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sstormyskyess · 11 months ago

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author's note: very self-indulgent content alert!! anyway i wanted to put something out there since i haven't updated in a hot second [my fall semester just ended and i am truly exhausted, but most requests will be done by the end of the year!] please enjoy some roommate headcanons for these two

author's note 2: also i have a lot of thoughts about them so this is probably gonna be my first series [there's gonna be a separate category on my masterlist for them] and also also don't hesitate to send little thoughts in about them i'm so open to spitballing with you guys 💜

cw: nothing, just fluff!

word count: 1600+

John "Soap" Mactavish / GN!Reader / Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

John “Soap” MacTavish

♡ If you’re touch-starved, Soap has you absolutely covered. If you two are sitting on the couch, or at your dinner table, or you just need someone to be by your side, he’ll be ready and willing to have an arm around your shoulders to hold you close.

You frown as you look down at your phone, the screen bright in the darkness of the living room. The person you made plans with tonight was now completely ghosting you, so you were just here, sitting on your couch alone in the middle of the night.

Your phone plops down on the couch when you toss it away, a weird sense of relief coming to you when it disappears in the sea of blankets to your side. You didn’t want to wake Johnny or Kyle with the TV, but you end up flipping the screen on to put on something to drone out the feeling of being left on ‘sent.’

A good fifteen or twenty minutes pass before you’re finally starting to wind down just a smidge, but little did you know, a certain blue-eyed scot had been watching you quietly from the hallway. You jump when his hands meet your shoulders and massage them gently. “What’re you doin’ up, bonnie?” He asks, smiling when you look up to meet his eyes.

“No reason, really.” You pout, your gaze darting to your phone. It doesn’t go unnoticed, but he doesn’t mention it when he sits down between you and the source of your worries. He wraps an arm around you and squeezes your shoulder, turning toward the TV. “You mentioned this show a few days ago, right?” He hums when you nod. “You wanna tell me about it?” You smile and nod again, settling into his side and you start to explain the premise to him.

�� He’s the type of friend that makes all the plans for nights out (or in, depending on your preference), so expect him to be throwing out ideas for little get-togethers. He also knows your schedule very well because of this, which initially caught you off-guard when it first started happening.

♡ He is constantly doing the weirdest things around the apartment and there have been a number of times where you’ve walked in on him “trying out a new hobby,” one which would probably get all three of you evicted because of how needlessly dangerous it was. The one that you can very distinctly remember was his fascination with fire eating, which you quickly stopped for many, many reasons.

♡ Soap refuses to leave for a deployment without seeing you right before he leaves. He has to get his goodbye hug in, after all! Even with Gaz trying to drag him out so they’re not late, he’s gonna be sitting right there at the door until you get back home because it wouldn’t be fair to just leave without seeing them one more time before they were gone for a few weeks, if not more.

Kyle rubs a hand over his face and stares at Johnny, who’s leaning against the back of the couch and staring at the door expectantly. “Soap, we have to get to the station. The next train comes by in twenty minutes and it’s a fifteen minute walk,” he reminds Johnny for what felt like the thirtieth time.

“We’ll make it! Stop worrying so much,” Johnny says with a smile. “Plus, you know how I feel about leaving without saying ‘bye,’ Garrick.” Kyle rolls his eyes and takes another peek at the time on his phone screen.

After a few more minutes of waiting, the sound of the front door unlocking has Johnny perking up and standing up fully. The moment you enter the door, he’s already on you, pulling you into a big, tight hug. Your confused noise is muffled by his chest and you have to force yourself away a bit just to get a look at him. “Are you guys leaving?”

Johnny gives you an affirmative hum and pulls away, still holding your shoulders. “We’ll be back soon, though. Price said it would only be a couple weeks this time around, yeah?” He looks to Kyle who nods and walks over with his bag slung over his shoulder.

You smile as you look between the two of them, scooting to the side to set your things down and pull them both into a firm group hug. “You’d both better come back safe. I don’t want to get a call from your captain like last time, John.” You give him a scolding tone and he looks a little sheepish, but you cap your words off with a laugh, letting him bury his face into your shoulder with a grin. “We will, promise.”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

♡ Gaz stays at your flat more than Soap does because he has less family obligations. So, more often than not, he’ll be coming back to you. That’s not to say he has no family, but he’s definitely not as close to them compared to Soap and his family.

You groan at the sound of your sweet little kitty, Albright, meowing up a storm in the living room. You turn over to his bedside table, picking up your phone. It was still three hours until Albright was supposed to be fed and you were supposed to get up and ready for work. Why the hell was he being so insanely loud?

You roll out of bed with a huff, pulling on your sleep shirt: a painfully oversized t-shirt you stole from Johnny a couple years ago. You don’t even bother putting any socks on before stepping onto the practically freezing hardwood floor, grimacing at the chill that traveled up your legs. Shaking your head, you leave your room and turn on the hallway light.

“Shit—did we wake you up?” The sound of Kyle’s voice made you jump right out of your skin, a yelp leaving your lips that was probably loud enough for your neighbors to hear. “Kyle, what is wrong with you?! You couldn’t have let me know you were gonna be back tonight?” You hiss. You roll your eyes when Kyle just shrugs and walks over to you with Albright purring in his arms. It was hard to be mad at a sight like that, with Kyle’s handsome face sporting a little guilty smile and the orange tabby cat making biscuits on his chest. “Sorry, love. I hope you’ll forgive us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter with a poorly suppressed smile on your face. “Is Johnny with you?” Kyle shakes his head and lets Albright jump down from his hold. “He’s back in Scotland with his family.” You frown at that, crossing your arms. “That bastard.”

Kyle couldn’t help but laugh at that. He puts his hand on your shoulder and rubs it up and down a few times. “Next time, I’ll force him to come back. Don’t you worry.”

♡ He's an absolute menace when it comes to doing chores around the house. You and Soap insist that you want to help but he shuts you both down every time simply because he just likes cleaning and organizing and everything in between.

♡ Gaz is the type to stay on his military schedule even off-base, so he’s often awake before both you and Soap. He definitely takes advantage of it, too; you get up and ready for work and he’ll already have all your things together and a quick, healthy breakfast to take with you. All the while, he’s sitting on the couch invested in the little show he’s been meaning to catch up on, as though he hadn’t done anything at all.

♡ Even before moving in with Gaz, you would swear he had some kind of sixth sense for knowing when you or Soap weren’t feeling great. The both of you could think that you were hiding it decently well but Gaz would be there to prove you wrong 99% of the time, the other 1% being when he wasn’t around at all. He’ll always be doing the little things to make sure you know he’s there for you, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t work.

The first thing you notice when you get into your bedroom is the mass of folded laundry on your bed, the laundry that you had been planning on taking care of for a few days now but never got around to. Your various life obligations had been getting tiresome, so you were coming home exhausted every day and immediately going to bed after Kyle and Johnny basically forced you to get some food in your system.

The second thing you notice is your thermos sitting neatly on your desk with a post-it note attached to the lid. You look at it, confused, and pick it up with a tilt of your head. You smile gleefully when you read, in Kyle’s handwriting, ‘Made your favorite, drink up!’ with a little smiley face and a heart next to the words.

With a happy sigh, you open it up and take a sip of your favorite warm drink, perfectly made just to your liking. A couple knocks on your door snap you back to reality. “Come in!” You call, you smile widening when Kyle’s face greets you on the other side. You meet him halfway and he gives you a short but sweet side hug, his head resting on top of yours.

“How was work, love?” He pulls away to get a good look at you. You look a bit disheveled to be frank, but at least your smile was reaching your eyes, a wonderful sight to be sure. You give him a non-committal hum, and he nods, taking hold of your wrist. “C’mon, let’s get food. We’re ordering out tonight, what do you want to get?” You let him pull you to the living room and he lets you rattle off the food you were looking forward to.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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spacedustmantis · 2 years ago

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alright me and @chaos-caverns just spent the past few hours spitballing back and forth thoughts and ideas about triton biology within the jrwi riptide universe. here's what we got so far:

triton evolved to survive both in water and out of it (i mean they breathe air), but it's unlikely that they evolved to live on land/above water. obviously being on the surface won't kill them (we have three very alive examples to prove that) but they probably experience some serious debuffs while up there.

triton are described to live in very deep places, therefore being deep sea inhabitants.

in riptide we also have multiple references to the fact that the buildings in the undersea, or at least in the area that gillion grew up in, are in fact not filled with water, but with air. this means that triton can maneuver both through water and through air/on ground without issue. (this includes any differences in stuff like gravity, drag, walking vs swimming etc.)

we also see humans inside the capitol building, which means the atmospheric pressure inside that building, or at least that room, has to be much lower than the pressure in the water surrounding the buildings, which in turn means that triton (and other underwater races) are not harmed by drastic changes in pressure, nor by the much lower pressure of above water at mean sea level.

however, since building structures that can withstand the difference in atmospheric pressure is unnecessarily expensive and inefficient, it's likely that in general the rooms, even if filled with air, have the same pressure as the water outside, meaning that triton are not at all used to the low atmospheric pressure of the oversea, and any triton coming to the surface will most likely face some aches and pains while their body adjusts.

on top of that, fish can and will get sunburnt if the water is too clear or they swim to close to the surface, and the sunburns are much worse, sometimes even detrimental to the fishes health. this would mean that triton probably have very sun sensitive skin and if at the surface might need to stay in the shade or get some special potions to avoid permanent damage to their skin.

deep sea fish are much less dense than other fish for buoyancy reasons (if you've ever scuba dived before you know this). that includes their bones. triton have brittle bones and weigh much less than one would suspect.

triton definitely have some mammalian traits, as gillion has been described to sweat on multiple occasions

now for something really fun: the opah is the only known full warm blooded fish, and because of that has much more energy and is much faster than the other, very slow, deep sea fish that need to conserve their energy. it also has an internal temperature regulation system not unlike a radiator built in that is mostly used to keep it warm, but can also cool it down. considering triton seem to be the strong, agile, fighter type (pursuit predator), and don't overheat despite the vast difference in temperature between the undersea and the oversea, a circulatory system reminiscent of the one the opah has seems likely. again that just means the temperature change won't kill them, they might still get uncomfortable with the heat at first, or just in general. this could be one reason why gillion keeps jumping overboard. (trying to fact check some stuff and i just found out that some lizards cool off by standing around with their mouths open. i think that would be a very gillion thing to do)

now for something really really fun: the lungfish! and yes it's exactly what it sounds like, it's a fish with both gills and lungs. and it can fucking breathe below and above water. triton having both gills and lungs officially makes sense. (the lungfish is a freshwater fish found in shallow rivers and such, and i don't know how this would translate to a saltwater deep sea humanoid creature, if at all, but this is fucking fantasy alright? we're allowed to pretend that this is flawless logic)

fish, like amphibians, need to keep their skin moist if they want to survive. we just don't talk about it because most fish can't breathe above water. another reason why gillion jumps off the ship constantly. also explains why he keeps saying "stay moist" to caspian, who does not, in fact, need to stay moist.

now for the eyes. there's two factors to that: light sensitivity and light refraction.

let's start with light sensitivity. as we have previously established, triton did not evolve for survival on the surface, and they are deep sea creatures. both of that explains the darkvision, but also implies that their eyes are very likely to be highly sensitive to light and the daylight might be too bright for them to really be able to see well. as for a real life example, shark eyes are super well equipped to see in dark, murky waters as they have a layer of mirrored crystals behind their retina, reflecting the picture into the retina again to increase clarity. and bottom-dwelling or nocturnal sharks are in fact pretty light sensitive. all in all this makes for a good estimate for triton eyes. the fact that gillion's vision would already be too bright makes the fact that he keeps staring into the sun even more concerning. then again if you're already constantly blinded you might as well, right? (also i don't know if i'm remembering this correctly but isn't gillion's perception pretty low? this could be part of that. potentially)

now light refraction. the refraction of light underwater is different from the refraction in air. that's why everything is blurry when we open our eyes underwater, but not when we wear goggles. but we evolved to live above water, while triton, as previously established, evolved to live both in water and in air. since evolution would have no clue that they already see bad when in the sun and the smartest move would be to make them able to see when underwater really good, the most likely result would be that in an attempt to optimize triton would end up farsighted underwater and nearsighted in air, like frogs.

since triton's eyesight seems to be less than optimal no matter what, they have probably developed some senses to compensate, for example picking up subtle vibrations in the water around them, or good hearing or sense of smell.

a lot of aquatic mammals can close their nostrils so they don't get water in them, and seals can do the same to their ear canals. triton would also do that i think.

the fins on the side of triton's heads might be used for not only the usual fin stuff, like balance and steering, while underwater, but also as a sort of outer ear that funnels the sound waves into the ear canals to amplify their hearing while outside of it, and on top of that to express emotion, similar to almost every mammals ears except humans'. the fins on triton's limbs might also reflect their emotions, though probably much subtler. a lot of animals also use their ears to regulate heat, and this could very well translate to triton's fins.

also one final fun thought we had was that even though triton seem to be pursuit predators (actively hunting and fighting and running and stuff), they might be ambush predators instead (sneaking, ambushing etc.) and the reason gillion is Like That is because of his training, not because of triton biology.

i desperately hope there's no mistakes in this because there is no way that i am proof reading all of that at 1 am. anyways if you read this and think "oh hey, i know some stuff about deep sea fish/ aquatic mammals/ physics!" feel free to add some stuff. and if i said something wrong don't hold back.

@grizzlyplays i feel like you might enjoy this. we certainly did

#yeesh that took fucking ages #compiling everything and putting it in a coherent form was so much more work that i expected #jrwi spoilers #<- just in case #jrwi riptide #gillion tidestrider #jrwi show #buggy thoughts #connecting the dots #silver screen

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roosterbox · 1 year ago

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Stripper Steve/Writer Eddie

Inspired by my results from a NSFW generator tweet, lol. This is just a brainstorming session, mainly so I can put SOMETHING in my WIP folder for this idea.

Said results were: Stripper Steve, Writer Eddie, At a Gay Bar, Size Kink. Simple enough. It could be either a smutty PWP one-shot, or a smutty epic romance. I could see it going either way, but I never met a story I couldn’t spice up by adding romantic clichés.

So Writer!Eddie meets Stripper!Steve at a gay bar. Sparks fly, as they often do. Eddie has a bit of a size kink, and loves how strong and muscular Steve is compared to him. They talk a little bit about their respective professions (especially Steve, who wants to nip any anti-sex work or anti-stripper bias Eddie may have in the bud as quick as possible. He’s been slut-shamed about it way too many times to count; Eddie’s cool with it), and decide to head back to Eddie’s place to have sex. Turns out Eddie has a huge dick, and Steve has a size kink too.

[if this was a PWP one-shot, this is where it would end. But I love to complicate things, lol, and so it continues…]

Initially, the plan is just for a one night stand, but of course, this is Steddie, and they can’t get enough of each other. They start meeting up semi-regularly. And it’s not just sex either. Sometimes they have dinner beforehand. Sometimes one of them spends the night and stays for breakfast. It doesn’t take long for them to develop, ugh, FEELINGS. Eddie, who’s been in a bit of a creative dry spell lately, finds himself able to write again. Sometimes he’ll even read Steve a few passages from his novel in progress (Steve, who is semi-dozing beside him in bed, is only half-listening, but tells him it sounds good).

But eventually, because romance story cliché, some wires get crossed. Maybe Steve realizes he’s catching feelings (caught feelings, really - these boys are down BAD), and breaks things off. Maybe they both say hurtful things they don’t mean. It’s easy to be hurt when you’ve fallen so hard.

Some time later (idk, a year? Don’t press me for details, I’m spitballing here, lol), Eddie’s book comes out. Bestseller, naturally. It’s not specifically a love story, but the love is practically dripping off every page (not like that, ya nasty). It’s textual, but also abstract and symbolic. It’s painfully obvious to anyone who reads it that Eddie was in love, but it didn’t work out. Someone (Robin? Yeah, Robin) lends Steve the book and tells him to read it. Because she is wise and knows all. He does, and is incredibly touched and emotional about it. Because even though people have been teasing him for being “just a pretty face” his whole life (which he’s not of course), even Steve can read between the lines. In fact, he even recognizes a few lines in the book from Eddie reading them to him in bed. Said lines are essentially a love confession. And Steve realizes that even though he might have fucked up worse than anyone has ever fucked up in their life, he needs to see Eddie again. Even if Eddie ends up slamming the door in his face, which he’d deserve, he must.

At Eddie’s place, Eddie doesn’t immediately slam the door, but it’s a near thing. Steve starts off by telling him he read the book. That it was amazing. Talks about the symbolism. Talks about how much he related to the main characters (especially the one obviously based on himself). He’s rambling, a bit nervous and awkward, but it eventually becomes him talking about his own feelings. Getting a bit worked up. There may be a heartfelt apology in there somewhere. He’s essentially baring his entire heart and soul right there on Eddie’s doorstep.

Eddie, for his part, is cold to Steve at first. Which is understandable - he got his heart broken, after all. But the more Steve rambles, the softer Eddie gets, until he can feel tears pricking at his eyes.

“Um,” Steve says, finally losing steam after god knows how long, “well. That’s it I guess. Sorry to just show up here. I’ll let you get back to what you’re doing. I’ll see you around…” That last bit said with the air of ‘I know we’ll probably never see each other again.’

He turns to leave, already planning to head to Robin’s place to raid her ice cream freezer and cry, but before he gets even once step, Eddie grabs him. Pulls him inside. Shuts the door. Practically shoves him against it. He’s surprisingly strong for how skinny he is, as Steve had found out early in their…interactions.

“Steven Middle Name Harrington,” he growls, but he’s smiling. “You are, without a doubt, the single most insufferable human being I have ever met in my life. You leave your dirty socks on the floor, you let dishes sit for too long, your hair clogs the drain more than mine - which, how is that even possible? You have more beauty products than a cosmetics department, you snore like a lumberjack, and you can barely cook anything more advanced than instant ramen. And-“ he pauses. Steve winces; he’s torn because Eddie’s words sound angry, but he’s still smiling? Was that a tear? “And I love you so much it’s made me stupid because here I am, with you in my house again, in my arms, and all I want to do is kiss you silly.”

Steve smiles, letting his tears fall freely now. They both are. He reaches over to cup Eddie’s face in his hands.

“Don’t hold back on my account,” he tries to tease, but to Eddie it sounds more like “I love you too.”

The kiss feels like coming home. A very wet and salty coming home perhaps, but a homecoming nonetheless.

#Steddie #does this count as a minific?#WIP planning #alternate universe #modern setting #give me all those delicious romance clichés #lol #the mortifying ordeal of being known #the inherent risk of giving someone your heart and hand to hold #they both have to deal with it in their own way

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lokisbirdofhermes · 2 years ago

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Hello Bird! I've been following your content pretty much since I entered the Loki/Marvel fandom like 2 years ago. (you're literally the only author I trust when it comes to regular Loki content, I'm forever thankful for what you do).

I'm in the process of publishing a few things myself and I was wondering if you could give baby ao3 authors like me a tip or two on how to keep consistency when arranging a plot for a story.

I love your style and how you manage to lay out scenarios so perfectly with just a few key details about each character, I can literally picture things in my head like they're coming out of a movie. It's everything I've imagined and more istg

On another note, I have a prompt/suggestion you might like, tell me what you think:

Heatwave vs. Jotunn genetics

In line with works like Another Girl Another Planet or Scratch My Back, Jotunn Loki makes a comeback with a tinge of enemies to lovers. However in this case, Jotunn genetics force Loki's body to switch into his Jotunn form sporadically and without warning whenever he's feeling extra hot 👀. Mood swings, Heat irritability, and a lot of bickering (We're about to hit heatwave season here in Spain and it's a most fitting scenario for these upcoming months hehe)

I love your work and I'm so grateful to be a part of your community of avid readers!! 💚💚💚

First of all, thank you so much for reading my work. I'm very glad you've enjoyed it.

Wow, that is a neat idea! I don't think I've seen that particular take on Jotunn biology. I think you should definitely run with it and see where it goes. I'd be curious to read it when it's done.

As far as advice goes, mostly what I'm doing when I write fics is trying to align myself as close to "sounding" like the person I'm writing as possible. That comes from having watched Loki in the films and my short stint with his show and trying to emulate his beliefs, mannerisms, and speech patterns. It takes time and practice, but that's really how I do it. If I am struggling to get him to sound right, I take a break and bring up a clip where he's talking and then it usually gets me back on track. I do that with Bucky too.

During the story itself, I take it scene by scene and think "okay, here's a scenario, now how would he react to it?" and then I go from there. Naturally, it's fanfiction and so I can play around with what he'd do since we don't really have a full understanding of how he reacts to his romantic companions (I do not accept Sylki at all and I think it was written horribly, so I don't use it as an example) and we as readers are able to suspend our disbelief enough to enjoy some romance and smut. If you feel him doing something inauthentic, it just means that you're trying too hard to move the scenario or the plot forward, and that's fine. You just recalibrate and figure out which part of what you're writing might be slightly off and then adjust.

My inbox and chat are open, so don't hesitate to reach out whenever you like. We can spitball ideas or just chit-chat, and that is an open invitation to anyone.

Birdie loves you!

#ask #answer #dewylingo

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amaiguri · 1 year ago

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Rewriting the Saegen Folk, a Chinese-Viking Fusion Culture (WIP)

So, you've seen what cultures look like when they're DONE -- when multifarious stories could live in them. But what about when they're not?

Here's my Saegen culture. They were originally just German-ish Viking-esque peoples and they were BORINGGGGGG and also, I built this whole culture for a different world YEARSSSS ago and then imported it into Yssaia. And at this point, my interests have just shifted at this point and I want to add more of my Chinese heritage (from which, I am very distant but I am interested in getting back in touch!) So, let's start looking at a revamp, shall we?

So, the above is basically what I had from my old world. I mean, I also had a whole law codex that was the equivalent of Hammurabi's Code as well as a Nobility Etiquette Handbook and the start of a story that got re-molded and re-written... But yeah. Here's what we're working with.

I started with the fashion (because Fashion parameters = easier new character design) and reworked it... barely. A little.

As you can see, the men barely changed but women were more changed (also yes, something something, clothes don't have a gender, etc.) One of the biggest things that changed was they now have a hanfu-style undershirt.

But this was a few months ago and I think an aesthetic change isn't the actual problem here... the problem is that the culture doesn't have a good emotional core to which I relate AND the story I wrote about Ymver, their hero, just doesn't resonate with me anymore either.

SO let's start at the basics: Geography & geopolitics. As you can kinda see on the above map, they live near the artic and, in part, under the Upper Continent. Here's another (admittedly, sketchy) map to help illustrate:

That means it is cold and dark. The only sun they get is in the mornings and maybe evenings, with that sliver in Selkie Territory that also gets some sun. So, fashion-wise, I have the right idea with the furs and multiple layers. Food-wise, they're going to probably be pretty reliant on the ocean and that breadbaskety area, since Nouveau Thuille took the river valley... Unless...

Right now, in my head, Saegenheim is just a normal city with brownish pallisades around it... But what if it had underground agriculture? Underground agriculture with some kind of fungi that thrived in the Permafrost? What if there's a whole ecosystem built on these fungi with insects and semi-aquatic animals and such? Now there's an a city that sounds interesting...

A while back I started a story for a class that was loosely inspired by Saegenheim, where Demons were being murdered but no one cared because Demons... I feel like that could work even better with a vertical "class divide" in the city. Very Arcane upper-city, under-city...

You know who else has upper/under cities? Hoyoverse games -- Belobog and, very soon here, Fontaine.

And you know what I just started on? A pre-emptive Fontaine fix-it fanfic called "The Sunken City" lol... Maybe I should take some ideas from that for my Saegenheim re-write....

Also, with how close to the North things are, I think they must see the Endless Ice to the North of them as like... a holy relic of the God of Winter, Asarlai. And given that he is the Father of Humanity in their eyes -- and also, the source of their magic/Sages, it makes sense to live nearby...

So maybe the North Pole of Yssaia is just a giant Ysse Crystal... "Asarlai's Throne"

^^^ This is all just me spitballing from my analysis. Like, you saw, I LOOKED at what I had and then started going "What does this need next? What ideas are inspiring me right now?"

Also also, the Chinese influence is easy to see where it goes now: Chinese culture is a lot about respecting your place in society, respecting authority, the responsibilities of authority, and harmony. (Obviously, it is more complicated than that, but now it's time to go research more!) BUT the way I can still give them the individualism that is the downfall of the North is to have the focus be on families and villages, while being distrustful of Outsiders...

Now, I just gotta look into how the Chinese handled the cold historically and implement some of those techniques...

So now it's research time! But this post has gone on long enough with me rambling. More of this as I do more of this rewrite!

#worldbuilding #brainstorming #writing #writeblr #writing problems #editing #revision #folklore #cultural fusion #fantasy world #writerscommunity #Yssaia #Amaiguri #underwater city #writing inspiration

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velathetanager · 10 months ago

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Supernatural AU, Houston and Kay Behavior Rewrite

Void is nothing. A lot of nothing. So how would having a being made of nothing really influence Houston? Here are a few ideas I'm spitballing.

Kay does not exist. At least, not as far as the supernatural senses of the others are concerned. As long as she's not using her power, none of them can sense something else hanging out in one of their resident humans' bodies. This makes it more surprising when she reveals herself due to thinking [REDACTED] was going to hurt Houston.

Sometimes Houston will lose the ability to feel emotion and will just stare at someone or something with an empty look on his face. These moments are usually very brief, but it unnerves people.

When Houston is engrossed in a mechanic project, Kay will erase all sound around him, making people lose track of him. She also can do this on heists.

Houston sometimes has to stop and get somewhere secluded during loud heists so he can heave this odd substance Kay sometimes generates when using her power.

Kay sees a lot of things in the dark. Well, a lot of Nothings. Houston doesn't like seeing them. They scare him.

There's a number on Kay. She and Houston go exploring on heists involving supernatural or ancient locations hoping for more information.

#payday 2 #payday 2 au #payday 2 houston #payday 2 supernatural au

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inkpens-coffee · 2 years ago

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Maruki Week 2023 - Day 1 🍎

Research / New Start / Music

Takuto’s mother was right. There really isn’t a damn thing rewarding about science. He thinks about her words as he watches years of research go up in flames. Literally.

The bonfire was Shibusawa’s idea; that burning the past would help him let go of it. Even though it’s good for him, Takuto’s heart aches as his life’s work burns in front of him; those heavily annotated books on the human mind, printed articles on cognitive psience and his beloved research paper gone for good. Takuto sheds a few tears as he brings the wine glass in his hand to his lips. This is for the better, he tells himself.

“That’s all of it, right?” Shibusawa is in the lawn chair next to him. “Every last thing?”

“Mhmm,” Takuto nods.

“Nothing else backed up on the cloud or thumb drive anywhere?”

“Uh…”

Shibusawa furrows his brow before sighing and drinking his wine. “I’m taking your computer for the night, you’ll get it back tomorrow morning.”

“Ok…” Takuto tapped his nails against the wine glass, focusing his attention on the embers floating around. Shibusawa had been nothing but supportive to him on his path to recovery. That morning after the collapse of his Palace, Shibusawa was the first person Takuto called. The second his friend arrived, Takuto collapsed into his arms sobbing hysterically. Shibusawa didn’t leave his side the entire day, even stayed the night take make sure he was safe.

“So, now that you’ve burned your past, what are you planning on doing next? You gonna go back to school?” He asked.

“No… I think I need time to do something nice for myself.”

“Hey, you could pick up one of your old hobbies! Do you still have that guitar from high school? Ladies love a music man!”

“God no, I only ever learned one song and you said it was cringe!” Takuto whined.

“Ok, ok,” Shibusawa swirled the wine in his glass around. “What about painting? You liked that didn’t you?”

“Too expensive.”

“I got it! How about being an assistant to a super cool wedding photographer?”

“Weren’t you just complaining about how stressful it was dealing with wedding parties yesterday?” Takuto laughed as his friend groaned dramatically. Shibusawa downed the rest of his wine and set the glass aside.

“Alright, so photography’s not for you. I’m just spitballing ideas here, whatever you think will be good for you is good enough for me, Takuto. Anything is better than killing yourself over cognitive psience.”

When Takuto opened his mouth to reply, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out to see the notification on the screen:

‘coffeejoker recently shared a new reel’

Takuto doesn’t remember when he followed Ren’s instagram account but he was glad he did. Recently the boy had gotten really into aerial hoops along with a couple of the former Phantom Thieves. Todays video was of him twirling upside down on the hoop, wearing a pure white leotard while the most ethereal sounding song playing. Sumire could be seen filming in the mirror in the background. Ren looked so happy, so at peace. Takuto slowly smiled.

“Remember when Rumi signed us up for couples aerial silk classes?”

“Oh yeah, didn’t she quit after the first one?” Both of them laughed.

“The second one! She tied herself in the silk wrong and got stuck upside down for almost an hour, god, she was so upset after!”

“Oh man! Fingers crossed my girl doesn’t drag me to any type of dance classes, I do not have the grace for that,” Shibusawa said through laughs.

Takuto wiped a few tears from his eyes, Ren’s video replaying on his phone. The music sounded so nice, listening to it while spinning on the hoop must’ve been such a soothing experience for Ren.

“I kinda liked the class though… being on the silk made me feel like I was flying, it was nice…”

Shibusawa studied the calm look on Takuto’s face as he watched that kid’s dance video. He’s not ashamed to admit he thinks his friend is beautiful, stunning really. He’s asked Takuto to model for his aesthetic photography more than once only for him to timidly decline, saying he didn’t have the right look. Shibusawa’s eyes darted to Ren’s video. He grinned and stood up.

“Ok then. We’ll go scout out some dance studios tomorrow when you get off work.” He said.

“Huh?” Takuto looked up from his phone.

“Dance students need photographers, right? Who knows, maybe it’s better business than weddings!”

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

Shibusawa just smiled at his friend and pat his back. “Aerial dance classes. No harm in trying them out again, right? I’m gonna go fill these back up,”

He took Takuto’s empty glass and his own before going back in the house. The doctor sat there quiet for a moment. He looked back at the dwindling fire, the books and papers reduced to ash at this point. He stared at the flame for a moment before tapping the replay button on Ren’s video one more time. Takuto cradled the phone in his hand, quietly humming along to the pleasant song.

#MARUKI ON AERIAL SILKS #leave me alone I’m obsessed with Mel’s new album right now #p5r #persona 5 royal #takuto maruki #p5r shibusawa #takutomarukiweek2023 #ren amamiya #roommates au #if you squint #Spotify

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goddamnwebcomics · 6 months ago

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Yeah, this is pretty much most of what I've said and had been keeping in my own head for as long as I started to have problems with Peter & Whitney. To be honest, this page felt more "impactful" when you're reading this comic update-by-update, and, with an update schedule like this and Peter & Company, it only takes actually reading them all together after the fact to see how underwhelming it really is.

Now that you've reached this page, that's pretty much it. Whether Jon admits it or not, this is what all that buildup was going for, as the rest of this webcomic is just going to be the same things, but now Peter and Whitney are together again. I know this comic is eventually going to leave the college setting and become a normal blog comic, but, honestly, it really should've just become that in the beginning. Heck. A lot of the early P&W adult art sort of reflected that feeling. It could've been a SFW yet highly suggestive loose comic AU not completely connected to the main Peter & Company webcomic instead of what we got here. This is just me spitballing a few what-ifs, really.

Your ideas sound better than what we got. It really feels like this should've at least been an epilogue to Peter and Company and then the end.

Well, I hope you enjoy me getting more and more infuriated.

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twitchesandstitches · 4 years ago

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nature girl heroine idea

i’ve mentioned before that a week or two ago, I was working out an idea of Tia as a nova/superhuman in the Aberrant tabletop RPG setting, and an unexpected thing occurred; I started out just shoving every cool power that felt thematically appropriate first, and as time went on and she felt too versatile and lacking in a solid theme, I removed some of those powers and quickly put down a few character ideas to suit them. the idea was, she’s part of a group of similarly powerful novas who work together and hang out, in a character arc somewhere between ‘Superman wrecks the local conspiracy by being too dang smart and charming’ and ‘roadtrip to save humanity’

over the last few days, i’ve been thinking about these characters more and more, and one in particular has really seized my attention; a plant and nature focused lady with shapeshifting powers that allow her to assume the traits of any animal or plant she knows of, control plants and make them grow, and a variety of utility abilities based around influencing others through the use of energy-charged spores and pheromones. It took a while but I’ve realized that she’s something of a benign Poison Ivy analogue, with animal transformation powers, and some vERY powerful abilities based around affecting entire species on a global scale and weaponizing things like poison, coupled with brain-warping charm and charisma.

(a certain amount of growing to giantess size, hyper breeder vibes, and the capability to devour pretty much anything she likes also applies, of course.)

her concept is pretty cool so i’ve been thinking a lot about this, and I’ve had some more ideas, and I’m on the verge of making her into a full-on OC in her own right. in case this sounds interesting, here’s a few ideas I’ve had on that score, though none of these are permanent; I figure I’ll write her up when i get in the mood for it, and use that to iron out some of the ideas I have:

she’s a genuine environmentalist, and not someone who does the whole ‘humanity is the REAL disease’ stuff Ivy is known for doing. This suggests a very compassionate core, though i’m not sure how much to take it. she could take it to an extreme and verge of so Good that she refuses to see people who are genuinely malicious, or her taking a big picture approach and caring about things long-term, but individuals tend to not register much for her. Thinking in terms of systems, and so on. (She also, either way, does not have much of a sentimental attitude of nature.) I AM leaning towards her being a super softie, and not that much of the kind of hero who takes down bad guys.

She’s very thicc overall; big hips, big bust, big everything. probably very big hair that resembles a flowering plant or something. Her body isn’t particularly human; her skin looks like fairly smooth bark and creates fur or scales or whatever as appropriate, she bleeds a weird chimeric sap instead of blood, and she generally has a mixture of animal and plant-like traits that’s very strange. She’s still broadly human in biology, though; the actual organs are recognizable, but may resemble a planet’s structure or that of specific animals, just enough to be weird.

I’m thinking of her skin as being green. not sure about her hair. Possibly multicolored and changing depending on her health or stores of energy.

Aberrant only really has superhumans, so I’m not deviating from that; all the characters here, regardless of what they’re normally like in my stuff, were originally human here. I don’t know if I will keep that as a trait for our nature lady here, but I’m thinking of her as being Irish or Mongolian here; undecided on that.

I at one point thought of her as a bit of a bimbo-type? I’m tempted to suggest that she can get like that depending on certain side effects that her powers have on her; she shifts through a lot of hormones and pheromones as she transforms, and depending on what she does, it might have long-term consequences that adjusts her behavior a little.

All her powers are based on either transformations or some bodily effect of herself, and a specific connection to living things she can mess with. For example, she can transform to manifest any naturally occurring trait for utility, defense or offense; she can make wings to fly, grow claws or massive spikes to attack. She could cover her body in tough scaly armor. She can secrete a powerful toxin with whatever effect imaginable from her body, though she usually limits it to a knock out effect, to inducing hallucinogenic effects. In the same way, she constantly produces small spores; people who breath them in can be mentally dominated by her via a link between her and those spores, or hypnotized. Otherwise, she can grow those spores into huge plants she can control in many ways, like making massive vines to protect her, swing around, or smash stuff; this looks like her creating plants out of thin air. The other aspect of her powers allows her to communicate with plants and animals (and command them), as well as transform them in various ways, and this more subtle aspect of her powers also allows her to heal living things.

By making her jaws stretchy, making her belly a big venus flytrap, or her skin absorbent, she’s able to swallow pretty much whatever she wants, and then she can tweak her digestion to consume anything she desires; she has some VERY aggressive gut bacteria she can make even more fierce if she requires. And she’s capable of growing to giant size, though I’m thinking that its actually her summoning forth a massive plant construct she grows around her body and mentally links with, shaping it into a mega-curvy imitation of her original body. As she grows stronger, she might be able to cut the middle-man out and convert herself into plant material she can expand directly.

she’s very much a breeder, though not necessarily one interested in romance. She’s capable of making her body react to the life energy around her and spontaneously impregnating herself using that energy as genetic information, creating new life inside her. She has enough capacity to gestate entire species if desired (or creating broodmother bodies that do the trick themselves), and she has a tendency to do so absently if she’s not concentrating on focusing.

personality wise, I’m thinking of focusing her around the concept of the ditzy genius; even if she’s not actually super smart, she is VERY competent within her specific sphere of interest, though she doesn’t come off as it. even when she’s in her element, she’s rather ditzy in an unfocused, gently drifting sort of way. She has a very pleasant demeanor, perhaps with something of a glamourous, fancy attitude?

whatever she has going on, though, she lacks brute strength. She is focused on finesses; while she is capable of manifesting the traits of more brutal creatures, she is very bad at actually applying it; she prefers to be fast, and she’s no good at smashing. She’s also probably fairly soft-hearted and can’t bear to strike as viciously as she needs to in order to put down a foe who might have no compunction about doing the same to her. She is extremely perceptive, however, and would make a fantastic investigator if she could be persuaded to concentrate for a moment.

#queued #twitchy!ocs #spitballing a few ideas here to see how it sounds

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untaemedqueen · 4 years ago

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Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 5.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage

A/N: Shout out to my squad @ppersonna, @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia, @underthejoon for always spitballing ideas with me and reading over what I have written. I’m seriously so lucky to have my girls and my heart is so full with them around <3

Also the beautiful banner is by @xjoonchildx so now we have two gorgeous banners to alternate every other chapter! I’m so happyyyyyy!! Enjoy guys!

It's usually relaxed Sundays at the Yu penthouse like God intended them to be but instead this Sunday was filled with raucous screaming and over dramatic whining which you aren't exactly used to.

"Leena." Jin warns, almost as if he's speaking to a child.

You watch as your best friend takes the stuffed animal you won at the Fall Festival out of it's cardboard box before chucking it back onto your unmade bed. It's her act of defiance and it warms your heart slightly to know how much she loves you.

"Relax, would you?" Jin asks, wrapping a painting of yours in bubble wrap.

"No." She huffs out as she folds her arms.

You find yourself smirking as you wrap your arms around her. She stiffens slightly before melting into the hug and rocking you from side to side.

"I hate him. I hate him. I hate him!" She chants bitterly as Jin sets the painting against the wall.

"Why don't you tell us about your date with Taehyung?" Jin offers, trying to take her mind off of it.

"No." She replies childishly as she hugs you tighter.

Jin sighs gently as he picks up the contract. It's a thick packet with words and legal jargon you find yourself unable to understand.

"I'm going to go read this in the living room. Leena, come with me." Jin commands and she pouts at you as she pulls away.

"At least he bought her pretty things." She grumbles to your other best friend as she follows him out of your bedroom.

You sit on the edge of your bed, taking in the almost empty room. Your heart feels heavy in this moment. It's been almost six years since you moved into this apartment with Leena.

This new journey will be the start to something extremely different from your norm. This will be the first time that you won't be seeing your best friend everyday, or when you wake up in the morning. It's jarring and more importantly frightening.

You had already quit your managerial position at the hospital, you've already packed up all of the things deemed "acceptable" for Yoongi's home. It really is a new path for your life.

Your parents loved you so very dearly from when you were quite young. They always knew what to say and what to do, always pushed for you to do the right things quite like them. They worked so hard for you to have a better life than they did when they were young.

You can only hope to be as good of a parent as they were.

Telling them you were pregnant was terrifying at first. You expected them to be disappointed with you. But, surprisingly, they were supportive. It was incredibly comforting, because no matter what happens you could count on them.

Looking down at your flat stomach, although you don't look different, you feel different. With a sigh, you close your eyes for a fraction of a second before taking in a deep breath.

Everyone keeps telling you to be strong, to have strength and everything will work out but unfortunately it isn't that easy.

"Hey Y/N." Jin whispers as he leans against the door frame.

Opening your eyes, you give him a smile to try and tell him you're alright.

"The contract looks good. Namjoon did right by you." He tells you, holding up the packet and a pen.

You hold your hands out and he enters the room.

You can hear Leena's feet stomping down the long hallway as you put the packet on your lap.

She arrives in the doorway with a martini in hand and you tilt your head to her as she scowls.

"You can't have sex? Is he serious?" She scoffs.

You give a smirk as you sign the contract, "Seems like it. I asked him if I could have sex with him because he's the father and he sat there and literally told me he doesn't understand why I would have sex if I'm pregnant. He seemed repulsed."

"I'll punch him in the dick." Leena murmurs into her martini glass.

"Yu Leena." Jin scolds as you set the pen down on your lap.

"What?! He's a huge fucking dick suck." She says waving him off with her hand.

Both you and Jin snort loudly and he lays his head on your shoulder before hugging you tightly.

"I'm gonna miss you, princess." He whispers.

"Me too." You mumble as you wrap your arms around his.

"Shouldn't you let the madam buy the child's furniture?" Yoongi hears Maya ask over his shoulder as he scours through the furniture website.

"If her ability to pick out furniture is as bad as her clothing or her shoes, my heir will end up sleeping in a rickety old basket made out of straw and hair." He retorts as she hands him his Irish coffee.

He hears her gentle sigh and he knows it's because somehow, something he said had disappointed her.

"What's wrong, Maya?" He asks as he locks the iPad, throwing it on the other side of the couch to look up at her.

She hums undecidedly before looking down at him as he sips his coffee, "Maybe try to be nice to her. She's going to have a hard time being pregnant in this household with your wife here."

Her suggestion makes a shiver run up his spine. Just hearing the word pregnant sends him into some deep spiral.

Maya always has been kind hearted. She's always been understanding of others. Even if they don't deserve it.

Like with Sera, Maya will bust her ass to try to make the leech smile even if she gets sneers and snarky remarks in turn.

She's too pure for this world. Too amazing for this cheap lifestyle.

"I am being nice to her. She gets to move in here." He responds as he sets the coffee cup down on his marble table.

“Min Yoongi.” Maya breathes out above a whisper before closing her eyes.

He watches her brow furrow with shame and he clears his throat uncomfortably before looking around the open gallery of the mansion to try and find any reason for her to leave.

“I didn’t raise you this way. You know that.” The older woman chides as she dusts off some of the priceless paintings that line the walls beside where he sits.

He lets out a gentle snort as he leans back into the chaise lounge.

“At least someone raised me, right?” He quips to her as he looks out the bay windows.

The garden seems well tended as of late, after the last fiasco with the uneven hedges he appreciates how much work his new gardeners have put into it.

He begins to wonder what you enjoy, what your hobbies are besides getting pounded in the back of your best friends club. Do you enjoy the finer things? Like yachting or horse racing? Do you even know what they are? Just how sheltered are you?

“What do poor people like? Swap meets?” Yoongi asks as he watches the rose bushes sway in the wind.

“Yoongi.” Maya whispers dejectedly and he turns his head to her before shrugging.

“Just asking.” He murmurs as a sparrow lands on the marble bird bath beside the window.

“Why don’t you just try to get to know her? Ask her things like that without being rude.” Maya replies as she turns to him.

With a grimace, he finishes his coffee before handing the cup to her, “Why do I have to get to know her?”

“Oh my goodness.” Maya mumbles as she leaves the gallery.

The billionaire watches her leave before slowly turning back to the window to stare aimlessly for a little while longer.

He's always been so jaded, always been so absolutely fucking ruthless because if he didn't protect himself from the outside world who would?

And even if it causes rifts, he just has to be this way. Because you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.

The sounds of construction break him out of his thoughts. The contract must have gone through to Namjoon, if your room was already being renovated. Kira must have called and set up everything like she was supposed to.

It's a good thing she isn't just good for her tight snatch.

Standing up with a groan, he stretches high up to the ceiling. He can hear and feel his bones popping and groaning to welcome a new day in front of him.

As he steps onto the heated marble flooring of the second floor, he knows he should be getting ready for work yet instead his curiosity begins to eat at him.

What is your room starting to look like? How about the kids room?

Walking past his walk-in closet, he can see dust and wood shavings on the floor in the hallway. His first thought is to curse out the constructors and threaten them if even a single wooden shard enters his room. But, before he can even open his mouth the shrill voice of his wife enters his ears.

"MIN YOONGI!" He can feel his brain rattling around in his skull, like a cry for help. He sighs loudly, it's really not a surprise that she can be even louder than the construction right in front of him.

Turning to her, he takes in her half asleep look. Her sleeping mask is stuck to her forehead, her black hair jutting out on all sides as she narrows her big, doll-like eyes at him.

"Some people are trying to sleep!" She screeches from the entrance of her wing in the mansion.

He chuckles to himself at her disheveled state and proceeds into his closet to get ready for work.

It probably won't end at that. And, he is absolutely correct.

Peeling off his sleep shirt, his eyes meet his wife's through the mirror as she storms into the room.

"I need beauty sleep, asshole!" She yells at him and he stares at her for a fraction of a second before clicking his teeth and tilting his head.

"You don't need beauty sleep, I paid for that face, leech." He deadpans.

His body is quick to duck out of the way as she takes the nearest object to the door before lobbing it at his head.

"Did you do as I told you?" She asks, watching him grab his crisp white work shirt.

He doesn't reply, which in turn makes her repeat the same question louder with a high shrill added to her tone.

She's always been impatient and bratty. Once which was endearing to him is now like nails on a chalkboard.

"Hello?! I'm speaking to you! Answer me, asshole!" She yells as she snaps her fingers in his face.

Pressing his tongue to his cheek, he lets out a gentle snort before taking a deep inhale through his nose.

"When do I ever just do as you tell me to, Sera? When has that ever been a goal of mine?" He asks as he grabs his pinstriped tailored pants to match his shirt.

"What? So you didn't?" She asks, clearly shocked.

"Of course I didn't, what are you? Insane? Stupid? I'm a dick but I'm not heartless." He retorts.

"No! Just heartless to me!" She cries out angrily and he chuckles to himself as he grabs a tie.

"I'm sure you'll survive." He mumbles as he pulls the drawer full of his watches open. He watches them spin on their platforms before picking a black Rolex that would go nicely with his pants.

"The plan was for you to make her say that she's my surrogate! Since I'm so beautiful and so famous, she would be carrying my child instead!" Just hearing her ridiculous plan again makes him almost as uncomfortable as the first time he heard it.

In all honesty, as soon as those words left her mouth he didn't even entertain the idea. It seemed so wholly horrible and so absolutely fucking selfish. But, this is Sera we're talking about.

"That was your plan. You think I would ever force her or anyone to have to go in front of people and say their kid isn't their own? Jesus Christ. You really are a fucking leech." He spits out.

"But! But, she's going to use you for your money! She's going to ruin everything!" She screams above the incessant construction.

The sentence sends something akin to fire flaming throughout his gut.

"Well, leech, it's not like I'm not used to being used for my money. If anything you can teach her first hand what it's like to milk me like a money cow." Her mouth opens slightly, as if she's appalled by the notion.

It's then that his patience snaps like a thin twig beneath weight.

"Do you want to see my dick?" He asks briskly.

"Ew! What? No, of course not!" She yells at him as he gathers his clothes onto one arm.

"Then get the fuck out. I have to get ready for work." She stomps her foot loudly as if in protest but he brushes by her without a word back to his bedroom.

"Fucking money grubbing leech." He whispers to himself as he slams his bedroom door closed behind him.

Thursday nights were appointed for one thing in Min Yoongi's eyes. Poker.

The library which he barely ever entered as well as his wife that couldn't read more than ten words without having a seizure was always occupied on Thursdays.

Usually, the other five members of his social circle were always present but today he only had the pleasure of four of them.

"I love that Maya deals." Taehyung chuckles as he pulls the pile of poker chips in the middle of the table towards him.

Yoongi snorts gently, clamping the cigar between his teeth tighter as he stacks his chips with one hand.

"Maya, can I please have some more ice?" Namjoon asks softly as he holds up the bucket.

"Oh of course!" She says quickly as she takes the bucket from him.

Taehyung and Jimin watch her leave before slyly smirking to Yoongi as he leans back in his chair with a groan. The way they look at him makes him feel like prey in a baron forest.

"What?" He murmurs as he pulls the cigar from his mouth.

The tips of Taehyung's fingers slide over the green felt table as he lifts his glass of whisky.

"I heard something interesting about you." He replies to his older friend.

Namjoon clears his throat uncomfortably as he crosses his legs beneath the lip of the table.

"Oh yeah? What's that? Something about my board of trustees?" Yoongi asks with a laugh as he picks up his own glass.

"Not so much." Jimin murmurs as he ashes his cigar.

"Heard you got a girl pregnant." Yoongi chokes on his whisky as he hears Taehyung's smooth voice. His eyes widen and he spins his chair around to dab at his mouth.

His blood runs cold as the hotel CEO chuckles behind him. It scares the ever living shit out of him and he hates that.

"Where'd you hear that?" He asks gently, his voice audibly shaking as he turns back around.

"A little after I pulled my dick out of Yu Leena's tight ass." Jimin snickers at the admission and Yoongi closes his eyes in defeat.

"You won't say anything, right?" Namjoon asks quietly as he looks over at his best friend.

Hoseok, Yoongi's other best friend since childhood had only recently found out about you and his heir. While he was surprised, he was always loyal to the CEO and Yoongi knew he could count on his silence.

"I definitely won't. I like it when Leena comes over and if I say anything she won't let me take her to France in two weeks." The Kisung Connected CEO sighs in relief at the younger man's admission.

Maya returns with the ice and it gets quiet for a bit, just the gentle sounds of ice clinking against glass and poker chips smacking into each other resound throughout the large library.

"Leena loves her, y'know. She never shuts up about her. I feel like I know her with how much Leena tells me." Taehyung says as he rubs two poker chips together between his fingers.

This peaks his curiosity as he begins to relax into the chair once more.

"What does she say?" Yoongi asks softly and he watches as Maya smirks gently. Her motions are soft and smooth as she deals the cards.

"About Y/N? That she's really sweet and kind. She works really hard and enjoys simple things like most poor people." Humming inquisitively, he lifts his whisky glass to his lips to ponder that thought.

"Simple things? Like?" Taehyung rolls his eyes at Yoongi's question.

"Yeah. Simple things. She likes to paint and to watch romantic movies. She enjoys cooking and other poor people shit."

He begins to wonder how well you can paint. If you were any good at it.

"She's really sweet." Namjoon adds and Yoongi grimaces in his direction.

Noticing his grimace, the lawyer shrugs with a smirk.

"Is she the girl that was with Leena on her birthday?" Jimin asks and both Yoongi and Taehyung nod at the same time.

"Oh dude! She's so fucking hot! I can't believe you got to her before me!" Hearing those words roll off of his friend's tongue sets him in an uncomfortable state.

His body leans away from Jimin's as he clutches the cigar tighter between his index and middle finger.

"So she's moving in here?" Jimin asks happily.

"In two days. Yes. We have to go to the doctor and then she'll be in the mansion."

Hoseok nudges Namjoon as they watch their best friend move uncomfortably.

Yoongi loosens his tie around his neck, his face and chest begin to feel incredibly hot and flush. He can feel the sweat building on his hairline as he uncuffs his cufflinks.

"Maya." He whispers as he holds them out over the table.

Swallowing thickly, he stares down into his glass as the ice clinks against the crystal sides.

"You're lucky she's moving in. Now you'll have constant pussy." Jimin says as he scrolls through Leena's Instagram.

The concept is completely foreign to Yoongi, "She's pregnant. Why would I fuck her?"

Namjoon chuckles to himself gently as he looks at his cards, he tosses a few chips into the center of the table before looking pointedly at his best friend.

"Because man, pregnant pussy feels so much better than regular pussy. Plus, she's carrying your baby. That's fucking hot." Yoongi sneers at Jimin, the corner of his upper lip flicking upward at the notion.

"You're a fucking short little weirdo, Park Jimin." Yoongi's sentence comes out just a bit more acidic than he means it to but he doesn't apologize.

If anything the small flames of anger seem to burnish brighter as Jimin chuckles to himself. Park has always been so sure of himself, so absolutely ruthless in getting what he wants. But, you weren't his to have.

"If you aren't going to fuck her right, can I?" He asks as he tosses chips into the middle of the table.

Yoongi's hand grips into a fist, the edges of the chips he holds make uncomfortable indents into his skin as he focuses on Maya's face to calm himself down.

"Whoa. Jimin." Hoseok mumbles as Jimin laughs.

"Calm down hyung. I'm just playing with you. I'll just ask her out on a date and we'll see where it goes." Yoongi chuckles to himself.

He can't begin to understand why it bothers him so much to hear those words. Maybe it's because you're being treated flippantly or maybe it's because you were his. Or, should be his anyway. You were having his child. Doesn't that make you off limits?

But he was better than this. He was better than letting small, simple things beneath his skin.

"She won't say yes. She's pregnant with my baby." He says as he chucks his chips into the center of the table roughly.

"We'll see. If she does say yes, just know I'll treat your baby mama with a lot of respect...as I rearrange her guts with the head of my cock." Jimin and Taehyung chortle loudly as they knock their shoulders into one another.

Scoffing gently, he downs the rest of his whisky before wiping the back of his hand over his lips.

It takes all of his restraint to not get out of his chair and punch the shorter man in the face. It takes every single ounce of strength to just stay seated and look as if he's calm while on the inside he's burning bright with red hot rage.

"You watch your fucking mouth, Jimin. She's the mother of my child." He says as he points his finger over the lip of his glass at the younger man.

The laughs die down as they notice just how deadly serious he is.

"Oh, now you care about her? Seemed like she was going to be just another leech ten minutes ago." Jimin chuckles as he speaks his words and Namjoon's eyes flutter shut in defeat.

"Yeah well, if she was to be a leech. She would be my leech. Not yours. You watch your fucking mouth when you talk about the mother of my baby in this fucking house, do you understand me?" He doesn't even understand where this rage is coming from. He can't begin to process it, but he doesn't miss the smile that creeps onto Maya's face as he defends your honor.

Jimin holds his hands up with a laugh as he clenches his cigar between his teeth.

"Calm down Yoongi. I'm just fucking with you. I don't want to fuck your poor baby mama, alright?"

Namjoon sits up fast as Yoongi goes to stand up, "Let's just all relax. Calm down." He tells his best friend as he puts his hand on his shoulder.

"Get out." He says aloud as he brushes Namjoon's hand off his shoulder.

Jimin looks up at Yoongi as Maya gently sets the cards down on the felt table.

"Oh Yoongi. Come on, I was fucking around." He says half heartedly.

"I'm done for the night. Get the fuck out." He burns his cigar out before opening up the library doors.

Everyone stands and thanks Maya softly before heading out one by one. Yoongi catches Jimin by the shoulder as he leaves last.

His hand clasps roughly around his skin and Jimin cringes at the sharp pain, "You keep her fucking name out of your goddamn mouth. Do you understand me? Don't you dare ever disrespect her in this household again. Or, I'll release those pictures of you at your bachelor party to Dispatch. You keep your dick away from where it doesn't belong in this house."

The threat sends Jimin's eyes widening a fraction before he collects his composure, "I got it. Relax." He says before pulling his shoulder away and patting the older man's arm.

Taking a deep breath, he looks around the library before meeting Maya's gaze as she clears the cards off of the poker table.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that nasty stuff." He apologizes and her nose wrinkles sweetly as she smiles.

"Now that, that is how I raised you." He smirks gently at her praise before pocketing his hands and looking down at the floor.

"Can you order some paint brushes and canvas?" He asks softly.

"Oh of course! For you? You don't paint." Maya asks, her voice is riddled with confusion as she stacks the poker chips back in the oak box.

"No, I don't but Y/N does." He mumbles and Maya smiles widely before nodding.

"Of course I'll order her some painting materials! That's a great idea, Yoongs!" Seeing her, the woman who has raised him, get so excited about it makes him feel almost drunk off of delight.

But, then he gets brought down to Earth once more as he hears his wife giggle from the kitchen.

"Thanks, Maya." He mumbles as he sets off to his wing of the mansion. He eyes Hoseok chatting up his wife as they both lean against the bar and he snorts to himself in disbelief. At least someone would be getting laid tonight.

The problem with having a wife that sees other people is just how loud sex can get when you're not involved.

At one point Yoongi craved to be in Hoseok's position. He was dying to get in between Sera's legs albeit she was annoying and bratty since they were kids. He had a genuinely real crush on her that dissolved into distaste and pure hatred in a matter of moments.

Even across the whole mansion, he can hear her getting fucked like there's no tomorrow and he grimaces while turning to the window as he lays in bed.

"Music up to ninety percent." He calls out in the room and the volume of the classical piano piece rises quickly to drown out the feral noises of sex from the other wing in the mansion.

Pulling out his phone, he begins to scroll through Instagram before finding Leena's page. There were so many posts with just you and her or you, her and Seokjin. Your smile was pretty. He takes into account that you haven't really smiled around him all that much but he can understand why.

He can remember your giggle too, when you were in Namjoon's office. It was soft and gentle, like hummingbird wings. The noise instantly made him relax and he can remember how his eyes fluttered shut just upon hearing it.

You weren't a bad person. You weren't trying to trap him-- he could see it on your face when you had lunch. You were genuinely mortified. So fucking frightened. And, even though he doesn't know you, you don't deserve that.

You don't deserve to be terrified of him or anyone.

He can see in most of these pictures, you're wearing borrowed things. The Chanel, the Balenciaga, the Gucci-- it was all Leenas and none of it was your own.

How fucking depressing must that be? Did Leena make you wear her clothes or did you ask her to borrow some in order to not feel poor and unworthy around others?

Sighing gently, he presses his face deeper into the pillow as he continues to scroll.

Maybe he shouldn't treat you like another Sera. But, he doesn't trust a single person. He's learned to lock his heart away in an iron cage after Sera so brutally stepped on him.

He's not sure if he could ever truly open up to someone else that isn't the woman who raised him.

Next Chapter --->

Third Wheeling Taglist- @wickizer, @imluckybitches, @slothykreuger, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland, @rspbrryy, @iv-bts, @bambuzlee, @chanelbts, @mxxngxdss, @bluewhale52, @milesjeon11, @diamonddia-mond, @vinylphwoar, @yxnxxli, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn, @bts-7beauts, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace, @eclectically-esoteric, @nikkiordonez12, @kaitswrld, @skamlover200, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria, @jikooksgirl19, @hobbledehoy26, @singular-itae, @dchimminie, @lowlifeoeuvre, @laabellaavitaa21, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth, @softysuho, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @betysotelo18, @jeonmisha, @iwanttohitmyself, @ayyyocee, @neverthefirstchoice, @itsbangtanoclock, @little7bitchh, @veryuniquenamegoeshere, @deathkat657, @firstlovesuga-93, @namjoonia, @paperpurple, @muzikabijou, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites, @kleff03, @ruinsofangels, @brightwingr5, @leekanchol, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside, @melaninkpops, @y00ngisbabygirl, @ungodlyjoon, @prochnost513, @dunixxd, @athenakyle, @igotnotype, @chxmachxps, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog, @alpaca1612, @ohcarolinamin, @thegreatestsushi, @jooniebugg, @eltrain80, @btsmylife21, @deeepvibes

Some people couldn’t be tagged, I’m so sorry about that!

#third wheeling #thebtswritersclub #btscreatorscorner #btswritingcafe #ficswithluv #ceo!yoongi #ceo!au #yoongi x reader #yoong x you

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years ago

Note

HI i just wanted to say that i really enjoy your twilight metas (as those are the only ones ive read so far) and you're a genius. it's awesome to me how realistically you think about characters and the plot, which i have never been able to do because i always get confused. thank you especially for your post about jacob and how the fandom treats him bc ive always had mixed feelings! i love him (the fanon/new moon him ofc) but i also felt rly weird about the whole SA thing, especially as a brown boy thats been villainized (i didnt SA anyone i just realized how that sounds) i understood that it had racist roots but it still...happened, yk? anyways u put it beautifully and its alot easier to understand how i feel about him now. also like everything else u post about!! i despise the cullens w my every being but its so entertaining to see their dynamic and actions laid out. mostly bc it solidifies my hatred but anyways. they also kind of change my views on other characters, like i always kinda liked bella (i dont like alot of things she does but alot of the fan content i see on her made her feel rly relatable) and its rly interesting to see that she would be a kind of absent parent, bc id never considered it like that and it makes so much sense and woah. u have so much evidence to back up ur theories and opinions too--i tend to get lost in fanon but i dont rly do that w ur posts! even ones where ur spitballing its just muah chefs kiss i love. i write alot of self fulfilling fanfiction and tbh it does not feel the same when the characters r too ooc and ur posts have helped a fuck ton! ur super cool and i love ur stuff keep going :)

i do have some questions tho u dont have to acknowledge it at all and ik you tend to focus more on the cullens, but what do you think the wolf pack is like now that jacob, leah, and seth have left, and now that they have so many new members? do you think any other girls would have shifted and how would they be treated? ik leah was kind of alienated in canon not only bc shes a girl but also bc of her feelings, and i cant tell if the pack would be wary of her/treat her the same as leah, or if they would have learned their lesson.

have a good day!

Well first, thank you, I'm very flattered. I'm going to go ahead and acknowledge @therealvinelle here as well as she's I believe the one who originally posted the post about the very complicated topic of Jacob Black and his terrible choices throughout the series.

As for your questions there are a few pack questions in my inbox but it's mostly a matter that people keep asking questions about Bella and she keeps getting eaten.

Also, I'm not sure you want me answering these questions. Like all of Twilight, it's a bleak pit of despair.

But here we go

What About the Pack/Tribe After Breaking Dawn

There's a lot of shit going on in the tribe right now. Jacob leaving is just part of it.

They have an unprecedented number of shifters in the community and that's going to spell... a lot of issues in the years to come.

Namely, per Sam and Emily, domestic violence will be through the roof and kept very hushed up for the understandable reason of these people look like they were mauled by bears. This will also likely increase the number of deaths in the tribe, especially among those who are young. Accidents happen, it's not good, this is going to have a devastating impact on the people.

You also have a lot of angry, disaffected, young men who can no longer really be a part of society. They can't really attend school, can't even really leave the reservation for fear of turning into a wolf, they can't hold a job, at the age of nineteen or younger they each had their futures ripped away from them.

Some, Seth, handle this very well (possibly because he hasn't clued into what this means yet), others like Jake... do not. These people have had their lives turned upside down and in some cases utterly ruined: that's not good in any society.

Then you have the imprinting, lord, the imprinting.

To date, there's the Sam, Emily, and Leah disaster. The three of them handled it very well, but it still utterly destroyed Leah's life and emotional stability. Not helping, of course, is that Leah has had her very identity taken from her, has no privacy, and her only option of escape is to follow Jacob around which... we'll get to in a few paragraphs.

Added to that, you have the Claire/Quil disaster, in which the tribe is desperately trying to handle it by a) keeping it very quiet b) trying to make Quil just be the babysitter. That's unlikely to work out for them and is just angstfest all around and no one's fault.

And then, of course, Jacob/Renesmee. Jacob, having now imprinted, will follow Renesmee to the ends of the earth. He has no other purpose now. Which means that Leah and Seth, who are in his pack, get to follow along and uproot their lives. For the tribe this means they'll never be rid of the Cullens, not truly, and Billy has lost his son entirely. Not to mention it's guaranteed to go awful places.

Then you have the paternity questions this whole thing drudges up, the trauma of these children having to be sacred warriors and having slaughtered demons with human faces, many of whom were also once children and more.

The tribe and the pack are a goddamn mess.

Jacob imprinting on the Cullen hybrid daughter and leaving the tribe? Yeah, it's weird and no one likes it, but that isn't even the peak of the nonsense these people have to deal with.

Would the Other Girls Shift?

No.

Leah seems to have won the genetic shitty lottery. In 600 years of shifting, there has never been another woman, and Leah has all shifting bloodlines in her veins.

It seems Leah was just very unlucky.

Were other girls to shift I imagine they'd face much the same situation. Suddenly teenage boys are witnessing them naked, all the time, they have no choice to become sacred warriors (a role not typically meant for women and which will very much feel like 'the boy's club') and I don't get the idea that anyone learned anything from Leah.

Jake certainly didn't, he just thought she was Uber Bitch until she begged him to let her in his new pack and reminded him she was a human being with feelings.

The concept genuinely had not occurred to him.

TL;DR Remember kids, Twilight is despair

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #twilight quileute #sam uley #emily young #leah clearwater #seth clearwater #jacob black #meta #headcanon #opinion

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noonaishere · 3 years ago

Text

Work of Art [J.JH] - fifty-seven | pfeffernusse

You, having heard noises coming from the common area, took your sketchbook with you into the room, pretending to have a reason to be there. You peered at Anna who was making something at the stove.

“What’s up, Betty Crocker?”

She spun around. “Hey! I found some videos on how to make homemade christmas decorations and stuff, so I’m making dried fruit for a garland!”

“Oh. Smells good.”

“I’m drying apples and oranges and I put some cinnamon and cloves on them.” The oven door had been opened a bit to let the moisture out and she opened it more so you could see.

You nodded. “Nice. The dorm’s hot though, mind if I open the window?”

“Oh, yeah, go ahead.”

You put your sketchbook on the table and opened both of the common room windows. You sat down at the table and watched as she sliced more oranges.

“What are you doing now?”

“Oh-- making Glühwein? It’s a German spiced wine they have at Christmas. I saw a video on it and it sounded good.”

You nodded. “You’re very Suzie Homemaker today.”

“Well, like, I don’t know. I can’t really cook, but I miss the Christmas stuff you can’t get here and I wanted to try and recreate it.” She shrugged and turned back around to the stove to work on something new.

You watched her for a moment before opening your sketchbook and working on random things. A little sketch of her, a reworked sketch of Winwin, half a sketch of Jaehyun’s face you had started in the dance studio as he watched Taeyong dance and before he looked at you and you had to pretend you were looking at Taeyong.

You were almost glad that he turned Anna down, though it seemed to have an effect on her.

The worst part of it though was that he wasn’t looking to date anyone. You weren’t sure if that information made you happy, because you wouldn’t have to deal with the anguish of seeing him with someone else, or sad, because he would never be with you.

Not that you were asking any time soon.

And not that he had asked at all.

But you guessed that… you weren’t sure. You weren’t sure what you guessed. You pushed the thought out of your mind. You were being stupid by dwelling on it; hangups ate up time and rarely resulted in anything good and you knew it. You flipped the pages of your sketchbook until you found something else that needed work.

“What are you working on?”

“Mmm, spitballing ideas for a few more paintings.”

“You really are working hard.”

“Well, I’m here by the good graces of absolutely no one-- well, myself and all the scholarship foundations that have given me money, I guess… regardless, I have to work as hard as I can.”

“You’d make an excellent union leader.”

You shot her a questioning look before going back to drawing.

Anna’s phone timer went off and she shut it off with an excited squeal before opening the oven all the way and taking the dried fruit out.

“It’s done already?”

“It’s been in there since nine AM.”

You looked at her blankly. “Um.... you’ve been at this since nine?”

“They needed a long time to dry,” she shrugged. As she put them on the counter and turned the oven up. “I’m going to bake cookies next.”

“Is that what that mess is?”

“Don’t judge.”

You laughed. “I’m not. What are you making?”

“Christmas cookies. Gingerbread and Pfeffernusse and sugar cookies to decorate.”

“Pfeffernusse? What’s with all the German shit?”

“There was a guy from Germany in one of my engineering classes. He was telling me about German Christmas stuff before the break.”

“And you didn’t ask him out?”

“Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not. I admire your dedication to your newfound path in life.”

She smiled tentatively before picking up a bag of plain popcorn. “Want to help me string up the garland?”

You laughed. “Uh-- sure.”

“I couldn’t find cranberries though.”

“That makes sense. They’re native to North America.”

“Really?” She asked as she put the dried fruit and popcorn on the table and grabbed some string she had bought.

“Yeah,” you said as you picked up a slice of dried orange and smelled it. “Turkeys too, that’s why they’re so expensive here.”

“Ohhhh.”

You nodded. “My mom used to make a mean cranberry sauce for the holidays. I miss it.”

“You should have asked her to send you some.”

“My mom is dead. And my dad sold her recipe book to some shady publisher guy, so...” you shrugged.

“I’m sorry. Am I-- am I allowed to say, ‘Your dad is a piece of shit’?”

“Absolutely.”

She nodded. “Your dad is a piece of shit.”

You nodded.

She measured a length of string and cut it, handing it to you so she could use the spool. You wound up one end so it wouldn’t get tangled and got to work stringing up the fruit and popcorn, laying it on the table as you completed it.

“So, how many paintings are you working on?”

“Ummm, I have the five I finished. The three I started... I’m working on getting another three ready, and then I have five or six that are like… backup ideas, kind of?”

“That’s a lot. Is that a lot of work or like, are they not that labor intensive?”

“Oh no, they’re pretty labor intensive.” You laughed. “I keep telling myself that I need to do something way less complicated, but the Too Much Gene keeps taking over and I just go all out each time.”

“Well, they have to be good, then, if you keep turning them up to eleven.”

You chuckled. “My professors think so.”

“Hey, that’s great!”

You nodded.

“I don’t think you’ve ever shown me what they look like when they’re done, I’ve just seen the sketches.”

You pulled your phone out and opened the pictures app. You opened the folder labeled “art” and handed it to her. “Progress pics. Swipe right.”

“I thought I told you I wasn’t dating,” she joked.

You threw back your head and laughed, shook your head and went back to your garland.

She swiped to see picture after picture, bare canvasses becoming lush and vibrant almost at 100x times the speed. Sexy reds, lush greens, deep blues, and all accentuating the movement of your subjects: long, graceful lines, powerful jumps, and spins.

“What the fuck, y/n, these are amazing. I didn’t know you made shit like this.”

“I don’t know if other artists would feel offended that you cursed twice, but I feel like my work has really moved you,” you chuckled.

“Seriously--”

“Jinjja?”

“Jinjja. These are so good. They look like… I don’t know, water benders and fire benders and shit--”

You burst out laughing. “I love it. No one’s ever said that.”

She laughed and went back to the pictures. “Especially Winwin and Ten, holy shit.”

“They’re like, unnaturally graceful.”

“Really.”

She flipped through a few more before handing your phone back. “Message in the group chat.”

previous | main cast | masterlist | next

Tag list: @tansyfleurwhisper , @sista7-7 , @hey-thatslove , @kimjngws , @leagreenly

[If you’d like to be added to the taglist, just ask :D 🍑]

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whump-town · 3 years ago

Text

Cracks in the Ceiling

little hurt LOT comfort

my version of Route 66 bc how are you going to cut him open and give such minimal comfort?? like damn

Morgan’s tearing through the open case file in front of him, attention more or less on his teammates debating the case openly around him. His head is pounding, there’s this ache fixated on his right temple that no amount of Tylenol has managed to dull. If it weren’t for the pain he’d lean over and make Rossi aware of the fact that he’s 100% certain that Hotch slept in his office last night. He’s no snitch but this is the second time this week and it’s a pattern of behavior that has never been good in the past. It’s a behavior worth noting. For now, he decides to leave it. The others are gathering, filling into place, everyone’s mostly in their usual seats at the round table. He isn’t alerted or even too worried about Hotch standing rather than sitting, dark eyes darting over them. It’s probably nothing, Morgan shakes his head, not a big deal.

They jump into the work, Morgan keeps quiet. He’s got some things scratched into the margins of his file but he’ll bring them up now. Nothing worth stating just yet, not even proper observations but maybe Reid will have something to spitball. “--as you know, the amber alert is…” Morgan looks up, frowning at the sound of just how breathless Hotch is. As if he’s just run a marathon or taken down an Unsub by himself. Morgan looks the man up and down. The stark contrast of his boss’ pale face to the red of his tie. Morgan frowns, “Hotch?” He’s already on his feet, heart hammering, standing just as Hotch rasps an “excuse me”.

“Aaron!”

Rossi gets to him first. Kneeling right down on the ground, no reservations left for personal space. Anywhere else, anything else and it might have been funny. Rossi is so careful about himself. He won’t get his shoes dirty and he’s not putting creases in his pants let alone kneeling on the ground and risking wearing down the material around his knee and yet here he is. Placing a crease in his shoes at the toes and digging a knee in the, no doubt, filthy carpet. His clothes don’t matter, he’s paying them no mind as he calls Hotch’s name again. Begging-- “Look at me! Aaron? Aaron!”

It’s all snippets, no solidity.

Rossi’s rough palm, his skin radiating an intense uncomfortable heat against Hotch’s cheek. The rings on his fingers biting with their chilled metal, startlingly present in a haze of sensations he can’t name. All too much information for his brain, warmth and the chill, and how heavy his diaphragm feels as he draws in breathes.

Bright lights, rocking, and back and forth. White, bright white dancing from one eye over to the other.

“Mr. Hotchner?”

Drugs. He can feel them in his veins, thick as sludge crawling up his throat.

“Mr. Hotchner, can you hear me?”

Pulse is thready.

He’s not responding.

He can see Rossi-- it’s not worry pulling his face down, it’s hopelessness. A deep realization that he can do nothing, that he’s powerless and clueless. He can do nothing but sit there as the paramedics work, providing no commentary, having generally no idea what to do.

Starting lactated ringers.

Systolic is dropping.

BP is 90/60.

Systolic is his heart, which Rossi knows isn’t good. His blood pressure runs low, he takes medication for that. Maybe… Maybe he just didn’t take his meds this morning. That’s an easy enough explanation. No need to think the worst.

But the worst is what they get.

Foyet returned from the grave. Sometimes it’s like that man never really left. Hotch still looks over his shoulder, wakes up in the middle of the night thinking about him. Catches himself thinking like a trapped animal, reflexively isolating himself. It was only a few months but the paranoia is something he’s never been able to shake. He put his family at risk, lost Haley and Jack for months, and every time he was alone with a team member Foyet could be watching and if Foyet wanted to… he couldn’t even keep a serial killer from breaking into his home. He’s nearly lost all of them to serial killers, what’s he really going to be able to do to stop Foyet from killing them?

Back from the grave?

It’s like he never left.

Garcia approaches the bed slowly, put off by the stark contrast of the bags under Hotch’s eyes, and the intense pallor of his face. The only reassurance he’s even alive is the fog, the oxygen mask flushed with each of his shaky and choked breaths. “Sir?” She slowly reaches down and takes his right hand in both of her own. His hand is freezing, limp, and heavy in her hand. Lifeless. Even his veins look wrong, the colors aren’t right.

Settling herself with a deep breath, Garcia runs her thumb across his knuckles. Trying to draw some sort of stability, some consciousness to the madness buzzing around them. The hospital alight with all the wrong sorts of energy.

His head is turned slightly to her, lips parted as his breathing labors on. Leaving his lungs in harsh rasps. His left arm is curled limply around the light pink basin in his lap. It makes her stomach ache to imagine him alone back here, even if he wasn’t awake.

“Ma’am,” a nurse steps into the room, followed by two men on each of her sides. “They’re ready for him in OR 2. We’re going take him there now.”

Garcia nods, hands shaking a little harder than she’d like at the thought of him going somewhere she can’t watch over. This isn’t the same as the field. There she can hear what he hears. She’s right there with them but… “O--Okay,” she whispers, nodding tightly as she gently lays his hand back down on the bed. She looks him back over once more. Memorizing all that she can and biting back the emotion working up her throat. “Take care of him,” she says, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “He’s really important to me.”

The nurse stops, ignoring the other two men as they place all the machines they can around and in Hotch’s lap. She squeezes Garcia’s arm gently, “he’s in the best hands.” She nods, a small sympathetic smile in place. “We’ll take care of him, ma’am. I promise.”

Garcia nods, “okay.” She has to trust them and she can do that. She believes in medicine. She understands it. He’s going to be okay. Eventually. Not right now but soon and she’ll stay with him for as long as she can.

“Hello?” She answers her phone on the second ring, her hands shaking so badly she misses the answer button the first time. Her eyes stay on Hotch, watching and struggling to keep up with the fast pace of the staff pushing him down the hall. Distracted enough to not even care that it’s Morgan calling her and that she should greet him with their usual luster. She just can’t find it in herself to conjure it up right now.

Morgan greets her a second later, a mind centered on just getting this case over with. He can’t think about Hotch. Can’t get distracted. “Hey, Baby Girl,” he says, pulling the phone back and hitting the speakerphone so JJ can hear. “It’s Morgan. How’s Hotch?”

Garcia really wishes she hadn’t worn heels today. The heels along with her much shorter legs are making it really hard to keep pace with Hotch. “He’s still out,” she informs him. Which kind of sucks. She’d feel really good right now if she’d just seen him awake. To talk to him. He’s always really good at calming her down. “They’re taking him to surgery.”

Morgan sighs, shaking his head. Damn, he’d really been hoping whatever this was to pass over as the flu. “Okay,” is all he says, hoping his disappointment doesn’t write itself all over his body. He clears his throat and tries to shake this awful feeling in his gut. “Alright, well, we need you to look through Samantha Wilcox’s text and email correspondents.”

Garcia nods her head, hoping what he’s saying actually sticks in her brain. She’d hate to have to call back and tell them she didn’t catch a word being said. Not after promising Dave, she would be okay to stay behind with Hotch. “Okay.” She agrees, “what am I looking for? Anything in particular?”

JJ’s voice cuts through and that takes Garcia by pleasant surprise. “She’s been in touch with her dad.”

Oh. Garcia thinks. That’s probably not good.

“And check vicap,” Morgan adds.

Garcia had seen the doors coming and the nurses and doctor’s throwing on scrub caps from down the hall. She’d seen them but she hadn’t thought this was where they part. Nervously, her eyes flicker over to Hotch. Maybe it’s better he’s not awake to see her like this. The last thing he needs is worrying about trying to soothe her nerves. “W-Why,” she stops as a nurse sympathetically directs her to.

She doesn’t hear a thing from then on. Her ears are ringing, words coming from the line but she doesn’t hear it. She just stands there. “They just took him back,” she manages. He’s gone from her sight. The hall is empty. It’s just her standing here.

For the sake of appearances she finds a seat in the waiting room, tries to manage deep even breathes. Remain calm. But Morgan’s request doesn’t take that long, he doesn’t even try to stay on the line with her. The conversation dies the second she tells him Hotch is in surgery and no one’s told her anything.

Out of boredom, unable to sit still a moment longer while her mind replays the pain of the day that it happened. Being forced to stay at her desk while knowing, while having listened as Emily explained the mess in his apartment. The tumbler shattered on the ground. Clear, composed Emily Pretniss’ voice trembling, the shattered glass in her throat. Not enough blood to know he’s dead but not enough to survive.

She goes to the gift shop to distract herself with the signs and clothes for expecting parents, for balloons that wish parents and grandparents a speedy recovery. So that she can stand amongst the aisle of teddy bears and t-shirts and exist in space and time that feels mute, feels non-existent.

She buys herself a sucker shaped like a heart and Hotch a teddy bear with a t-shirt that says “I love you” because he’ll pretend to hate it. He’ll hate the attention maybe but it’ll keep him company. After what Foyet did to him she gave him a troll, it’s all she had on her when was finally able to get to the hospital to see him. He was asleep by the time she got there, the doctor gave him sedatives. He got agitated after Haley and Jack left, tore stitches in restlessness. They set up a schedule, made sure he wasn’t alone after that.

She placed the troll in the palm of his hand, curled his fingers around it. He gave it back when he returned to work. She found it on her desk with a note, a simple “Thank you -H”. What a silly man, she’d meant for him just to keep it. She slipped it back into his go-bag the second he wasn’t watching. He got the message then.

It’s still in his go-bag.

The recovery room is filled with the sounds of heart monitors.

It’s good. Logically, Penelope Garcia knows it’s good but she’d rather be anywhere else in the world. Yet she’d fought rather bravely to get here, to be allowed someplace she should not be. Listening to the crowd of heart monitors softly ringing out the promise of ongoing survival, she feels hopeful. She’s not naive enough to feel safe.

She’d watched them extubate him. She’d stepped into the room a little prematurely, seen him attached to all those machines. Watched his chest rise and fall under the guide of the ventilator. Slivers of his eyes present as a doctor talked to him, guiding him through the process. He gags and chokes, still absent of mind as they move him. By the time anyone pays any attention to her he’s already back under the pull of the drugs. Asleep. They move him on the bed, settle his arms back to his sides and pull the blankets up to his chest. He’s no more than a body to manipulate.

“He’ll—He’ll be okay, right?” She’d seen the doctor extubate Hotch and her chest hurts at the sight of him. He’d been so limp as they pulled that tube out, coughing and curling into himself. Unaware of everything around him, he’d wrapped his arms around his chest. He’s as pale as the bedsheets he’s laying on and her protective streak wants nothing more than to gather all six feet of him up into a comfy blanket and cuddle his pain away. “Is he in any pain?”

The doctor clenches his teeth, taking a breath like he’s either uncertain or afraid to tell her the truth. He places his arms over his chest, “there was a lot of internal damage.” But he’s still chewing on what he’s really afraid to admit to, turning it over. Weighing the pros and cons— “We lost him on the table but—” panic strikes the happy blonde like a hand. “We got him right back, ma’am. He’s responding appropriately to the medication. Your friend is tough, his recovery is already coming along nicely.”

Garcia lets out a shaky breath. “Is there anything I can do? You know, until you move him?” They get hurt all the time and she tries really hard to stay objective, to keep coasting along because that’s always what the others do. Emily never loses her head and Hotch always stays in the field, takes care of more than his share of the work. So she can do that, she’s capable of that.

The doctor smiles, “yeah. When he wakes up, his throat’s going to be pretty agitated. Try to get him to drink some water. It’ll help later, make him stronger when the nurses come around wanting him back on his feet in a few hours.” He extends his hand for her to shake, “and I’m sure with you here, Agent Hotchner will make a speedy recovery.”

Garcia blushes and shakes his hand.

“So,” the doctor stuffs his hands in his lab coat. “Are the rumors true?”

Garcia frowns, tilting her head.

“Did he really…” the doctor’s eyes move to the man on the bed. He shakes his head, “was it really a serial killer that did all that to him?”

Garcia pulls in a heated breath, she’s an even-tempered woman. She’s not going to be hot-headed about any old thing but why would he even say something like that. With Hotch right there. Just as she’s about to lay into him Hotch mumbles something from the bed, turning his head and blinking heavily as he takes in the darkroom. She can’t make it out but he shakes his head and makes a clumsy pull at the nasal canal under his nose, trying to dislodge it. She throws the doctor a dirty look and moves to his side, calling his name. Garcia takes his hand, “what? What is it, sir?”

He frowns, tight. Grimacing as he swallows, adam’s apple bouncing as he shakes his head again. He looks at her, eyes drooping before his lips part, his mouth clumsily forming her name. He pushes at the nasal canal again, his discomfort obvious. “Is he here?” he rasps. “Foyet?”

Garcia curses that stupid doctor but she knows it’s not his fault. Old injuries and old scars. “No, honey,” she soothes, her thumb running over his knuckles. If he weren’t so high, so bogged down with the drugs he wouldn’t be so confused. He’d fuss over her endearment but instead, he leans closer. Turns his face towards her, trusts her. “Foyet’s long gone. He can’t hurt you. You’re safe.” The news seems to be surprising at first but she can see the moment he remembers. Foyet is dead. It puts him at some ease, helps but he’s still visibly uncomfortable.

She releases his hand, her heart breaking at the soft sound he makes. His panic swells as she steps to the side of the bed, going to the water pitcher. She pours a cup, holding it up so he can see what she’s doing. He shakes his head, making another clumsy tug at the oxygen canal and successfully moving it this time.

“Take a sip of this and I’ll bring you a strawberry milkshake later,” Garcia promises with a kind smile. “Come on, sir,” she urges. “One sip of water for your favorite milkshake?” She places the straw to his chapped lips and smiles when he takes a tentative sip.

He manages to raise his left hand, struggling to form a good hold on the cup. She lets him have it though, her palm just under it in case he drops it. “I don’t like strawberry milkshakes,” he rasps, sipping slowly at the water working numbers on his raw throat.

Garcia smiles, “I know sir.” She reaches up and lightly taps a finger against his temple, “I was just making sure they didn’t scramble your brains, that’s all.” She takes the cup back, noticing him slowly losing his grip, fighting the anesthesia still coursing through his veins.

He grins sleepily at her, eyes falling shut. “No more scrambled than usual,” he jokes softly.

She grins and takes his hand in her own, squeezing his limp fingers. “Oh, but that’s why we love you, sir.”

He nods, eyes shut as he slips back under the lingering anesthesia. “Garcia,” he mumbles, fingers curling around hers. “You don’t have to stay.”

She shakes her head, “I’m not gonna leave you back here all alone.” She looks around, he may be fighting sleep and will most likely spend his hour back here asleep but it’s creepy and she knows he wouldn’t leave her. “It’s kind of scary back here,” she admits and squeezes his hand. “And you wouldn’t leave me back here all by myself so don’t expect me to leave you.”

Hotch grumbles something under his breath she can’t quite hear but she takes it as his usual self-deprecating, overbearing nature sort of thing and lets it slip. “Get some sleep, sir.”

He doesn’t remember a word of their previous conversation.

A nurse comes in and they run through all the same old stuff. He’s given a pink bucket even though he doesn’t express he’s nauseous, still clutches it to his chest. Pink plastic rubbing against the surgical staples, he’s afraid breathing the wrong way will split him open. The morphine is making his head fuzzy, makes his dreams weird and his thoughts overwhelmingly rippled. But the world distorts a little and he sees Garica sitting there, all of the brightness in the world scribbling away on her notepad so that she can make sure he abides by every word they advise. He feels a little better with her here.

“Mmm,” he’s leaning into his side but he perks up a little when he hears the nurse say something about food. Tells them he can’t eat anything for the next forty-eight hours. His noise draws their attention, the first real reaction he’s had since this all began. “No milkshake then.”

Garcia frowns at him and then the nurse. She reaches over and squeezes his hand, “sorry, sir.”

He clears his throat, pressing the bucket harder into his stomach. “S’okay.” He really doesn’t care about that. The main concern right now is not throwing up. A battle that it feels like he won’t be winning.

“Mr. Hotchner?”

He cracks an eye open and knows that a good stretch of time has just passed. There are no markers for it within the room, the blinds are shut on the one window and there’s not a visible clock within his line of sight but intuitively he knows.

“I need to change your bandages.”

He nods, faintly able to recall this part of the healing from years ago. The constant monitoring, the bandage changes. Sucks. All of it. “Garcia?” they ask him if she can stay. He doesn’t want to do that to her but he also doesn’t want to force her away. “You don’t have to stay.” He finds her in the mix of people, around the sound of gauze being opened, and things shuffled around. “Take a break,” he manages a sliver of control. “Get some fresh air.”

She shakes her head.

“Garcia.” They’re waiting on his permission, to go on or kick her out. “Penelope,” he whispers, “you don’t have to look. You don’t want to.”

She frowns, standing to contest his nonsense head-on. “Sir, you’re one of the three most attractive men I know.” She stands there and dares him to say otherwise. He’s a good bit older than she is but she knows an attractive man when she sees one. She’s not blind.

He smirks, too loosely for it to be entirely of his volition and nothing to do with the drugs. “One of three, huh? That makes me the third?” She rolls her eyes and he waves her off, makes a motion for her to go. “Go eat, Penelope. Call Morgan. Get out of here.”

She doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want him to ever leave her line of sight again but she nods and listens.

Morgan tells her everything with the Wilcox case went decently. They got the dad and the girl made it out alive. She tells him Hotch is awake, facing this new disaster with his usual stoic ways. They end the awkwardly, neither really in the headspace to play around.

He’s asleep again when she comes back. Gown askew across his shoulders, leaving his collarbones scandalously out in the open. Makes him look naked but she can’t look away. Under all those layers, suits that haven’t really changed in the decade she’s known him, he’s deceivingly pale. She can see muscle, the way it lays, and yet the soft corners of him. Years of fatherhood having worn him down in places softened him in others. He’s gained weight but this has set him back again and she realizes that if she’s looking at his too-thin body here then he’s lost weight before her eyes. How long has he been sick?

Visiting hours are over, she’s supposed to be making her goodbyes for the night. This sullen feeling in her stomach only doubles, makes her feel sick. She can’t leave him. Don’t they understand that? He’s in no state to be left by himself. “Sir?” she whispers. She touches his hand and he flinches.

His sleepy frown deepens but he hears her whisper for him again. He hums, eyelids too heavy to lift fully. “Mhmm?”

“I have to go,” she says. “Visiting hours are over.”

He hums again, nods.

She takes advantage of his current state leans down and kisses his forehead, hugs him while he lets her. “I love you, sir, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She takes a moment, his eyes still closed, to move his hair off of his forehead. “Are you okay? Will you be okay?”

He nods, swallowing thickly against the dryness in his throat. Facing the next few hours alone sounds miserable but he’s more than mastered the art of sleeping off stays in the hospital. It’s going to be a long night but not an impossible one.

“Oh,” she mumbles, “okay.” She moves to gather her stuff when she remembers the teddy bear. “Sir?”

He opens his eyes, just sliver but he’s there.

“I thought… maybe…” she places the bear in his lap. “To keep you company?”

He smirks, “thank you, Garcia.” There’s something about the way he rubs at the bear’s ear, softly and entirely content that gives her hope. He’ll be okay, she knows, but that doesn’t stop her from worrying. He looks up at her, that same lopsided grin she’s seen all afternoon. The drugs will wear off and she’ll be left without that smile again. Having to barter her way into sad grins instead.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she promises.

“Not until you’ve had breakfast,” he mumbles. “Eat first.”

She can’t help but smile even if she intends to listen. “Yes, sir.” So bossy. He’s lucky he’s cute or she’d have smacked him up the side of the head by now. She leaves, it hurts and she really, really doesn’t want to but she leaves.

He’ll be okay, she knows that.

And he is. There’s no good way to measure the day’s passing but a nurse comes in and tells it’s eight o’clock and that someone called the nurse’s desk asking for him, a name that came with a badge. Which confuses him but that really only leaves a small group of people, he assumes that means the team is back home.

It’s not them.

She gets there at nine o’clock and it’s only her badge and artfully mumbling something about Interpol that gets her back. They know he’s a federal agent and she’s betting on that. She’s always been good at poker.

He’s sleeping when she finds him, the only light in the room coming from the heart monitor. She wishes she knew how to read it, how to understand what the numbers mean so that she might be able to get a better grasp on the situation. All she knows is what Morgan told her over the phone but that seemed crazy. Hotch wasn’t even sick, Morgan said he was fine. Maybe a little off but he’s Hotch, he just simply is off.

“Emily?”

She steps into the room, following the sound of his sleep-disturbed voice.

“What’re you doing here?”

He’s obviously confused, frowning at her more than happy to see her. The morphine always gives him crazy dreams, he’s probably assuming that’s what this is. “I know I’m not your favorite,” she mumbles sarcastically, “but you don’t have to make it so abundantly clear.” With an eye roll, she sits herself down on the edge of the bed. For a moment, as his tired brain processes what she’s said, she fears what she fears every time she comes home-- that things between them have changed. That distance hasn’t made him fond but rather angry or has changed one of them so drastically that they no longer know one another.

He groans at her, shaking his head and grumbling her name in that bothered way he’s perfected over the years.

With a smile, she knows nothing has changed. He still manages to say her name like “leave me alone” meant to be taken as an endearment, an invitation to stay. “It’s okay,” she assures, tapping the back of her hand against his hip. “No hard feelings.”

He hums, not going to even bother with refuting any of her statements. That’s the beauty of their companionship, they never really have to say anything. That’s what she’s so afraid will change because she knows that if one day she comes home and he can’t read the “I love you” hidden in her sarcasm and the “please, don’t scare me like that again” in her playful proximity then that’s it. She can find the words for Reid and she’s always been able to suck up the physical comfort for Garcia or JJ but she just can’t with Hotch. She tried so hard after Foyet to be able to say something, to wrangle up comfort, but she just couldn’t.

But there was a moment, one night when the world seemed to be drowning in a rainstorm, that she woke up sick. His abdomen was still ablaze from Foyet’s attack, too fresh for him to be up and moving around. He’d followed the sound of her getting sick to the bathroom, making his slow way down the hall held upright by the wall. Moving forward only because stopping would cause him to fall. He didn’t leave her once he understood the noise just settled down on the ground beside her, back leaning on the bathtub. Neither said a word but she looked over at him and she saw all the comfort he couldn’t manage to bring to words. His worry etched across his face. She was supposed to be taking care of him and yet they’d ended up shoulder-to-shoulder waiting out a storm on the bathroom floor.

She has a fever-hazed memory of waking up with her head on his shoulder. A glass of water against her knee and the warmth of a heating pad against her stomach. No idea how he did it or when but they never spoke of it. Never had to. Somehow someone she can’t even manage to tell that she loves or that she even remotely feels concerned for turned out to be one of her closest friends. The asshole she once thought untrustworthy. He’s still an asshole but it’s one of those things that you just learn to look over.

Makes him interesting.

“So,” she says with a sigh, “you gonna scoot over or what?”

She gets another blanket out of a cabinet she sees in the corner of the room, distracts herself so that he’s certain she doesn’t see him moving. That’s what she’s talking about, there’s no communication needed. He can move himself over a little bit but it’s painful and he’s weak and he doesn’t want her to see that. She also knows he runs cold and won’t share his blankets with her. Loves her enough to share his bed but she’s yet to encounter someone he loves enough to share his blankets.

“What happened to your arm?” he can see it once she moves away again. A simple sling keeps it pinned to her chest, he assumes she’s either dislocated or been shot. Wonders why she didn’t call, why she didn’t tell anyone.

She sighs, he can’t see her roll her eyes but he knows that sigh and knows she’s done it even if he can’t see. “This prick,” she tosses the blanket on his legs as she climbs up beside him. “He kicked me, sent me down a flight of stairs.” He can tell she’s more embarrassed than hurt, which is good. She puffs out an agitated breath but despite this is very gentle as she gets closer to him. Hyperaware of the wounds she can’t see.

Her warmth is alluring, despite himself he leans closer, and she doesn’t say a word when his cheek comes to her shoulder.

“I’m okay, though,” she finally states. Moves some of her blanket over him, checks again that he’s comfortable. Which she assumes he is, or he wouldn’t be sleeping. “Clyde had given me three weeks off, told me to take a break. That’s why I came. I promise I didn’t take any unnecessary time off.”

He hums, appreciates this addition. She knew he would.

Her throat is sore where it catches the words she doesn’t know how to say. That she’s missed him terribly or that she loves him or that when Morgan told her what happened she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think or move. He takes her hand and she has to pinch her eyes shut so that she doesn’t cry and he squeezes her hand.

He’s missed her too.

He loves her.

He’s glad she came.

“Go to sleep,” she mumbles.

He hums.

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

The others come in at six, pilling into the room in dirty clothes from the day before and sore from the jet ride home. They’re too tired to speak, to do anything more than grumble and shove at one another to get through the door. As they pile in they take stock of the sight before them. Emily’s dark bruises, the black eye that the night had hidden from Hotch. Her hand still holding his. Hotch breathing, laying there entirely whole. Slowly returning to his normal colors.

They have questions, concerns to raise with both sleeping parties, but those can wait for a better hour.

They settle down in the room, squeezing together on chairs.

Morgan sees Hotch wake a little, a soft shift in his breathing.

“Back to sleep,” Morgan whispers, trying to keep the others from hearing. Hotch’s face pinches, mouth opening to ask the question Morgan already knows. “Everything went fine. Samantha is safe, no one got hurt.” He glances at Emily and shakes his head, “go back to sleep, Hotch. We’ll talk in the morning.”

And it settles once again.

Nothing but the soft sound of sleeping agents.

#criminal minds #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #david rossi #penelope garcia #emily prentiss

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moonblooch · 3 years ago

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*cracks knuckles* alright crack theories about Fresh Cut Grass’ “Former Associate”

So since the general consensus seems to be that FCG and their group were trapped underground for much longer than a few days, that means that he technically could have been created at nearly any point in the Exandria timeline, which gives us a lot of ideas to play with

here are some spitballs in no particular order, let’s see if any of these stick:

1. An inhabitant of Aeor

Very straightforward, since Aeor is mostly underground now and the recent re-activation of the Aeormatons presents a shiny (literally) new option for the players. The sheer amount of latent magic in the area could also explain how FCG is able to cast cleric spells without any apparent connection to a deity (but this is early days, so who knows?)

2. Anna Ripley

There’s a whole lot of callbacks to Vox Machina in this campaign, why not throw another one in for fun? Ripley only appeared in person in a handful of episodes, plus she must have been doing something before joining up with the Briarwoods; that’s a lot of time unnaccounted for. This seems a bit less likely, since her focus appeared to be weapons, but she made (presumbably) her own robot hand, so she certainly had the skill to make a non-sentient automaton (and FCG did mention that their freinds were more specialised than he is, which could imply that they were built to just be tools)

The use of the term “former associate” does not imply a close relationship, and is generally how you might refer to a person you don’t like, and Ripley could hardly be called a pleasant person, but I have a hard time seeing her using the name “Dancer” so that leaves a third option:

3. Hazel Copperpot

Whilst we can be pretty confident that Taryon Darrington did not make FCG (a fact confirmed by the existence of “Pussy”, assuming that FCG is telling the truth about naming conventions), it seems possible that one of his associates could have.

Hazel first appeared in the Adventures of the Darrington Brigade oneshot having invented a phonograph and constructed an entire one-man sound effects studio to go with it, so she clearly has knowledge of mechanical things. Add to that that she, as a member of the Darrington Brigade, may well have had access to Doty’s schematics, and might have even helped to repair him on occasion, and you have a person who could probably make a half-decent robot.

(Using fantasy rules that is)

Her end goal could have been to make a robot that could record in dangerous enviroments, and a small, wheeled design would allow for a quick getaway. A rubber wheel would probably also result in less background noise than feet. How exactly FCG would record isn’t super clear but, if the official art is anything to go by, the top of their head is just a bunch of wires tied together. Maybe they were never finished?

...

Anyway, place your bets folks! There’s still a whole lot of Campaign 3 to go and it’s probably none of these, but it’s fun to speculate.

Loving the new party and can’t wait to see Revenge of the Animated Chairs in a few episodes ^_^

#critical role #fresh cut grass #cr3 #critical role meta #critical role spoilers

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phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

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I am seized by a fatal need for courtroom ninja drama fic

But not serious courtroom drama. I'm talking Phoenix Wright style Nonsense.

(Some of this was provided by the folks over in @sloaners‘ server, but the bulk of it was me spitballing nonsense at people who actually know the games, which I do not. I do paraphrase a few times to make it more feasible as a tumblr post/fic concept, rather than a rapidfire text conversation.)

Or one of those like. Reality TV paternity test things? But specifically in my mind the people involved in the actual paternity are a married couple and someone that joined them to be their third, and Clan Elders are throwing a fit about how the baby might not be the heir by blood! while the actual parents are like "I could not care less, this is our child, all three of us, please stop getting involved."

HashiMitoMada would be a VERY good option for the paternity nonsense, mostly because I can see Madara screeching at his own elders about how he already said Izuna would be his heir and he's not changing his mind!

Tobirama is just begging the paternity test to work faster off-screen because he's the only person with the machines to make it happen.

(Hashirama is just. Moping in a corner.)

"I just had to INVENT a paternity test that works before the birth! I had to figure out how to test amniotic fluid! If you assholes make me do something this stupid on such short notice again, I will be digging some shallow graves!" "...for who?" "I haven't decided yet."

Anyway, jumping back to like a Phoenix Wright-style murder investigation.

The victim was Danzo. Even the prosecution isn't actually that interested in making sure someone gets arrested, but they're legally obligated to do at least try. A bunch of people all acting really suspicious about who killed him. There is at least one shitty fake mustache-on-glasses disguise to provide a paper-thin alibi.

WAIT The other thing this gives us is ninjas in three-piece-suits but half of them wear the suits wrong. I’m talking mismatched buttons. The wrong way of tying their tie. Sewn-on-cufflinks. This is Naruto, for instance.

Tobirama would wear it properly, except he's rushing about in a lab coat, screaming at everyone to get out of his way because he's The Entire Forensics Team.

(This is the part where I have to confess that I have only seen the live-action movie of Phoenix Wright, as I don't game, so I just have the live action and tumblr osmosis.)

At this point, of course, we gotta ask: Who is the most Belligerent Witness And who is the Helpful™️ Witness that's super enthusiastic but entirely useless

I can see, say, Mito being a solid witness that both defense and prosecution are really thankful for.

Modern gen you have like... Sasuke and Neji are both incredibly belligerent witnesses. Neji at least is polite about it but pulls the "only answers with the absolute minimum of information."

Lee and Gai would have the over enthusiasm but forget to say actual vital testimony until pressed, and Naruto would love to help but might not be entirely sure what the case even is.

Shikamaru falls asleep when the lawyers consult their partners. Prosecution A consults Prosecution B for thirty-seven seconds, then turns around and the witness is asleep at the stand.

Tobi (as in Obito with mask) is an incredibly frustrating witness. They have to declare a recess just so all the lawyers can recover their blood pressure. "Can we please get someone up on the stand with this guy as a handler? I'm--I'm going to explode."

Gaara: Helpful. Polite. Answers with detail. Answers the spirit of the question as well as the letter. Includes more detail. That's too much detail. Gaara please stop telling us about the sounds that bones make.

His testimony just drags on forever.

Ninken can and will take the stand! Pakkun even enjoys it! Some ninken require translators.

ABURAME TRANSLATING FOR A RANDOM GIANT CENTIPEDE THAT WITNESSED A MURDER IN THE FOREST OF DEATH

There are arguments about whether or not the testimony can count since nobody else can confirm the translation except Other Aburame so how do they know the Aburame aren't part of the coverup.

"Okay, so this Danzo guy had like fifty shell companies but I think I found the route that leads back to him?" "Nah, that one goes to a guy that died eighty years ago that's still collecting pensions: his family lied and said he was still alive for the money." "Fuck!"

Also I just. I love the idea of Sasuke and Madara being the exact opposite kind of belligerent witness.

Also, Orochimaru answers with pretty much the exact kind of wording as Gaara, but where Gaara is trying to be helpful and provide detail for the sake of the case, and failing to see that it's maybe not necessary, Orochimaru just wants to see people squirm. ...similar thing happens with Sakura and Kabuto. Similar phrasing, very different energy.

I keep picturing all of Team Taka as part of Forensics and Evidence Collecting ajshakshjd

Juugo, holding up a rabbit: I found a witness.

Karin joins forensics and Tobirama nearly weeps from joy until he finds her criminal record "Shit, that was supposed to get thrown out when I turned eighteen."

Tobirama: I asked for an assistant, not a criminal. Karin: I'm on parole. Tobirama: That makes things worse. Karin: I know how to use a [concerningly advanced machine that I, a business major, cannot name]. Tobirama: ...never mind, I'm keeping you.

Karin: I know how to DNA sequence AND use LA-ICP-MS Tobirama: [weeps with joy]

Suigetsu would be great at blood splatter analysis. ...I think I read somewhere that blood spatter analysis is actually over in 'fake science that's pushed by cops and media but actually doesn't work' BUT apparently it’s in the Ace Attorney games so we’re going to ignore reality a bit. We’ve already got dogs and rabbits and centipedes as witnesses, what’s a bit of blood spatter?

He's also probably really good at cause of death stuff? Like looking at corpse and figuring out how long it took the victim to die, which blow did it, whether any damage was inflicted post-mortem, etc.

Sasuke is usually too busy playing Belligerent Witness but sometimes goes to join Taka for... uh... reasons.

Juugo: [takes the stand] Lawyer: Hey, uh, why's that Uchiha guy with him? The witness-- Judge: No, no, we need Uchiha Sasuke on hand when questioning Expert Animal Handler Juugo. Lawyer: ...why? Judge: Property damage.

(Sasuke as a work partner with Juugo, also moonlighting as a witness/suspect in Danzo's murder.)

One time they need Juugo but can't find him even though court is already in session and he said he'd be here, turns out he was lured away by Kakashi's army of dogs. Kakashi didn't notice until he turned to ask Pakkun if he could help find the missing expert.

Juugo is a decent lab assistant, I think?

Anyway.

Tobirama taking on Team Taka as his forensics team while Orochimaru is... hm... traveling the country to promote his new autobiography, which is outselling the newest Icha Icha to Jiraiya's ire.

Sloane suggested “a case where it's all the Sannin as suspects in a murder. They would be THE WORST, say... the murder of Hanzo.”

To which I suggested “The Sannin are all suspects but the people on trial are the Ame trio, maybe?”

Which garnered the response of “It could be a surprise upset IN COURT that the trio should be on trial.”

We love a court upset.

Suigetsu finds out that the cause of death was actually an entirely natural heart attack, but while he was determining this, the rest of the team and the lawyers found like eight conspiracies by Zetsu, three by Danzo, four by Orochimaru, and an entire network of nonsense by Sasori.

INO IS THE PSYCHIC. I know her thing in canon is reading minds but pls. Ino is Maya. The Spirit Medium.

Is the judge: 1. Hiruzen 2. Hashirama 3. Hagoromo 4. Mifune 5. The Daimyou

(Old dude with authority, optionally easily distracted/questionably competent. I'd have gone for impressive facial hair but only Mifune and Hagoromo have more than like... Hiruzen's weird soul patch.)

It's not a soul patch but I don't know what facial hair is called and I can't just call it a goat beard

Response commentary was as follows: The Daimyou would unfortunately be closer to the personality of the ace attorney judge, more blindly agreeing with things that sound good :joy: Hiruzen could be fun if only for the competing facial hair for a beard, yes xD Hagoromo would possibly be most buckwild tho WELCOME TO MOON COURT

I managed to get this far with like... NO idea who the judges were except “IDK maybe Kakashi?” but consider:

...HashiMada rival lawyers

Dropping over to Izuna vs. Touka for when Hashirama and Madara inevitably become suspects of something or other themselves and have to be witnesses.

(Tobirama's too busy running blood tests, Anija, let Touka handle it, she's better at people anyway.)

...Hashirama is like. Marginally more put-together than Madara, right? So that... makes him Edgeworth... somehow... That feels wrong but Madara as Edgeworth feels even more wrong.

Madara is very into screaming OBJECTION

ALSO consider: Friction when a doctor from a nearby hospital gets called in to provide expert testimony on something because Karin is like "no hey I should be the one doing this" and then she sees how cute Sakura is.

But also at some point Kakashi vs. Gai for a nonsense case. Their personalities are both VERY FUN for this sort of thing.

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