L/n], I'll let you oversee today's tests on TR-03."

"Alright, chief." You smiled awkwardly as your supervisor handed you the clipboard. It contained the subject's information: a one-eyed horned monster of an unknown species, though your colleagues have theorized it to be a demon. "What kind of tests are we running on it?"

"Resistance to electric shocks. There's evidence of uranium possibly circulating in its blood, so you'll be watching them extract samples as well."

As he explained, your smile gradually dropped as you looked over the information, seeing a ton of redacted information, including several incidents of the destruction it caused prior to its capture.

"So it's gonna be shocked and stuck with needles? Sounds painful."

"Its armor is thick, so it shouldn't feel a thing. Besides...I don't think you need to worry about whether it'll be painful for it." Your supervisor spoke in a rather condescending tone. "After all it's just an animal."

"I...yes, sir. I'll go oversee the tests right away." Not wanting to argue further, you just left his office and wandered through the building.

You were eager yet anxious to meet this monster.

Eventually you reached the area where the creature was being held, climbing up the stairs that led to the skybridge so you could look down into its holding chambers.

It was a massive dark purple creature, with two bright violet horns and a single black eye. Surprisingly it was allowed full movement, though judging from the many claw marks on the walls...it wouldn't surprise you if one day it was chained up to restrict such behavior.

You actually thought it was..kind of cute? It looked scary in pictures, but up-close it didn't seem as terrifying.

That only made you feel more pity for it as other scientists entered the chamber, clad in protective suits, with electric prongs and needles.

Almost immediately the monster seemed aware of what they were going to do, its eye widening as it stood on both feet and cowered in the corner. It growled in warning, only for a scientist to jab its leg with a prong in response, eliciting a roar of pain.

You physically flinched, feeling bad for the creature. But you took notes on its response to electric shocks.

Subject recognized equipment immediately, perceiving them as danger. Responded painfully to electricity.

Soon after being tortured, the monster seemed dazed, allowing another scientist in a hazmat suit to approach it and stick a needle into its hip. The vial of blood collected turned out to be red, with a glowing green aura.

As you took more notes, you heard a small whimper and looked down, seeing that the monster wasn't putting up a fight.

Instead it was...crying?

Sure enough, tears leaked from its eye as more of its blood was drawn, being electrocuted as some sick form of "sedation". It was hard to tell whether the people inside felt any sort of sympathy, but they just took their leave without saying a word to each other. Only a mere nod.

You didn't want to be here any longer than you needed to, so you finished your report and began heading back to your office.

Though you noticed the monster looking up at you, and you couldn't help but frown and murmur a simple:

"I'm sorry."

.............

After your shift was over, normally you'd go home for the night.

But on the ride home...you kept thinking of TR-03 and couldn't shake the images and sounds of its pain.

The way it responded to just seeing the prongs, and the way it looked at you as though it was begging for help, seemed far too human for it to be just a mindless animal.

Of course, you never questioned the secrets this lab kept--not wanting to be fired. But they seemed to be hiding a lot of stuff about this specimen, never speaking about its origins or even what it was capable of.

You may have only seen it for the first time today, but you wanted to know more about it. And you had a feeling that you won't get the answers you wanted by asking around.

Oh no..you were going to free it in order to find out the truth.

Not just to satisfy your own curiosity, but also because...the way it was being treated was far too cruel. To the point where it was crying.

You couldn't stand for this unethical treatment any longer. You had to do something..and be smart about it lest you got killed or worse.

After making a quick stop at a store, you found a mask and changed your clothes, completely disguising yourself. Then you got back in your car and returned to the lab, parking it somewhere far away so that you can sneak inside.

Fortunately you had security access in case any of the specimen breached their chambers. Thanks to your hacking skills you were able to disable every security camera you could find, putting them all on timers so they'd turn on later in the morning. You didn't want to rouse any suspicion.

That was the easy part.

The most important and difficult task lied ahead.

...........

As soon as you entered the monster's chamber, it woke up and grumbled with annoyance. Clearly it didn't like its rest being disturbed.

Though upon seeing you and the mask you wore, it tilted its head. "Grrrah..?"

"Shhh, it's okay." You whispered, removing the mask so it could see your face. While you were awestruck to actually see it up close and personal, you knew you had to keep calm.

But that might've been a mistake as it seemed to recognize you--the one who was watching it earlier today. It immediately backed into a corner, terrified as its chest began heaving with anxiety.

You couldn't blame it for its reaction, though your gently put your hands up and hushed it. "Please don't panic. I'm not here to hurt you. I wanna get you out of here."

"Hrrgrah?"

"Mhm." Smiling, you just pretended you could understand it. "I don't like how they treat you here. They call you an animal but..I know you're more than that."

The monster calmed down a little, before glancing up to the opposite corner. He made a noise of confusion upon seeing that the security camera's annoying red light wasn't blinking.

"I shut that off so nobody can hear or see us."

"H...ack..?"

You blinked, surprised that it could speak some English, but the fact it wasn't cowering like before was a sign it was trusting you. "Yep, I hacked the whole security complex. Now's our chance to escape, but..ah shit."

Suddenly, it never occurred to you: your mission was focused on getting to the monster, but you never considered how you'll get out with the monster.

"Damn..I'm not sure how we'll sneak you out without...." However, you trailed off as you saw it changing into a smaller form.

But it wasn't just shrinking, it was actually turning partially human.

How curious, nobody told you about that. Maybe that was part of the redacted information.

The monster turned out to be a human male, who still retained his horns, tail, and dark scales and fur, which covered his body. His brown hair was messy and spiky, and interestingly enough he had two black eyes.

He didn't have any clothes, obviously, so you took off your coat and put it around him. "So you're human, huh?"

"Your stupid friends' experiments wouldn't let me turn back for a while..." He grumbled in a slight British accent. "You sure you're not gonna hurt me?"

Understandably he got defensive, knowing you were working for the people who tortured him. But you shook your head. "No, I won't. I'm quitting this shithole and I'll take you with me." You took his hand reassuringly, noting that it was still clawed.

He gave you the tiniest of smiles in return. "Heh, glad we're both in agreement."

Soon you both quickly made your escape, luckily not running into any trouble. Your car was still parked right where you left it, so you got in and drove off.

You definitely won't miss working for that lab.

The roads were mostly empty at this time of night, so you were able to breathe easy knowing nobody's gonna chase you. Now seemed to be the best time to talk with the monster.

"So uh..do you have a name?" You spoke up. "I know they call you TR-03 but it doesn't feel right to call you that anymore."

"Tom." He answered as he looked out the window. "My name's Tom Ridges."

'Huh, that explains his code name.'

"I'm [y/n]." After noticing a nearby plaza, you saw a clothing store and decided to make a quick stop there. Tom seemed to be confused, and a bit worried when you left him in the car all alone, though you reassured him you were just buying some clothes for him.

He waited, trying to keep himself out-of-view in case any strangers got too nosy. But before long you were back, opening the driver's side as you peered in and sighed with relief, seeing him halfway out of the chair.

"Jeez, you scared me..thought somebody got you." You sighed, shaking your head.

"S-Sorry, not trying to get any unwanted attention. It's the last thing I need.." He sat upright, though he was surprised when you handed him a bag. Inside was a blue hoodie, boxers, and gray sweatpants. "Oh, cool."

'That's all he has to say?' His reaction was a bit underwhelming. 'Then again..maybe he hasn't processed that he's never going back to that hell chamber yet.'

You just shut the door and waited for him to get dressed, and when he tapped on the window you got back into the car. He definitely looked more comfortable now.

After giving him a smile, you continued on your way home, feeling glad that you rescued him from that place. You had no idea if he had any place to go, granted you don't recall seeing any information on his address nor any relationships.

So he'll stay with you.

...........

"Luckily I got a spare room. Excuse the mess." You chuckled as you showed Tom the extra room in your house, turning on the light. "You can stay here for as long as you'd like."

He nodded as he looked around, before feeling his stomach grumble. In embarrassment he put a hand over it, glancing at you. "Sorry..the food they had was shitty, I'm sure you knew."

"Yeah...you want takeout?" You took out your phone. "I don't feel like cooking tonight so I was gonna order some anyway."

"Sounds good."

"Alrighty, I'll call in the order. We can go watch TV while we wait."

Once more Tom nodded, following you into the living room space where you both sat down on the sofa. He sighed and leaned back, turning on the TV while you ordered some Chinese food.

This situation felt so...comforting and familiar..

For a moment he gazed at you, seeing you look through the menu.

He knew he wasn't the only prisoner back in that lab. So he couldn't understand why you'd choose him, of everyone you could've helped, but...he considered himself lucky.

For once he felt like he could let his guard down a little.

Some time later the food arrived to your house, and you both ate it while watching various TV programs. You asked Tom a bit more about his home life, though he didn't have much to talk about.

Whether he didn't want to say anything or forgot it thanks to the experiments was a mystery, but you wouldn't pry. You'll get your answers sooner or later, though not tonight.

Tonight you both deserved a good rest.

Afterwards you headed off to your own room, letting him know that he can knock on your door if he ever needed anything.

You got into your pajamas and crawled into bed, yawning.

It had definitely been an eventful day. You were eager to sleep in, knowing that you won't ever go back to your boring (and unethical) job.

But just as you had turned off the lights and dozed off, you heard your door creak open. With a slightly annoyed sigh, you sat up and turned on the lamp beside you, before seeing it was Tom.

"Tom? Your room is..."

Though you fell silent when you heard him...whimper? His eyes were white, indicating he was in some kind of distress.

But he crawled onto your bed, practically situating himself in your arms while making sure he didn't jab you with his horns. You were perplexed by his actions, though you finally realized..

He was just scared.

You held him in your arms, rubbing his horns soothingly and petting his hair, murmuring promises that he was safe. In response he nuzzled up to you, tail wrapping around your body as you both laid down.

You only stopped for a moment as he started purring, which made you chuckle softly. "Purring, huh? That's new."

"Can you keep doing that?" He grumbled, closing his eyes. "It was nice till you stopped."

"O-Oh right, sorry." You continued the previous motions, deciding to hum a small song as well to help him sleep.

Eventually you stopped once he dozed off completely, and your cheeks felt warm upon seeing how adorable he looked. 'And to think I was afraid of this guy?' You mused, before turning off the lamp light.

Soon enough you fell asleep as well.

If this is how Tom expressed his thanks...you'll take it.

#clanask #anonymous #eddsworld x reader #ew tom x reader #monster tom x reader #scientist reader

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peskellence · 6 months ago

Text

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/ Comfort

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Summary: In the aftermath of Detroit's android revolution, Nines grapples with the complexities of his newfound deviancy. As he seeks to establish his place in a newly transformed society, his resolve is put to the ultimate test when he is paired with Detective Gavin Reed-a notoriously volatile human with a well-established hatred for androids-to investigate a series of murders.

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 4.7K

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @ladyj-pl @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel

Whilst he continued to wait for what would undoubtedly be an underwhelming report from the forensic department, Nines used his time to develop the current victim profiles. He commenced the process of exploring their inner circles. Contacting friends and family, hoping they might provide some insight into further lines of enquiry.

Routes that were currently beaten and sparse, if not entirely indiscernible.

The results were mixed, with the MJ100 proving considerably easier to gather data on. As it transpired, she’d been reasonably popular, having affiliated herself with several charities and worked at a local animal refuge:

VICTIM PROFILE: MJ100 — DESIGNATION: ‘JENNY’

AFFILIATIONS:

CHARITABLE ORGANISATIONS - MULTIPLE. ‘ CLAWS FOR ACTION’, ‘RESCUE PAWS FOUNDATION’, ‘FUREVER HOMES INITIATIVE’ , OTHER(S) PRIMARY AFFILIATION: HAPPY TAILS SANCTUARY — ANIMAL SHELTER, N. DETROIT (EMPLOYER) SOCIAL FAVOUR - HIGH, EXTENSIVE POSITIVE RELATIONS WITH FRIENDS / COLLEAGUES.

FURTHER LINES OF ENQUIRY:

INVESTIGATE CHARITY AFFILIATIONS FOR LEADS EXPLORE CONNECTIONS AND ACTIVITIES AT THE ANIMAL SHELTER ANALYSE RECENT SOCIAL CONDUCT FOR S̶͈͛͝U̵͈̯͝S̴̳͆P̷͙̊̆I̵̫̽C̷̮͉͒I̶̟͠Õ̸͌ͅU̴̮͑S̷̲̀̚ ̶̜͌̚

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ERROR — CONNECTION DISRUPTED.

A shockwave rolled through the precinct, shaking the foundation of his desk and rattling the terminal. With no reports of regional geological disturbances, the android was prompted to investigate. As his hand shifted from the interface panel, broader visional scope returning, he began to search his surroundings for a possible origin of the disruption. This was soon determined to be a group of junior officers—taking exhaustive advantage of their captain being out of office.

Two men sat in office chairs, a significant stretch from their workstations, obstructing the primary walkway. Their partners stood at each seat, counting in unison before thrusting forward - resulting in propulsion that sent them barrelling across the linoleum. Nearby scuff marks suggested it was far from the first occurrence of this juvenile exercise.

All parties seemed to rejoice in their gleeful waste of taxpayer money until one of the makeshift buggies clipped a nearby filing cabinet. Its occupant was sent careening from their seat, gliding through the air until they struck a nearby wall.

Several spectators hissed in dismay at the impact, whilst others jeered and rejoiced the karmic retribution.

It all proved highly disruptive, with Nines forced to tune his inputs in order to drown it out. Disregarding the misfortune of the MJ100’s end, he couldn’t help but envy the position she had enjoyed prior to this.

Working with animals sounded preferential to humans in numerous respects.

With his ability to focus renewed and the footing of his station stabilised, Nines pressed his exposed chassis back to the access pad.

CONNECTION RE-ESTABLISHED.

While there was no shortage of individuals willing to vouch for the MJ100’s outstanding moral integrity, present insights hadn’t proved especially useful. Unsurprisingly, she’d had no enemies — with no one of her affiliates suspecting anyone who might have wished her harm.

All this virtue and grace had not saved her from the caveat of blue blood.

The killer may not have been known to ‘Jenny’, but their actions indicated familiarity. Premeditation that would have been borne from several days of observation, familiarising themselves with their route.

This would have had its limitations, of course. He couldn’t have followed too closely, lest he risk drawing early suspicion. There was existing awareness of the arena chosen and knowledge of how best to use it. Seldom known exit points, shortcuts and hiding spots rarely frequented:

ACCESSING SUSPECT PROFILE: SEARCH CRITERIA — RECENTLY ADDED.

SUSPECT IS RESIDENT OF DETROIT — DISTRICT UNKNOWN.

Unlike ‘Jenny’, the HR400 proved vastly more challenging in constructing a profile. Personal connections were scant, with neighbours knowing little about him — outside of suspicions regarding his work. With such a shallow pool of acquaintances and no friends to report, Nines had been forced to wade through the seedy depths of his digital diary.

No glowing accommodations resulted from this, nor much of anything at all, save his own personal torment. He had faced more exposure to bare human bodies than he had ever wished to experience—and through this endurance, hadn’t found anyone willing to comment.

Nines doubted this aversion was borne of any lethal culpability. Instead, a desire to conceal or deflect from the more minor crime of solicitation — most pronounced for those in martial unions. While understandable, it didn’t help matters, leaving the only tangible line of inquiry as a direct pursuit of the suspect.

A task that would be easier said than done.

Searching ‘THOD GRAWS’ on the criminal database had predictably garnered zero results — and while processes were underway to trace a number allotted to their booking, more time would be required to confirm results.

Nines held little optimism.

Even if the TSU managed to secure cooperation from local telecommunications companies, their best hope would be to acquire the device's last known location. If their culprit possessed any modicum of digital literacy, it would prove little use to them now.

SEARCH PARAMETERS ADJUSTED: ALL FILES. ACCESSING… PRE-ESTABLISHED KNOWLEDGE OF ROBOTICS / CYBERNETICS — INCLUDING MECHANICS OF CYBERLIFE ANDROIDS.

With their killer possessing far more than this rudimentary understanding, the conclusion to be drawn was clear. The process was a waste of time, a reality that exerted itself further the longer he studied the text on his HUD.

It was a point he continued to mull over, with greater urgency in every minute since its logging. These killings were far removed from uncivilised acts of hatred — with conditions that rendered the victim’s physical and cognitive advantages completely redundant.

There was no senseless battery, just methodic and systematic destruction . Education and loathing working in tandem. A noxious coupling, and one that boded poorly for the next unwitting target—

“— RK900.”

The android bristled at the voice, its abrasive frequency triggering several system warnings.

Fowler had arrived back at the precinct, emerging from around the corner with a pastry clasped in his grasp. His fingers flexed and unflexed repeatedly against the crust in what the android could ascertain was a stress-induced ritual. His vital signs supported this, with blood pressure elevated beyond its already staggering baseline.

The junior officer, who had been left to lie in a crumpled heap by his cohorts, quickly scrambled to his feet—attempting to re-establish his bearings, brushing down any dust clinging to his uniform. “Good Afternoon, Sir— I, uh — Welcome back —”

The anxious man may as well have been saluting the photocopier — as their superior pointedly snubbed him. His focus was entirely on Nines, trained sharply as he brought his mangled snack to his mouth, scattering crumbs in the process.

“You know, I wouldn't need to stress eat like this if I could trust my men to do as they’re told.” He sluggishly attempted to cover his lips, muffling a succeeding comment about his wife bemoaning his dietary choices. Nines wasn't paying attention, far more focused on the deluge of flakes cascading onto the ground.

“Where is your partner?”

The android then directed his sights to the other end of his desk, just barely able to discern the vacant seat from behind a cascading wall of data.

He should have known Reed had yet to return. He was getting too much work done.

With reluctance, he closed the files, watching as they receded into the dormant recesses of his CPU. “I recall him advising that he needed to use the restroom.”

“Well, has he fallen in?” Fowler snapped, directing the brunt of his glower to the detective’s empty workstation. “Because I don’t remember pairing you up with the goddamn Invisible Man .”

“I am confident he will return soon.”

“Really. Because he wasn't sitting there when I left, and that was twenty minutes ago —

I don’t know if you know this, RK, but it doesn’t take that long to piss.”

Truthfully, he had no idea when his partner had left — nor had he been concerned about timing his excretions. Having become more than a little disillusioned with his unwanted custody duties, the RK900 had been happy to plead ignorance concerning his whereabouts.

Clearly, Fowler clearly did not share in this indifference. Protruding eyes stayed honed on the empty chair before training accusingly to the android. The gesture spoke almost as loudly as his initial bellowing interjection, declaring with no uncertainty that the period of respite had ended.

“Go and get him. Now.”

The RK900 considered protesting the order. Surely, he could not be expected to manage the toileting habits of a grown man . Although he conceded that ‘grown’ was a title applied rather loosely to the detective. Truly, only an adult in physicality and legality.

Fowler’s restless hostility soon petered into weariness, lacking the energy to maintain it. His tensed shoulders fell slack, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling.

“This is the ninth unsolved android homicide in less than six months. I don't think I need to tell you how bad that looks. You need to bring your A-Game, or whatever letters Reed can recognise, or else it's gonna be a shitstorm for everyone. Is that clear?”

Regrettably, it was: Ignore the man’s wishes and face the ramifications that came with allowing an overgrown infant to toddle away unsupervised. Words of vexation lingered bitterly on his tongue, scorching his throat as he swallowed them. The wheels of his chair then screeched to action as Nines pushed himself away.

“Yes, Captain.”

A new directive was accepted begrudgingly—FIND DETECTIVE REED—Ideally, before he could lodge silverware into an electrical socket or ingest a contaminant he found on the ground.

When commencing his search, the android did so in ascending order of likelihood—naturally, starting where his partner claimed to be going.

Sweeping the men's room stalls, he was welcomed by a procession of vacant waste receptacles. Boring daggers into each, as casts of red glared back, reflected in discoloured porcelain. Reaching the end of the line, he caught a clearer view of himself in one of the nearby mirrors. His LED stuttered perpetually, spotlighting the deep-set grimace contorting his features.

As the utter redundancy of the task sunk in, he slammed the door of the penultimate stall, swiftly concluding it.

Reed wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t.

Nines had already learned better than to trust his partner's word, especially concerning his frequent desertions. Were he to do so, his biocomponents would likely oxidise before he had time to finish his paperwork.

Fortunately for the android, he had other means of locating the human. A creature of habit, woefully predictable in his vices, his deductive protocol indicated two likely scenarios: Reed had either wandered home for an indeterminably long ‘break’ or retreated to the canteen to elevate his already exorbitant caffeine levels.

The RK900 decided to explore the latter, completing his search of the station—and also to avoid unnecessary visits to the man’s home. Reed's workspace was revolting enough; the android could only imagine the profound squalor he chose to live in.

Charting a steady course through the precinct, Nines sliced through several crowds, all of which parted obediently to avoid him. He paid little mind to their reaction. If anything, he was appreciative, as he wished to avoid any hindrances that might impede his return to work.

Approaching the canteen, the RK900 focused on the steel security door, currently latched shut. Despite this, his enhanced sensors detected two occupants inside—their heartbeats frustratingly calm, syncing with the gentle pulses of a touch-activated release button.

It was good to know at least one of the partners was feeling relaxed.

The hums of amber drew Nines in, goading him to breach the threshold, dragging Reed kicking and screaming from his ill-earned tranquillity. As his hand hovered over the release, there was a sudden elevation in one of the heartbeats, as if the detective could sense his presence from behind the wall.

The android might have found this amusing had it not inspired such deep resentment.

He was about to make contact when he heard muffled voices from behind the entrance. The metal grating distorted the sounds, but it remained clear that a discussion was underway. Nines found it odd that anyone would choose to waste their lunch talking with Reed, curiosity briefly overcoming annoyance.

He attempted to tap into the frequency patterns and, after some adjustments, managed to discern a few specifics:

Whoever this person was, they appeared to be a paragon of tolerance, engaged in what was an extremely one-sided exchange with Reed. He expelled an ongoing slew of brutish grunts while they offered calm, measured responses.

Given his incensed state, Nines assumed "plastic prick" and "tin can" featured heavily in his vocabulary. He found a morbid appeal in discovering what was being said behind closed doors, considering how unpleasant the man had proven face-to-face…

There was a sudden ring of feedback from a particularly loud eruption, severing his connection. Nines covered his ear, soothing the pulse in his acoustic sensor as he pulled back in disappointment. The exercise had failed to satisfy any of his developing intrigue — with the door preventing a stable link. Diagnostics suggested enhanced proximity would be required to bypass this issue.

After a brief deliberation, the RK900 conceded to the growing compulsion. Pressing his ear to the metal, he renewed his attempt to decrypt the mumblings. Clarity began to emerge as he was permitted voyeuristic participation in the conversation:

"…This isn't Connor we're talking about; the thing would kill me.”

"Sounds to me that all hope is not lost. You just need to try being nice."

"Tell me: What am I supposed to do that it would consider 'being nice'? I don't know if you've noticed, but it doesn't like anything. Except licking up blood and skulking around alleyways like it's my goddamn sleep paralysis demon."

Upon hearing the voice of the previously unidentified participant, their presence became less of an anomaly.

Officer Tina Chen was more tolerant (and tolerable) than most humans he had encountered — the least amiable aspect of her being the company she chose to keep.

Although he supposed that wasn't a fair assessment of all her associates. The ST300 receptionist she spent an inordinate amount of time with seemed pleasant enough. It was only really Detective Reed — who solidified his membership to the inner circle by acting as its perpetual storm cloud — that proved problematic.

“You’re being ridiculous. I'm sure he likes lots of things.”

Still, she was reasonably adept at shielding herself from the frequent downpours, as demonstrated by the sharp riposte. Nines pursed his lips approvingly, leaning closer in anticipation of further rebuke. It inspired more enjoyment than expected: listening in to a disagreement without actively participating. A response that seemingly shed light on human affinity for ‘gossiping’, as well as RK800’s fondness for poorly scripted televised dramas…

Unfortunately, the RK900 was robbed from further engagement with the production, as his sensors warned of another figure approaching the canteen. Officer Beaufort Monroe—a man he was perpetually stunned had managed to pass his DPD literacy screening—came to a stop behind him. Breathing coarse puffs down his neck before clapping a palm onto his shoulder:

“Hey, buddy. Mind scoochin’ over a notch? I need’ta grab some joe before I keel over.”

Nines tensed at the bastardised English, his processors working overtime to comprehend it. His focus then shifted to the hand before the scrutinous gaze shot to its owner, demanding an explanation.

This wasn’t received, as the response instead came in a startled retraction. The human's limb pulled away sharply before latching defensively onto his chest. “Whoa, Jesus — ”

He hissed under his breath, inexplicably shocked that Nines had taken issue with his graceless actions. After a moment to calm himself, the tense grip slackened, and his fingers migrated to the cusp of his scraggly chin.

“Hey bro, did you…uh…” He stroked at the hair, brow tensed, as though attempting to spark some life into the underused synapses of his mind, “…get contacts or something?”

Monroe had clearly neglected to offer some much-needed insight into his ‘thoughts’, as the words made little sense without it. Nines informed of such, meeting the fumbled question with a suitably impassive dismissal.

“I have no idea what you are implying.”

He then turned his attention back to the door, resuming his monitoring of Chen and Reed. A good portion of their debate had been missed—a misfortune he blamed on the officer—leaving him to scramble for context:

"Where would I even take it? Sal's Premier Gas and Auto Repair?"

"Take him wherever you like; it doesn't really matter. It's more about the gesture than anything."

Any progress made in this effort was quickly diminished as Monroe insisted on speaking again:

“Sorry buddy, I didn’t mean to offend ya…they look good! I mean, a bit intense, but if that’s what you’re going for. The chicks really dig them piercin’—”

“Your body is demonstrating signs of sleep deprivation,” Nines interrupted, glaring at the blithering cretin aimlessly flapping his gums. “This does not necessitate the use of stimulants. My recommendation would be hydration and a good night's rest.”

The officer's piston-like spluttering halted. His jaw hung slack, eyes retreating into the crinkled folds of his lids until something shifted beneath them. A rogue spark of cognition.

His newly established focus seemed trained on the RK900’s jacket—specifically, the identifier beneath its collar.

“…Shit.” His slumped back hastily straightened as his narrowed gaze bulged with vigilance. “Sorry, I, uh, thought you were—”

The man failed to complete the sentence, leaving it suspended in the air as he haphazardly veered onto the next. He punctuated the change in trajectory with another perplexed trace of his jaw.

“I mean, you two are different guys, right? You don't share, like, a mind link or whatever?”

Having exhausted his patience with the man and his mystifying communications, Nines put a decisive end to them “Go away, Officer Monroe. This doesn't concern you.”

Seeming to realise a mistake had been made and he was swimming far out of his intellectual depth, Monroe soon accepted defeat.

“…Ya know, you’re probably right.” With a flurried nod, he began to step back, pointing down the adjacent corridor. “I’m just gonna…grab that water…”

He then proceeded to scurry away, making a sharp beeline around the corner, weathered sneakers scraping the floor as he narrowly avoided tripping. Nines waited until Monroe was out of view—and his footsteps no longer audible—before attempting to detangle the jumbled threads of their interaction.

He quickly ascertained that the results were unlikely to justify the effort.

With the distraction gone—and eager to glean what details remained of the conversation in the canteen—he pressed his ear back to the door:

"Look, I'm not saying you have to be besties, but not completely hating each other would be a start…you never know; he might like your tamer side. You do have some endearing qualities, Gav. Buried deep, deep down in your soul. It's time to let them shine."

"Wow. Thanks a lot, Ti. I don't know what I'd ever do without your glowing words of encouragement.”

Nines awaited Chen's retort, pressed keenly against the barrier, but was met with underwhelming silence. The rally of quips ended so unceremoniously it left him to wonder if he was experiencing a technical fault.

Arching back, he inspected his HUD, checking the established hearing loop for any errors. Just as he was about to reboot the drivers, a flutter of air rushed past him, propelled by the nearby passageway.

Reed came to stand uncomfortably close, his nose gently brushing the threads of Nines’ undershirt. He stumbled forward, stopping just shy of a full-on collision before awkwardly reeling back, hissing curses under his breath.

As he looked up, locking eyes with the animate barrier, his muddled expression warped into one of repulsed bewilderment. His mouth flapped open and shut in a surreal mimicry of a fish as his eyes widened to matched proportions.

Nines experienced a slight hitch of confidence, adjacent to insecurity, at allowing his position to be so easily compromised. This was until he had absorbed the full brunt of his partner's childish pouting and reminded himself why he was there:

FIND DETECTIVE REED PREVENT INJURY RETURN TO DESK

With resolve, the android advanced. His back straightened, bringing attention to an already apparent height difference as he loomed authoritatively over the human.

"You said you were going to the bathroom, although I anticipated I might find you here.”

The words were met with an indignant splutter as Reed tried and failed to form any conjecture. Chen was making an admirable effort to act as though she didn't exist—shrinking back in her chair, seemingly attempting to slip into a nearby wastebasket.

Nines wasn't about to let her feign any degree of innocence. While she proved adept at dissuading some of her friend’s more pronounced shortcomings, she was not guiltless in encouraging others—such as her current support of his already paltry work ethic.

"Good afternoon, Officer Chen." He nodded to the woman, trying to behave cordially while also maintaining an air of assertion. "I must request my partner back now. He is supposed to be working.”

"How long were you standing there?" Reed had regained sufficient coordination over his flapping mouth to fire off a snarled retort. “Were you eavesdropping on us? Creepy motherfucker.”

The android disregarded this accusation, 'Protocol—Reed' having activated at the foreseeable outburst, lowering its pitch by several decibels.

“Honestly, it's totally fine,” Chen insisted, waving her hand dismissively. "I think Gavin is just tired. Really needs a break , you know?"

His partner had taken enough ‘breaks’ to service several patrols, a fact he would have pointed out if not for the sudden warping of Reed's already cartoonish expression. He seemed to be trapped in introspection, grappling with several opposing emotions—until his friend jabbed him in the ribs, startling him back to attention.

Oh. I understand.

It would appear the missed context of their discussion was about to unveil itself. The android waited in anticipation, ready to quash whatever scheme had been conspired between them.

"Yeah, Tina's right, actually." Reed's mouth contorted into a vague resemblance of a smile, moving in seeming autonomy from the rest of his dour face. "I'm really worn out from reviewing case files; need to get out and stretch my legs. What do you say we head to lunch?”

The anticipation dissipated as his current strain of cognition was stonewalled.

I understand. Perhaps not.

It was an unexpected outcome, unnerving him with how persistently this seemed to be happening. An example of how much work was still needed in his social education.

He made a note to confer with RK800 later, hopeful he could provide some insight.

In the meantime, it had not escaped his notice that Chen was also confused. Staring at her friend, eyebrows arched to the brim of her cap, leading Nines to question just how much he had misconstrued.

Perhaps he had assumed the worst of both of them, with no apparent deceit detectable in his partner's voice…

"I'm sorry, Detective Reed,” he began slowly, hoping to secure some transparency from additional probing. “But I believe I have misunderstood. By 'we', I assume you are referring to yourself and Officer Chen, correct?”

There was a pause as the two friends exchanged an indecipherable look. Nines' confidence dwindled further, unable to interpret the nuance of their communication.

He wished humans wouldn't do this, wasting time with tedious prodding and hinting when they could achieve much more by speaking directly. Communication with androids seemed much more streamlined, far less reliant on extraneous cues—

"Actually, I meant you and me.”

Whatever remained of his stricken confidence fluttered apart like a house of cards. There were waves of spite and discomfort discernable in the detective’s tone, but these were an ever-presence. Other than that, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

These actions didn't make any sense. Though he supposed it was far from the first instance in which the man had defied logic. Poorly constructed conjecture and ignorance were simply par for the course.

"I understand that android physiology may not be your area of expertise, but surely you know I do not need to eat?”

"Yeah, well, I do.” Reed bit his lip with such firmness it came close to puncturing the skin. “So I thought it might be nice if you joined me…dipshit.”

Cracks in the performance began to reveal themselves as Chen deflated at the expletive, the intrigued sparkle in her eyes dulled with disappointment. She seemed suspiciously invested in the development as the android's sensors flared to life, alerting him to deceit.

It drew him back from the brink of hopelessness, assuring that his initial deductions had not been wholly misinformed. Reed stood firm despite his slip, too stubborn in his pride to abandon the charade. Chen, on the other hand, demonstrated none of the same bravado - the clear weak link in their operation.

Nines sought to exploit this. Turning his attention back to the woman, he increased the weight of his stare, hoping the added intensity would break her lingering resistance.

"This invitation is unexpected, to say the least, Detective. Almost as if it may have been encouraged by some outsider influence.”

The approach worked a little too well. While Chen cracked under the pressure, she proved exceedingly averse to the ensuing confrontation, opting to retreat from it.

“Wow, would you look at the time?” She gestured exaggeratedly at her watch, failing to take note of the ‘Low Battery’ prompt. “I better be going; I'll leave you guys to it.”

She was on her feet before either party had a chance to protest, whispering something into Reed’s ear before tidily breezing past. Nines had failed to hear what she said but overheard the man's response, a hissed comparison between the woman and a traitor of biblical legend.

As the canteen door slid shut behind her, the partners were left to stand in silent proximity. Reed appeared profoundly scorned by his abandonment, glaring viciously at the steel. Nines detected a hint of irony, given the circumstances that had led him to his current situation.

After allowing the man some time to recover from his current tantrum, Nines grew impatient with the delay, preparing to drag him back to their station should he prove unwilling to do so himself.

"…So," Reed spoke abruptly, refusing to so much as glance in his direction. “Are you in or out?

Yet another unforeseen development, to which Nines whipped his head around, utterly bewildered.

Surely, the man would not persist in this utterly ridiculous plot. He gave Reed a moment to reconsider, to acknowledge that there was no longer a witness to boast victory of whatever wager had been made."…I beg your pardon?"

" Lunch ." The word was terse and biting—as though delivered in tremendous pain. He was clearly not happy with the arrangement, baffling the android all the more as to why he was persisting. "Are you coming with me?"

There had to be some ulterior motive. Perhaps an excuse to get out of the precinct, without the immediate risk of Nines searching for him…

Regardless of the reasons why Reed wished to subject them to this, it could prove a satisfactory compromise—allowing the detective to claim perceived victory over his partner, with Nines taking advantage of this fleeting amiability to proceed with the progress he had been forced to postpone.

With any luck, it would also appease Fowler. Demonstrating his willingness to cooperate with Reed whilst also ensuring he remained close, under conditions where he’d be less likely to run away—

INCOMING TRANSMISSION - DATA TRANSFER REQUESTED. SOURCE: DETROIT POLICE DEPARTMENT - CENTRAL - TSU UNIT #7 PRIORITY — URGENT.

The cognitive strain was disturbed by notifications cascading down Nines’ HUD. After verifying for authenticity, he approved the transfer request, pausing to review the ensuing data. Admittedly, their findings proved more valuable than anticipated, with reasonably precise geolocation. It was a reasonable place to start, information he'd make a note to share with his partner in pursuing a potential lead…

After he had been fed. Which, with any luck, would make him somewhat more compliant.

"I suppose it needn't be a complete waste of time. It may give us a valuable opportunity to review what we know about the case, away from the distractions of the station."

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

This meal would need to prove particularly gratifying. Hopefully, the man intended to take them somewhere pleasant.

#dbh #reed900 #detroit become human #dbh nines #dbh rk900 #dbh gavin #dbh fanfiction #gavin reed x rk900 #gavin900 #dbh fanfic #g9 #gavin x nines #gavin x rk900 #gavin reed #dbh fic #dbh gavin reed

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officerjennie · 4 years ago

Text

Title: As the Clouds Whisp Overhead

Summary: Jaskier gets off on Geralt's soft thighs and tummy. Literally. Geralt relaxes back and lets him, enjoying the show. Weight gain spoken of positively. Pairing: Geraskier. WC: 3.5K+

CW: smut, brief mention of weight loss due to difficult times (past)

It had been a rather easy spring, all things considered.

Geralt lazed in the field, not really watching the clouds that drifted overhead, his eyes closed and breaths deepening into an almost meditative state. The smell of wine and cheese was almost drowned out by the wildflowers about them but it was still there, as was the scent of apples, salt, the road, and the lingering oils that Jaskier had insisted on wearing ever since he’d discovered Geralt’s nose was sensitive to the others that he used to reek of.

Said bard was currently shuffling their lunch about, putting most of it away for later, humming one of his newest tunes as he folded back up the blanket he’d apparently bought for just this occasion. Though they’d eaten plenty of meals without it or the basket he’d purchased at the market as well, Jaskier had insisted that a picnic was a special affair and deserved the right accessories to make it just right.

Geralt had just let him do as he wished, not worried about his friend’s coin purse - and not worried about his own, for once. Usually the end of winter spelled a time of heavy work for him but he’d lucked out on a couple of easy and well paying jobs right off the bat - so he thought a bit of down time wouldn’t be the end of the world for them.

The song on Jaskier’s lips was one he hadn’t quite finished yet. Geralt had already heard several different renditions of the first verse alone, lyrics tweaked here and there, the exact lilt of his voice changing back and forth as he tried to settle on what he believed would sound the best. And despite his occasional grumbling over the repetition it was a rather relaxing tune, one he didn’t mind listening to.

Beyond that, there was a sort of...intimacy that came with being trusted with Jaskier’s unfinished works. The knowledge that Jaskier wasn’t always his best around him, was able to fuck around with a song and riddle the air with curses of “bollocks” and “cock” while he tried and failed and tried again to make it just right. That Geralt could see him like this and not the perfected performance that he was to the rest of the world, the mask that was firmly in place right up until the moment he didn’t want it to be.

And that moment just so happened to frequently involve witchers, whether directly or indirectly. How many times had he gone feral on someone for just saying the wrong thing about one of Geralt’s colleagues? Just early that spring he’d jumped someone for spitting on the ground over Lambert’s name, and Jaskier hadn’t even met him yet.

Something like pride welled up in his chest at the thought, though it was a quiet thing. Jaskier should be more careful, he shouldn’t be fighting their fights - but it meant the world to him all the same that he wanted to. Especially for his brothers.

“You know, I’ve never been one for cheese and crackers as anything more than a snack, but that was simply delightful.” Jaskier’s voice came closer as he talked, and the flowers and grass were disturbed next to him as the bard flopped over at his side, quickly snuggling in when Geralt moved his arm to make room for him. “We’ll have to go back and ask again what the name of that cheese was. Never have I ever given so much thought to pairing and wines and all that stuff - my youngest sister was always more interested in that sort of thing, and really if I heard her say one more time that my palette wasn’t refined enough I might have had to hide frogs in her bed again.”

Jaskier settled in nicely at his side, slotting in like they were made for each other, fit perfectly together. He chattered away and Geralt mostly tuned him out, something Jaskier loved to fake hurt over though they both knew it was just that: fake. Over the years Geralt had perfected hearing what he needed to hear and simply listened to the tune of Jaskier’s voice, the song of his highs and lows, his sighs and breaths and every heartbeat becoming the song that was his bard.

Meditation came easier around Jaskier than it did anyone else. Even around his own family it was a struggle. Lambert was a little shit at the best of times and Eskel simply existed larger than he wanted to, and Geralt was always tuned into his brothers, paying attention to them because he knew just how limited theri time was together. But with Jaskier, he could rest, relax, simply let himself be like he’d never experienced with anyone else.

His arm rested at Jaskier’s back, hand loose on his side, barely hanging on and feeling his bard breath in and out as he spoke. Jaskier’s fingers tapped a rhythm where they were rested on his chest, though eventually they moved, sliding down to rest against his stomach and making Geralt hmm at the pleasant warmth they brought.

They’d stripped earlier to bathe in the nearby river and had mostly dressed, though Jaskier had forwent his doublet as Geralt had his armor. It was nice, being out in the wild, away from the faux sense of safety that inn rooms allowed them and yet still able to be this content without his armor on. Just their loose clothing, not enough to be considered decent in any sort of societal setting, simply existing and being and just…

Geralt was content, and he didn’t consider that a bad thing. Not in the slightest.

A breeze rustled the field about them, loose silver hair tickling his face though Geralt didn’t have the bother in him to brush it out of the way or tuck it behind his ear. The air smelled nice for once, no clogging dust on the wind, no rotting anything nearby nor farms to make his nose want to clog itself. Since the summer was still a ways off the sun wasn’t too harsh on his skin, his chemise enough to keep any possible chill away though it was warm enough in this part of the country, everything pleasant and not too much.

There was also a lovely set of fingers that had wormed their way under his chemise. Jaskier hadn’t bothered to push it up, had just scooted his hand underneath, and with very gentle circles had begun to rub patterns into the soft flesh there. It was enough to make Geralt melt beneath him, a soft hmm on his lips accompanied by a sigh as he felt his every muscle relax at the touch. The winter had been extra good to him, Eskel having returned with more coin than expected from his path which had meant more meat for their stews, and the lot of them had eaten extra well.

Jaskier had never shied away from letting him know exactly how much he appreciated it when he ate well. There had been a few times on their own path that food had been scarce, and despite witchers having an accelerated metabolism Geralt had always done his best to see after his bard first and foremost - so when times were tough his body showed it, and Jaskier had played his fingers raw when he saw the worst of it just to make sure the both of them could eat their fill.

But there had been no such worries or struggles yet this year, what with the good winter and the well paying contracts that had followed. Geralt’s stomach was full and soft, protecting the muscles and other important organs underneath, and the rest of him was showing the spoiling as well. His thighs had grown softer, somewhat straining against the material of his pants but it wasn’t quite uncomfortable yet - he knew well enough to keep his clothes somewhat baggy, to make room for the waxing and waning that came with the path. His chest, too, had grown softer, encouraging Jaskier to nuzzle into it at any given opportunity.

Those calloused fingers found some of the scars that ran across his belly, caressing them gently. Some stretch marks veined their way across his skin as well, hidden at the moment by his chemise but Jaskier felt his way across them all the same, giving off a gentle sigh as he snuggled in closer and traced his love wherever he could reach.

Geralt could not have thought of a more peaceful way to spend the afternoon. The clouds blurred as his eyes slid closed at the tender affection, his breaths deepening. Deep breaths in through his nose, smelling the wildflowers. A rabbit was nearby, chomping as quietly as it could on some grass, its hops barely whispers as it braved further away from its burrow. Geralt could hear the gentle chuffing of its babies hidden away, the call of a hawk overhead that sent the rabbit scurrying. The scent of budding trees, of a little mouse that had found some seeds to munch. The scent of his bard, his oils and shampoo and the hint of river on the both of them, and the growing scent of-

A snort brought them both a bit out of the peace, and Geralt cracked his eyes just enough to smirk down at the startled confusion growing on his bard’s face.

“Really?”

Those pretty pink lips pouted up at him as if Jaskier wasn’t fully aware of what was growing in his pants. Geralt made a show of raising one of his eyebrows, raking his gaze down, down his bard, straight to stare at his crotch just long enough to get his point across before flicking his eyes right back up.

It took a few seconds for his bard to catch up, Geralt watching the thoughts clear as day on Jaskier’s face, until red spread pretty across his cheeks and darkened the speckle of freckles there. Jaskier sputtered a bit and Geralt had to bite back a wider grin, starts to words that had no finish dropping between them before Jaskier cut himself off with a whine, ducking in to nuzzle into his chest and push the rest of his body closer.

“That’s not fair, Geralt - what, can you, I don’t know, smell it or something?”

Geralt didn’t respond to that, just reached up to tug a stray curl back behind Jaskier’s ear. His bard peeked up at him with another adorable pout jutting out his lower lip, his nose scrunched up as he waited for his ‘ridiculous suggestion’ to be shot down.

But it wasn’t shot down. And Jaskier frowned, and then he squeaked, climbing on top of Geralt to straddle him and poke a very firm finger straight into the chest he’d just been nuzzling.

“You and your- your entirely unfair witcher ways! Are you telling me you could tell all this time? Every time?” Geralt didn’t stop his grin this time and the indignation just grew, hand gestures growing wider. “That is- Geralt, how am I suppose to walk through life knowing you can smell my erection? How am I ever supposed to get up of a morning knowing my every waking naughty thought will be given away? Which yes is entirely too often but you’re entirely not fair, have you looked in a mirror in the past decade? Cruelty, unfair, entirely too sexy for your own good, for anyone’s own good-”

Jaskier went on like that, ranting like only he could, while Geralt eventually tuned his words out just to listen to the lilt of his voice. And the bard made a rather pretty picture himself, straddling him like that. His chemise was loose, showing off curls of dark hair that Geralt could run his fingers through for an eternity and never be bored of it. Broad tanned shoulders, a soft stomach barely hidden underneath his clothes, his pants a wonderful shade of green that fit in with the waking world around them.

A very pretty picture, but a noisy one at the moment. Geralt sighed but Jaskier went on, wildly flourishing his hands as if it was the end of the world that Geralt could smell his arousal. An arousal that had notably not died down, still pressing against the fabric of his pants, catching Geralt’s eyes and making him tilt his head in that way that Jaskier insisted was ‘adorable’ - though Geralt didn’t think he was capable of such a thing.

His thigh twitched with a rather mischievous thought, and as Geralt’s gaze traveled back up to Jaskier’s face, cheeks still stained pink from his rather unnecessary embarrassment, he thought there perhaps that voice would do better singing for him than ranting about his dramatics.

He’d been called an asshole before, and Geralt had never disagreed with the label. But he was lucky enough that Jaskier for the most part never minded - and he greatly doubted Jaskier would mind his next movement.

As Jaskier waved one of his delicate looking wrists in the air, dandelion seeds drifting on the wind about them, Geralt shifted beneath him until he had room to lift up one of his thighs. Before Jaskier could catch his movement it pressed up into him, cutting his bard off with a gasp, his eyes fluttering as Geralt’s smile showed teeth.

“That’s-” Jaskier pressed right down onto his thigh, his hands coming down to support him, and he didn’t waste any time in making it more enjoyable for himself. Shifting down, one hand placed on Geralt’s chest to support him, Jaskier straddled his thigh and slowly ground down onto it. A pretty moan escaped his lips and his tongue darted out as if to catch it.

It was a lovely show, watching as Jaskier pressed down onto him, sought out his own pleasure by rubbing against his thick thigh. Geralt pillowed his head on his arms and just watched, not moving his leg, letting Jaskier set his own pace and feeling pride bubble up in his chest at how pretty he sung for him. On a particularly rough grind Jaskier whimpered and rutted against him faster, making Geralt’s own cock twitch - but he wasn’t really in the mood for pleasure, so he ignored it in favor of the show.

Though he made for a beautiful picture, back lit by the sun and clouds, a pretty blue above that couldn’t quite beat the beautiful blue of his eyes, Jaskier wasn’t purposely looking good for a show. He didn’t touch his own skin like he did when he rode Geralt, didn’t skim his hands down his chest and stomach to show it off. Didn’t bite his lip or run and tangle his fingers into his curls. The emotions that crossed his face were not stressed or controlled, his noises slipped out without thought, his body moving without any purpose beyond pleasuring himself - and it made it a moment Geralt wanted to sear into his memory forever. That Jaskier could let go like this for him. That he trusted that Geralt didn’t mind, trusted that Geralt did not judge him for his desires. How human Jaskier allowed himself to be, imperfect and all the more beautiful for it.

“Fuck,” Jaskier cursed on an exhale, his movements already shaking, his cock dripping enough precum that it soaked into the front of his pants. Geralt could almost feel it wetting his own. “Geralt I- fuck you’re gorgeous, so gorgeous, I want to-” his hips stuttered, breath catching on a moan, brown curls caught on the wind and dancing. “Can- can I get off on your stomach? Gods it’d be so soft, feel so good, I- fuck.”

That was something he’d never requested before. Geralt quirked an eyebrow, belying another twitch of his own cock, but he grunted out “If you must.” And he had to bite back a chuckle at how quickly Jaskier’s fingers went for the ties of his pants.

Jaskier’s cock was leaking profusely though that wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. It looked like it was aching from it, hard and red and angry when he fished it out of his pants and smalls, and Jaskier whined as he couldn’t help but stroke himself a few times. His hips bucked with it, a greedy and wanting noise slipping from between his wet lips - but then he was slipping down Geralt’s leg to straddle his hips, and his cock was pushed against the soft skin of his stomach.

It didn’t slide against him very easily. The precum leaking from the tip helped, but Jaskier didn’t seem to care, holding onto his cock and gently rubbing it against him, jaw wide and loose like it was the single most pleasurable act Jaskier had ever experienced. Geralt cocked his head and tore his gaze away from Jaskier to watch his cock rub circles on him, precum dribbling faster and catching in the hair that curled white all over his abdomen.

Honestly, Geralt didn’t quite understand it. Wasn’t entirely sure what had Jaskier’s breath coming so fast, his heart beating so quick at rubbing against his soft stomach. But he didn’t really care. Jaskier’s hips jerked and he fought to keep himself reigned in, to keep his movements steady and slow, and Geralt just watched him and let him. Let him take this pleasure, smelling the arousal coming off of him in waves, listening to the rhythm of his breaths and body and heart. And Geralt memorized every little detail, from the flutter of his long eyelashes to the way his fingers dug into Geralt’s side, nails just at the edge of biting him.

Jaskier whimpered, long and shaking, when he came. It was desperate, his face scrunching up, eyes shut tight as if he was grasping onto the pleasure with all of his might. Geralt reached out to take hold of one of his hands, letting Jaskier clench his fingers as hard as he needed, bringing them up to brush his lips against the knuckles as Jaskier spilled all over his stomach.

His bard almost collapsed onto him, but Geralt moved him before that could happen, bringing him down with a shush at his further whimpers and letting him rest once more in the crook of his arm. And Jaskier came down slow, heartbeat eventually matching the rhythm of his deepening breaths, eyes still scrunched up tight as if he didn’t want to let go of what he’d been feeling.

When Geralt ran his fingers through his curls, they were damp with sweat. He hummed, not minding, just holding him close as he melted against him.

Eventually, Jaskier stretched, letting his arm flop against Geralt’s chest and legs tangle with his once more. He almost made an effort to open his eyes. Almost. Instead he frowned lightly, nuzzling into Geralt and as he moved impossibly closer.

“Want me to return the favor, love?” His words were light things that could have been carried off by the wind if Geralt’s hearing had been even slightly worse.

In truth, Geralt was turned on. How could he not be when Jaskier had ridden his thigh and stomach so beautifully? But he thought it over for a minute, the cool breeze tickling his face with a few stray white hairs, the scent of wildflowers coming back to him as the one of arousal dissipated.

“No,” he said finally, pulling Jaskier closer to kiss the top of his head. Despite the interest his body had shown he found he wasn’t in the mood himself, content enough to let Jaskier have his pleasure and leave it at that.

Jaskier just hummed, not questioning him further, and a small smile tugged at Geralt’s lips knowing there would be no hurt feelings over it. His bard’s fingers eventually went back to lazily tracing patterns into his skin, though he made a bit of a yucky face when they found the sticky mess he’d left of Geralt’s stomach hairs. Still they were both far too content to clean up just yet, not even wasting the energy to tuck Jaskier’s softening cock back away in his pants as they laid there, relaxed, enjoying the non-harsh sun and the clouds that lazed across the sky overhead.

“Coin for your thoughts?” Jaskier whispered into his chest after a time, and Geralt grunted, not even opening his eyes to look down as he responded.

“A bigger food budget.”

A moment later, and Jaskier’s laugh filled the field around them, sharp and uncontained, a laugh that was so far away from the performance he played that it drew a chuckle out of Geralt as well. That they could be themselves around each other, that they could be so carefree and human, was the most joyous thing Geralt had ever found in his long, long life - and that they’d discovered a new way to have fun was exciting, and Geralt was certainly going to take advantage of this new discovery. How could he not, when his reward was a well-pleased bard melting in his arms.

#why did I give this smut piece such a poetic title?#geraskier #geralt #jaskier #the witcher #fanfiction #mywriting #lemony #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt/jaskier #jaskier/geralt #gerskier #and now back to writing the stuff I'm supposed to be working on

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