#so even i feel super confused when i hear about the rug burn thing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chainhead · 3 years ago

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we're gonna live forever

ethan is finding it harder to cope. leon tries his best to help.

ethan/leon. nsft. a lot of whump and hurt/comfort in this one. an "if leon was there to haul ethan out of the village while chris took rose and they all escaped together" sort of deal. leon got assigned to monitor the winters for a few months, and ethan's struggling with himself.

Up until two hours ago, Ethan hadn't bathed for close to a week. He's tired, and sore, and his body aches with the pain of a thousand bruises that will never heal, and right now, he should be taking a nap. A dirt nap. He should be dead.

But instead, he's leaning over the blankets that are pooled in his lap, and he's kissing Leon fucking Kennedy, square on the lips.

He shouldn't be. Dead people don't kiss the living. Yet he's here… doing just that.

And Leon's been real timid about all this, but when he finally got to press his lips to Ethan's, the blonde figures he should've known that for secret undercover super spy agents like Leon Kennedy, shy isn't a word in their lexicon. For all his hesitancy, a little lip action quickly spiraled into something else entirely, and… and Ethan doesn't hate it.

He gasps when something warm and wet swipes past his lip and he trembles when it slides between his teeth; prodding at his gums and the roof of his mouth and Jesus, is he really getting this worked up over a kiss? Electricity is buzzing in his veins and he can't even remember what Leon wanted to ask, only the part where the older man sat on his bed with a bowl of (forgotten, now) soup and asked if he was okay.

The answer was no. It's not– it's never been okay. Fucking nothing is okay.

And Ethan thought maybe the nightmares would end—the screaming, tearing, ripping at his blankets in a frenzy to get up and desperately check on his daughter—but they haven't. They won't.

And thus, whether by his own design or perhaps pulled on by the strings of fate, Leon came into his room to shake him awake and offer a compassionate ear, just like he always did. And for once, in the three months Ethan’s been occupying Leon's guest bedroom and making good use of his Hulu subscription, he let himself open up.

Maybe it wasn't a smart idea. The last thing Ethan needs right now is more confusion and uncertainty, but the way Leon introduces him to this, it doesn't feel transparent.

The hands on his jaw are real. The taste of peppermint toothpaste is real. The slow, steady breaths that Leon takes in between kisses helps Ethan steady his own, and if Leon wasn't confident in his ability, then surely he wouldn't engage like this with someone he's assigned to monitor and protect, right?

Warm palms slip down Ethan's neck. They trail past his collarbone until they're below his ribcage, and they settle on his hips, firm and steady and real. Ethan startles at the touch, but Leon is quick to hush him, pulling away to whisper soft utterances of it's okay, you're okay, you're safe.

It helps… in it's own strange, unprecedented way.

The blonde's chest heaves as he quietly fights to regain his composure, and Leon takes the brief moment of respite to let go of one hip so he can reach for Ethan's wrist and bring it closer to his face.

It takes Ethan a second to register which hand Leon grabbed. The small stab of discomfort tells him it's his bum hand before he can actually see it, and a part of Ethan reels in alarm, his eyes widening like saucers.

"Wait," he pants," Leon, that's—"

"I told you I'd take care of you, didn't I?" The agent asks gently, still cradling Ethan's hand close.

Ethan pauses for a moment, his brows furrowing. "I..."

"And that no matter what happened, I'd never judge you. I wouldn't think of you any differently. I wouldn't do anything intentionally to hurt you…" Leon glances up, blue eyes uncharacteristically soft. "This is just another part of you I'll accept without question. I don't care how it looks, or how you got it. It's a reminder of your strength. It makes you, you." When Ethan doesn't protest, Leon continues, "So let me."

The blonde inhales quietly.

"Please?" Leon pushes.

"... Okay."

What is most unexpected is how Leon smiles in triumph, but not in an overbearing, boyish kind of way. It's just a little quirk of the lips that indicates his approval, right before he presses them to the valley of Ethan's missing fingers in a fleeting, butterfly kiss.

The blonde's skin erupts in a raze of gooseflesh. He flusters, unsure of what to say, but Leon's quick to smooth things over.

"Every part of you is animated, Winters. You're human." Another kiss, this time above the knuckles. "You're breathing, eating, feeling."

Ethan swallows the lump that's quickly reforming in his throat. "I–It's like a dream. Everything tells me this isn't real."

"What can I do to help?" Leon mumbles against the back of his hand.

Ethan lets out a shaky breath. "I…" He licks his lips, tasting the trace of mint that still lingers.

Leon watches him patiently. Ethan feels his heartbeat thundering in his chest when he finally gathers the courage to ask, in an unsteady voice, "Can you make me feel alive again?"

The first finger is real. So is the second.

Ethan squirms on the sheets as Leon slowly works him open, making sure to use extra lubricant so the process is as painless as possible. Each plunge is precise (who could expect less from a government-trained Jedi?) and occasionally Leon brushes against something absolutely fucking wonderful, pulling embarrassing noises from the blonde's throat and forcing his cock to throb heavily against his stomach.

Dead people can't feel pleasure. Dead people can't moan, or beg for another finger. Not like Ethan, who's doing it so tentatively that he fears Leon can't hear him.

But he does. And he unfurls a third digit the first two, stretching Ethan open wider, forcing him to groan brokenly through his teeth.

"A little tight," Leon observes. When Ethan moves to cover his face with his arm, Leon uses his free hand to push it away. "You okay?"

"Th–the things you say…" Ethan mutters, keeping his gaze trained on the nightstand. From the corner of his eye, he can see Leon grin.

"I'm sorry. Should I stop?"

Ethan doesn't say anything.

The burn and stretch ground him, keeping him focused on the present. Leon never gives him a moment to get lost in his head, and that's something he appreciates immensely. Words of encouragement fill the empty space as well as the lewd squelch of Leon's fingers, until all too soon, they're being slid out without warning.

Ethan clenches around nothing. "Leon?"

"Shh." Leon leans over him, sitting himself between Ethan's thighs. His body is hot where it presses against him, and all the air gushes out of Ethan's lungs. "Nice and easy. If it hurts, you tell me. Okay?"

Ethan nods feverishly. He bites down on his tongue when he feels Leon line himself up, and draws taut like a bowstring when the first breach spread him wide, wider than he'd ever been before.

He wasn't going to tell Leon anything hurt to begin with, but the hiss he lets out is unintentional. It still makes the older man freeze, and Ethan takes note of the callused thumb rubbing soothing circles against his cheekbone.

"I'm fine," Ethan groans, sounding very much the opposite. "Just keep going."

Leon doesn't protest. He kisses Ethan's shoulder and carefully eases the rest of his length in, exhaling quietly once his groin presses flush to the skin of Ethan's ass. Once he's there he keeps still, patiently waiting for Ethan to adjust.

The feeling is less pain, more ache. There is an undercurrent of something similar to how a rug burn might feel, and although somewhat unpleasant, it makes Ethan vividly aware of the fact that, if he were dead, he wouldn't be able to feel anything at all. He wouldn't need to grit his teeth, or fist the sheets, or wait until his muscles stopped fluttering wildly around something foreign inside of him. This isn't how it feels to die.

He's warm. Not as warm as Leon, nor the cock buried snug in his walls, but still warm enough to not need long sleeves.

Eventually, the pain begins to ebb and fade. Leon murmurs softly against his shoulder, asking if he's okay to move, and Ethan nods again.

They set a slow pace. Leon is meticulous in how much force he puts behind each thrust, ever aware of Ethan's comfort. He moves his face up until their lips catch and brush against the other's, not quite a kiss, yet still intimate and sweet. Leon uses one hand to support his weight while he maps out Ethan's body with the other; and Ethan shivers, taking note of the way fire erupts in the wake of Leon's fingertips.

About two minutes in, things begin blurring together. Ethan rocks back to match Leon's rhythm, and that's all it takes for Leon to loosen the tension in the wires—his hips undulating with enough strength behind them to elicit small, audible slaps of skin in skin on skin.

Ethan snakes a hand down to touch himself, only to get his knuckles smacked before he can get a single stroke in. Leon replaces the hand with his own, and the way he jerks him is so much faster than he'd initially been wanting.

The blonde writhes, his clammy skin clinging to the sheer bed sheets. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes and he can feel it, he can feel the impending orgasm that surging up from his guts and teetering just on the cusp—

Above him Leon moans quietly, burying his nose in Ethan's neck. His thrusts are turning into quick, hard snaps, and his hold on Ethan's cock shifts; the pad of his thumb swiping firm over the leaking tip. One, two, three more times. The fourth has Ethan shaking, his thighs trembling around Leon's frame. And the fifth…

Paired with one last, deep thrust, Ethan comes with a wordless shout, his back arching up high off of the mattress. Sticky ropes of pearlescent liquid coat his stomach, his chest, and the tops of Leon's knuckles, and Ethan trembles through it all, feeling as though he's having an out of body fucking experience.

And when he finally comes around, it's to the sound of Leon whispering his name in his ear, soiled fingers digging hard into his hip. Wet warmth fills him, and it's only in the few seconds afterwards that Ethan realizes he never told Leon he could finish inside.

A small part of him hoped he would, so he doesn't comment on it.

"Jesus," Leon sighs after a moment, pushing himself up a little higher on his elbow. Ethan's impressed that, despite all of that, Leon doesn't just collapse on top of him… or even come close to it.

Instead, he's distracting Ethan with a slow, post-coital kiss while he carefully unsheathes himself, and then he's rolling over, taking all of his body heat with him.

Ethan blinks sluggishly, turning on his side to face him.

Silence blankets over them comfortably. Ethan's thoughts are running wild but his chest is heaving for breath, his fingertips are sizzling with leftover energy and he feels so free. The same way he felt before he died—before he even knew the Bakers' existed, or the mutant mind-controlling mold that took him asunder.

Another tear falls. Ethan moves his hand up to wipe it, but Leon's already there, catching it with his thumb. Ethan sniffs, meeting his gaze.

"What's going to happen to us?" He asks thickly.

Leon tilts his head. "What do you mean?"

"Us… you and I. Our… our relationship." Ethan hiccups on his words. "Our friendship."

A brief pause. And then, softly: "I thought I was helping you feel alive?"

The inflection of Leon's tone makes Ethan pause in confusion, his brows pinched. He desperately searches Leon's face but doesn't find the context he's looking for, so he says, "Y–you were."

"And did I?"

Ethan stills. He suddenly becomes more aware of himself, of the beat of his heart and the air in his lungs. The amalgamation of excitement and fear and longing that coincide in his stomach.

The realness of it. The realness of everything.

Of this.

Himself.

Leon.

Ethan shudders out a shaky breath. "I don't know," he whispers honestly. "I don't know."

The bed shifts and creaks beneath Leon's weight, and Ethan isn't aware of the arms wrapped around him or the warm chest pressed against his nose until it's too late; and for once, he doesn't feel like shying away from the touch. It feels grounding. Like a rock to help weather the storm… a solid constant Ethan can trust.

Slowly, Ethan embraces Leon back.

"I want you to know. I want to be there when you do know," Leon tells him.

He sobs, and a large, gentle hand comes up to comb through his hair.

"I'll do whatever it takes, Winters. Even if it takes forever, I'll show you how real you are to me."

#resident evil #ethan winters #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x ethan winters #re fanfic #nsft

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 4 years ago

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Touch it for Real, Part 2

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Eventual Smut

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / enemies to lovers

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

What you didn't know — what you couldn’t have known was that it wasn’t real. The flush you felt in your skin was real. The sticky sweat that spread over your bed sheets when you tossed and turned was real. The heat of it; the perceptible and tactile fire that spread through your veins felt so physical and solid, you had no way of knowing that this wasn’t real.

Slim fingers.

Fleshy thighs.

Hip bones beneath well worn denim.

Buttons popping with the barest of effort.

And the lips. Oh God, the softness of those lips as they traveled over your very hot skin. You could feel it all.

You never saw his face; you hadn’t needed to. You could smell him everywhere. You knew who this was. You’d know him with your eyes blinded; you’d know him anywhere.

At first you turned away. At first you resisted, but as the fire spread through you, you found yourself turning into him, searching for him, seeking out that connection to fuel the heat.

Why was this happening? Why did you rejoice in it? The longing and the desire had simply become too much for you to deny and now you were the one pulling him into you. You were the one who wrapped your legs around that slim waist and constricted and those sounds from his chest they were...they were…

Those sounds from his mouth, they were—

Screaming.

Laughing.

‘AH HA HA HA AH — YES!’ Rough staccato laughter; so, so loud — so damn loud, it ripped and it tore at your mind and it yanked you up so roughly; up so fast you felt your entire body shaking if not completely falling apart with the speed at which you were pulled.

You opened your eyes into pitch blackness. Your vision took only a second to adjust and you could make out the sliver of dim light from the street lamp outside that peeked through the very top of your curtains.

On your nightstand, pale yellow squared numbers taunted you with 03:42 AM and covering your entire body where you laid on your once so welcoming bed was your bunched up and sweaty comforter. It was heavy. It was everywhere. You felt suffocated by it. Why was it so hard to breathe?

Your comforter. You purchased it because it was pretty. It fit in perfectly with your room decor and it was pale in color enough that the brightly colored stuffed animals you set atop stood out and complimented the subtle pattern. It made you feel at home.

It used to make you feel at home. Now it was making you feel a very different sort of way. Hot and sweaty and flushed all over and now, very mad about all of it.

You could still feel that shaking deep inside your chest and you laid your palm over your forehead to feel for a fever. You swear you could feel the tremble happening inside, though it was fading now, you were sure you still felt that shaking inside of your body.

It was beginning to settle.

You felt another rumble, paired with a loud booming sound that vibrated and shook your wall. The glass of your window quaked and the pale yellow numbers on your nightstand danced in your vision.

‘HAHAHA! I got you asshole!’

03:44 AM

Speakers. Surround sound. Heavy bass. An impressive system at any other time of the day when the sun was out. But right now? When you had been peacefully asleep; when you had been dreaming? Earth shattering booms. Deafening shouts of victory from the idiot with every new explosion that rattled your bones.

You sat up and the comforter stuck to your sweaty skin. It wasn’t even hot in this room, yet this thing clung to you like it was coated in glue. Nearly four in the fucking morning.

You had to work tomorrow. It was the one day a month when you were required to report to the office in person for the staff meeting. And here you were being ripped awake by such a disturbing commotion and goddammit this blanket was hot.

This … thing.

This thing that brought with it images of him and images of, oh god, images of his fingertips and his lips and his, oh god, oh no. No, please not that. Anything but that. Of all the things that were absolutely off limits. Of all the situations that could never happen. Horror. An overwhelming horror; it tasted of shame.

No, no, no, no.

How could this have happened? How could those images be burning into the backs of your eyes? The more your overtired mind tried to make sense of it, the less sense this made. You looked down at the blanket, searching for answers.

Had something about this blanket been ruined?

Was it’s once comforting and innocent essence somehow completely changed on a molecular level and was it now….tainted forever? Because of him? Because of what he brought into your room and depravedly rubbed all over it?

You pushed it away with both hands reaching you pushed and pushed until it sunk down off the foot of your bed and the cool air blew over your hot bare legs. Even the cool air did little to calm the irritation you felt all over your body. It did nothing to cool you off. Your legs were made of pure fire.

He did this. You were sure of it. He brought this evil on you. And now with his room shaking howling laughter you were wide awake and angry at almost 4 am when you had work in the morning; you had to be worth a damn in the morning.

You were up on angry legs with rage pushing you forward and you reached down for the blanket that you didn't even want in your room anymore for all it represented. You hauled it with both hands and took two steps forward toward your closed bedroom door when your forward progress took a quick and southward dive and you fell, tripped up by the wretched blanket when you stepped on a corner instead of on your soft rug.

You could feel the burn on your kneecaps where you collided with the hard floor. You could feel a sting on your left knee that hit the hardest but burned into the carpet and you grunted through the pain to quickly lift yourself back up and gather every other bit of hanging blanket securely inside your arms.

The trek through the living room at such an ungodly hour when every living breathing cell in your body would have rather been asleep felt absolutely crazed. You reached his door, turned the knob just enough for the latch to disengage and with your entire being hurled that motherfucker open and sent it flying.

Oh and it flew. It hit the wall and bounced back hard, bouncing back quickly against your arms that held on securely to the blanket. The noise was shocking. It was a vindicating battle cry.

The commotion startled him. His hands were on the keyboard and a pair of headphones atop of his head and for WHAT, you could hear every single thing happening on his screen in mind deafening stereo surround sound filling up the whole room. You could hear it clearly from your own room and from inside this room it sounded like you were living inside of the subwoofers themselves.

Your rage was somehow louder and it made him spin toward the motion and sound of you at his doorway with a shriek of surprise. His eyes were saucers and his mouth flew open; an unchewed bite of some pink sausage fell out and bounced off his knee onto the floor below his sock covered feet and he was only screaming for a second before he was cursing.

“Shit. Jesus. Fuck. Ohh my God, Fucking Hell, oh my heart. Oh it hurts. Oh Christ I’m dying.” He was clutching at his chest. His headphones, the useless things slipped off his head and toppled down his shoulder following the sausage chunk and you could see them fall all the way down to the floor. The cord, which had not been plugged in quickly followed and pooled into a puddle at his feet.

“Do you have any idea ... what time it is?” Your voice sounded foreign to your ears. Had you always sounded so burly? You felt like an angry mountain lion ready to go in for the kill.

His eyes were closed up tight and he inhaled a deep breath before cracking them open to look at you through the heavy panicked breaths.

“Ohhh,” he moaned as his breathing calmed and the shock faded with each slow breath he took. “Ohhhhh,” he repeated softer, to himself.

“Ohhh…” this time he was looking at you and his eyebrows furrowed together as he did it. “Oh—whoa, whoa, whoa, you look….super fucking crazy right now. What is happening?”

His hands were up in confusion; in defense, and you were moving forward taking the stupid blanket and roughly shoving it toward him you hurled it right at his face and watched it hit as hard as a soft cottony blanket could manage to hit — it was more of a gentle nudge really, and then it fell down, taking his stupid glasses off his face and burrying them somewhere within the fluff where the blanket fell.

He was too confused to catch it. He had absolutely no idea what he had done to defile and destroy the sacred sanctity of your sleep.

He had no idea.

“What are you doing with this? Why are you doing this? Why are you giving me your blanket? Where are your pants? Is your leg bleeding? Tell me what is happening!”

“You!” You hurled a finger up and pointed it in his face. His eyes widened, crossed to look at the finger that clearly accused him of something just off the end of his nose and then looked back into your face in utter confusion.

“You—“ you inhaled to survive and your mouth hung open as the words, the accusations you had for him, the truth of what he had done to you, what he really hadn’t done, but what you were certain you felt happening in your sleep, in that dream, those words they stopped entirely as you looked at his face. His very real face, the very real pink cheeks and confused eyes of your roommate Byun Baekhyun who had absolutely no idea that you had just been disturbed during and then disturbed by a vivid and confusing sex dream about him.

Oh god.

You couldn’t say that.

You would rather be dead right here than say those words with your own mouth.

This had never happened before. He was a real person, you had never experienced a dream like that involving a real person. Not someone you knew like you knew Baekhyun. Not someone you lived with and had to keep on living with. The more you replayed the words that refused to come out of your mouth inside your head the more your sanity slowly returned to your mind.

“Your headphones are not plugged in.” You shook your finger in his face. Using every bit of anger you had built up on the walk across the living room, every bit of uncomfortable sweaty stinging ick you felt all over your whole body about the whole thing and you shot those death lasers out of your eyeballs and you focused them right on his face, right there in the center of his stupid forehead. That’s where you put it. That’s where you glared and that’s where you wished every little bit of comeuppance that he had coming to him would land. Right there on that head.

“Wha?” He said and his stupid pink lips frowned downward into a pout. Against your will, you watched them as they moved and then quickly focused your pointing anger back up onto the center of his forehead. It took a lot.

He was looking down at his feet and reached through the big fluffy blanket that covered him from the waist down to the floor to find the headphones that had landed somewhere within it all.

He pulled them up and kept pulling, following the cord until he reached the end and he held the male end of his headphones with his fingertips as he looked down at them with a scoff and a small laugh.

“Oh shit,” he chuckled to himself, “huh...would you look at that?” As if absolutely nothing at all mattered in the world and this was just a humorous little hiccup in his day. At 4 am on a work day.

The audacity of the man. The absolute shameless audacity.

“Would you look at that?!?” The volume of your own voice surprised you. You screamed it. Right at the top of your lungs and he jumped in his seat, closed his eyes up tight and clutched at his chest again with a pained wince on that face. Immediately after you’d done it you felt a pang inside. Was your anger really caused by being awoken? What were you really so damn mad about here?

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered to himself when his eyes opened again.

Then he directed them at you with his eyebrows furrowed and that glare right on your face.

“Jesus. Christ. Woman.” he half spoke again with his eyes on you and his face pointing directly at yours with each new word he spoke. You felt unjustly rebuked. The seriousness on his voice closed up your gaping mouth and you pulled your head back. Part of you wanted to grab his hair and pull it, demanding reparations and apologies and justice for his many 4 AM crimes against you.

“I mean...Jesus. Christ.” His head nodded to emphasize just how ridiculous he was now finding your current outburst and you felt the heaviness deep inside your arms as you sagged on your feet and wanted to give up your fight against gravity. Part of you knew you were justified in your outrage. How could you be losing this fight so easily to him? Maybe...maybe you were just tired.

“I’m just...so tired, Baek.” Your complaint came out as a sad little whine and your head fell back as you closed up your eyes. Suddenly feeling like you could drop right here at his feet and sleep curled up in your wretched comforter.

He must have gotten up. You could feel his arms on your shoulders and you were steered somewhere within his room. Your legs didn’t feel like moving but there were some calming circles being rubbed on your back that felt too nice to resist.

“I’ll turn it off, Bug. You can sleep, I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I was sleeping so nicely.” You mumbled and you were in a bed that didn’t smell like you. “I was dreaming.” All at once the memory and that smell brought back a strange yet familiar feeling.

“Was it a good dream?” His voice sounded far away.

“Mhmm,” you hummed and you let yourself drift. You let yourself curl into the mattress that you were laid over and gave in to an unimaginable comfort that pulled you under too easily.

If he had any more questions you did not know, but something called your sleepy mind back for one more word. Something asked perhaps. You couldn’t be sure what it was, only your single word response slipped from your lips.

“You,” you told the questions, before disappearing entirely.

Your alarm clock was ringing. It was a sufferingly familiar sound that could rip you awake from the deepest sleeps. Today it sounded far away, but that tune was so ingrained into your mind that you immediately opened your eyes and stuck a hand out to look for your phone to stop it.

Only your hand reached and found nothing. You moved further and bumped against something hard like a table that should not have been there.

“Mmm,” a soft moan sounded out from somewhere below and when you finally opened your eyes and searched your ceiling, the layout was definitely different.

This was not your room.

This was not your bed.

“Don't you work today?” You followed the sound of his voice and found it coming from somewhere curled up on the floor beside the bed underneath your comforter. The one you’d abandoned last night. The memories flooded in an instant.

“Yeah. I’m getting up. You can have your bed back, Peanut.”

Peeling back his blankets for a quick escape you saw your own bare shins; knees; thighs; all the way up to your underwear. You’d fallen asleep with only a t-shirt on last night. But there was a new addition. You saw a flesh colored bandage stuck to your knee with a brown-red stain in the center of the gauze pad. You paused to look down at it, a thousand conflicting inclinations running through you in a single breath and not a spare minute to dwell on any of them because your alarm was still ringing and Baekhyun had turned over and peeked his face out from under your blanket.

You could not explain the urgency to leave. You freely loitered near him and around him constantly without even a second thought.

Although you had never done it in such a state of undress. This could have explained the rush. How much would he see of you? How many flaws could he make out with his sleepy eyes. How long had it taken him to apply the bandage last night? Did he use his bare fingertips to softly dab ointment on your wound or did he merely slap on a bandaid with a rough palm. He wouldn't have lightly blown on it to dry the medicine would he?

Something was wrong with you.

These were not important questions for you to be asking. You needed to get out of his room before he saw any more. Perhaps the dream had done much more damage than you had feared.

You could have stepped down off the bed beside where he laid. It would have only required an extra step to get over him. Instead you climbed down to the foot of his bed and without a look back you were out of his room under the compulsion of the ringing alarm and you surrendered willingly.

Back inside your room you could breathe freely and deeply. You could indulge in your routine of getting ready for the day and you took your time to get your hair and your makeup looking nice. It was cold out so you opened for the thick winter leggings to get you through the commute without freezing to death and you were out of your door just in time to stop for a morning coffee.

The day dragged. You were probably just out of practice, having worked from home for so long that having to make an active attempt to look busy enough to justify your paycheck with so many witnesses in the office had you feeling burnt out by lunch time.

You went for a walk to avoid awkward small talk with your co-workers even though it meant you didn't have enough time to actually eat any real food before your break was over. Still it was preferable to the alternative. Namely the meddling old women who, every time they saw you had some new neighbor’s friend’s son, or some doctor’s nephew they just had to set you up with.

So what if you were single. So what if you were too young and too pretty to be alone. There wasn’t some invisible timer counting down to your swift and imminent demise just because you didn't have a boyfriend. You were pretty sure that timer was running for everyone despite the relationship status on their facebook profile. And you did not mention your facebook profile to Baekhyun because he would probably flip out, hack into your computer and delete the whole thing. The dramatic man. How else were you supposed to see what a mess your high school friend’s lives were shaping up to be.

When it was finally time to go home for the day you were more exhausted than you thought was normal for someone still walking around on her own two legs. You were the angry sort of hungry that made you annoyed with every single sound you heard on the subway and not even your headphones in your ears playing your favorite songs eased your anxiety.

You glared at the woman across the aisle with the unruly kids who refused to wear their masks right. You glared at the old man with his nose sticking out of the top of his and you tightened your own mask to your face and took a step back and away from the group of youths that eyed you up and down as they moved through the doors.

You’d never before been so happy to open the door to your apartment and be greeted by the pleasant hum of a refrigerator that you knew had to have at least one tasty thing you could snack on to take the edge off of your mood.

Inside was bright. It was cleaned recently — You’re welcome — It was sparkling and gleaming and well organized and it was full of a multitude of raw ingredients that could be chopped and sliced and diced and cooked up to make a wonderfully healthy and fulfilling meal for whoever had the energy and ambition to embark on such a feat.

You peered inside at the bottles of water in the door. The sticks of butter and the bottles of sauce mocked you. You were pretty sure raw eggs cracked into your open mouth would give you some sort of infection that would require you to leave the house again this month so you opened the drawer where you were sure you saw a cheese stick hiding inside last night.

There it was.

It was white and bouncy. It was salty and individually wrapped and it was calling your name in sweet a cheesy joyous chorus of promised deliciousness.

It was yours.

It’s most amazing feature wasn’t the chewiness or the cold chill it had from sitting for weeks in a refrigerator. No, the best thing, and you mean the absolute very best thing about this single plastic wrapped cheese stick was that it existed.

Exactly when you needed it most.

Feet shuffled behind you. Baekhyun would be waking up from whatever napping schedule he’d accidentally tricked his body clock into adopting and he would be stumbling into the kitchen for a drink of water.

You unwrapped the cheese stick and stuck the end between your lips. Instantly rewarded by the soft way it gave when you bit down. You took the tiniest bite and you chewed carefully and thoughtfully. Perhaps your eyes rolled back and closed and perhaps you might have even experienced something akin to out of body experience of pure pleasure as you chewed, swallowed, and opened your mouth again for another bite. A real one this time.

What you hadn’t anticipated, was the cruelty of the universe that had allowed you to live this many years on Earth only to end up here in this exact moment with this man whose home you also lived in. You hadn’t expected the crushing reality of watching that man sleepily stumble into you with his eyes half closed and open his big mouth as wide as it would go and sink that mouth down directly onto the entire exposed part of your cheese stick, of which maybe 85% had been exposed, and chomp down ruthlessly with nearly the entire thing vanishing away before your eyes.

You watched him chewing noisily with his mouth open and bits of white cheese bumbled around inside before he let out a noisy laugh complete with a snort that sent bits of cheese flying across your once clean kitchen.

“Haha,” he said as he swallowed, “your face.”

He was laughing at you.

He ate your cheese; well, most of your cheese. He was laughing now, harder. The longer you stood staring at him in absolute shock at what he had just done the harder he laughed and you could feel the countdown happening inside of your chest. A number for each heart beat that seemed to be speeding up toward his death.

He had no idea. He never ever did.

This man was so close to death and he was giggling now and reaching for the big bottle of orange juice that sat inside the fridge.

He lifted it up to his lips and drank from the bottle, not even bothering with a glass. He drained half of its contents and when he pulled the bottle down, some things, tiny and white - mini specks of your cheese floated around inside the orange liquid.

You saw bright white nothingness.

You would like to go on the record now, and plead insanity.

In your mind's eye, everything was just all white.

Like the afterlife in movies. Except far less peaceful but equally unexplainable.

Violence may not be the answer. But you really had very little memory of this.

You had flashes of it. His deafening screams and your hand reaching into a bag of cheese puffs for handfuls that you shoved into his gaping mouth. You don’t even know where you got them from. They just appeared suddenly and they crushed so easily into soft powder as you pressed them between his teeth. The powder coated the surface of his skin around his mouth. It flew in the air too as he screamed. You were covered in it. Your hands were stained bright orange. The color of your wicked crimes.

The whiteness returned. Then more flashes of your crimes. Your mind touched on images of the sticky drops of orange juice that fell one by one from his hair that laid completely flat, lacquered to the top of his head. Then, his cries of pain with your knees dug into his chest and both of your bright orange hands squeezed tightly around his neck. The coughing when you pressed down harder in the middle of his neck and the eventual sensation of him fighting back. The urge to live must be strong in him. Why did he resist this so much? Just die already. Why fight the inevitable? If not done by you, surely some other person would do it.

When you came to, you were inside of your bedroom packing a bag full of clothes and stuffed animals. You felt that this was probably your get-away bag, and that meant he was probably dead.

Drowned in two ounces of backwash filled orange juice and lungs stuffed with brightly colored cheese flavored* puffs (*contains no real cheese.)

You had a list happening inside of your head. Things you had to do before you left this place forever and never returned. A strange calm had washed over you; probably brought on by shock.

First, you had to pack this bag. You had stuffed it full of overcoats. Your winter coat with the pink polka dots. The fluffy yellow puffer jacket you got as a gift from your best friend. Your rain jacket in case it got wet in hell. Second, you would go into his room and clear his search history. It was something you had always promised you would do for him and he had promised to do the same for you. After that, you would call the police from a pay phone on the corner of the block to anonymously report the crime.

Your bag was full. Too full to fit the brightly colored pink bunny even though it was a tiny thing. You pushed and shoved, squeezing it in between the layers of coats until you were sure the seam of your bag was about to pop if you tried to zip it closed.

You still had your toiletries to pack. This would never do. How could you pack a get-away bag without your favorite shampoo.

A flood of memories came to you. Your favorite shampoo and handing the bottle with your eyes covered to Baekhyun as he showered. All at once, that steady and all consuming calm wavered and you felt the first hot tears building. Stinging and burning as they crested and spilled over your lashes onto your cheeks.

Your lips were stuck in a deep frown and you did your best to inhale through a stuffed up nose.

“My poor Peanut,” you said into the hollow empty space of your lonely bedroom. You’d have to venture into his bathroom to get your shampoo. Possibly walking past his lifeless corpse which you were pretty sure you left somewhere in between the kitchen and the living room.

A maniac. You were a heartless monster. The remorse you now felt, which could very well help you in court, coated you from head to toe and you cried openly when you pulled your bedroom door open and took your first step out of your room.

Shampoo and search history. These things were your destination.

But a sound coming from somewhere deep in the kitchen threw off your steps and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise with the unexpectedness of it.

More than just a sound, you could smell something too. Was that sizzling? Had you accidentally turned the stove on and now your whole apartment was on fire? Was this how you could get rid of the body?

No. You had to get a grip now. That was going too far. You could understand homicide but desecration of a corpse? Ick. That kinda shit was for sickos.

You focused your energy on your destination and took three big steps to cross the living room and placed a hand on the door knob of his room.

The knob clicked noisily when you turned it too quickly and you heard a shuffle coming from the kitchen. A shuffle and then a scrape and you turned at the sound.

“Hey Bug, food’s ready. Come eat. I made your favorite.”

You froze on your feet with your eyes wide open, nose too stuffy to breathe so your mouth hung wide open as well. With tears streaming down your face, made fresh again by the sight of him standing in the kitchen with a white towel draped around his neck, clean wet hair, and a frying pan and spatula in his hand, you gasped.

You had never been quite so relieved to see the sight of your stupid roommate. Overcome, you dropped the bag you carried at your feet and rushed to where he stood with arms raised and the dish he had just finished cooking elevated and you reached for his body with your arms outstretched. When you felt his warmth you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him in for a tight hug.

“Uhh,” he said softly, flinching upon contact and freezing up but first lifting the hot pan high enough to remove any danger of burning you with it. “Why are you crying?”

You squeezed tighter and buried your face in his chest. You’d get his shirt wet with tears and with snot but you didn't care. He was okay. Your overwhelming guilt for your behavior towards him was so thick you had a hard time not sobbing harder when you felt the awkward steps he took to set the hot pan down and free his hands and then that first warmth of the palm of his hand that landed on your back.

When the other hand joined and slipped around your shoulder a quiet cry got caught up inside the back of your throat and you heard a warning sound somewhere. Because the warning did not exist in this realm of reality he did not hear it and another step into you brought his arms tighter around your shoulders and when you felt those hands move gently over your back the warning sound blared up hot and terrifying.

You and him did not do this. This was not something you had ever done with Baekhyun. Sure, light touches sometimes. Plenty, even. Hell, you playfully smacked him for something new and annoying every single day. You weren’t exactly scared of him, but you had never hugged him before and you sure as fuck didn't ever hold him.

“Bug?” His voice was calling you. You had an inkling that it might have been the second or third time and you pulled back from him. His hands released you the second he felt your retreat and you looked at the spot where you’d mashed your whole face into his shirt wincing at all the face shaped wet spots you saw there.

He didn't seem bothered by it and you inhaled a deep trembling breath with a meaningless nod of your head at him. Whatever had happened didn’t matter. Everything was fine. Everything was over and it was okay. He was okay too.

He offered a small smile and turned to get two bowls to fill with the food he had made.

It was fried rice. Simple, no frills fried rice with a fried egg on top and just enough spice to make it interesting but not enough to activate any more water works. It was his favorite and you were pretty sure he didn't actually know how to make any other dishes. But hadn’t he just said he made your favorite?

“Baek, This isn’t my favorite. This is your favorite.”

He placed a bowl in front of where you sat and he lifted a quizzical eyebrow with a small tick of his head.

“No, it’s not my favorite. It’s your favorite. You make it all the time. And that’s why I made it now. Because it's your favorite.”

As he spoke, he pointed back and forth between you and the bowl of rice with his spoon. As if he was teaching a class on something you obviously didn’t know the first thing about.

“But I only make it all the time because it's your favorite, Peanut.”

You picked up your spoon and mixed the egg into the rice and began eating quickly out of necessity. You were about to pass out from hunger at this point.

He was watching you eat with that confused look on his face and he hadn’t touched his rice yet.

“Well whose favorite is it then?”

You shrugged and swallowed another bite. You were half finished with your bowl already and Baekhyun looked down and scooped up the egg from the top of his own rice with his spoon, leaning forward to plop it down on top of your remaining rice.

“Please tell me you at least like eggs on top.”

“Doesn’t everybody?” You remarked flippantly and you mixed again, feeling so much more human now that you had some real food in your stomach.

He was leaning back in his chair, fingertips over his face as he lightly massaged at the space between his eyebrows and you giggled to yourself with a mouth full of rice.

“I thought I killed you, Baekhyun.”

You heard him snort out a laugh and he quickly covered his mouth with both of his hands before he spat out all over the table. You yourself had to cover your mouth to keep your rice in and you laughed in a painful stifled way to keep from choking on the food in your mouth.

“You made me eat so many fucking cheese puffs I’m not even hungry right now.” He wheezed through his words and you saw him wiping at his eyes while you forced yourself to swallow before rice flew out of your nose.

He was holding his stomach as he laughed and the tight pained wince on his face only made you laugh harder.

You had eaten all you could and Baekhyun abandoned his food before he even started due to a certain cheese puff armed psychopath.

You’d stood to clear away the plates when you heard the hum of his phone vibrating on the table. You’d made your way into the kitchen when his voice piped up from where he was seated at the table staring down at whatever he had just received on his phone.

“Hey, uhh...h-how should I respond to this girl?”

“Girl? Baekhyun are you chatting with someone?” You perked up, instantly way more interested in what was happening on his phone than washing these dishes and you quickly rounded the corner back into the dining room to find out more.

“Oh wait, nevermind, I think...I don’t think she’s serious.” His voice weakened when his phone vibrated again and you’d reached a spot where you could clearly see the messages he had just received.

From Vixxxen18 again. You rolled your eyes hard enough for them to ache just seeing that familiar screen name.

“Ugh, this bitch again,” you said in a disgusted voice and you saw the flinch in his shoulders. He darkened a shade and you quickly grabbed the phone to steady it so you could clearly see what she wanted this time.

‘Hey honey, DTF tonight?’

You read the message out loud and he held his hands over his face and squirmed in his seat.

“Peanut do you know what DTF means?”

“Yes. I know what it means.” He interrupted you before you could get the whole sentence out. His ears were pink. You heard the clench of his jaw muffle his words as he spoke.

Her next message you didn’t read out-loud.

‘Spot me 50 for gas and I’ll come over’

“Gas doesn’t cost fifty dollars,” you scowled under your breath and your fingers were typing before you had a chance to second think.

‘Shouldn’t we get to know each other a little bit first?’

Her response came quickly and made your blood boil.

‘What makes you think I want to know you’

“Oh I’m going to kick her ass,” you said right before the phone was plucked out of your hands so fast you still moved your thumbs as you typed in the air, ready to give this bitch a piece of your mind.

“Settle down, Cheese Puffs, she's actually not that bad most of the time,” he said and he was closing out the messaging program quickly before you could say anything else to literally the worst human being you’d ever had a two second conversation with.

Your breathing was heavy and you must have had a look in your eyes that made him uncomfortable because he was reaching down to grab your hand and he tugged lightly toward the living room sofa. He was swiping with his other hand on his phone again.

“Here, I have some matches on the dating profile you made me. Why don't we have a look through them and find someone who’s ass you don't want to kick.”

He plopped down with a huff and you quickly sat down beside him, leaning well against his arm so you could see his screen clearly.

“God, you’re so mean today. What’s gotten into you? Ever since you woke up from that dream last night you’ve been ready to kill anyone who moves.”

You’d taken over the scrolling and found yourself lost in the freedom of judging the girls on his phone screen as he mused about what a grump you were.

Boring. Bland. Brainless. Vapid. Ugh.

As you flipped through them you not so quietly voiced how much you hated every one of them. Sure, for someone they could have been perfect but for him, they were not. His complaints about you went silent and as he watched the scrolling.

At last you found someone who seemed to fit some sort of idealized image you had of the perfect girl for him and you stopped scrolling instantly with a quiet gasp. He wasn’t saying anything about her though and you looked up excitedly at his face expecting him to be reading the profile she had carefully written, or looking through the pictures you oh so slowly scrolled past but instead of looking down at the phone his eyes were just watching you.

It was an odd and calm observation of only your face. And when you grabbed ahold of his eyes with your searching ones you raised your eyebrows and tilted your head down, pointing with the angle of your face at his phone screen so he could see her, so he could see Mia who lived only 5 miles away from him and had seen all of the animes that he liked and played the same kinds of computer games he played and was honest to god, cute as a damn button. Perfect! You wanted to squeal.

“Peanut,” you whispered and his eyes widened and his eyebrows danced on his face as he finally, finally looked down in his lap where the phone sat.

But the screen was now black. It had timed out. You clicked on a button on the side and it prompted him to log in again and what was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he unlocking it already? You grabbed his hand and his eyes glanced down where you touched his fingertips, carefully tracing with his index finger over the pattern he used to unlock his phone and it came back to life — the smiling, lovely image of Mia who lived only 5 miles away and was just absolutely perfect.

“Bug,” He said softly as he looked down at his phone screen and your smile was naturally wide as he watched each image fly across his screen. The anticipation of his reaction was killing you. He had to be as excited about this as you were. He at least seemed to be paying attention to the pictures this time.

But he wasn't squealing or even smiling about her. The silence on his side got you talking again. A quick nervous sort of talking to fill up the quiet. “She’s cute. And she's nice, I can feel it. And she's perfect for you. Let’s message her.”

You lifted a finger to your chin and thrust your eyes into the air to think. You thought back to some of the opening lines you’d been fed by the men you dated and you opened the window to send a message to Mia from Baekhyun.

“Bug,” he said again, even quieter than he had called before and it stood out to you that he had been trying for a while to get your attention now and you were so distracted with how much fun this was that you hadn’t really acknowledged him. You were being presumptuous. Just because you liked her didn’t necessarily mean he did. It even occurred to you that maybe you were being downright rude.

So you looked at him. Lifted your eyebrows up and rested the phone back down on his knee cap so he would say what he wanted to say already. You braced for the rejection of the cutest girl in his list of matches.

But instead of speaking he just looked at you and you slowly began to hear the actual ticking of the clock on the wall across the room from where you both sat. After much too long his eyes fell to look down the phone in your hand and you heard the smallest, softest scoff from his chest and he closed his eyes once with a long sigh.

And then he was nodding his head with his eyes closed up tight. “Yeah. Yeah, go ahead, send her a message. If you say she’s perfect, then she’s perfect.”

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Tag list: @j-pping @blahblahblah-boo @his-mochi-cheeks @amyeonzing@littleflowercrown13 @baekinmylife @insta1010 @nana-banana @f4ncyvelvet@bbhbeth @beg0neth0t420

#Baekhyun #Exo #Baekhyun fic #Exo fic #Baekhyun fanfic #Exo fanfic #baekhyun smut #exo smut #baekhyun fluff #exo fluff #baekhyun exo

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gloomybabygirl · 4 years ago

Text

{in my head pt.2} Poe Dameron x smuggler!reader (soulmate au)

series masterlist

last part * next part

a/n: hi everyone! I can’t thank you enough for all the love on the first part of the series!! I was actually super nervous to post it and had my friends beta read it an unhealthy amount of times, so the feedback I’ve gotten has been wonderful :) p.s. the series tag list is open, send an ask or message if you want to be tagged for the rest!

warnings: alcohol consumption, soulmate trope, poe not clearing his throat, cliffhanger, I haven’t proofread this yet

timeline: I never established this so here we go! this is set between force awakens and last Jedi! so we’re still on D’Qar ladies, gents, and nb friends. however Miss Rey has not yet traveled to see Uncle Luke

word count: 4k oops

songs used: mr. loverman - Ricky Montgomery & the chain - Fleetwood Mac (kinda? I just listened there's no singing in this part lol)

summary: you and Poe spend some time bonding, you go on your first mission

You loved being apart of the Resistance. Waking up on D’Qar every morning was a blessing in your eyes. You had a purpose here. You’d never stayed on one planet for so long. Being on the run was your norm for the majority of your life. It was too dangerous for you to stay on one planet for too long (or stay in one region for that matter). The humid Jungle was the closest thing you’d had to a permanent home since you were a child.

That is, D’Qar was the closet thing to a physical home you’d had in years. There was one person that had no trouble making you feel at home. You could be stuck in carbonite on a bounty hunters ship and hearing your soulmate’s voice wold make you feel safe. His sweet song felt like coming home to the warm embrace of a lover.

But you hadn’t heard it in weeks. And it was starting to worry you. There had always been that nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you that he’d found someone else. But now that voice was trying to convince you of something much worse. You don’t know what you’d do if you’d spent all this time waiting for your person only to find out that something awful had happened to him.

You’d rather find out he already belonged to someone else.

You did your best to push the dark thoughts away, locking them in a box in the back of your mind. You couldn’t let yourself linger on the idea of him being dead or it would drive you insane.

There were three people that did a magnificent job of keeping your mind off of all the negative thoughts. On days when it felt like the weight of the war was resting solely on your shoulders, your friends were the ones who could help you bear it. They were always there for a joke or a long talk, if that's what you needed. Of course you were there for them as well. It was the first time you’d allowed yourself to have people in your life that could rely on you.

Days like today were your favorite. The weather was finally starting to cool down on the swampy planet, making the outside air somewhat tolerable. Everyone you loved was on base, safe and accounted for after a successful mission. Every time one of them left the base you felt as though you were holding your breath until they came back. But now, in Poe's small quarters with Rey and Finn, you felt the air return to your grateful lungs. Poe had devised a plan to hit up Maz’s on the way back from the mission and snagged a few bottles of jet juice, which you and the rest of the gang were all happily draining in his quarters. The alcohol was just beginning to burn in your stomach and your head was the slightest bit fuzzy. You took your time soaking in the scene of your found family spread out on the cold permacrete of Poe’s room.

Finn’s boisterous laugh rang out as his best friend finished telling every one about his adventure and a half to get the jet juice. Finn was especially fond of the tangy, red alcohol and was on drink number four down the hatch.

“Only you, Dameron,” Rey laughed to herself, gently taking the half full bottle out of Finn’s hands. His face of protest caused another round of laughter to erupt around the small room. He looked like a child that was denied a sweet by their parent.

Finn fell back against the permacrete, his head making an awful hollow sound as it hit the ground. He didn't seem to feel it and decided the floor was his new best friend for the night. Rey got up from her position against the wall and began to pick up the empty bottles scattered around the room.

“Looks like the jet juice served it’s purpose,” you commented, nudging Poe in the side with your elbow. Finn was now curling into the fetal position, trying to use a rug as a blanket.

You had your legs resting over Poe’s strong thighs. He patted the side of your leg where his hand had been resting, carefully moving your legs off of him. “I better help him back to his room. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t end up running naked through the tarmac trying to fly an X-Wing,” Poe said.

“I’d should head back to my quarters too,” you stood up to put your boots on, but Poe stopped you.

“Actually, do you think you could wait here till I get back? I have something I want to give you,” Poe winked at you, helping Rey tug their friend to his feet.

You couldn't help the way your heart sped up at his words. And you definitely didn't miss the eyebrow raise Rey shot you from the door.

“Yeah, I’ll just hang with BB-8 till you get back.”

A low voice bellowed out from the door, “OOOOH HE GOT YOU A PRESENT! How romantic,” Finn was apparently trying to wake up the entire base with the way his voice was booming off the walls. You were sure he hadn't meant for that to come out so loud. Or to come out at all.

Everyone went silent. You and Poe pointedly looked away from each other. His cheeks flamed red. You pretended to be preoccupied with the frayed laces on your Resistance issued boots.

Rey looked between the two of you and then broke the awkward silence with: “Aaanyway, let’s get you to bed Peanut!” She sounded too cheerful, trying to reduce the awkward energy that hung in the room. Being force sensitive you could only imagine how she was perceiving the situation. She and Poe hauled their inebriated friend out into the hall, desperately trying to shush him as he was now singing. You hoped his poor soulmate wasn't trying to sleep.

Finn clapped Poe on the back hard when they finally got into the drunk man’s room. Rey had helped Poe get Finn to his quarters but had dipped when Finn requested to be helped into his pajamas. They were close, but not ‘undressing one another’ close. Poe was itching to get back to his room and see you again, but he helped his buddy none the less.

Finn was finally laying in bed when Poe turned to leave.

“Are you okay?”

Poe hesitated, then turned on his heel. “Yeah?” he furrowed his brow at the unexpected question, “Why?”

“You haven’t been singing.” Finn was suddenly serious.

Poe’s face softened when he realized what Finn was so concerned about.

And he was right, Poe hadn’t been singing. It wasn't hard to miss, everyone on base noticed. The man who used to use every spare moment to sing to his soulmate had gone quiet. People actually missed hearing his voice all the time. Echoing through the halls of the base or out on the tarmac mixing with the whine of X-Wings taking off and landing. Finn wasn’t the only person worried about Black Leader. Leia had even mentioned something to her surrogate son a few days back. She enjoyed his singing more than anyone. She said it was a sparkle of hope during a dark time.

But the truth was, Poe didn't feel like singing. Guilt was the main thing keeping him from inflicting his voice on people whenever he could. How could he sing to his soulmate when he was fighting off feelings for someone else? He was doing everything in his power to stop you from being at the forefront of his mind all the time, but it was hard when your smile was his favorite thing to occupy his mind with.

“I miss my lover, man.”

He did. He missed his soulmate, whoever they were. He missed randomly hearing their soft voice humming through his mind. He missed the way he felt when he would sing to them. It was the closest thing he had to actually being with them, talking to them. He missed that he used to long for them. Lately that unconditional, blind love was being clouded by someone else. You.

“Tell me more stories about your Dad.” You were sitting cross-legged on the floor across from where BB-8 was nestled in his charging station. He had been beeping and booping at you for the last half and hour as you waited for his father to return.

The droid animatedly jumped into another anecdote about a recent mission he had gone on with his favorite person. He rattled around in his charging station, whirling his head around and beeping rapidly at you.

“He did what?!” you asked the little orange droid as the blast doors flew open, revealing the man in question. You turned to face Poe, mouth still agape at the droids admission to you.

“Who did what?” Poe asked confused, walking into the room. The droid then decided he was done charging and rolled over to Poe for scritches. Poe kneeled down and gave his favorite little guy some love, looking at you for an answer. He laughed at the way you had your arms crossed and were giving him the same look Leia gave him when she found out he’d gotten into a dog fight.

BB-8 beeped adamantly at him.

“Maker, Beebs, you told her about that?” He glanced nervously at you, only to find you were now trying to suppress a laugh. He was soothed by that damned smile that was burned into his mind.

“Unfortunately for you, I can understand BB’s binary perfectly. Now I know why you have to work on your ship so often,” you teased. “You’re not exactly tender with her.” You were trying to keep up your facade of being angry with him for being reckless. You were failing, your smirk giving you away.

Why did the fact that you understood BB-8 give him heart palpitations? His droid was absolutely going to get him into trouble with you one day. Apparently he can’t be expected to keep secrets.

Poe ignored your jab and walked over to sit behind you.

“Close your eyes,” he demanded softly.

“No, I don’t trust you. What kind of weird creature are you about to put on me?” you asked, twisting your torso to see him.

He cocked his head at you, “Would you just have a little faith in me? I have something special for you.” He laughed. You narrowed your eyes at him but closed you eyes and turned around anyway, your smile growing bigger every second.

“Besides, if I was going to put a creature on you, I’d do it on front of more people,” he taunted.

You laughed humorlessly at him, “Always the attention whore.” You heard him playfully shush you.

Poe took a deep breath, silently grateful that you couldn't see the way his hands were trembling. He reached up and removed the silver chain from around his neck for the first time in years. He then carefully slipped it over your head and watched from over your shoulder as his mothers ring came to rest at your sternum.

Deep breath. “Open.”

You immediately turned toward him, a look of shock on your face.

“Poe what is this?” you asked, alarmed by the ring resting delicately on your collar bone.

Poe's warm eyes held so much softness in them, you thought you would bust into tears right then. You turned to face him fully, confused as to why he just put this piece of jewelry around your neck.

“A good luck charm,” he whispered, admiring the way it looked on you.

“Is this the chain you wear every day?”

He nodded, still giving you that look that made you feel like the only person in the universe.

“Then what's this ring?” The bottom of the silver chain was always dipped below his collar, if the ring had always been there, you’d never seen it.

“It was my mother’s wedding ring. I wear it every day, take it on every mission, even sleep with it on. One day I’ll give it to my soulmate when I ask them to marry me, but for now it serves as a good luck charm for me,” He explained with a sad edge to his voice.

You had become close with Poe Dameron in the last few months. While a large portion of that time was spent with Finn and Rey, you also had spent a few late nights just the two of you. He had a knack for making you laugh and you would often stay in his quarters long after the others had retired. Deeper conversations were far and few between, the two of you preferring to spend your time together in a fit of hysterics. It was strange to see this man so serious. There was no twinkle of mischief in his eyes tonight.

You suddenly felt suffocated by him. His face was a mere few inches away from yours and you could feel his cool breath fanning across your face. His large hands rested on your knees, giving you a light squeeze and snapping you out of your haze.

“Poe are you sure you want to give this to me? I can't imagine how important it must be to you.” You reached up and stroked the smooth metal.

“It’s the most important thing in the word to me. But I want you to have it for your first mission. Since I’m not going with you to help you when you accidentally shoot yourself in the foot, I want you to have a piece of me there with you. And what better to give you than my good luck charm?”

You felt your tears spill over, streaking hot and wet down your face at the sincerity in his voice. You couldn't believe he wanted you to have this piece of him with you. He was becoming one of the most important people in your life, and him sharing something so special with you meant the world.

You were going down a slippery slope. If you weren't careful, you could fall in love with this man so easily.

“Poe, thank you. I don't know what to say,” you reached forward, pulling him into a tight hug. You nuzzled into his neck, letting the scent of leather and engine oil envelop you. He reached one arm securely around your waist and brought the other up to gently cup the back of your head. He took a deep breath in without meaning to, overwhelming his senses with you. He didn't want to pull away and had to hide his disappointment when you did. You kept your hands on his shoulders, squeezing slightly.

“I promise I’ll bring it back safely so you can give it to your soulmate one day.”

The next few days were a whirl wind of meetings, briefings, more meetings, caf breaks, and did you mention meetings? You spent more time in the command room with your team than you did anywhere else. You forgot life existed outside the confines of the dirt walls.

But you were ecstatic that Leia trusted you with such an important mission so soon after joining the Resistance. Plus you couldn’t be more grateful for the people that were joining you for this mission.

Finn was excellent for morale and a very smart man when he needed to be, unless of course he had jet juice in his system. Miss. Force-User Rey was always a good person to have on a mission. You brought a sense of craftiness to the crew, thanks to your smuggler skills. And Chewbacca was the only one (besides Poe) that Leia trusted to pilot the Falcon. Plus, he had a soft spot for smugglers, making you a new favorite of his.

The one person you wished you could add to this team was Poe. His pilot skills would have been a great help to Chewie, he was talented with a blaster, and he was easy on the eyes. But he had a more important solo mission with BB-8 that Leia needed him on. He didn't make himself completely scarce though. He often came in and out of the Command Center, having his own mission to plan with Admiral Akbar. He made a point of bringing you caf every time too, he knew exactly how you liked it.

You were terrified for your first mission as it was, but not having Poe there made everything ten times more dangerous in your eyes.

The ring he had let you borrow was becoming a source of comfort. Whenever you got anxious about the mission you found yourself fiddling with it. The smooth metal was slightly worn in one spot on the band and you ran your fingers over it repeatedly to calm yourself. Something you caught yourself doing unconsciously on a number of occasions.

The plan was simple. The Resistance had gotten word of an ex First Order official on the planet Ryloth, less than a parsec away from Tatooine. You and the rest of the crew were to go there and see what information the old Commander could offer you. Simple. But that didn’t stop you from needing to cover all your bases. Every single thing that could have possibly gone wrong had an escape plan to coincide. You were as prepared as you could be.

Your favorite part of the plan was your mode of transportation. As an ex-smuggler, you’d admired the Millennium Falcon and it's pilot for years. You’d heard every story surrounding Han Solo and his old piece of junk. Seeing it in person, let alone flying on it was something you’d never thought would be possible. But here you were, boarding the infamous ship.

Finn and Rey brushed passed you, Rey laughing at the look of awe on your face as you were frozen in the doorway, the ramp hitting you on the ass as it closed.

You took your time walking around the hull of the Falcon. Taking a moment just to think about the adventures she’d been on, the places she’d seen. You laughed fondly to yourself as you remembered your favorite story. You reached out and placed a hand tentatively on the wall of the old ship. “So this is the ship that made the Kessel Run in fourteen parsecs?” you called out to your friends.

“Twelve,” Finn and Rey chorused from the cockpit, mixed with the indignant cry of your favorite Wookie.

“Okay, twelve! Sorry, sorry,” you laughed and joined your friends in the cockpit.

Poe was exhilarated every time he was in the air. There was nothing in the world that gave him the same feeling. This man was more comfortable in a cockpit than he was on his own two feet. If it were up to him, he’d never come down.

But there was someone pulling him back to solid ground, like a magnet. Someone he couldn’t stop thinking about no matter how badly he wanted to exile them from his mind. He couldn't ignore your gravitational pull. He hadn't seen you in several days, you having returned from your mission two days prior. His mission was a success and he couldn't wait to tell you all about it. Leaving out the dangerous details that BB-8 was sure to fill you in on later.

He was nervous to hear about how your mission went. It was a simple enough task, but he couldn't help but worry about you. He hoped his good luck charm was as comforting to you as it had been to him these last few years. He felt naked without it, this having been the first mission he hadn't taken it on. He found himself reaching up to stroke his finger across the band of the ring he had worn in from playing with it when he got nervous, but then remembering he'd given it to you. The idea that you were wearing a piece of him around the base made his heart leap in his chest.

He was practically giddy when he leaped down from his X-Wing, already rushing to find you.

Cool it Dameron, you have a soulmate waiting for you.

Plus, he had to see the General before anything. Was he so clouded by his need to see you that he forgot he was fighting a war?

A twinge of guilt hit him hard in the stomach, forcing him to take a deep breath and remind himself of the person looking for him somewhere in the universe. He let his feet take him down the familiar dirt path to the Command Center. The soft, damp earth caused his flight boots to sink slightly with each step.

He flooded his mind with images of what his future could be like with the person the galaxy had chosen for him. A small home on Yavin IV. Children he could teach how to fly the same way his mother taught him. A safe, quiet life with no threat of the First Order. No threats at all. He stored these images in the back of his mind for when he needed a glimmer of hope during the war. But lately he was using these daydreams as distractions from you.

He stepped into he large room where Leia was addressing General Akbar and a few other pilots that had also just returned from a mission.

When she caught sight of Poe her forehead created in confusion and she abruptly dismissed the debrief she was in the middle of with a wave of her hand. As they shuffled out of the room, several of them shot Poe sympathetic looks.

What the hell was going on?

“Commander Dameron, what are you doing here?” The General asked, walking over to him.

He hesitated, unsure as to why she was asking a question with an obvious answer, “I just landed from my mission, General. I’m here to debrief.”

Leia dropped the General persona and gently caressed the pilots face, running her thumb over the stubble she resented.

She had always been like a second mother to Poe, and he like a second son to her. Their relationship was something special and unique. Something she thanked the Force every day for. However, her unexpected shift from serious Resistance leader to caring mother made Poe nervous.

“I thought Finn or Rey would have been waiting on the tarmac to tell you.”

Now he was starting to panic. What was he missing? What happened?

“Come with me,” Leia softly implored, grabbing his calloused hand and yanking him out of the room. She tried to flood him with calm though the force connection she made with him, but his anxiety was too overbearing.

She continued explaining as she pulled him through the base, “The mission went south. There was no ex Order Commander on Ryloth. It was a set up. When they landed, there was a fleet of ‘Troopers waiting for them, ready to capture them and bring them back to the Finalizer for my son to interrogate.” She tried to keep her voice even for Poe's sake.

Poe was really panicking now, starting to pick up his speed. He squeezed Leia’s hand, begging her to continue.

“They got out relatively unscathed. Chewie stayed on the Falcon so they were able to get away quickly. But Poe,” she stopped in her tracks, jerking Poe back to a halt. She looked him in the eyes, worried for what his reaction to her news would be.

“Poe, the new recruit was badly hurt. They were shot in the side with a blaster and lost a lot of blood. They’ve been in the medbey unconscious for two days, but they’ll be okay,” she finished.

Poe wordlessly turned and broke out into a run towards the medbay. Leia watched him go, knowing he needed to see you more than anything in that moment. She had felt a connection between you and Poe. She knew he wanted to wait for his soulmate, but she also knew that finding them was not likely. Part of her wished he would give in and let himself fall in love with you. Soulmate or not, she wanted him to be happy.

#poe x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fic #poe dameron one shot #poe dameron x reader #star wars imagine #in my head

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darkeninganon · 3 years ago

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Ha, more Gream (Ghost Dream). Ranboo is weak to smol things. Want proof? Tubbo and Michael.

Gream stared out the window. His room was looking out over a grave. Tommy's grave. It was... something that made him feel strangely bitter. Like, he felt like he should be happy, but wasn't actually happy. Staring at the grave made him want to laugh and spin and cheer; but yell and scream and cry at the same time. Gream huffed, flopping onto his bed. It was green, like his curtains, rug, and anything else he could make green in his room. Ranboo had kicked up a storm about how weird it would look and that it wasn't a good idea, especially the window, but Tommy and Tubbo had talked him into accepting the changes.

Well, accepting wasn't really the right word, he still refused to accept the green room, but he didn't do anything other than glare at the door or window when he passed it. At least... Gream thought he was glaring. It was hard to tell because he had no eyelids.

Gream shuddered at that. Ranboo produced tears, and didn't need to blink in order to keep his eyes moist, but his tears hurt him when he cried. The guy was a disaster and probably shouldn't even exist, yet he still did. The ghost tried to avoid the half enderman as best as he could, but wanted to speak to him about... something.

With a sigh, Gream left the comfort of his bed, leaving his room to wander the mansion. Ever since that siren had sounded, the two teens told Gream he legitimately couldn't leave the mansion, or else the man with the gold tooth might find him and... and...

Gream shook his head, acid burning at the wood beneath his feet. "Oh, oh no. Not good, not good!" The ghost looked around, desperate to find a chest filled with spruce wood to replace the slowly eroding material.

"You thinking about what Tommy and Tubbo told you?"

Gream spun around, Ranboo standing there with a baby zombie piglin clinging to his pant leg. Ranboo looked... bored? Angry? "I'm... I'm sorry, I'll replace it! I just need to find-" Ranboo sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry..." Gream muttered, pulling his feet up to float noticably off the ground.

"It's fine. Just... keep an eye out for Michael." Ranboo huffed, picking up the little piglin. "Yes! That's right, we need to be careful with you." Ranboo cooed, nuzzling his child.

Gream just watched, surprised at how different the half enderman was acting. "you... Yeah. I'll be super careful." The ghost stated, lowering his legs back down to appear as if he were walking. He floated over to the two, smiling behind his mask. "hey there Michael. You... You need to stay away from me, okay?" Michael let out a little snort, "are you the monster? You have a mask like the monster." Michael then took out a wooden sword...

And smacked Gream with it.

"Ow! I didn't- I mean... I'm sorry?!" Gream looked between Ranboo and Michael, confused what he had done to be hit over the head.

Ranboo rolled his eyes, taking hold of the toy sword. "He's not the monster Michael. Good effort though. Yes! Such a good effort!" Ranboo resumed nuzzling him again, earning a laugh from the piglin. Ranboo stopped for a moment, looking to Gream.

The ghost stared back at the half enderman, literally shrinking under his unbreaking gaze. "So, um... Where is the-"

"Take some emerald blocks from the chest near the front, and trade with one of the villagers. One should have spruce planks to make into slabs." Ranboo turned and left, leaving the now small ghost to float and find his way to the trading center inside the house.

Gream sighed, floating towards the front of the house to look for the chest. Ranboo's directions weren't the best as there were at least five or six chests near the front, and Gream had no idea what was in which chest. He'd never bothered to look before.

"You're sure you haven't seen anything?"

That voice. Gream froze, listening in to the muffle conversation.

"You an Tubbo built your house close to the prison. If he was going to look anywhere for supplies, he'd probably look here."

That voice sent chills down his spine, making him want to shrink down to his smallest size and hide inside the chest. The chest lid dropped from his grasp, slamming shut loudly. He had shrunk to his smallest size. He really needed to learn to control his abilities.

"What was that?"

Gream ducked behind the chest, clamping his hands over his mouth to stay quiet. The voice couldn't find him here... he'd be in deep trouble... his food would be taken away, his bed, his flags, his books, he'd be taken away to someplace terrible.

"Probably just Michael." Ranboo. Ranboo was... lying to that voice? Was Ranboo insane?!

"Since when could zombie piglins open and close chests?"

Silence followed. Heavy and tense. Neither person was backing down. Even from his hiding place, Gream could imagine Ranboo glaring at whoever had that voice. The Warden. That's the name that came to mind with that voice. That cruel, cold, heartless, paranoid voice.

"What? You think I'd let Dream stay here? You'd think I'd be that dumb?" Ranboo hissed after the silence. Ranboo... was he working with the man with the golden tooth? Was this... Warden guy one of his goons? Gream shook his head, tangling his hands in his hair. He wanted to remember... he needed to remember.

"You two had a secret conversation, and when I asked you about it you didn't remember. Then you come crawling to me, demanding to be let in-"

"I said to put me in the prison. As an inmate. But you said I was a good person!"

"Are you saying this wouldn't have happened if I locked you up?!"

"Maybe! I don't know at all! I don't know where Dream is, and even if I did I wouldn't be able to tell you! Just like how I can't tell you that I b-" Ranboo's voice suddenly died. He growled, a static noise coming from deep within his throat. It stopped, somewhat, lessening to background static; "Put your sword away. I'm not going to attack you. I have better control than that."

"What the hell kind of noise was that?!"

"The kind of noise I make when someone attacks me!" Gream could hear the Warden backing down now, thrown off by Ranboo's suddenly inhuman noises. It made sense though, Ranboo was half enderman. "You come into my house, accuse me of harboring a fugitive, who you know would kill my husband if given the chance, and you call into question if I had anything to do with it when you know I have a terrible memory and apparently was a traitor! Yes! I'm angered! Now get the hell off of my property."

Silence followed. Gream peered over the top of the chest, finally spotting the duo. Purple puffs flew around Ranboo frantically, similar static and garbled chirps coming from all of them. Some were buzzing around the Warden, clearly trying to intimidate him into leaving. Even with his mask on, Gream could see the glare the Warden was sending towards Ranboo. "This isn't over. If you come anywhere near the prison-"

"You'll kill me on sight. Yeah, whatever. That's your battle cry these days." Ranboo stepped up, getting right in the Warden's face. "If you come near my family ever again, I'll return the favor in such a way, you'll wish you were dead."

Gream listened to the heavy footsteps of the Warden retreat, ducking low in hopes of not being seen as Ranboo turned to enter the house. The ghost heard the hybrid sigh, sinking to the floor with his back against the door. "You can come out now. Sam is gone."

The small form of the ghost man peered out from behind the chest, acid bubbling against the wood. He pulled his hand back, cringing behind his mask and ready to be scolded. Ranboo was staring at him, and he stared back, curling in on himself so as to not accidentally dissolve anything. "I'm-"

"Why do you shrink?"

Gream jolted. Ranboo was still staring at him with that pseudo-angry look he always seemed to have around the ghost. "I... I um... I don't know... I just... I really don't want to be seen, then I'm small like this, and burning things with acid, and... I'm sorry, I'll learn to control it."

Ranboo sighed, standing up and walking over to Gream. The half enderman knelt down, scooping up the tiny ghost and holding him up to his face; "Relax. It's fine. Did you... do you know who that is?"

Gream shook his head, pausing before shrugging. "I... Not really? His voice sounds familiar... badly familiar, but as for a name... Warden... The Warden." Gream looked up to Ranboo now, hugging himself as he stood on the teen's hands, the netherite protecting his hands from the acid Gream always seemed to drip. "Do you... I mean are you... Is he-"

"Relax. I don't pick sides. Unless they're Tommy and Tubbo. I'm on the side of those two, but only if I need to be." Ranboo wished he had eyelids right now, then Gream probably wouldn't be so scared of him. "Sam... The Warden is... He's stressed easily, and..." Ranboo glanced at Gream's eyes, or where he thought his eyes were, a cold stone of pity resting heavy in his gut as he was hit with the realization of just how scared the little ghost was. "I'm not really working with him, but... I am pret-" his mouth suddenly sealed shut, as if he had just swallowed a block of honey. Ranboo tilted his head in confusion. No, that couldn't be right... "I'm pla-" Again, he was stopped from speaking. With an annoyed sigh, he set Gream down on the chest. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry. I wish I could, but... I'm stopping myself, as you can see. Much like you and your... shrinking and acid, it's not something I can control. Please, don't tell Tubbo or Tommy."

Gream nodded. "I won't. I promise, just... help me with the floor please? I'm not sure how to get big again or turn off... Turn off? Stop? The acid issue going on." He muttered, picking up one foot to reveal a growing puddle of slimey acid. Ranboo chuckled, a gentle smile coming to his face. "Alright. But only if you use the magic word."

"Please and thank you?"

"There we go." Ranboo cooed, patting Gream's head. The half enderman set the little ghost down on the chest and went to repair the floor.

#tiny!dream #mcytg/t #mcyt g/t #Dream SMP #DSMP #Gream #Dreamwastaken #Ranboo My Beloved #michael_beloved #trauma #My writing

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enigmaphenomenon · 4 years ago

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Cloud and Tifa - The Buildup pt. 1

Part 1 of the remake released finally and it covers Midgar. Let’s take a look at the scenes between Cloud and Tifa, and the scenes to come later in future installments. Let’s get started. Been a while since I last wrote an essay, it’s time.

The first time she’s mentioned:

Those of us who know the story, we know who Tifa is and what her connection with Cloud is. But, without knowing the story this question sets up other questions. “Who is Tifa?” “What is her relationship with Cloud?” “There must be something if Jessie, who is flirting hard with Cloud, is asking so she can understand if she’s flirting with a taken man or not.” Tifa is mentioned as early as chapter 1, both her importance to Cloud and the core mystery of Cloud’s identity are foreshadowed and setup. Jessie’s question makes Cloud search his memories, are he and Tifa close? This is where we get more information. We see through Cloud’s eyes as we get our first look at Nibelheim, and our first look at Tifa, as Anxious Heart plays in the background.

Cloud looks up at the water tower and lingers on it as he’s walking. We know the iconic water tower and what it means, but this shot is setting up the importance of this water tower. Even more foreshadowing about Tifa and Cloud’s bond.

As cool as this flashback is, it didn’t really answer the question. We see Tifa attempting to reach out to Cloud, but he seemingly ignores her. We never see what happens next as the flashback ends.

We don’t get our answer in the flashback, nor do we get our answer from Cloud. We know Cloud and Tifa knew each other as kids as well as in adulthood. We know that Jessie is curious about their relationship but other than that we didn’t get an answer. Only a question was posed. A question that will continue to be answered in small pieces before it is fully revealed. At this moment, Tifa, her relationship to Cloud, and their promise at the water tower are all foreshadowed. The second time she’s mentioned:

First we have Jessie asking Cloud if he’s close with Tifa, and now we have Barret giving us another piece of the puzzle. We know that Cloud and Tifa share history, but Barret is the leader of an anti-Shinra group and doesn’t trust Cloud at all. However, with this line by Barret we learn that he trusts Tifa and gave Cloud a chance based on Tifa’s words. Tifa is the one who got Cloud the job, and spoke so highly of him that Barret begrudgingly hires a “Shinra dog.” it demonstrates that Tifa’s trust in Cloud is the deciding factor in Cloud’s role for Avalanche. The three members warm up to him quickly, leaving only Barret who continues to distrust him yet reluctantly works with. This would show that all the members, for the most part, trust Tifa’s opinion. It is Tifa’s trust in Cloud that influences the Avalanche members. Another piece to the puzzle:

We already saw the water tower in an earlier flashback when Jessie asks him about Tifa. It served a purpose besides setting up the promise scene. As Cloud makes his way back to Sector 7 he has another flashback. The water tower appears once again as Cloud stands in the midst of flames.

As the scene plays out, we see the water tower completely engulfed in flames before revealing the iconic shot of Sephiroth.

We’ll dive into what this scene symbolizes and foreshadows in more depth in later parts of this essay. For now, it is another reference to his bond with Tifa that we don’t know the significance to just yet. All it tells us is Cloud and Tifa’s hometown went up in flames, and that the water tower holds more significance than being a mere landmark. The reunion flower:

And here is our first real answer on what Tifa is to Cloud. When Cloud meets Aerith, a flower peddler peddling her wares, and she offers him a flower. Now, in OG the flower cost 1 gil and you had the choice to buy it or decline it. Your choice did actually impact the game in a small way as if you declined the flower you would walk away with no flower. In the remake, however, even if you decline the flower it will still end up in Cloud’s possession. The flower no longer costs 1 gil it is completely free. The game does not let you walk away with no flower. We are given some added information about the yellow lily. In FF7′s universe this flower means “reunion” and Aerith adds on a romantic connotation stating lovers would give them when they were reunited. There is a second romantic connotation here, as if you decline the flower, Aerith will state it will make Cloud’s “girlfriend” happy. Upon hearing this, he asks her “how much?” Now who could this girl who Cloud holds romantic feelings for? Who was he thinking about when Aerith mentioned a girlfriend? With the flower in his suspender he reunites with Barret and the others where we get our third Tifa mention.

Cloud is initially confused when Barret says he’ll see Cloud soon at 7th Heaven, taking the time to mention Tifa once again and stating it is where she works. Barret also urges Cloud not to keep Tifa waiting. It is chapter 3, and Tifa has been foreshadowed since chapter 1, and now we’ll finally get to see her. In OG, if Cloud bought the flower an additional choice was unlocked. Once he makes it to 7th Heaven, Tifa notices the flower and the player is given the option to give it to Tifa or to Marlene. In the remake this is removed. The story removes the option to walk away without a flower, and removes the option of who to give it to. Again, who has been foreshadowed as having a bond with Cloud where a super flirty girl is interested in what exactly is going on between the two, who had such faith in Cloud it got him hired by someone extremely paranoid and hateful of Shinra, the girl he thought of when “a gift for [his] girlfriend” came up, the girl who receives the flower that lovers would give when reunited?

5 years:

Through this interaction, we get out next clue. What’s been 5 years? Obviously, fans of the original already know, but let’s pretend like we don’t. It’s been 5 years. We have a timeline now, and Chapter 3 keeps on providing us with more information. After delivering the water filter to Marle, who is their landlady, Tifa tells Cloud that Marle helped her back in the day. Tifa reveals she’s been in Midgar for about 5 years.

The puzzle pieces are forming together yet they are not completing the picture yet. After doing a few jobs for connections, Tifa brings up their home village.

This makes it seem that 5 years ago, Cloud left the village as did Tifa. We heard Sephiroth say “Your hometown that burns so bright” but we don’t have a timeline on that in this part of the story. We can assume Tifa left her village 5 years ago shortly after Cloud left. We know that Cloud returned to his home to witness it burning, and we know Tifa was confused when Cloud said it’s been 5 years, and we know Tifa has been living in Midgar for about 5 years. The picture is coming together but it’s still not clear. Cloud is reluctant to talk about it, but in a later scene we get more information. Alone At Last: And now we get Cloud’s answer. He finally talks about what happened when he left their village.

We get some backstory on how they were on the news everyday when Cloud and Tifa were kids, and that back then everyone wanted to be a Soldier. This was when the war with Wutai was going on, and Sephiroth was hailed as a great war hero, it was also around this time that Elmyra lost her husband and met Ifalna and Aerith. When Cloud first heard of Sephiroth, he would’ve been 9 years old or so. He talks about when he left the village the war was over and they didn’t needs heroes, and his job was just working for Shinra, nothing glorious like he had dreamt of.

The conversation goes quiet as Cloud reflects on his time with Shinra, prompting Tifa to change the subject. Before she does however, we get an awkward silence hanging in the air as the camera shows the rug they are standing at. @silver-wield pointed out this is a flower design, and could be the reunion flower.

This is apt as it’s shown right before Tifa brings up their reunion in Midgar.

Here’s what we know so far, Cloud left the village to join Soldier, it has been 5 years since he last saw Tifa, and he learned recently Tifa has been living in Midgar for about 5 years. She remarks on the odds of them going their separate ways what seems like 5 years ago and randomly bumping into each other in a city as massive as Midgar. The Promise: Finally, finally, FINALLY we get to the promise scene and I can talk about the significance of the water tower as more than just a landmark! When we first see the water tower in Chapter 1 is when we first see Tifa, we see the water tower again in Chapter 2 being engulfed in flames, and now in Chapter 4 we get another flashback that shows the significance of the water tower and how it’s linked to Tifa in Cloud’s memories.

It was at this water tower that Cloud told Tifa about wanting to join Soldier, that he will be the best of the best, just like Sephiroth. This is also where Cloud and Tifa make their promise, and the soundtrack that plays here is called “A Tower, A Promise.”

This memory was sparked when he was with Avalanche and was triggered by a rather random thing. A fan. Tifa was not mentioned, nor part of this mission, and yet a spinning fan is what brought memories of Tifa to the forefront. Seriously. A random fan triggered a memory of Tifa.

The first time he had a flashback of Tifa it was prompted by Jessie asking what their relationship was. Tifa was directly mentioned. However, as the game goes on the memories Cloud has of Tifa are randomly triggered as his true self tries to resurface. After Cloud remembers the promise he made to her, he remembers what she said back at the bar and the emotional turmoil she’s in.

Cloud’s face says it all right here. He feels like he came close to failing her. This is the moment more of his true self is brought forward by his memories of Tifa. It was after this scene we see him truly get closer to Wedge, Jessie and Biggs and finally includes himself with them, even smiling and laughing with the group. Now prior to this scene, we met Marle in Chapter 3 who had a lot to say to Cloud regarding Tifa.

Marle’s words actively foreshadow a scene that takes place after Cloud remembers the promise. At the moment Marle grills Cloud, he hasn’t remembered the promise and when Marle asks him if he’s actually thinking about Tifa and her feelings, his face says it all. Cloud goes to answer, but is at a loss for words...He looks mad and when he goes to presumably tell Marle off, he stops and his face changes to one of guilt and puzzlement.

Is he being a real friend to her? Is he really listening to her and thinking about her feelings? Or is he just going through the motions and pretending? Playing out a false persona...perhaps? Not acting like his real self maybe...? After the mission with Jessie is done and Cloud retires to his room, we get to see what Marle’s words foreshadowed and the change in Cloud’s demeanor after he remembered the promise.

“She needs a friend--a real friend.”

“So when she talks, are you really listening?”

In Chapter 1, Cloud insists him assisting Avalanche is a one-time gig, and once he gets his money he’s out of there. He refuses to acknowledge he’s part of the group as he tells Barret he’s not one of them and he’s simply a sword-for-hire.

When Chapter 4 rolls around Barret kicks Cloud out of 7th Heaven, throwing his words back in his face about it being a one-time thing, and Cloud himself stating that those shady guys looking for Barret isn’t his business and has nothing to do with him. Cloud had only one reason to stay in Midgar: Tifa. Prior to him remembering their promise, he had no reason, but Marle’s words and his memory of the water tower form his reason for staying. After all, he said he’d be there for Tifa and he decides to stay of his own volition--honoring the promise of his own free will and remembering it on his own.

We also see another flashback in Chapter 6 showing a distraught Tifa crying over her father’s body before taking Masamune and walking into the reactor.

This memory will be triggered again by Tifa repeating what she said all those years ago, with Cloud thinking that he had failed his promise to her.

This alludes to the promise he made to Tifa, and how he believes he failed her in Nibelheim. There is also another allusion to Nibelheim in Chapter 1. Reactor 5 has the same layout as Reactor 1, and while at Reactor 1 in the first chapter Cloud not only has a memory of Tifa and the water tower, but he also hallucinates a black feather as he sets the bomb.

We finally see the significance of the water tower shown/foreshadowed in Chapter 1, but the full significance will not be revealed until the later parts of the Remake. The water tower - continued in part 2

Part 2 coming soon

#long post #cloti #cloud strife #tifa lockhart

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kkeidawrites · 4 years ago

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Adrain x Black!Reader

Notes: More chillin in a giant mansion with a vampire antics! You know I had to put in the cheesy anime trope of falling on ur crush. Also there’s actually a few moments where Adrian isn’t the super crazy smart vampire that legends make him out to be.🥴 This wasn’t supposed to be in any particular order, but I’d say the least naught ones come first so I’d see this scenario coming before the last one I wrote.🤔

“I want to dye my fur!”

You jumped up and down with excitement. Your hands supporting you on the kitchen table where Adrian ate breakfast.

He looked at you smiling, happy that you were happy but still a but confused. You’d suddenly ran into the kitchen with your exclamation.

“Dye your... what?”

You clasped your hands together in front of your chest.

“I would like to dye my fur! But I’m having trouble since I can’t really find what I’m looking for in mansion”

The Belmont library and what was formally Dracula’s Mansion came with a plethora of information on many subjects, but this particular goal came with unique challenges. Dyeing satyrs fur.

“Wait can you not find it out yourself?”

You hummed in thought. You did try researching here in the mansion for the past few days.

“Uh well I can’t find what I need. The mansion has an impressive amount of information here but not quite what I need to dye my fur. A lot of it jus includes our culture and theories. Besides, dyeing our fur isn’t a part of our culture it’s jus something I want to do. I wouldn’t expect to find it here!”

He too hummed in thought.

“Hmm well, why not go down to the Belmont library?”

You beamed with excitement.

“Yeah! That’s what I thought! You gotta go with me!”

He smiled that teasing smirk crossing his arms and leaned back in his chair. The morning light made his already golden eyes look like the most precious of jewels as they shone and glimmered. Ever since you saw him burst from the coffin with Trevor and Sypha you thought they were stunning.

“Oh? Why do I have to go?”

You smiled back and put your palm to your chest.

“Well, I am an amazing climber but I’m not a miracle worker. There is still a giant gaping hole.”

His smile turned into a thoughtful frown as he set his chair back.

“Hmm, I’d forgotten about that.”

The two of you set out to the underground library. As you leave the mansion onto the dirt road, you decided to hold his hand swinging your arms back and forth half to mess with him and half to comfort him. You always made sure to let Adrian have his time alone but you also worried about him. Maybe half vampires weren’t so affected by it but were you come from it was easy for satyrs to become touch starved. You were actually fairly independent compared to your brethren. You liked your alone time too. Perhaps, that’s why you were so in love with your current situation. It was easy for you to be overwhelmed but you also loved making friends and being around others, those two things often clashed

In the mansion, there were certain rooms that seemed like time stopped as moonlight trickled in, perfect for meditation. Then there was Adrian!

As you two were walking towards the ruins of the Belmont house, Adrian smiled down at you. Uh oh you knew that teasing look. He brought your hand up to his lips as he looked down at you with an eye and heat blossomed on your cheeks. You thought you could get away with your blushes undetected with your deep brown skin so you just tried to get a handle on your demeanor when you were embarrassed. Unfortunately, Adrian had informed you he could tell the blood was rushing to my head bright as day even if you did act through my embarrassment. Dang vampire powers have foiled you!

“Stop teasing me!! I’m not letting your hand go!!”

He giggled.

“I was simply returning your affection.”

You pouted.

“Do you do this to mess with me or push me away because you know it embarrasses me?”

His brows ticked up with his lips parted in surprise as he looked at you.

You tried your best to keep eye contact with him.

“It’s fun to bother you since I cannot push you away now. Why, you’ve chosen to stay with me rather than the dog and speaker or living with your own species. I’ve already realized that I’m stuck with you.”

You smiled before laughing.

“Is that what you call Trevor in your head?”

He smirked, and you asked.

“What do you call me in your head?

His eyes flickered to you before looking on towards the ruins.

“Fluffbutt.”

You spat before your laughter tumbled out, squeezing your stomach.

“Oh no! Adrian!”

“What? I thought it was pretty fitting.”

The rest of the walk was pleasantly quiet. Although you had to wonder if your nickname meant Adrian was looking at your butt. By how much he teased you about it and other things, that much should have been obvious but it hadn’t really sunk in till now.

You wondered if... he caught on to how you looked at him.

You hope he hadn’t, because you wouldn’t hear the end of his slick talking.

The two of you arrived at the house and hopped and dodged about the rubble. Adept nimble hoves took you far until you both reached the hole. You tried not to think about how the first time went.

When the 4 of you arrived here. Adrian easily manhandled boulders blocking the library entrance. The three of you stood back on awe. Trevor and Sypha were likely marveling at his strength but you couldn’t stop thoughts of what he would do if he got his hands on you. How rough he could....

You shake naughty thoughts away as you two found the entrance. Unfortunately without some sort of magic, your legs wouldn’t be about to handle the steep hole. Adrain hummed looking down into the crater before crouching down.

“Well then, lets go.”

You looked down at him, brow raised in confusion and your head tilted.

“Hmm? Adrian I take a lot of pride in my legs bu-...oh...oh!”

He’d ment for you to climb on his back.

“Oh Uh w-well then.”

You could tell Adrian was at least trying to hold his laughter.

You walked over before leaning down to wrap your arms around his shoulders and hooking your legs around his waist. As he stood, you got your legs situated comfortably squeezing his narrow hips.

“Now that I’m up here you’re pretty tall.”

That was code for this is a bit scary for you.

“Don’t worry you said you believed in your legs right? I do too, but just in case.”

He wrapped his arms around your thighs to hold you closer to his body.

“Hmm for being so strong, I thought your body would feel like a statue.”

You muse. His body definitely felt strong but the muscles felt flexible and soft.

“Come now, this isn’t a poorly written vampire story. But I certainly don’t mind you checking the rest of my body for Ah statue like hardness.”

You hid your burning face in the back of his shoulder.

“Ok, I uh...kinda asked for that one.”

“I would hope so, I wouldn’t want to hurt you. I’m not taking you any other way.”

“I’m gonna beat you up! Stop talking!!”

He only laughed and gripped my thighs before he started his descent.

Adrian handled you as if it was regular to him. Your weight not effecting how light his hops were on his feet. He landed on what was left sticking out of the side of the hole. Broken railings, stairs and balconies. His steps were so effortless smooth. You probably wouldn’t have any problems standing on his shoulders.

Hmm so this was what it was like to be in his shoes.

You supposed he got a tad to confident though because right before you both made it to the ground, he misjudged the strength of one of the beams. It creaked when he landed on it and couldn’t handle the force of him hopping off it. It splintered and split under you both. Adrian reflexively tried to turn your body so he wouldn’t fall on you.

He successfully made his body a cushion for you. Even as strong as he was and how short the fall was you said,

“Ah, Adrian are you-!?”

You pushed up your torso and found your looking at his crotch. His arms just grabbed what he could in the fall you could feel his arms wrapped around your upper thighs. That means, he was looking at your!!

“Oh!! Uhm! S-sorry!!

“No thats my f-!”

He untangled his arms from your legs and you both scampered your respective apologies.

You moved your legs to get off him but hoves and slippery marble don’t quite mix. You slipped and hit his face with your ass.

“Sorry!!”

He tried to ease your concerns but his muffling wasn’t quite helpful. Especially when his nose and mouth were rubbing right up against your crotch.

You were careful not to hit him again slipping off his body with the help of your hands, clothed body rubbing up against one another.

You lifted your leg to the side of him carful not to hit him with your hoof. That would be certainly less pleasant than a cushioned booty.

He had a shit eating grin on his face as he helped you up. Before it seemed an interrupting thought caused him to drop it.

“Wait have you been having trouble getting around the mansion? There rugs in some places but there’s a lot of marble floors...” His grin suddenly turned into a guilty frown, and you rushed to reassure him waving a free hand.

“Oh no! I uh...I use these rubber covers on them so I won’t slip but I uh sorta forgot em...”

You rub the back of your head sheepish.

“Oh I see...”

The guilty in his expression softened, but the frown stayed.

“Uhm th-thank you for asking though, and for carrying me.”

You giggled.

“It wasn’t a long fall you didn’t have to catch me.”

He smiled.

“Well you didn’t have to ask me for my well-being.”

We both smiled not looking at one another.

“Do you need help? Getting around here since...”

I deadpanned before exclaiming.

“Oh shit you’re right!”

There was actually not a lot of rugs in the library. Uggh that’d be really embarrassing being carried around by him because I’m a newborn fawn in skates!

You bit your lip in thought.

“W-well how about this, jus Uhm help me to the rug sections and when we need to move set me down at the next one...?”

He flushed and seemed to be...speechless? He only nodded his head with eager eyes. You put your arm around his shoulder as you stood and yelped a bit when he picked you up bridal style. He smiled almost with your same excitement of you this morning and the two of you went down the stairs.

Well, if there was any question of him looking at your ass...

You...felt a bit shy by how much you realized you liked being carried by him. It was like... even though I had these short comings, I was still cared for and valued by him. It was quiet save for a few teasing looks which you returned with a pout.

The two of you were looking for the best place to start and you were surprised by how many sections of your species there were.

“Hmm well, if you want to dye your fur, then I suppose we should look in alchemy?”

You nodded.

“And anatomy!”

“Mmm yes. I hope they aren’t too far from one another.”

We’d found an alchemy section and Adrian knelt down to place me on the carpet as he let me go, I said thank you.

His lip twitched as if trying to hold a smile.

“You don’t have to thank me for this. This should be expected.”

“But it’s polite!”

“Well, I suppose that’s true but you don’t have to be polite...”

“Plus, you look really happy when I do!”

He couldn’t hold his demeanor with that. He smiled and started to laugh.

“Can I not hide I smile from you?”

He giggled some more when I smiled shaking my head.

We began our search comparing books finding out how it was all organized. You walked about the space you could, luckily the carpet was next to a bunch of book cases you could reach. Adrain wizzed around you appearing here and there. At the moment he was searching across from you. You smiled into the book you were currently holding. A little giddy at the fact he’d go along with your strange experiment.

“So? What color do you want to dye it?”

“Oh! I haven’t even told you! Pink! Pastel pink!”

He snorted.

“You don’t need pink to be cuter than you already are, but as you wish.

Adrian usually wasn’t so blatant about what he thought of me. You heated, surprised, but it seemed he surprised himself too. Currently, you could clearly see him on the second floor when he buried his face in a book. You giggled wishing you could go up there yourself and tease him some more. You’d jump up there but before you could ready yourself to, he’d already appeared before you and swept you off your feet. You suppose that was part of the diversion to keep you from teasing him.

You smirked up at him.

“If you can’t take it don’t dish it!”

He pouted down at me.

He’d carried you upstairs when you both found something of a combination of what you needed to safely make dye for yourself.

You both sat side by side, up against a bookshelf. As you were nodding off, Adrain looked down at you being easily flustered was quite draining! He slid the book and notepad from your slack hands and lead you lie on his lap, draping his cape over you. You felt warm and soft.

A tiny.

“Adrian...?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“How...are we gonna get back up the hole...?”

A pause. Adrain sweat and simply whispered.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

You softly swatted him for the bad pun.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Once again @littlemori24 has given me more of a reason to smile and laugh at her beautiful work! I love this sooo much girl! Be sure to head over to her tumblr and show her some love and check out her other works!

Alucard’s teasing is really sending me!

#adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes #fanfiction #castlevania netflix #castlevania #netflix castlevania #how do y’all feel about the perspective change 👀#submission #littlemori24 #castlevania!alucard x reader #black reader #black!reader #castlevania x reader #alucard is so naughty

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purity-town · 4 years ago

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Little late getting to these -- that's fully the fault of a class project I spent all of Monday/Tuesday and most of Wednesday working on -- but I finished my project and wrote up some long replies to these!

(Apologies for any funny formatting -- I'm trying out the beta for the new post editor!)

Absolutely not.

Nope! There are a few people who do know (other guides Andrew's met before, the Dryad, and I'd imagine the Witch Doctor knows something's up even if he doesn't know why), but none of them live in Purity Town proper, and the Dryad and Witch Doctor aren't the kind to participate in rumors or spread what isn't theirs to share. The old man is also aware just because he and Andrew have talked about their curses, but he's 1) not currently in town and 2) not going to share even if he were.

Most folks don't know much about Andrew in general; Becca probably knows the most out of the townsfolk, knowing a little bit about his family and where he's from (he has some pretty specific skills as a hunter that betray this, but he doesn't talk about his exact town of birth), but no specifics and certainly not time periods.

Andrew is good at keeping things quiet; he has to be.

I would actually appreciate if you didn't post to Pinterest -- usually I'm fine with people reposting with credit (several of the things I've posted to my DeviantArt have found their way to Instagram, for example) but Pinterest has something of a reputation for stolen art (things being reposted from another Pinterest post without credit this time, or credit being hard to view for users not logged in or just viewing through Google). So reposting elsewhere is fine (though if you repost to Reddit or Instagram, tag me at u/Ariibees or @Ariibees)! I'd just prefer my works stay off of Pinterest.

The terminology related to The Guide/Andrew/The Guardian/The World’s Core/The WoF is all confusing because on some level, they’re all the same being. Kind of like trying to talk about Jekyll and Hyde -- same guy, different looks/actions, haha.

For all intents and purposes, references to the WoF being the barrier/core/whatever behind or within which the spirits of light and dark are contained is equivalent to saying “these spirits are held trapped by the magic of the Guardian, who when summoned appears as the WoF.” I do break slightly from the official lore in how the WoF/Guardian/thing holding back these spirits works (mostly because I don’t really like the idea that the Hallow is a “temporary guardian” or whatever), but the basic concept of “these are trapped by [thing that makes up the WoF]” remains unchanged.

If “loony cultist” is a reference to something, I’m so sorry, but I’m lost on it. If you’re just talking about the lunatic cultist in a funny way, then yes, they’re in here as a very plot-significant character!

I had to google what meme you were talking about, but it did make me laugh.

Andrew’s most annoyed by the nickname because people do like to call him Guide, and for someone who’s dedicated his whole life to his role, it can get tiring. He doesn’t really *mind* being called Guide -- it’s fine, that’s what he is and as long as people are respectful of his job he’ll take what he can get -- but at the same time, he’d like for people to stop thinking “Aah! Monster!” or “Weird academic know-it-all” and just...treat him like a normal person sometimes. So he fights to be called Andrew. And...Malik comes along and gives him a nickname that he doesn’t like and doesn’t allow others to use, save for maybe a small group of people of which Malik is not a part. So, not cool, man!

People love to overcomplicate explaining shading/lighting, and if you wanted to you could certainly go on and on about reflections of light off the ground and shading colors and all sorts of things, but as I’m writing this at 1 AM I don’t really care to.

If you really want to get into shading, I see nice ones on DeviantArt or Tumblr from time to time, or you can always watch a YouTube video on it. Really, though, just keep at it, think about how the shadows should look and work, and you'll get better at it eventually and pick up new ideas on how it all works. (And this is coming from someone who is new to making comics and actually started as a painter.)

Purity Town’s shading comes down to this: simplicity. As much as I’d love to spend hours and hours redrawing the panels I don’t like and carefully shading every fold of fabric and painting detailed backgrounds, I’m a full-time college student and will be working full-time over the summer -- I don’t have the time. So, I cut corners: I reuse backgrounds or use brushes (see: bricks, trees, clouds) that make certain details easier, and I try not to obsess too much over panels I’m not fully happy with. Shadows go where they feel right, and light on the opposite side.

For shading, this comes down to making things quick and easy. For these last few pages, character shading/lighting has only been five layers. One hard light layer for the bluer soft shadows, one overlay layer for darker soft shadows, one linear burn layer for hard shadows, one soft light layer for soft lighting, and one overlay layer for hard lighting. I’ll often also make use of glow dodge layers for lighting, or change the color balance or add more hard/soft light layers if there’s a very heavy color filter on the scene (such as a celestial event, blood moon, or outdoors at night).

Using all the different layer types is essentially a cheat code to fancier lighting -- don’t want to use flat black? Boom, hard light or overlay or burn will give you colored shadows. Want to make your light brighter? Glow dodge will make it burn your retinas.

Sorry that this isn’t a very comprehensive guide, but in my mind, shading and lighting is really something that you pick up over time and it’s hard to sit down and write a guide for it without making it into a massive essay on art theory that I don't even know proper terminology for because I'm not an art student. Of course with some googling you’ll find *proper* guides for this sort of thing from art majors and the likes, and those can be super helpful and technical! But for Purity Town, I just sort of go with what feels right and what's easy to replicate.

Firstly, I’m happy to hear you’re liking the comic!

Secondly, those buttons are actually there due to the theme! (For those on mobile who can’t see it, I have the theme set to only display on desktop as I prefer the current mobile layout on phone.) I’m using the simple webcomic theme (a quick Google should tell you how to install it for yourself) -- except I’m not actually using it for the webcomic features; rather, it’s a case of “this is the most simple, nice-looking non-default theme I could find.”

The previous/next buttons are added by the theme with the intent that the blog is being used as a typical webcomic website, with nothing but comic pages being posted. However, I post asks and other art here too, and I do so with the intent that people looking at #Terraria or their dashboards in general will see it. So...I use html formatting to make the first/previous/next/last links, along with an index and chapter-by-chapter viewing (using /tagged/chapter##/chrono) so that no matter where you’re coming from, you can still navigate just the pages!

If you want to add just the previous/next buttons, I can’t really help you -- web development is not my area of study in the slightest. But you can check out the theme that they come from and if you want to install only them, you can surely find a tutorial on it somewhere!

(As a side note, the comments section is not from the theme, it’s from a site called Disqus. I don’t expect many people, if anyone, to leave comments, but since I link back to this site a lot and many folks don’t have Tumblr accounts, it’s an option I like to make available.)

Hiya! My hike was pretty nice; it was a short and easy one, but that was quite appreciated as the trail is unmaintained from November to April, and the trail was covered in fallen trees and quite rocky. Still had fun, though!

And for backgrounds, it depends! For indoors scenes (or outdoors scenes with buildings) I don’t tend to use references, outside of looking up things like “which side of a door is the handle on.” I will, however, integrate real-life textures (see: the quilt and rug in Guide’s house, the wood walls on the building in the background of this week’s page), and paint over paintings from the Terraria wiki.

For outdoors scenes, for simple backgrounds (such as foliage-heavy) ones, I typically don’t need references. I like the difference between detailed, lined indoor/man-made object scenes vs. painted, messy outdoor scenes. But for things like mountains, I do sometimes look up references to help with color choices and the likes.

The town’s layout is a bit strange in that depending on the scene, the background could be drastically different. One side of town faces more mountainside, one side faces the orchards/open hillside, and the other two sides face various degrees of open space and more mountainside/forest. References taken on top of mountains are helpful to get an idea of what degree of foliage I should include between the characters and the sky.

Though this is very specific to the town of Purity -- other towns/villages will have significantly different-looking backgrounds, even the foliage-heavy ones.

That said, what's even more helpful than looking at photos is looking at paintings. Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron is really good for getting an idea of how to draw grasslands and distant mountains, plus Studio Ghibli movies in general!

#purity town #pt asks #terraria #not an update

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mst3kproject · 4 years ago

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The Flame Barrier

I’ve got an awful lot of movies from 1958 on my resume, don’t I? Why is that? Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. Apparently it was just a bumper year for cheap, crappy black-and-white films. This one stars Kathleen Crowley from The Rebel Set and Rodd Redwing from The Mole People, in a movie written by George Worthing Yates, who also penned Earth vs the Spider. Also featuring a blob from outer space, with motives even less clear than the one in The Space Children.

Over yet another stock-footage rocket launch, one of those deep-voiced 50’s narrators informs us that there’s a layer of Earth’s atmosphere called the Flame Barrier which destroys everything it touches. This particular rocket was no exception, and its crash-landing in the Mexican jungle may be related to the disappearance of explorer Howard Dalman, whose wife Carol has now come looking for him. She seeks out a pair of prospectors, Dave and Matt Hollister, to guide her to his last known location. As they go deeper into the bush, they find they’re wandering into something unknown… something that can make men burst into flames!

This movie isn’t terrible. It’s not great, but it’s not irredeemably awful. It reminds me a lot of The Giant Gila Monster, in that there’s a story going on and it’s not a bad story per se, but it’s one that’s got nothing whatsoever to do with the title and premise that drew us to the film in the first place. When the supposed main plot pops up again at the end, it makes for a sudden and jarring shift.

The Flame Barrier starts off all right. We have the inevitable narrator to give us the backstory, and then it gets right on with meeting the characters. They’re introduced one by one, telling us their personalities and goals: Carol is naïve and spoiled but she’s trying her best, Matt is a drunk fool but he’s got a good heart, and Dave is a gruff, cynical realist who loves his brother but is tired of his bullshit. None of them are exactly nice people but you can see where they’re coming from, and they each get an arc. Carol struggles with whether she really loved Howard, whom she barely knew, and the movie allows her to toughen up and learn how to survive in the wilderness. Dave spends much of the movie being a jerk to Carol but eventually realizes he judged her too harshly and apologizes. Matt gets a chance to be a hero and takes it, believing that he owes it to Dave for never giving up on him. The writing is frequently unsubtle but the actors are competent, and these little stories work just fine.

The movie that surrounds them, however, is often very sloppy. The narrator tells us that the space probe from the opening crashed because ‘it unexpectedly lost its gravitational force’. What? What is that supposed to even mean? The narrator also tells us it’s been six months since Howard disappeared, then mere minutes later Carol says it’s been four. There’s a bit where Carol is menaced by an iguana… the creature is never actually in the shot with her, so they couldn’t find anything scarier? The stock wildlife footage on their trek through the soundstage sets of Central America includes hyenas. I can hear Crow saying, “boy, are we in Afri… wait a minute…” And, pet peeve, they describe a snake as poisonous instead of venomous.

This being a jungle movie, obviously there are ‘natives’. I think most of these are actual Mexicans, although Wikipedia says Rodd Redwing may have been from India (if so, I like to think his entire career in Westerns was based on just walking into casting directors’ offices and announcing he was ‘an Indian’, and letting them draw their own conclusions). Being as this is a movie from the fifties, the natives are there largely to provide a body count – white people aren’t allowed to die until the climax. To its credit, The Flame Barrier mostly (though not entirely) avoids the trope where the natives have interpreted the mysterious happenings as supernatural, leading the white characters to scoff at the whole thing. There is some of this, but Dave clearly knows these people well and respects their culture and their warnings.

Then there’s the love story. Obviously this is a movie, so Carol’s gotta fall for one or other of these idiots, but neither of the Hollister brothers is a good choice. Matt is sweet to her but he’s also a useless drunk who only has a job because his brother puts up with him. Dave spends eighty percent of the movie being an asshole and I have no idea what Carol sees in him. At least the two men never fight over her. I guess the love affair is important to the plot, because it spurs the party on to finish their search for the missing Howard Dalman despite the odds being stacked against them… but that basically boils down to Carol and Dave needing to be sure she’s a widow before they can bone.

After all this messing around in the jungle, with the run time half over we get to the plot, and the movie changes gears with an almost audible ka-chunk. Now we’ve got this space blob sitting in a cave (how did it get in there when it’s still attached to the rocket?) doubling in size every two hours, which must be destroyed before it can consume the entire earth! Suddenly we have a laboratory, because all the scientific equipment Howard brought with him is still in perfect condition despite having been sitting in the jungle for either four or six months. Suddenly Dave the rugged survivalist is a scientist and mathematician. It’s like they took the same actors and sets and started trying to make a totally different movie.

Honestly, I think this is more or less what happened. I think the multiplying space blob was the movie somebody originally wanted to make – it starts out as a tiny thing in a test tube, growing bigger and bigger until it consumes the whole building and will destroy the entire city if it isn’t stopped! That sounds like a pretty fun 50’s sci-fi movie in itself. It also, however, sounds like an expensive 50’s sci-fi movie, needing miniatures destroyed and screaming extras and other stuff The Flame Barrier just didn’t have the money for. Hence the need to spend so much time wandering around in the jungle swapping tragic backstories before the characters are allowed to get to that point.

The unfortunate thing about this is that the movie doesn’t really have time to get into the nature of its alien. In Spacemaster X-7, the Blood Rust was offscreen much of the time but we still had a good idea of what it was and of its capabilities, and the explanations we were given made a reasonable amount of sense. In The Flame Barrier, we’ve got this blob that apparently lives in the rarified and super-hot outer atmosphere (the writers seem to have confused Earth’s atmosphere with the Sun’s corona), but can also survive on the ground… and its effects are all over the place. Sometimes when things get too close to it, they’re just electrocuted and disintegrated, as happens to the rocket’s original passenger, a very young chimpanzee. Sometimes people get horribly burned and then burst into flames and are reduced to skeletons hours or days later, as keeps happening to the natives. And then there’s Howard, who somehow managed to get close enough to be swallowed up by the thing and his corpse is still completely intact inside it.

None of this makes any sense. If the blob has that protective electrocution barrier that the humans must be so careful to avoid, how did Howard get close enough to be trapped in it? How did the chimp get out to end up wandering around in the jungle? What the heck is happening to the natives who get burned and then skeletonized and why doesn’t that ever happen to the chimp or any of the main characters? And how do they manage to kill by electrocution a creature that uses lethal amounts of electricity without any harm to itself? ‘It’s an alien – we don’t understand it’ can cover a multitude of sins in movie writing, but the blob’s random effects don’t even feel like they could potentially make sense.

The Flame Barrier reminds me of other MST3K movies, too. Prominent among them are It Conquered the World and The Crawling Hand, both of which ended on the same unintentionally depressing note: they suggest that the dangers of going into space are so great that humans will never be able to overcome them. It Conquered the World tells us that there are eight more Venusians just waiting for their own turn to invade. The Crawling Hand says that exposure to outer space causes mutations that will turn astronauts into mindless murderers. The Flame Barrier posits that not only is space itself deadly, but is also full of deadly creatures, and the only way to avoid them is to stay on the ground.

This has always interested me because movies like this stand alongside things like the tales of Rocky Jones, Space Ranger!, in which humans have an exciting future among the stars. Stories set in space can be about either the exhilaration of discovery or the terror of the unknown, and this dichotomy seems to be as old as science fiction – Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is considered the first work of proper sci-fi, and it encompasses both. Frankenstein tells us that if we let our fear over-rule our curiosity, we’ll miss out on something potentially wonderful. Movies like The Flame Barrier, and even modern space monster flicks like Alien, seem to say the opposite, that we shouldn’t meddle with the unknown at all.

This movie was kind of a compromise on my part. I’ve had a lot on my plate lately and I picked The Flame Barrier as a movie that was kinda stupid but wouldn’t be either a test of my endurance or particularly challenging to write about. I’m hoping to have something a little juicier for you next time.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the flame barrier #boy are we in africa!#50s #we're running out of plots

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dragonswithjetpacks · 4 years ago

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Tagged by @noire-pandora! Thank you for the tag!

5 Favorite Writing Bits - I’m just going to include some stuff from 2020. Because 2021 has been a lot of Astarion and Ferelith so far. So from oldest to newest, here we go!

1. WIP from Voices of the Fade - I swear I’m going to get to this one day. So help me. This is actually what made me want to write this series. It was the first thing I wrote for it. And it made me just incredibly heart broken.

There was something about the way the sunlight hit... She was naturally pale, so her ivory skin was glowing against her cheekbones. They defined the side of her face, giving the soft shape of her profile a hint sharpness. Her nose was so small. And so were her lips, despite how pouty the bottom one was. But it was the way the sunlight hit her face that made him stare in awe. When her eyes opened, he shifted hoping it was not his gaze that woke her. She blinked up at him as if in disbelief. He brushed a strand from the corner of her mouth as she came to.

"Where are we?" she whispered.

"Home," he answered.

The stone walls of the fortress were the color of dark sand. It kept the rooms cool from the scorching sun. The windows were thick and tinted, as well, preventing any sort of breeze from intruding. The smells of the Anderfels were not always pleasant. And the birds were always hungry. Nevertheless, the mountains were massive and a wonder to look at. Like green giants plastered against a forever grey wall. And Weishaupt was it's gem. A place of honor of protection. A place of fragrant foods and quiet murmurs. And a place where the clashing of swords and explosions of magic echoed through the grounds. It was everything he had imagined.

"This is nice," she said quietly.

"Yeah," he heaved a happy sigh.

"Shame this isn't what really happened, though."

It was too confusing to mutter a response. Not that he could as a lump swelled in the depths of his throat. His mouth refused to open. And he watched as her face burned under the sunlight, a bright hot light that sizzled into ash, the same color as her hair. He reached out for her, his hands burning. It was too late.

2. From the first chapter of A Dame’s Tale (Claira Trevelyan’s origin story) - This was super personal for me. My mother was emotionally abusive and my dad was always working so he couldn’t always be there for me. And this was really just something I drew from that.

"Do proper ladies raise their hand?"

"No," the tears began to swell.

"Are you a proper lady, Claira?"

"Yes, Mother. I am," her voice cracked.

"I don't think you are."

"I promise I'll do better."

"You promised last time."

"Please, Mother, I promise. For real this time."

The tears were now little streams dripping down the side of her face. Her voice cracked as she wailed a plea for her mother's forgiveness. Her mother was silent, her eyes scanning over her youngest child as she stood sobbing in front of her. This little girl- her knuckles and cheek bruised, her lip bloodied, her dress torn with patches of dirt, her dark hair a tangled mess, and her face wet with tears- this was not the daughter she had prayed for.

"Go with your father. He'll take you to your room."

Claira struggled to catch her breath between cries and a warm hand on her shoulder didn't help. She let out the tears she had been holding back and she fought to keep her eyes open. Although blurry, she could see the back of her mother's dress swaying as she strode to the other side of the room to the balcony door. She did not see the rest as her father had reached down to clutch her hand.

3. Some super serious Aeva x Solas angst. I have feelings about eluvians. This is from Whispers in the Garden.

For a moment she saw a cliff side outlined with trees adorning flowers that was quickly obscured by a tall figure, shrouding her view. She stepped back further, feeling the air from the other side chill her entire body. Aeva became overwhelmed with the thought that this could be real and she stepped backward even further to take in the familiar shape. The mirror's image closed, making a small sound like shutters closing quickly against wind. And now the only light in the room was from the moon shining down through a window above. It made his face look pale. But other than that, it was just as she remembered.

His hands were folded behind him with his shoulders back and his chin held up proudly. His face was the same, but he was still different. It was nothing like he used to be. He wasn't the mage with the rugged tunic. He was a soldier. No... a commander in gleaming metal armor. The anger came rushing back to her as she remembered the last time he walked through a mirror. The way he used her for his own gain. Disappointment replaced her distraught and she felt ever foolish for wishing to see him. Her fist curled tightly against her and she drew in a deep breath through gritted teeth. But before she could yell, he was on her, his gloved hand pressed tightly over her mouth.

"Shhhh," he said softly into her ear.

With her only hand, she tried to push him away. She didn't want to see him. And she affirmed that by closing her eyes tightly. She hit him in the shoulder over and over until her hand hurt. Until her knuckles felt raw. Until she felt the skin punctured.

"Vhenan," he whispered.

The sound of the name he used to call her on his lips just made things worse. She pushed him one last time, feeling her arm go weak. Her knees began to shake and they buckled. Tears pushed past her eyelids, crashing down as she began to yell into the palm of his hand. He waited until she had exhausted herself. He held her at her waste and loosened his grip the moment he felt her muscles were no long tense. He removed his hand from her mouth, lifting her chin to look at her face. Her eyes were hooded and she still refused to look at him. But he could tell that she was beyond tired. Her body seemed lighter than before. Her skin had lost it's sun touched glow. Her lips were cracked.

"Enough," she felt her mouth make the shape, but was unsure if the sound came out.

He kept hold of her in fear that she would collapse.

"You can't keep doing this," she went on, finally hearing the raspy tone in her voice.

Her eyes finally opened and he could see now they were still piercing green. The yellow flecks inside were illuminating her eyes like they were on fire. They brought a flutter of fear into his chest, like the moment before being struck suddenly by fangs. But it quickly faded as she brought her hand to his face. It felt like the same man. The same smooth skin with a sharp jawline and faint smile. It sounded just like him too. Looked at her the same. But it wasn't.

"You can't come into my dreams anymore," she said. "I can't take it."

4. So I did a thing where I combined Aeva’s fear of drowning with the fear of what she lost with Solas. And because she connects fear with anger, it all just combines into a huge mess of emotion. This was the first time I really was able to portray that. An expert from Chapter 7 of Strange Fates.

Aeva walked to edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves swelling beneath her. There was the strange feeling again. The fear of the nothing beyond the sea. It was a larger feeling than what she felt at the barge. It was like the all the other times... like the first time...

The first time she saw waves this large...

The first time she sat on the coast...

(memory) The rain came down heavy and she looked outside her tent. It wasn't letting up any time soon. She paced, rubbing her hands on her face. If she didn't act soon, the trail would grow cold and she would never find the Grey Wardens. The flap to her tent lifted without any announcement of arrival. And he stood, a look of concern on his face. He offered her a warm drink. They sat across from each other on her cot. He made her laugh. He took her hand, but it was for research. His fingertip traced in the inside of her palm. She snatched it back...

"Aeva?" Fenris jumped down from the wagon. "You're looking at the sea strangely again."

"Yes..." she shook her head. "Yes I am."

"Ferguson is setting up camp if you-"

There was a drifting silence between them as she brushed by. Her movements seemed slow and her eyes looked blank. Almost as if she were in some sort trance. It had been a long night. And upon further inspection, he could see spurts of blood across her armor. Still, for her not to respond at all was odd.

"... want to take some time to rest," he finished his sentence, watching the back of her disappear around the wagon.

The tents were nothing like she used when traveling with the Inquisition. These were much smaller. Large enough for a cot and maybe a table if you angled it correctly. Her tent was in the northernmost corner and the closest to the fire, which Ferguson had already prepared. It was still small and clinging onto the wood from the blowing wind, but he stoked it carefully so it did not catch flame to the pine needles below. Iris sat nearby peeling potatoes and whistling softly. They looked as Aeva came through, but said nothing.

The fear from the waves was not going away. And the more she thought about a way to be rid of it, the worse it got. Aeva did not handle fear well. It simmered in her chest, tightening her lungs and making her heart race. When it began to boil, she burst with rage. And she couldn't let that happen. Not in front of the camp. There was only one thing she could do. She reached into her pack, looking for a specific vial. And it was there bundled in the center of strange looking leaves. It was a black mixture with floating powder. In most cases, she would use it as a bomb to subdue her enemies. But mixed with the liquid, it became a sleep aid in small doses. She shook it up, causing it swirl slowly. The small cork made a small pop as she opened it. And with a wrinkled nose, she took one drink of it as if it were a shot of the strongest ale. There was a bit of a gag, but then she swallowed hard a second time to try and be rid of the taste. The cork went back into the vial, between the leaves, and bound with string once again before she placed it back in her pack. The affects were almost instant. And she barely had enough time to lay her head on the pillow. It was her escape... for a time...

5. THIS piece of dialogue from The Quiet Closet. I was so proud of this. It was the first piece of smut I not only wrote seriously but posted. And this dialogue to me is just... oof. Um NSFW by the way.

"You," she growled. "You make me weak."

"You like it," he whispered teasingly, his finger massaging her below.

"I hate it. I despise it. I despise you."

Asatrion laughed, slipping a second finger over her. She attempted to sink down again to feel his knee, but found his grasp on her wrists were far too tight. She looked up at them helpless, leaving her neck open for his taking. He caressed over it, licking it to taste her flesh and biting slightly over her throat, thoughts tempting his darker nature. But he had sworn it wouldn't happen again. No matter how much he wanted her, no matter the circumstances, he would only take what she gave. Ferelith may have enjoyed losing control in that moment, but that didn't change her need to command other things. It seemed a bit odd to his taste, but all the same fascinating. And he wanted to explore it further.

"Tell me more," he demanded. "Tell me how much you hate me."

She dropped when he loosened his grips, her back relaxing down the wall. With a gentle nudge, his knee rose up to meet her and he felt her hips sway against him. He moved his fingers in motion, straightening them as she came in like a rolling tide.

"I hate how charming I find you," her eyes closed and her voice sound as if she were in a trance. "I hate that you make me laugh."

She inhaled quickly as he pressed harder into her core, her head hitting the wall as she reared back. He felt her body tighten and urged her forward with his knee.

"Go on," he said, baring witness to the moments of joy on her face.

"I hate the sound of your voice," she lowered her brow with concentration. "I hate how attracted I am to you."

The heat from her body was making him crave her, now, and he could feel himself growing excited at the quickness of her breath. Her spite made it all the better. The more anger she released, the stronger her movements became, and the longer his strokes became. It became difficult to hold onto her and her hands slipped through his grasp as he tried to ground himself, his hand slamming onto the wall.

"I hate this constant desire I have for you..."

Her hands dug into his hair, feeling the back of his skull. The sensation of her nails scratching against his scalp brought him closer. His hand skipped up the wall as he faltered for a moment, his face buried in her hair. The fragrance she gave was enticing, as it always was.

"... this desire to feel you. Next to me. Against me. Inside me..."

Slowly, her hands slid down to his shoulders. One remained, gripping tightly. While the other slithered up his neck, her fingers finding their grasp on either side of his face. He did not fight her pull to bring him to her gaze.

"Still... If I believe for one second you'll betray me..." she said through heavy pants, "I'll kill you."

And uh yeah... 2020 was a pretty productive year. I think I really got back into fanfiction and posting things and being more active here on Tumblr. And I’ve met some really cool people because of it. Now I’m dabbling in other fandoms and everyone has been so supportive and amazing. It’s just really wonderful. Thank you guys! And I look forward to reading more stuff from everyone.

#dwjp writes #dwip writing tag #strange fates #whispers in the garden #voices of the fade #astarion x ferelith #aeva x solas #aeva lavellan #ferelith moondshade #claira trevelyan

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valkerymillenia · 4 years ago

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Umbrella Academy

season 2, episode 8

Once again- live blogging my thoughts and reactions in one post to avoid spamming.

So this is how the FBI gets their hands on Vanya, huh? Seems most fan theories were wrong.

Oh, Sissy's last name is Cooper!

I did wonder about that -how did remember her name despite forgetting everything else? If she knew her name then she should have been able to remember other little fragments.

Of course the feds focus on the fact that her name is Russian. Cold war bullshit. I guess they think she's a spy or since Russian sleeper soldier or something.

"I'm not Russian" -you kinda are though 😅 Tatiana was Russian and gave birth to you in Moscow sooo...

DID VANYA JUST SPEAK RUSSIAN?!

Is that one of the 7 languages that Reggie all the siblings or....? Does it... Does it have something to do with her powers or her birth place?

"simple-minded boy"? FUCK YOU.😠

"communist threat" there it is 🙄

Oh no, she's losing her cool. Here come the powers... I keep wondering how she does that 'sucking the life' out of someone thing. 🤔

That's a lot of puke.

Poor Five, he's starting to crack under the stress.

Why is Ben gagging? He's dead, he shouldn't be able to feel or smell the puke.

Loving Robert's real curls starting to show.

"I regret nothing" -hmm.... Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of.

"there's a giant dead white boy on my couch" 😆

"Oh, I see. It's gonna be one of those kind of nights, huh? So are we burning or burying?" -this is why I love Klaus! He doesn't even flinch, he doesn't care what happened, he doesn't ask, he just immediately decides that he's going to help his sister get rid of a dead body like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Although, it would be interesting if Klaus actual saw the Swede ghosts too. I just want Klaus to be seeing ghosts everywhere again, ok? I want that struggle from season 1 to be brought back and not swept under the rug for plot convenience. As a writer, if you make something an important character trait, you stick with it and they haven't done that with Klaus, they are half-assing his struggle with his powers.

It's the Swede really going to...? Oh good, saved by the cat.

Oh! So that's what "lavender" means! I was right, it was the perfume, it was probably obvious but I'm a little dumb.

Ah! Lila is trying to hire Diego for the Commission???

Diego is so confused.

"colorful history" sounds so wrong and sexual 😣

Diego is so full of bullshit. His loyalties absolutely lie with his family, he's just too defensive to admit it.

Reginald FRAMED Pogo's family drawing? So he's a better dad to the chimp than his own kids, huh?

THE TELEVATOR!!!!!!! PLANS FOR THE TELEVATOR!!!! I love comic references, please tell me we'll see a real televator in the show!

So Reggie really is planning something about JFK...

"are you involved in something nefarious?" "Quite often. Did you have something more specific in mind?" -at least he owns it 😆

"shaggy man" -ah! Poor Diego!

Reggie really loves this Grace, huh? But she has a point.

Five is losing it a bit, huh?

The baby powder 🤣

"I have to find myself" -RIGHT! I was wondering when this would come up! Old!Five was there for the JFK thing so Five just has to find his old self and his briefcase in order to correct all this mess. More comic references!

"arguably the most dangerous assassin in the time-space continuum" -DAMN RIGHT 💯

"paradox psychosis" 🤣I know it's supposed to be super serious but the symptoms are so funny...

"a spotter? What is that? Like a wingman?" 😆 This parallels that "Body man? What's that? Like a masseuse?" line in s02e02 where Five is the confused one.

Five, do you really think your brother can stop you if you spiral? Because I don't.

Luther doesn't have a great attention span, does he?

Harlan's drawing is interesting... I get a feeling it's important.

Shit, they are torturing Vanya!! This is so bad!

LSD? LSD?????? No, that's a terrible idea with her powers!!!

Eeeewwwww the eyeballs! 👁️

That's a hell of a bad trip... The way the music makes with the visuals reminds me of my synesthesia though.

Oh! So this is where the scene of all the adult siblings in the Academy uniforms is from!!! (I remember someone saying it was Diego dreaming of having a drugged hallucination in the asylum, they were pretty close! It's Vanya drugged by the FBI instead!)

"I get you" -that is not the face of a person that gets this at all, Luther!

"Don't freak out." -like that ever worked 😆

Lila trying to have her cake and eat it too with her mom and Diego.

That informational video 🤣🤣🤣

Free coffee! Weekly donuts* (*fees apply)! Wow, so tempting 😒

"whatever your skill, education, or comfort level with moral ambiguity (...)" 😆

Are the Fives just having a staring contest? 🤣🤣

Ah! How can Five be bitchy and aggressive to HIMSELF 😆

"all those years on the apocalypse, we never stopped working about our family." -why does Luther look so damn surprised to hear this?? Why the hell does he think Five is doing so this for?!

Wow, Five is really bitter about his body, isn't he? He's making old!Five so nervous 😅

Oops, there's stage 4 for old!Five!

And there's stage 3 as well and stages 5 and 6 for little!Five.

I get a feeling Five doesn't really have the accurate calculations, he's just lying and using the originals.

"I don't trust him!" -he's... He's you...14 days ago! How do you not trust yourself?

"but he's you" "exactly" 🤣🤣🤣

I'm so afraid how what Diego is going to do. I get a feeling hell fuck up trying to be a misguided hero again...

"I'm Diego. I have a knife." 😆

"it's very shiny" 🤣

So Diego is a legend, huh? 😏

"there's been a coup d'etat" "what's that? Cadillac?" -don't play dumb, Diego, I don't believe for a single second that you don't know what a coup is.

So the new apocalypse WAS Vanya's fault but by proxy (actually more the FBI's fault), she was just a small domino. So literally the only one that didn't actively do anything to impact the timeline ends up being the one doing the most damage (again)? PLOT TWIST!

Oh no, DON'T GET ANY IDEAS ABOUT YOUR SISTER, DIEGO! YOU SAW HOW BADLY THAT ENDED LAST TIME!

No, I refuse to believe "she will always be the bomb" 😠😠😠😠

LOL, hi, Dot!

NO! LUTHER, YOU MORON! DON'T GIVE HIM ALL THAT INFO! YOU'LL CHANGE EVERYTHING AND CEASE TO EXIST!!!

These dumb siblings exhaust me

"little jerk-off" -why are you insulting yourself, you weirdo? 😆

Old!Five with all the PP symptoms and yet he says he never felt better in his life 🤣

"you're getting paranoid" -you both are, and sweaty, itchy and gassy. All that's missing is the homicidal rage at this point 😅

Vanya's hallucination shows us a twisted paranoid view she has of her siblings and it's very interesting:

-Ben is protective, defends her, he can do no harm, probably because he died young so nostalgia blurs her memory of him

-Allison defends her but is also arrogant and condescending, speaking as if she's implying that Vanya is weak, probably because Vanya feels that Allison is perfect and has an inferiority complex

-Luther is just as arrogant and looks down her, calling her lazy, but does so without malice (more mockery than anger)

-Klaus is accusing and suspicious but still on the fence and excitable, probably reflecting Vanya's own doubts and how she herself sees Klaus

-Five just stares, judging and silent but unable to look away, probably because she trusts him but she also doesn't know him, there's the same nostalgia effect as Ben but because Five came back (to stop her) the inferiority and fear of judgement is still there

-Diego is completely different, awkward and detached, this one is the most interesting because he's one of the people that was most vocal and mean against her in season 1 but apparently she sees a kindred spirit in him to an extent, either that or she fears she means nothing to him

Maybe I'm overanalyzing again...

I totally predicted the dishes would be brains but it's still gross.

Ew, the chewing... 😫 It's giving me the creeps.

Why is she seeing Harlan's drawing? She was gone already when he made that particular drawing (I knew it would be important), is she connected to him now??

And how does she remember her own birth??

Holy shit, Harlan is feeling Vanya's pain!!!😲😲😲

"why are people so much heavier when they're dead?" "You got a lot of practice at this?" 😅

Ben and Klaus conversation actually makes me feel a bit better about the possession but it makes no sense at all 🤣

Poor Ray keeps meeting in-laws in the weirdest situations 🤣🤣🤣🤣 his face! 🤝

Ray is having a nervous breakdown 😣 poor guy...

The moment Lila notices Diego is missing, the intercom chimes "Loyalty isn't a choice, it's a lifestyle" and if that isn't foreshadowing for Lila choosing sides then I don't know what is.

This is a really painful way for Vanya to recover her memories but it's so well done!

Holy shit... 😳

Klaus asking the real question here. She's being tortured, Klaus, go help!!!

HOLY SHIT! HARLAN HAS VANYA'S POWERS NOW?!

No, no, no,no, no, no nononononono! This is so bad! A child with a disorder that makes emotions hard to regulate suddenly having an apocalyptic level of power that connects directly to emotion is just a recipe for disaster!

#tua #tua s2 #tua s2 spoilers

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dancer-cotillion · 6 years ago

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Information Chapter Two of Two: Rescued

The cloth gag tasted foul and was disturbingly rough as Kokichi worked to push it out with his tongue. The only time he was ungagged was when they fed him, tried in vain to get him to talk, or when they got lazy and didn’t tie it tight enough, allowing him to work it out as was the case this time. It took a while but he finally got it out. From, there he just had to shake his head a bit to get it to fall down and hang around his neck instead.

But now that that was done, he had nothing else to do. His hands were handcuffed behind his back and chained to the radiator. Other than the rug that served as his bed there was nothing else in the room. There wasn’t even a window. Breaking out of his bindings wasn’t an option, after the first time his captors had started making sure of that. He wasn’t in the mood to be gut punched again anyway so it was whatever.

He scooched over to the rug and flopped over to lay on his side. It was ever so slightly better than lying on the cold bare floor. Days had gone by. How many, he didn’t know, probably not a lot though even if it did feel like it. How long would it take them to give up and kill him or let him go? Hopefully the latter. … The former was far more likely. Things couldn’t possibly get any worse, could they?

He was awoken from a sleep born entirely from exhaustion by the sound of the door opening. He flinched and instinctively shot upright before putting on a mildly annoyed expression to frustrate his captors further. But it wasn’t his tormentors this time but… Fuyuhiko and Peko!

“I knew you guys would come for me,” he said, smiling wide at them. His body shook with relief and his eyes wanted to tear up.

Fuyuhiko rushed over and crouched beside him. His face was filled with concern that he wasn’t even attempting to hide. Did he… really care that much? “Are you okay?”

“Yup, totally fine. Help me out with these cuffs though please.”

Fuyuhiko shifted to examine them. “Go find the keys for these,” he said, looking back at Peko who was standing guard in the door. She looked like she wanted to protest being sent away but obeyed anyway. “Now you,” Fuyuhiko turned back to look at Kokichi again, “need stop lying. You are clearly not okay.”

“Well, you’re the one who asked.” It was obvious Kokichi wasn’t okay, it’d take a blind man to miss that. “But yeah, I lied, I didn’t think… you’d come for me.” He admitted in a whisper. “I thought I was going to die.”

Fuyuhiko pulled back a bit surprise. “Why the fuck would you think that? I would never…”

“Got it, I think,” Peko announced as she reentered the room. She strode over to Fuyuhiko and handed him a key which he used to free Kokichi from the cuffs.

“Thanks.” Kokichi smiled again as he rubbed his wrists and flexed them a bit.

Fuyuhiko shifted and put an arm around Kokichi’s shoulders, the other under his legs and… lifted him. He made a soft grunt as he straightened, now holding Kokichi in his arms bridle style.

Kokichi was caught between wanting to cry and wanting to laughing. “What? I can walk.” He cooperated though, putting an arm around Fuyuhiko’s shoulders, gripping onto the front of his shirt with his other hand. How tight he gripped no doubt betrayed his relief and desperation; Fuyuhiko had come to save him!

“I’d ask if you want that but you’d probably just tell me a lie so we’re doing this. Let’s go.” Fuyuhiko started for the exit, seemingly not much bothered by Kokichi’s weight.

“You jealous Peko? Fuyu’s carrying me like a princess.”

“I fully support this,” Peko replied. Was that… teasing in her voice? And why did her words make Fuyuhiko blush? If Kokichi wasn’t so exhausted and mentally drained…

But he was so, he let it go for now. He wanted to kiss Fuyuhiko, not the first time he’d felt that way but never had he wanted to more than now. But he also very much did not want to be dropped in surprise or anything like that. Later he would though for now he’d just enjoy the ride.

***

Kokichi looked fragile and small lying in the hospital bed with a swath of bandages around his head. Fuyuhiko had never seen him asleep before this, it was a bit weird.

According to the doctors he’d fallen asleep shortly after Fuyuhiko had left the hospital last night – been sent away – and hadn’t woken up since. It was late morning now so hopefully he’d wake up soon. If he didn’t though, Fuyuhiko could wait.

He settled in the bedside chair to do just that. “Sit Peko,” he said without even looking up at her.

There was a short pause before she obeyed, sitting on Kokichi’s other side. Good, she was slowly but surely learning to no longer insist on acting as his bodyguard at all times. It probably helped in this instance that she was also close to Kokichi and cared for him, not the same way Fuyuhiko did but deeply nonetheless. How he managed to worm his way into both of their hearts so thoroughly was still a mystery.

“When he wakes up are you finally going to tell him?” she whispered, breaking the short silence.

“Tell him what?”

She frowned as if she thought he should know what she was talking about. But how could he when she was being vague? That just wasn’t fair. Finally, she sighed. “How you feel about him.” Oh, that again. Ever since he’d talked to her a few months about his feelings for Kokichi – he’d been confused and had thus naturally turned to her and she’d helped him figure out what those feelings were – she had told/suggested to him several times that he should tell Kokichi.

“I… I don’t know.” How was one even supposed to confess something like that? And would now really be a good time for such a thing?

“I think you should.”

“Should what?” Kokichi asked. He was awake! How much of that had he heard? Hopefully just that end part but with him it was very possible he’d heard the whole thing and was just pretending not to.

“Uh… nothing,” Fuyuhiko said. “How are you feeling? Don’t lie this time.”

Kokichi gave him a hurt look as he shifted to sit up a little more. His movements were careful and slow as if he was still in pain. “Ah but lying is my thing. Why would you want to take that away from me?”

“I don’t.” As annoying as his lies were, he wouldn’t be the same without them. “I just want to know how you’re doing.”

“Well, I’ve been rescued so I would say I’m doing pretty good. And I no longer feel like a spike’s been driven through my skull even if it does still hurt a bit, my ribs do too. So uh… I’m mostly okay now, no lie this time.” That wasn’t quite ‘okay’ by Fuyuhiko’s definition as he was still injured but as long as he was recovering it was fine. “Happy?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, now what is it Peko thinks you should do?” Of course he wouldn’t just drop it.

“I’ll let you two talk about this privately,” Peko said as she stood, looking far too pleased with herself. It’s like she’d known Kokichi would hear and thus insist Fuyuhiko tell him. “I’m glad you’re feeling better Kokichi.” She gave them both a formal bow before leaving the room.

“Oh.” A mischievous grin splayed across Kokichi’s face. “It’s that kind of important thing, huh? What is it? I want to know.”

“Uh…” Fuyuhiko basically had to tell him now, right? He’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t and if he lied Kokichi would know. He was a master liar so naturally he was also a master at knowing when others were lying too, making it nigh on impossible to get one past him. “Before I tell you that I… need you ask you something.”

Kokichi sighed in possibly exaggerated disappointment. “All right, ask. Make it quick though, I want to know the thing.”

“When we saved you, you said… that you didn’t think we would come for you. Was that… true?” Had he really believed that after all that time they spent together? After everything they’ve been through?

“Oh, that. Yeah, that’s the truth.”

“But… why? We’re friends, why would you think I wouldn’t come to save you?”

Kokichi shrugged. “You’re responsible for an entire gang, why would you risk them for me? But for some reason you did.” His emotionless expression morphed into a wide smile. “It seems you care about me more than I thought. I don’t know why but I’m eternally grateful, thank you. Now, I’ve been abnormally honest with you, it’s your turn to tell me the thing. It better be important or I’ll be super grumpy.” How quickly he changed emotions, or pretended to, never ceased to be impressive. But…

“What the fuck man?” Unable to sit any longer, Fuyuhiko stood. “Why the fuck did you think I didn’t care enough about you to at least save you from something like that?” He was almost offended. He’d save even an acquaintance from a situation like that; dragging outsiders into gang business was dirty and something he would never allow especially if they’d been dragged in because of him.

“I don’t know, I just…” Kokichi trailed off with a shrug. “It doesn’t matter though.” And he brushed it off with a smile and a lie.

“Well…” Fuyuhiko let out a heavy breath, letting go what he could of his anger. “I do care about you.” He took one of Kokichi’s hands in both of his. “I care about you a lot. Like… a lot, a lot, if you know what I mean.” Blushing, he looked to side towards the curtained window.

There was a short pause before Kokichi answered. “Oh, this is the thing Peko wanted you to tell me, huh?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s fine if you uh…”

Kokichi took his hand back so he could slide off the edge of the bed to stand in front of Fuyuhiko and… threw his arms around him in a gentle hug. And if that wasn’t strange enough, he smooched him on the cheek next. It was what Fuyuhiko wanted but not at all what he’d been expecting. So he just stood there frozen until it was over and Kokichi withdrew.

“So, does that mean you uh… feel the same?” he managed to whisper, looking towards the floor as his face burned more than ever.

“Maybe, I’ve just wanted to kiss you for a long time and now I finally have. You’re welcome to kiss me back if you like.”

“Oh uh…” Well, he had the invitation to do it so… He looked back up at Kokichi, smiling wide at him and standing very close. Before he could panic and second guess himself, Fuyuhiko kissed him, not on the cheek but on the mouth. And… Kokichi reciprocated.

It was very sweet and tender, not the passionate kiss he’d been imagining. But that was okay, he liked this better.

He moved his arms to encircle Kokichi and pulled him closer, pressing their bodies together. But Kokichi winched and pulled back with a small hiss of pain. Right, he’d been beaten up pretty bad and was still injured.

“Sorry!” Fuyuhiko let go of him, even taking a small step back. “You okay? You should probably lay down again.”

“I’m fine,” Kokichi lied. It was a good lie but no one recovered from broken ribs that fast.

“You’re not, please lie down.”

“Fine.” Kokichi groaned but gingerly sat on the bed again and then carefully lay down. “But… we can do more of that later, right?” And his mischievous smile was back again.

“Uh… yeah, we can.” Trying to pretend he wasn’t blushing again, Fuyuhiko sat back down in the chair. Hoping he wasn’t being weird or presumptuous, he took Kokichi’s hand again. After how worried he’d been over the last few days he just wanted to touch him. Kokichi didn’t seem to mind and even squeezed his hand tightly, betraying his nonchalant air.

“You can probably call Peko back in now if you want.”

With his other hand, Fuyuhiko pulled out his phone and sent her a quick text. A few seconds later the door opened as she reentered.

“Did you tell him?” she asked, closing the door behind herself.

“Yeah, I…”

“We kissed,” Kokichi interrupted.

“Oh, I’m happy for you Young Master.” She settled in the chair across from him again, laying her bamboo sword across her lap.

“Yeah, thanks, I guess.”

After that, they somehow managed to drift into normal conversation. It was almost just like usual except they were in a hospital, Kokichi was far less animate with his body language than usual, and the whole time he held Fuyuhiko’s hand tight. As if he too was desperate for contact.

Which, even if he was acting like he was fine, he’d had a rough few days. There was no way he was just okay after who even knew what he’d been through. He’d probably never open up about it, at least not fully, so Fuyuhiko would just would just have to be there for him as much as he could. And he would never let anyone hurt Kokichi like that ever again.

First

#Danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #Fuyukichi #Fuyuhiko/Kokichi #Fluff #First Kiss #Confession #Injuries

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redfoxwritesstuff · 6 years ago

Text

Poorly Hidden (Loki x GN OC)

Request from 11/15 by @giantfanboy to @loki-the-fox “Can you write a gender neutral reader x Loki where he buys them a present (Your choice) and tries to hide it from them but the reader ends up finding it and it’s super cute and fluffy. Hope this is enough.

I know I’m not the one you requested it of and it’s been a good LONG while and it’s not a reader insert but a GN OC but still, I hope you like it.

Rating/warnings: G, it’s a bit fluffy and some hinting toward the dynamics of their relationship.

Summary: When Alex's birthday comes around Loki is at a loss as to what to get them. When the God can conjure nearly anything into existence ever gift idea seems to lack meaning. When the right idea finally strikes, Loki makes quick work of hiding it before heading out to the store with plenty of time to make it back before Alex gets home from work. Alex however got off work early and was eager to head home.

Poorly Hidden

It was Alex’s birthday and he wanted to get them something special. Loki had the ability to bring into existence anything he desired for the one he loved and yet deciding on a gift was not so easy. Because he could give them anything in the world it made everything seem worthless when considered.

Loki paced his chambers as he though of what he could possibly bring back to Midgard for Alex. What gift would mean something? After what had to have been the millionth trip across the expanse of his floor his eyes caught sight of something.

Yes, this book would do just fine. Picking it up, Loki smiled. When he could bring any gift into existence he could only hope that they would find meaning in something that wasn’t created just for them. Rather an old book that Loki himself had owned for centuries would be more meaningful. Or at least Loki hoped as much.

Returning to the small home Alex was kind enough to share with him, Loki made quick work of hiding the book. They were still at work and so Loki felt safe to pull forward the heavy leather bound reference volumes that rarely saw any practical use. If he pulled all the books on the shelf out a few inches he could slip his book in and hide it behind them.

Taking in his handy work, Loki smiled. It looked good. Nobody would be able to tell there was anything amiss. It was as safe a hiding spot as any. This weekend he would give it to his love. With one last look back at the shelf, Loki left to shop for dinner. Alex wouldn’t be expecting him back and hopefully he could have a nice meal prepared for them by the time they were together again.

“See you tomorrow!” Alex called out to the rest of the cafe employees before rushing out the door. Luck of the draw meant when things got slow someone got to leave early and today was their lucky day.

The walk home was quick and everything about the day felt good. True, Loki wasn’t due back for a few more days but with a birthday coming up one could allow themselves to be hopeful to spend the day together. The sun on their face and hope in their heart made everything feel light today. It was a good day.

Alex unlocked the door and did a little dance into the living room. It was childish but damn everything about today felt good so why the hell not? Well, a good reason not to would be because of how uncoordinated they are on their best days.

With a foot snagged under the rug, Alex went tumbling forward and slammed into the bookshelf. “Fuck that hurt.”

Pushing up off the bookshelf, something didn’t feel right. Most of the row of books that they had smacked into pushed back except a few. It looked a lot like something was tucked behind some of the books.

Curiosity was a funny thing that resulted what books hadn’t fallen to the ground being pulled out, making a bigger mess that they could practically hear Loki complaining about in their head. Behind them Alex found a black leather bound book with gilded letters that they surely hadn’t seen before.

“It must be Loki’s.” The words were soft in the silence as Alex ran their fingers over the words on the cover. “’A History of Asgard’ huh?”

It was hard to say how long Alex had curled up in the chair, nose tucked into the book. Hopefully Loki wouldn’t mind that they had read the book. It wasn’t intentional, really. They just opened up to see what the pages looked like and well, one thing led to another.

Alex about jumped out of their skin with a yelp when the front door opened. The book feel from startled hands and landed on the floor with a solid thud that seemed to echo through the house. Perhaps that was a exaggeration caused by guilt.

“Why do you have that?” Loki all but demanded in a voice that sounded colder than ice. Oh shit was all Alex could think at first as they rushed to pluck what was clearly Loki’s book off the ground.

“Oh! Welcome home.” They hoped that Loki would forgive their snooping. He was always so touchy about his things, protective of his secrets and privacy. “I didn’t mean to snoop.”

“You didn’t intend to and yet…” One eyebrow was raised as Loki looked at his little human companion questioningly.

“Ah! Your book.” Alex was quick to cross the room with the book held out in front of them. “Sorry again.”

Rather than take the book however, Loki simply stepped further into the room and finally closed the door behind him, setting the few bags of shopping on the ground. He took in the room, the mess of books on the floor. “What happened?”

“I tripped?” Alex tried not to let the flush burn their face but probably failed. It was hard not to, Loki was so graceful and elegant in his movements and Alex was just… Alex. How they ended up together was one of the world’s greatest mysteries.

“And sent all our books crashing to the ground?” Loki finished as Alex looked sheepish. Whenever Loki would refer to something as belonging to the both of them butterflies would go crazy in their stomach.

Alex was still dumbly holding out the leather bound book when Loki asked him, “What is today?”

“The 12th?” It was such a random question.

“If I’m not mistaken it is more than just the 12th of the month.” Loki looked back at Alex with a soft smile. This isn’t how he had planned it to go. He’d wanted to have the book wrapped and a special evening planned.

“My birthday?” Alex didn’t even know Loki had known when it was.

Reaching out with a firm hand Loki pushed the book toward Alex. That was a confusing turn of events. Loki walked around them and sat down on the couch, reaching out to Alex in invitation to join him. Who was he to disobey?

“I intended the book to be a gift for you, Alex. I am aware that I am more than a little closed off. I do not let people in nor do I freely give of myself. As you’ve surely noticed already, this book is a history of Asgard, of the land I knew as my home before.” Loki swallowed thickly, thinking but not saying what they both know. He was not Asgardian.

“It is still your home.” Alex pressed even as they clutched the book to their chest. Loki was giving them this- his history. A thing he’d rarely speak of, stories he’d rarely offer of his people when asked.

“No.” Loki shook his head with a soft smile on his face. Reaching out with a gentle touch, he rested his hand on Alex’s arm. “This is my home. This is where I belong for so long as you tolerate me.”

Alex smiled as their heart felt full. Tears gathered in their eyes but they blinked them away. “Thank you.”

“My home is with you.” Loki stated simply as he wrapped Alex up in his arms and held the one he loved close. It wasn’t how he intended to give them their birthday gift but it was clear he had salvaged the situation. The gift meant as much to Alex as giving it had meant to Loki. That was what mattered most.

Tag list: @bambamwolf87, @dangertoozmanykids101, @alexakeyloveloki, @winterisakiller, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @theoneanna

#loki x oc #loki x original character #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki (marvel)

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impossible-ancient · 6 years ago

Photo

Autumn Hunt (Title name is subject to change)

A Far Cry 5 fan fiction with Staci Pratt getting used to living in Jacob’s house. The images are what I see a real life Pratt looking like.

{2239} words

-----Chapter One-----

“Don’t Lose”

Read Chapter 2

The morning bugle blares over the intercoms in the corridors of Jacob’s Veteran Center. It’s the “Drill Call” muffled behind the wooden door. A sleepy and cranky Deputy Pratt sits up in his full-sized bed covered in with a puffy green and white comforter. He looks around with a hunched back and closed eyes. A member of Eden’s Gate opens the door with a loud clicking of the handle, and then pushes it open.

“Hey,” the man with dark curly hair says, “when you hear that horn, it’s time to get up!”

The young deputy slowly rises to his feet and lets out a yawn. His bare feet patter across the cold tiled floors, which only have a few rugs covering them. He walks over to the blinding sunlight coming from the giant window next to his bed. He leans against its frame and notices a delivery truck parked outside. The sunlight has a nice heat to it in that cool room, resting on his face and chest.

Pratt takes a shower, even though he didn’t quite like that super organic mountain pine soap that Jacob purchased for every resident. The faucets were brand new, and so were the room’s furniture. Everything in the building looks so brand new, for a home that looks so raggedy and beat up on the outside. Pratt wraps a towel around his waist, wipes the fog from the mirror, and looks at his face. He leans in analyzing the bruised cut on his nose. He searches around for a medic kit but finds nothing but tissues and toothpaste. The sound of the bugle goes off again faintly though the washroom wall. Pratt opens the washroom door, leaving the steamed fog from the hot shower, and comes back into the cold room. He dresses himself in his Hope Country Police uniform as he fastens his pants and buckle. But, he begins to hear a low voice talking to someone else behind the door. Pratt rushes to pull his shirt over his head, but that old green thing oddly smells like fresh washing detergent. He actually begins to repeatedly smell the shirt. But there is a sudden clacking at the doorknob, and it opens.

“Hey,” Jacob shouts before lowering his voice, “be ready to go in five minutes.”

“Don’t you people knock,” the deputy shouts with a face of anger, and quickly pulls his shirt down over his torso, “Geez!”

Jacob mocks his need for privacy, and closes the door, with his heavy boots beginning to walk away. Pratt decides to wear the baggy plaid red shirt that Jacob gave him, instead, as to avoid unwanted attention from any of Eden’s Gate’s members. He had already brushed his teeth in the shower, so he quickly combs his medium-length dark hair and heads downstairs in a haste. He jogs loudly down wooden steps and greets a few of the guards, with one of them returning a short smile. The deputy sees Jacob standing outside just before the gateway of the property. He walks up to the big red-headed man and stands next to him and says “Good morning…sir!” He can smell the heavy mixture of aftershave with that little bit of the first day’s cigar on his breath and clothes. Jacob looks down at him by the corner of his eye and tells him, “get out there with the rest of em’!” Pratt joins a small group of ten, mostly men and a few women. He’s confused as to what to expect but recognizes the should-to-shoulder lineup as a sort of morning exercise drill. And, Jacobs comes walking toward the group that stands a little ways past the gateway.

“Ten-hut! Alright troops, listen up,” he shouts with his hands folded behind his back, “you are to run down this driveway until you get to the road. You will pick up an orange flag with a number on it. Then, you’re gonna run back to the gate over here, and show me your flag.”

Pratt understands and doesn’t think too much about the rules.

“There are ten of you…there are nine flags,” Jacob continues, and Pratt widens his eyes in fear, “whoever doesn’t return with a flag gets shot. Whoever gets here last gets shot. If ya cheat…ya get shot.”

Pratt looks around and is already the last to the starting line. Jacob begins counting and the others take their running positions.

“One,” Jacob shouts. The popping sound of a pistol goes off.

Pratt quickly looks back but then begins to run. Apparently, Jacob doesn’t count to three. He always gives his troops the element of surprise. A running Pratt picks up speed in thumping black heavy shoes, but he just can’t catch up to all of the others. Even the man a little ways down left a trail of dust behind him, and he appeared to be pushing 60. Pratt runs his fastest and pushes himself into a sprint. But he sees that a few of the troopers had grabbed a flag and are already headed back towards the Veteran Center. He begins to pant and still can’t catch up to any of them. Finally, the post in the ground holding the flags becomes more visible. A short bald woman is the last back, and she rushes past him, smirks, and says, “better hurry up,” as she huffs and puffs nearing exhaustion. Pratt stops at the post and squats down, catching his breath, sweat dripping from his soaked hair. Something clicks in his mind as he turns around; he’s the last one left. He looks back at the post…it has no more flags.

“Oh crap,” he says and he begins to pick up speed again, running back towards the house.

The bald woman can be seen turning back to look at Pratt, and she waves as a signal for him to hurry. Pratt rushes as fast as he can. He’s this close to passing out flat on the gravel. She reaches the finish line by Jacob, Pratt pushes himself even more as he wipes the sweat from burning his eyes.

“Oh my God I’m gonna die,” he thinks to himself.

The others are all staring at him. Jacob comes forward holding a shotgun and stares at the young deputy. Pratt’s heart drops.

“Oh God! Oh God,” Pratt shouts and pleads, “wait! Wait! Wait!”

He begins to back away until he pins himself to the gate. The troops all stand to the side, some hiding their snickers. Jacob cocks the shotgun with a loud clank, and he aims it two feet away from Pratt’s chest. The deputy looks away and begins wheezing, shouting, and falling into a panic attack. But then Pratt closes his eyes and begins counting upwards in a whisper. Jacob lowers the weapon and it takes twenty seconds for Pratt to realize that the big man is just standing there with a grin on his face.

“Didn’t I tell you that the last one back gets shot,” Jacob reminds him.

“Yes Sir!”

“Ya ain’t got a flag either!”

“I’m sorry Sir. I tried my best. Please don’t kill me!”

Jacob looks the young deputy in the eyes and can see the fear in them.

“Get inside. Breakfast is ready,” Jacob tells him. The troopers walk back into the Center.

A few minutes have passed since the most terrifying and unexpected foot race had occurred. Pratt walks down a hallway and into a dining area similar to a school cafeteria. He’s met with gazing eyes and chuckles. He feels like the school nerd being ready to get picked on. He walks past the tables and gets into a long line for the buffet. The eggs, bacon, cheese omelets, and wheat cereal didn’t look half bad.

“Get over here Peaches!”

Pratt turns around and sees the back of Jacob’s head walking back down the hall. The deputy begins to follow him. He follows Jacob distantly and hears him begin talking about ignoring the “immature knuckleheads” making fun. Pratt asks why he didn’t get killed after the race that took place earlier. It obviously wasn’t the wisest decision to remind the veteran, but Pratt sometimes blurts out his thoughts.

“Eh, I was just playin’ around with ya,” Jacob replies with a worrisome sense of humor.

A guard opens a heavy thick, wooden door for Jacob, who turns around to welcome Pratt into the room.

“I want you to sit with us,” Jacob tells Pratt, still shaking with fear of even being in the building.

The sweet scent of roasted duck, steak sirloin, and mashed potatoes and gravy, rush right to Pratt’s little nose. He sees it sitting on ceramic plates, on top of a black table runner and an engraved Mahogany wooden dining table. That food smelled so good that Pratt had to close his eyes and inhale. It began reminding him of his cousin’s Thanksgiving feasts. He finally awakens from his trance and slowly approaches the table.

“What can I do for you, Sir,” Pratt asks subserviently, avoiding long eye contact with any of the other few people seated at the same table. Jacob walks over to the table and sees the shy deputy staring at the food on the table.

“Have a seat,” Jacob says.

Pratt looks around in confusion and the room grows quiet. Everyone stares at him including Jacob. He finally inches his way over to a seat on the other side of the table, far from the unmasked Chosen troops. He begins to seat himself in one of the large chairs.

“Eh, nope!”

Pratt hops back up and sits where Jacob points his finger.

“I’m so, so sorry, Sir! I…I…uh,” Pratt begins to say in a panic.

“Relax Peaches, I ain’t gonna kill ya. Just relax!”

Moments later, Pratt sees that everyone at the large dining hall table is chowing down on delicious food. He looks around a room he’s never seen before, even though it’s only his second morning here: A very rugged hunting trophy room with the floor and walls covered in dark oak wood paneling, and small chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, encrusted with bronze Edison bulbs. Pratt looks up from an empty plate in front of him and hesitates to speak to Jacob. A man reaches over Pratt’s shoulder and sets down a large plate covered in roasted duck, a few thick slices of medium-well cooked steak sirloin, and a side of mashed potatoes and gravy. It’s even decorated with oregano around the trimming. Pratt assumed that Jacob brought him here either to be killed, or to sit and watch the others eat, while he starved in torment. He was wrong. And, his stomach began to growl at the sight of the scrumptious plate, and the sweet scent of the gravy. Pratt picks up a fork and digs into the plate, but still feeling very on-edge. He always expects something awful is going to happen sooner or later.

“Ya ever had steak for breakfast,” Jacob jokes in question to everyone, “but, I mean why not though.”

Pratt looks back up at Jacob’s face and sees that he’s talking with someone at the table. This man he’s talking to looks a little more well-kept than the others. His beard is well-trimmed and he wears a dark blue shirt under a faded dark vest. He jokes around with Jacob and the others at the table converse quietly too. Pratt raises his hand as if he has a question in class for his grade school teacher. Both bearded men divert their attention to him. Jacob nods his head.

“Can I get one of those pieces of bread,” Pratt asks.

Jacob calls out for their server to get more bread, as well as coffee for everyone at the table.

“Ya like Bold Brew or Regular,” Jacob asks.

The deputy has no idea what that even means, so he just chooses Bold Brew, to try something new.

“Who the hell is he,” the bearded man asks Jacob in a soft voice, peering over at Pratt.

The deputy eats more of the food on his plate. He wishes that it wouldn’t taste so good, because now he has an excuse to not want to leave anymore. Whoever made this recipe knew exactly what they were doing. The chef was definitely one of the best. The food’s texture, the rich flavor, the savory smell; everything was just right.

“Nice shirt,” the bearded man tells Pratt. The bearded man’s cell phone rings and after he glances at it, he says a few more words to Jacob and gets up from the table. He pushes in the chair and smiles as he looks around. It was such a silly grin made to make you want to laugh. Everyone smiled back at him. Pratt noticed that even Jacob was about to smile, but it was just a little one.

“I’m out fellas,” the bearded man says as he shoved his flailing arms into his long coat and pulls the sunglasses over his eyes, walking out of the door. And, as soon as Jacob begins speaking again, that man hastens back in and grabs the keys he left, as well as shoving one last piece of bread down his throat, before heading out the doorway.

“Finish your plate, Peaches,” Jacob says, “we’re all going on a little field trip today.”

As long as it didn’t involve running or getting killed, he was okay with that.

Read Chapter 2

#Get over here Peaches!#Nice Shirt #Best breakfast ever #Far Cry 5 Pratt #Deputy Pratt #Staci Pratt #Far Cry 5 Jacob #Jacob Seed #far cry 5 jacob seed #Far Cry John #John Seed #Far Cry John Seed #Far Cry 5 #far cry fanfiction #Far Cry Fan #Edens Gate

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necromancerluna · 7 years ago

Note

A one shot of Rey being captured post TLJ and being presented to the new Supreme Leader. They argue and she calls him Kylo instead of Ben and he just breaks. Hearing her call him that is what turns him towards redemption.

A/N: Oh, my heart! I hope you like it!!! Also, I am sorry it took solong! Not betaed or edited but here is this sad and happy prompt!

Thanks for the prompt!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She knew that had been a mistake. She got too cocky- what had shebeen thinking? She sent Poe and Finn off with the ship- saying shewould join them later. She would be no good to the resistance dead.Damn, Poe was right. They were on this outer rim planet recruitingmen and women to help them fight, there must have been a mole in theResistance for when they had arrive, with only Poe, Finn and ahandful of fighters, stormtroopers came from the thick brush and fromthe small houses. They were ambushed! She ignited her new saber,flourishing a crackling purple hue on both ends and swung it like herstaff.

One of them yelled, “The Jedi is to be unharmed and captured atall costs, the others can be killed on site! Fire at will!”

With a barrage of blaster bolts, she began deflecting them away fromtheir party and retreated to their X-Wings and the Falcon. Shecounted only 15 or so troopers. Nothing she couldn’t handle.

“Poe, Finn, go!” she shouted as two fighters on their team wereshot down with shrieks of pain.

“No, Rey, you need to come back with us, you’re no good to theResistance dead!” Poe shouted over the piercing cries of theblasters and the modulated shouts of troopers falling.

“Just go!” she commanded and force shoved them away, pivoting onher feet to lead away from them. As she suspected the troopersfollowed her into the lush brush of the forests. That’s when more ofthem appeared from behind thick tree trunks and bush. She wassurrounded in minutes. They skimmed her shoulder and thighs withbolts that tingled. One got her non dominate arm, she hissed andglanced at it briefly but snarled when it had only stung and bruisedbut sent shock waves throughout her arm that numbed her and renderedthe limb useless. They had set it to stun, but the next one that gother saber wielding shoulder actually hurt. She could smell iron andozone- her saber crackling as it sizzled metal, flesh, hair and plantlife. She always hated them smell, but she needed to fight. One frombehind managed to swing a punch and break her nose.

Now with the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth, she spat andswung around for one more final blow to the Stormtrooper in front ofher. They were almost like the Hydra that she had read about in aholobook, take one head off, three more come back. She gave herbattle cry, lungs screaming and muscles tearing from effort. But shewas overwhelmed- the back of a blaster to her head and as her worldwent black she thought to herself, ‘at least I went down with afight.’

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When she came to she was on a bed, oh good, a nightmare. She pulledthe covers over her shoulders and snuggled into the pillow. With acontent sigh, she inhaled deeply- her sleepy smile and shut eyesmorphed into eyes the size of plates and an agape mouth in a silentgasp. Her pillow smelled like leather and musky rain- she had smelledthis once before. Close to Ben and in their Force Bond sessions. Herheart sank deep within her core- she had been ignoring his gingercaresses to their bond, the hole in her heart growing bigger eachtime she had. The cotton sheet beneath her face was charcoal gray,she had sheets and a black fleece blanket on her. She was all patchedup and felt strangely energized. She lifted her arms, shocked to feelthe left one again.

A medical droid popped out of one of the gray durasteel wall panels.She eyes it, moving away from it as it said, “Please hold still, Iam just here to check your vitals.” it looked like a trash can, itwas square and black and sliver. It held out a robotic hand from oneof the many side compartment doors it had. “Hand please.”

Rey reluctantly gave it, because she knew that for all he had done.Ben would never hurt her. The droid seemed to tell her that she hadrecovered well and that someone would be sent for her. He motioned atround high top table with two tall chairs just outside the bedroom.She nodded to him- no point getting mad at a droid and waited for itto leave. Her shoulders slumped as she glanced around the queen sizedbed, the night stand with barely anything on it, the window showingspace and the pinpricks of stars and planets. There was a rug beneathher feet and she wondered what it would have been like to see herbare feet touch this rug instead of her boots. She went to theFresher that was white and pristine, grabbed the white towel andwashed herself up a bit before changing into the soft and breathableblack and gray shirt, pants, robe and belt. Back into her boots shestared at her hazel eyes in the mirror, then down to a razor, shavingdream and tooth brush by the sink.

She shook her head, she had thought about her tooth brush beingthere- and how she might have scolded him for leaving his razor outor facial hair in the sink. The kind of domestic things she heardmarried women scoff to each other on worlds where people livedoutside of this war. She saw her face again and wondered how itwould look flushed and hair ruffled from love making in which theywould have cleansed themselves in that shower she glanced at beforeturning back to await her escort. Stormtroppers had shown up, sheallowed herself to be shackled and taken to a throne room.

She had held her head high and defiant as always, even though shewished to cast her eyes to the floor and cry. He was so close, theirbond warming as if it had been frozen this past year. Raising it’shead like a bud opening for the sun. The throne room on The Supremacychanged. It was covered in art and forms of the Prime Jedi. Therewere no guards, but billowing curtains of red seemed to lazily tossin the air conditioning. The throne was on a inclined hill and it wasshaped more medieval, burn marks- more than likely carved by hissaber. The saber that was by his side, clipped onto the belt of thereluctant king. His fist under his high cheekbones, his legs spreadand back slacked. He saw her enter, his face drawn from bored toindifferent although his dark honey eyes seemed to ignite like thatsaber. His red hot saber.

“Leave.” he gestured his hand in a quick jerk to theStormtroppers who said nothing as they turned from their compliantprisoner.

With the hiss of the doors behind her, she stared at the billowingsheer curtains. She imagined they would be on the posts of their bed,his fingers pulling them aside to join her in their bed. Her breathhitched then and so did his. He must have felt that too, his eyessearched her first, his lips slowly parting to speak. But he didn’this eyes still roaming her. He lunged like an animal, strode to her,a save of his hands and her shackles clattered to the floor, echoing.She grabbed at his neck and hair, he grabbed her waist and theycollided like a super nova. Their bond the full bloom of a deep darkred red rose. Her heart was singing with him, an alto and a baritonemelody and harmony. She was on her toes and he was bent to anglehimself. They switched sides often, their tongues gliding across lipsand tongue. They couldn’t tell when one ended and the other began.But something stuck the flower. He parted and whispered on her lips,“I knew you would turn, I know you would be by my side to make anew Order.”

She shoved him away, his form stumbled back a pace. “No, Ben, I amnot here to rule the galaxy, I’m here so we can find somethingbetter!” She pointed to the Prime Jedi art on the walls. “Youeven believe it to be true, turn from here and come with me- Maybenot to the resistance right away-.” she paused, he still didn’tlook healthy, his five o'clock shadow showing, his eyes misting. Theynarrowed in rage. She felt their bond, a tattered rose, the petalsfalling with each words they said to each other.

“They brainwashed you, you’ve been ignoring our bond.” his voicecracked when he continued with a louder voice, “OUR BOND, let meguess- they have been pushing Dameron on you? Wouldn’t that belovely, the surrogate son of my dead mother and the hero Jedi,together to spark fires across the universe.” he almost spat. Greenbegan to ooze from the poor beaten rose.

But Rey froze, she gasped, “No Ben, Leia survived, your mothersurvived! She hasn’t lost hope in you!” Rey hadn’t noticed how farthey had separated, but Ben never left her level on the floor. Sheadvanced to him. “Like Obi Wan Kenobi, you’re her only Hope!”

A chord was struck, his eyes were as wild as their fight a year agoin this very room. He shook his head and backed away from her, pacedaround, his rage rolling off him like waves. Those waves making morepetals fall. “No, they killed her, they killed my mother.” Heshook his head, “But, if you’re telling me the truth…” hepauses and looks at her, his head and eyes clearing from the stormthat had been raging, then they looked frightened, “I almost killedher on…” he shook his head, “No, you’re trying to confuse me!”

“Ben, your mother loves you, she sruvived and she will help usdisappear, I have the sacred texts-.”

“No! No more lies.” he grabbed his head, “Lies, all my life,lies and now you’re lying to me!”

A chord struck, they were a cacophony now, no longer a harmony. Shegritted her teeth and gave her war cry as she swung a punch. “Kylo,listen to me and clear your mind!” She stormed away. That was untilthe rose that was their bond rotten down to the ground, just like hisfigure from the corner of her eye. He was paler than the moon, hiseyes glazed as he sunk to his knees. “Kylo?” she hissed at him,“Get up and……..”

“Kylo? You called me Ben- that’s my…” he muttered, tearsfalling down his cheeks. “My name is Ben.”

She panicked, their bond was weak, she wanted to feel him again. Shegrabbed desperately at the dirt in her mind’s eyes. “I hate KyloRen, Luke Skywalker should have never made him- but the past is done,there is nothing that can be done now!” She slid on her knees intohis form. She grabbed his hands in hers and ducked her head so theireyes met. “Kylo Ren must die, he is the past, kill him Ben Solo.”She saw the war in his blank eyes. “BEN SOLO,” she called, hervoice vibrating through the room, “He’s the man I love, he’s theson of Han Solo and Leia Organa, he’s the boy who loved hiscalligraphy set and his history books, Ben Solo is the man I want atmy side from this day to the last of my days!” The tears werestreaming down her face as she took his face in her hands. In hermind, her tears were watering the ground where the rose had fallen.Their foreheads touched and Ben screamed a war cry of his own. Alight that started out small, burst like sunlight. They were pantingand Rey looked into his eyes, they were a dark honey, but they wereset in their ways. “Ben?”

“Yes Rey?” he said, his voice low and sweet. Ben Solo’s voice.

“Is he dead?” She asked.

“Yes.” He said, his hand under her elbows, she smiled with himand nodded as he said. “And so too will the first order.” Heoffered his hand to her after shedding his gloves. She took it andthey ran. In their mind’s eyes, the sunlight from his victorysprouted a small bud that began to bloom into a red red rose. Theyran to the escape pod, sabotaging the ships and orders as they went.He issued his last orders to release the Stormtroppers and cancel theprogram. They brought it down from the inside and caused enough chaosfor them to leave. They ran, hand-in-hand. The New Order was about tobe in bloom.

#reylo #reylo fanfic #reylo trash #cmbacon78

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fanscrit · 7 years ago

Text

To the Rescue

Fandom: Overwatch Pairing: Mchanzo Rating: Teen and Up Prompt: Superhero AU (Day 2) Warning: Angst

A/N: Sorry, it’s what I do best. Sorry for being late

Since he was a small child, Jesse McCree loved to watch the Gibraltar news reports of the superheroes going out to save the day. Seeing his favorite heroes like Striker 76, Lionheart, and Angel go out into battle to save innocent lives was inspiring. He dreamed of one day getting the chance to fight side by side with them, but he knew it would never be. You had to have powers, and he was nothing like them. Didn’t quench the fire burning in him to do good, though.

Jesse joined the police force and put his shooting skills to the test. He made first response and excelled. No one could match Jesse when it came to the gun. He never missed if he could see you. Some of the guys on the force joked that he was a Super himself. They even gave him his own name: Deadeye.

Jesse complained and said it sounded more like a crook than a hero. Secretly, he loved it. Captain Reyes agreed, and whenever he used the dispatch, his boss never failed to joke around about it either. Here, he felt at home. He truly felt like he was where he needed to be… but something was missing. He couldn’t understand what it was.

Half a year into his time on first response, he was accustomed the ins and outs of Gibraltar. The dispatch crackled as the word came out.

“We have a robbery on 6th and Hanamura Avenue, Payload Industries. All patrols, converge on the site. I repeat…” Jesse drowned out the sound of Orisa dispatch interface. Putting the lights on so he could avoid traffic, Jesse made for the destination.

When he arrived, there were two visible figures among what appeared to be hostages. One was a Hispanic woman in a purple jacket and leggings. He’d read up on her, Sombra was an elite hacker, and with her powers she could control anyone. The other man was new, though. Asian, by the look of it, with black hair, rugged features, blue attire with an asymmetrical chest cut, and a bow.

Jesse looked to his hostage negotiator, Lucio, who looked like he was about at wits end. The poor thing was new, just into his second week, and while he was good in normal circumstances, Supers were a whole other breed. This was his first time with them too. Jesse patted him on the back.

“What’s going on here, partner?” Jesse quipped. Lucio looked close to tears when he turned to face Jesse.

“Deadeye, she’s impossible! I’ve tried everything, and she just tosses it around and leaves me all tongue tied. Nearest Super is 20 min away, but she’s gonna set her hound on them in the next 10. I don’t like it,” the man whined.

“Now I don’t think Hana would like hearing about you getting tongue tied by another woman,” Jesse joked, “so let’s see if we can wrap this up before time’s up.”

Lucio’s dark skin grew heated, “Yeah, okay. There’s a roof entrance accessible by ladder, you can sneak in and get them that way.”

“Gotcha, keep Sombra busy while I head in. If I can get rid of the muscle, we should be fine,” Jesse took off in the direction of the building, avoiding the glass walls on the second floor.

Jesse got in easily enough. The building was three floors high, so he needed to head to the stairs and wait for the signal from Lucio. He saw terrified employees on his way through, innocent people waiting to be saved. All he could do was give them a fighting chance till a Super would show up.

He made it to the stairway door and tested the knob. It was unlocked, good. He needed it to be accessible to make this work. Jesse took a deep breath and turned the handle, gun in hand. He had not been expecting someone on the other side, but within seconds, a bow notched with an arrow was pointed in his face.

“Hey partner, now let’s just take a minute to think about what we’re…” Jesse’s words trailed as he took in the intricate Dragon tattoo on the man’s exposed left arm.

“What is your business here?” The strong Eastern accent made Jesse focus on the man in front of him again. He stared the man down, watching his stern, solid gaze for weakness.

“I reckon I take issue with that question,” Jesse laughed, “seeing as how you’re the one not meant to be here.”

The archer’s eye twitched in annoyance, “I will play no games with a cop. State your business or die.”

“But we were getting to know each other so well,” Jesse poked, hoping for a response.

“No we were not.”

“But we could, if you wanted,” Jesse gave the man a winning smile. He watched the man’s brow furrow for a momemt.

Jesse coughed, “Let’s start with names. The name’s… uhhh… well most just call me Deadeye.”

The eyes narrowed, as if looking for a trick. After a tense moment, the reply came.

“Stormbow.”

“Well, sounds nice and tough if you ask me,” Jesse eyed the tattoo again, “What’s with that on your arm?”

“Why do you care?” Stormbow questioned. He was getting suspicious. His gaze turned to a clock on the wall. He needed to hold out for a few more moments. He needed a bold move.

He relaxed his grip on his gun and pocketed it in his holster. He held his hands up a took a step forward. Stormbow backed into the wall.

“Come on, I’m sure your girlfriend down there is nice, but a friend couldn’t kill ya, right?” Jesse mused.

“She is… we a have strictly professional relationship,” the man corrected. Jesse would deny that his heart did a flip when he heard that. He had assumed they were a power couple. It wasn’t uncommon. Why was he so happy to hear that…?

Jesse through caution to the wind and took a few more steps until he was right in front of Stormbow, “Well maybe we can have one a little more… off the books?”

Stormbow turned a shade of red that was completed confusing to Jesse until he went over what he’d said. His cheeks burned as he tried to back track his words.

“I mean, not like that! Not that there’s anything wrong with that at all, I mean I just don’t know you well enough! You’re probably a great guy and all but I just got away from a bad break up and I’m in no position to-”

“Storm, we need to go, did you get…” the voice, belonging to none other than Sombra, trailed as it looked up at Jesse. Immediately, her eyes went wide and she threw up her hands, glowing a dark purple.

Jesse suddenly found himself on the floor in a crumpled mess. He couldn’t move his limbs at all. Sombra must have hacked him! He struggled to move but failed again and again.

“I’ve got you in my sights!” The call denoted the arrival of Striker 76. Stormbow and Sombra whipped around and the man himself was at the door to the second floor steps. Sombra cursed.

“Mission failed, we need to go. Say goodbye to you friend,” she snarled as she typed into the holopads she created.

“He is no friend of mine,” Stormbow snapped. He did, however, look back at Jesse with a look of confusion.

“Whatever, translocating,” and with that they disappeared. Seconds later, Strike 76 appeared. Jesse craned his neck to look up at him

“Does this wear off or am I stuck like this?”

Jesse started running into the pair all over the place. And each time, he would run into Stormbow again and again. He had to admit it was something he looked forward to. Jesse was man enough to admit he was smitten with the man. Just a crush, though, nothing more. It wasn’t like anything was gonna come out of it.

Each time they talked, he learned a little more about the man. Like that he loved seafood and cheese, that he had recently discovered jazz and was quite fond of it, and that he’d been trained in archery since he was a child. Each time, Jesse fell for Stormbow harder and harder.

It got to the point that at the last time they had a run in, Jesse had yelled dinner reservations at the archer as he sped away. He’d received no confirmation about if Stormbow would even be there, but he made the reservations anyways. His friend’s mother, Ana Amari, owned a four star Egyptian cuisine restaurant that he convinced her to get them a table at instead of waiting weeks for the reservation.

Jesse made the reservation under Deadeye since he hadn’t given Stormbow his actual name. He was smitten, not an idiot; he still had his gun on him. It was the longest hour of his life. So many feelings went through him, from anxiety to fear, disappointment to embarrassment.

When we was all but ready to call it a night with he head in his hands, Jesse heard a chair being pulled back. He looked up to see the refined archer in all his formal attire. Jesse had never been a man to have a particular interest in a man in a suit, but the one before him truly made him reconsider it.

“You came…” Jesse was not a fan of how surprised and afraid he sounded in that moment.

“You made it sound so important, I decided to see what this was about,” Stormbow quipped back. The familiar banter helped ease Jesse’s nerves.

“Well, I guess you could say that, but it’s not really-”

“Ah, so I was right then. Good,” The Asian pulled a wicked smile and Jesse’s face turned beet red, “So Deadeye, tell me-”

“Actually, it’s Jesse,” he hadn’t meant to go there, but some part of him wanted this to feel real and Deadeye was a joke. Stormbow laughed.

“Hanzo. So Jesse, tell me,” his ears burned and the sound of his name coming from Stor- from Hanzo. He could get drunk off the sound alone, “what is it that you want? Info on my partner? Her powers? My cooperation in a takedown on her?”

Jesse’s eyes widened, “No, no, nothing like that. I just wanted to get to know you a little better… see where things go. I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression from what I was looking for here.”

Hanzo didn’t move, didn’t speak. Thankfully, the waitress saved him from embarrassing himself further by ordering wine and some appetizers. When she left, he turned back to Hanzo to see a face of stone. Jesse panicked inside. What had he done? Was this a mistake? Maybe he should go?

“I can leave if you-” he made to rise and leave the building but Hanzo stopped him with this hand.

“I am not opposed to getting to know you,” he started.

“Good,” Jesse breathed, taking his seat again, “cause I wanna know all about you.”

They spoke on many things. Hanzo would laugh when he told a joke, and Jesse would let Hanzo try what he ordered since Hanzo wasn’t as familiar with Egyptian food.

Halfway through, a storm kicked up and Hanzo excused himself to the bathroom. As soon as Hanzo turned the corner, Jesse broke out in a sweat. He was hooked. Everything about Hanzo made him desire the man more and more. He was obsessed. He wanted the chance to really know who he was.

After several minutes had passed, Jesse got up himself and went to check the bathroom to make sure Hanzo was okay. When he found the restroom to be empty, Jesse became immediately concerned. He found Ana in the kitchen and asked if she had seen anything. She shook her head and said to check the upstairs hall before the doorway too the roof.

Jesse hopped up toward the roof and came to the door. He put his ear to the door and listened for words. Maybe Hanzo was making a long phone call, or maybe he was just as nervous as Jesse was. He could pick up distant yelling.

“What are you doing,?” It was Sombra… Jesse’s heart skipped a beat in panic.

“I never wanted this! I did not ask to be here with him,” It was Hanzo, and what he was saying… Jesse was close to tears. He really was stupid if he thought this would work.

He kicked the door in and pointed his gun at Stormbow, “Sorry, didn’t realize I was that bad of a date.”

“Jesse…” Stormbow took a step forward but Jesse fired a warning shot into the ground in front of him.

“Don’t you dare!!” He lost it, “so what was it, huh? Bad conversation, poor food, or was I just a side piece till the main course came back around?”

“Jesse, please, let me-” the archer tried again, but another warning shot fired closer to him.

“It was from the start, right? All the talking and back and forth was a lie, right?” Jesse couldn’t tell if it his blurred vision was from the rain or the tears, but his heart snapping in two definitely felt like it was the tears.

Sombra laughed, “What, you thought you would make him fall in love with you, make him leave everything behind to be with you and you both would love in peace? How small minded. Stormbow, kill him and let’s go. I’ve had enough of this.”

“No one moved, Jesse pointed his gun at Stormbow’s head, waiting for him to make a move. Slowly, he notched an arrow onto his bow.

"Jesse, please understand…”

“Understand what, that you made a fool of me? Did you get a good laugh? Did it make you feel like you were a man? I’m done talking, I don’t wanna hear anything you got to say. You make me sick,” with each word, Jesse’s voice began to break. He was all but sobbing. He was worth less than nothing foretting the enemy use him like this. He was more angry with himself than anyone else.

Stormbow didn’t make a move to shoot. He turned to Sombra, “No.”

Sombra whipped around at him, “What was that?”

“I refuse. I will not take his life, I will not make the same mistake twice. We will go and-”

“No, you will do as I say and get rid of him, he knows too much. My operation will not fall because of some cliche romance,” Sombra snapped.

“I said-”

“No I SAID he dies!” Sombra ensnared Jesse in her hack. The cop glowed a sickly purple as he dropped his gun to the floor. He felt as if he had to retch.

Stormbow made as if to shoot Sombra, but she was one step ahead of him. She pulled her own gun from her side and aimed at Jesse. Stormbow hesitated.

“Nope, not gonna happen,” Sombra cackled. She made Jesse wall to the end of the building. He stood, overlooking the busy street below.

“Now, let’s have some fun, since you don’t seem to understand who’s in charge here." She released Jesse from her control. He turned to see Stormbow glowing a sickly purple, bow drawn at him.

The first one launched, embedding itself right into the crook of his elbow. Jesse hollered in pain while Sombra laughed.

"Stop this!” Stormbow yelled.

“I can. But you have to ask me to kill him. Otherwise, I’ll turn him into a cowboy pin cushion,” Another arrow went into his shoulder. Jesse buckled down onto his knees. His vision was hazy. He couldn’t feel his arm at all.

Another hit his thigh, and a fourth one punctured a lung. He was all but dead on his feet. Jesse was a mess of tears and blood being cleansed in the rain.

“Just, may I have a moment? Please, I wish to say goodbye,” Stormbow pleaded.

“Sure thing, cabrón. Hurry it up.” She walked Stormbow over to Jesse, who lay there on the ground, breathing heavily.

"I am forever sorry, I never intended to hurt you. I merely deluded myself into thinking I could have something I always wanted,“ Jesse turned his head and looked deep into Hanzo’s eyes. He could feel something just beneath the surface.

"Huh, what’s that?” Jesse coughed.

“Happiness,” tears fell from Hanzo’s eyes and he brought himself down to kiss Jesse. It was sad, as if two long lost lovers were saying goodbye once more. Jesse sighed into the kiss and reached to hold Hanzo’s hand. The sound of the rain seemed to stop as he lost himself in were his final moments.

He felt something enter his grip and looked down. It was his gun! Jesse barely had enough time to think before Hanzo whispered in his ear “Shoot me.”

Whatever was beneath Hanzo’s skin started to roar, to Jesse it felt like the world was shaking.

“Do you feel that?” Jesse sputtered.

“Do not worry, it is of little consequence. Just do what you know you must,” Hanzo smiled as he squeezed Jesse’s hand.

He could feel in inside him, begging to burst free. He needed to let it free.

Jesse leaned leaned up into Hanzo’s face, “Let the dragon consume.”

Hanzo looked at him in shock. Jesse shook his head. Where had that come from? But his hand burned with raw energy. It wanted out.

“I’ll point and shoot, you just say the words,” Jesse coughed.

“They speak through you, with you…” Hanzo closed his eyes. When he opened them, he had a look of determination, “Very well.”

Jesse gripped the gun and with what little strength he had left, aimed the barrel at Sombra.

“Now Hanzo!” Jesse screamed.

“Ryuga Waga Teki No Kurau!”

Electric power rushed through his entire body, traveling through him all the way out through the barrel of the gun. Jesse pulled the trigger, but no bullet came out. Instead, a dragon the size of a baseball sped out of the pistol. It moved so fast, one would mistake it for lightning. It hit Sombra dead in the chest, causing her to stumble back in agony.

Hanzo took the distraction, took Jesse in his arms, and ran for the hallway. Jesse faded in and out of consciousness. He remembered seeing Ana and her scream. The police and ambulance carrying him into the van. Hanzo praying ‘please do not leave me, please, not when I am finally ready to be happy again.’

When he fully awoke, he was in a hospital bed. He looked over to see Hanzo passed out beside him. His fingers were intertwined with his. Jesse smiled as he felt sleep try to take him once more. He whispered to Hanzo in his sleep.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna be right here, with you. Always.”

#mchanzo #mchanzo week 2017 #day 2 #fanfic #overwatch #overwatch fanfic #hanzo shimada #jesse mccree #fanscrit

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