#this is my whackiest yet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maccreadysbaby · 4 months ago

Note

you like destiny 2? You????? Like destiny???

IF YOU LIKE IT SO MUCH PUT BENTLEY AND ASTEN IN IT 🔫🔫🔫

Oh MAN this is the whackiest crossover I've ever done and I'm STOKED about it... also there's a little synopsis of destiny under the cut for my bentley followers that have no clue what I'm on about. bentley and asten would not even be remotely similar in this au, therefore there's actually TWO little stories in this post, one for each of them... yeah I went a little overboard but ITS FINE IM HAVING FUN *unintelligible weeping*

Project: Killcode Drabbles

tw: destiny typical violence, gore, emeto, cursing (only in asten's)

wanna read the extended fic? here’s the table of contents!

⚠️ THIS IS NOT PART OF BENTLEY’S MAIN STORYLINE, THIS BENTLEY & ASTEN INSERTED INTO AN AU (ALTERNATE UNIVERSE.)

Hi! here’s the briefest of overviews for my Bentley peeps that have no clue what Destiny is:

(I’m sorry destiny is so detailed you can’t actually be brief about it, these are the things I think are fundamental for understanding these pieces)

Destiny is a first person shooter/space travel rpg set in a time when the world has collapsed and the remaining facets of humanity live largely in a city called The Last City on Earth. In order to protect humanity from (a lot of) invading alien forces, the Traveler (a giant floating ball that helped humanity stay alive during the bad times) released hundreds of thousands of small robots called Ghosts into the solar system — these Ghosts were to find one specific person among the dead, resurrect them as a Guardian, and give them the Traveler’s magic (called Light) so they could protect humanity. (Basically, the Traveler makes the Ghost, and the Ghost raises their specific Guardian from the dead and gives them epic superpowers in the forms of Fire powers (Solar Light), Electricity powers (Arc Light), and The Void powers (Void Light)). Ghosts can resurrect their Guardians every time they die, rendering them immortal, but the downside is that these individuals don’t remember any of their lives before they were raised as a Guardian and have to start completely anew. The only way a Guardian can die for good is if their Ghost dies as well.

There are three Classes of Guardians: Warlocks, Hunters, and Titans. Guardians don't get to choose which they are, and the nature of their powers are determined by which one they turn out to be.

In this work, Bentley is a Guardian (A warlock, specifically, while the other character featured in this is a Hunter named Crow). Bentley does not have guardian superpowers (yet)

Anyways, I'm rambling, but I hope I helped you understand this just a wee little bit! I don't even understand destiny fully tbh don't feel bad. Maybe it was enough to help you enjoy the story... lmaoooo I tried.

Also here are some pictures of some of the things mentioned to help you imagine them...

<< aka me trying really hard to help you imagine this so you have a good time

Crow ↗︎ (aka the love of my life, also the only reason Asten and Bentley meet each other in this AU.)

A Ghost ↗︎ (little floating robot; bentley’s is named sevyn, crow’s is glint, asten doesn’t have one)

Fallen ↗︎ (aka the only alien race you see in these stories)

BENTLEY ↴

THE COSMODROME, OLD EARTH, SOL SYSTEM -- 7:48PM —

“FOR THE RECORD, I THOUGHT THIS WAS A HORRENDOUS IDEA,”

Bentley sighed heavily, glaring over at the small robot that was hovering a few inches from his face. It was purple, fashioned from small floating segments with one glowing blue eye -- which was glaring right back at him with just about the most irritated look the little machine could muster.

“Because I didn't hear you the first five times, Sevyn,” Bentley mumbled. He was stationed with his back pressed flat against the surface of a large boulder, wedged on top of a layer of moss and mud, the stone wall of a cliffside ahead of him sandwiching him into the tight, damp space.

He’d never seen Old Earth before, besides looking off the balconies of the Tower he'd spent his entire Risen life in — which, in hindsight, was not great preparation for teleporting himself directly there on a whim. Everything looked the same, but bigger, and more expansive up close. The whole place was also crawling with various species of alien... which was a bit of a jarring experience considering he’d never actually seen one before. (He definitely hadn’t expected to teleport to Old Earth just to appear face-to-face with a four-armed freak of nature Sevyn insisted was a Fallen; hence why Bentley was now hiding between a rock and a hard spot.)

“You do realize you’re not allowed out of the Tower, right? That the Commander is gonna have your head?” Bentley's Ghost questioned anxiously, his segments spinning freely around his eye in a twitchy kind of way that let him know he was pretty irritated. “You do realize that you don’t know how to harness the Light for battle, right? That you have no guns? That no one knows where you are to come save your excruciatingly impulsive person?”

Bentley, again, rolled his eyes, pressing the soles of his tall brown boots harder into the stone wall ahead, to better hide himself from the Fallen he could hear clicking and hissing in the distance.

“If I die, you revive me. I’ve got my savior right here,” Bentley muttered, reaching up and tapping on Sevyn's eye, looking to his left. The sun was setting over the sector of Old Earth he was in -- called the Cosmodrome, if he remembered correctly. Being stuck there at night would not be a fun experience in the slightest.

Sevyn sighed heavily, shaking his head — well, technically, shaking his whole small robot self. In a disapproving, head shaking way. “If the Commander says you can’t leave the Tower, then you probably shouldn’t leave the tower. Following Crow, of all people! He’s so reckless; you know how many times Glint had to revive him in his pursuit of that Fallen Captain on his Hunt last week? Twenty-five! In one day!”

Bentley rubbed his hands together — it was getting cold now that the sun was setting, and his fingerless gloves weren’t exactly designed to help with warmth as much as they were to look cool. “He’s on a patrol. Patrols aren’t dangerous. I just need to find him.”

“Patrols aren’t…?“ Seven made an exasperated sound, his segments twitching wildly. “I know you think it’s unfair that you have to stay in the tower, but you were resurrected at thirteen! The Commander isn’t gonna send a thirteen year old Guardian into battle! There are good reasons you don’t know how to wield the Light!”

“So what, he expects me to stay in the Tower for my entire immortal life just so he doesn’t look bad? I’m never gonna get any older,” Bentley huffed, zipping up his brown bomber jacket. “Crow said he was going to The Forgotten Shore, didn't he?”

Sevyn bobbed up and down anxiously, his blue eye flicking around the area in a practiced, mechanical way. “And there’s about three hundred Fallen signals between you and there. How do you expect to get there?”

The teenager shrugged, eyes tracing the stone cliffside covered in vine. “Sneak?”

“Sneak around the aliens that can turn invisible and have the hearing of a wolf. Why didn’t I think of that?” Sevyn deadpanned. “I’m just going to teleport you back home so you can go sit in the corner and think about what you did.”

“What? No!” Bentley argued, reaching out to grab at the floating robot, who dodged his hand readily. “Stop it! I can do it! And if I can’t you can revive me!”

“Or we can go home and I can talk to the Commander about field work,”

Bentley made a humph noise. “He would never let me do field work. He thinks I’m five.”

“Technically speaking, you’re a few centuries younger than most Guardians,”

“Sevyn!”

“Just saying!”

Bentley sighed softly, daring to peek out of his hiding spot just enough to catch a glimpse of his surroundings. He’d managed to find himself in a small canyon of sorts, with a shallow creek running through it, illuminated gold by the sunlight that was bound to fade soon. Rocks and boulders jutted out of the sparsely grassed terrain, gracing him with just a little bit of cover to utilize against the Fallen he could see skittering around the rocky landscape.

The sight of them made him grimace. He’d never really seen an alien before — not up close, and definitely not alone. Their quartet of blue eyes were glowing in the dimming sunlight, lanky, strange bodies adorned with metal-bent armor and shreds of fabric organized into some semblance of clothing. They moved, some like people, some like apes, some like spiders. They weren't much larger than him, but they carried guns, and knives, and grenades, all situated on themselves and clasped tightly in the extra hands that sprouted from the sides of their bodies. Aliens with two arms were creepy enough; Bentley wasn’t sure why Fallen needed four.

He glanced around until his eyes lingered on another boulder, maybe four or five yards from his current one, close to the cliffside and large enough to render him hidden.

Sevyn made a mechanical beep. “Don’t even think about it.”

Bentley moved his legs, forcing himself to crouch in the small space. “Thinking about it.”

Sevyn, with an exasperated sigh, de-materialized himself, dispersing into atoms that fizzled into the air and disappeared, waiting to re-materialize again when his Guardian called for him.

Or, the more likely situation, when Bentley got himself killed and needed to be resurrected.

(Oh, well. Real Guardians were well versed with death. Some of them died like thirty times a day! Bentley had never died before — well, he had, obviously, but he didn’t remember that one. Since he was technically a Guardian, dying now that he had a Ghost didn’t matter all that much. It was what Guardians did! He’d just come back, like everyone always did. No big deal. It wasn’t like it would be scary, or terrifying, or horrific, or anything, if he just came back to life afterwards...)

With a small noise of effort, he propelled himself forward so quickly his boots left skid marks in the mud. He kept low, ran lightly, slipping from one place of cover to the next without making much of a peep at all.

Ducking into the shadows and pressing his back hard against the new rock he was hidden behind, he exhaled heavily. Beyond that boulder, there weren’t many more large enough to hide him — smaller stones and a few sparse trees, too young and thin to conceal him from view. The walls of the canyon curved up and above him, but they offered no protection, besides maybe darkening the cover of night that was approaching. Maybe if he waited until it was pitch black, he could slip past unseen. The Forgotten Shore was only on the other end of the canyon; surely he could make it.

If Crow was even still there come nightfall.

Bentley flinched when something clattered against the cliffside to his left with a shrill clang. Glancing over, he caught sight of something small, flashing. Suddenly, Sevyn's disembodied voice emanated from his immaterial state:

"Grenade!"

Fortunately for Bentley's appendages and organs, it was only a flashbang -- which still had to have been the absolute worst experience of his whole risen life. Before he could as much as flinch away, the thing had erupted with a BOOM! that left his ears ringing a pitch that threatened to split his skull, a blinding flash of light sending a ripple of searing pain through his eyeballs and into his brain. Everything went white.

The world seemed to move in slow motion as the piercing pitch screamed in his head, completely enabling him from thinking about anything else. He seemed to bring his hands up to his face at a snail's pace, scrubbing at his eyes as he was rendered temporarily, completely, terrifyingly blind.

"Eyes up, Guardian!" Sevyn called.

Bentley willed his eyes open just enough to be greeted by a bright white fog and the faint, dancing colors of stone and sunlight filtering through the blindness, if only a little. The faint colors of stone, sunlight, and some dark blob that was moving right toward him.

He wasn't sure what kind of sound he made, but he was sure it was embarrassing as he all but threw himself out from behind the boulder, still vigorously rubbing at his eyes with one hand, scrambling away from what he assumed was an alien with the rest of his strength. A loud crack! echoed from beside him, and he flinched, though he couldn't see what it was.

He continued to scramble until the effects of the grenade faded enough for him to decipher that yes; the thing chasing him was a four-armed alien with glowing blue eyes and...

Four knives?!

He rolled to the side just quick enough to miss the Fallen when it jumped, all four knives sinking into the dirt where he had been with four bone-chilling shinks!

Bentley must've kicked up dust with the speed he forced himself off of the ground, eyes flicking around wildly -- in addition to the one with the knives, there had to be at least ten more Fallen closing in on him. There were two wielding a quartet of knives just like the first -- and two with nothing, but they seemed hungry for blood all the same, like they were ready to physically bludgeon him to death. The rest of them seemed to have homemade guns of various shapes and sizes -- guns Bentley wasn't very keen on examining any closer than he already was.

The alien with the knives lurched again, and one of the weaponless ones dove straight for his legs, both of which he managed to dodge by tumbling ungracefully backwards -- hitting the ground and forcing himself up again, fast. A blue laser flickered in his still foggy eyes, and he jerked to the left, a long trail of blue electricity shooting past his head with an audible zing! from one of their rifles.

"Oh my God!" He managed to squeak as he ran full-speed, hurrying back to the first boulder and jumping behind it with a thump. Strings of lightning and other identifiable projectiles from their guns barraged the ground next to his cover so vigorously the electricity made his hair stand up.

"Sevyn, what do I do?!" He practically begged, the dull sounds of ammunition and electricity against stone and dirt finally warding off the ever-present ringing from his ears. His chest was heaving, heart pounding in his chest -- how did Guardians do battle every day?

"Run!" Was his Ghost's panicked reply.

So Bentley did, and just in time, too -- all three of the fallen with the knives, and one with nothing, came crawling and leaping over the boulder just as he moved away from it, banging their blades and fists against solid stone.

Bentley's boots pounded on the mud as he fled as quickly as his body could manage, blitzing past his second cover-boulder and continuing full-speed deeper into the canyon, toward where Crow said he'd be. It couldn't be that far. It couldn't.

The cracks and zips and bams of projectiles shooting past him were nearly deafening, a few of them close enough to take the hair off his head. One lucky wire of electricity hit it's mark, leaving a graze of searing agony streaking across his left shoulder and tearing the fabric of his jacket away.

Bentley's response was a shrill: "Ah!" That bounced along the walls of the canyon, and bringing his hand up to touch the would only made it explode into an even worse pain. He bit his lip, hard, and forced himself on as fast as his legs could pump, farther from the way he'd come, deeper into uncharted territory.

It took about thirty seconds of running for his surroundings to quiet, for him to slow to more of a jog. His wound was already throbbing uncomfortably, and the leather of his jacket was singed and curled up there -- the whole thing was unbearably nasty and the longer he looked at it, the more he thought he might pass out. He searched for cover but there wasn't any; only a few young trees, the creek, and rocks too small to hide him. Surely the Fallen were chasing him -- he needed some kind of plan.

He didn't get any longer to think about it -- something he hadn't seen nor heard grabbed his ankles mid-jog and sent him hurling face-first into the mud. His head hit with a slam that threatened to leave him disoriented, but he couldn't afford to be disoriented right then. Instead, he flipped himself over on the ground, and a Fallen appeared out of thin air, shrieking indecipherably in his face.

(He'd forgotten Sevyn said they could turn invisible.)

"Ah!" He cried out in terror, writhing under the alien that was looming over top of him, straddling his lower-body with all six of its appendages. In a panic, he wrenched his left foot out of one of its hands and used every available ounce of strength to kick it directly in the head with the heel of his boot. It shrieked again, releasing his other ankle. Bentley scrambled back and off the ground, taking off again with nothing but sheer panic coursing through his veins.

His first instinct was to scream: "Crow!" As if the far-off Guardian would be able to hear him all the way from the beach. Yelling was a horrible idea, yes, but he didn't seem to comprehend that at the time.

Nevertheless, he continued to pitifully shout: "Crow!" as he weaved through the darkening canyon, searching for cover but getting repetitively let down. Tears were burning behind his eyes now, though not just from the pain of the gunshot. He could hear footsteps behind him, some skittering, some booming, and others thumping quickly just like his. He didn't dare turn around -- he might've died from horror.

"Sevyn -- Crow!" Was all he could manage at the speed he was moving, with the amount of terror that was coursing through his body. There was a mechanical beep that came from nowhere that let him know Sevyn was trying to contact Crow's Ghost, Glint. A moment later, the sound of a failed communication line returned.

Bentley sprinted, biting his tongue so hard the metallic taste of blood blossomed on in his mouth. The scuffling, screeching sounds of the Fallen continued behind him, the zing! of a rifle shooting past his head every so often. The canyon he was following veered hard to the right, so he did, too, hoping the new direction would provide him with cover.

He skidded to an ungraceful stop as soon as he took the turn, dread washing over him like a shockwave.

Right around the corner were three more Fallen. Not the ones that were chasing him, but bigger ones, with better armor, nicer clothes. They had the same lanky build, the quartet of arms, but they had to be at least two, maybe three Bentley's tall, carrying guns that were probably the size of his entire body.

Bentley stopped, heart ripping a hole in his ribcage, breathing so quickly he was starting to feel lightheaded. All three of the giant Fallen looked at him curiously, one of them stowing its gun on its back and pulling out two blades instead -- large ones, and curved, like katanas.

Bentley glanced back the direction he'd come, the smaller Fallen stumbling over themselves and falling over each other in pursuit of him. He couldn't get past them, there were too many -- but he couldn't get past the big ones, either... and the canyon left him nowhere else to run.

(He was going to die.)

In his moment of hesitation, one of the big aliens lunged forward and grabbed him by the ankle, picking him up and making him dangle completely upside down.

"No! Crow!" Bentley screamed, thrashing and writhing in its grip. He wasn't sure why, but the alien tilted its head at him like a confused dog before rearing back and throwing him -- yes, throwing him, probably ten yards before he hit the stone wall of the canyon with a slam! and crumpled to the dirt.

A terrible pain radiated through his body, the entire right side of his person stinging like fire from the impact.

“Sevyn…” Bentley mumbled, but he didn’t have any time to move — he was suddenly grabbed and flipped over violently, landing on his back with a harsh thump. One of the big Fallen was there — the one who’d pulled out the knives. The other two big ones were looming behind it like guards, and the little Fallen that had been chasing Bentley were skittering around and making noises, but they didn’t come near, like they were afraid of the larger ones.

Bentley attempted to scramble backwards on all fours, but the alien, with a few inhuman clicks and a tilt of its head, jumped on top of him and crouched there. Two of its hands found his shoulders, a third finding his forehead, all but drilling him into the dirt with such force that his right shoulder popped and cracked with a searing pain that made him cry out.

The Fallen’s glowing, beaty eyes seemed to bore into his skull as it held a knife in its free hand — the long, sort of katana looking weapon with machine parts at the hilt and coil wrapped around the blade. There were tiny bolts of electricity sparking and arcing around it.

(He was going to die.)

Bentley couldn’t see very good, and he quickly realized it was because he was starting to cry. “Crow!”

“Sh, sh, sh,” The Alien tutted, and Bentley writhed and thrashed under its weight when he realized they could talk. The thrashing didn’t do much good — the alien had to be nearly five times as heavy as him.

“Crow!” He tried, desperately — he could feel tears streaking down the sides of his face now, still obscuring his vision and blurring the image of the alien whose head was only about a foot from his. The Fallen pushed him harder into the ground, making his other shoulder crack and pop with a jolt of terrible pain.

His response, this time, was sobs.

“Now, now, little Light,” The Fallen started, its voice strange, like gurgling and clicking overlaid on top of a human voice. It was low, and gravely, too, like an old man who smoked too much. “It will hurt only for a moment, yes? I will aim directly for your heart, yes?”

Bentley writhed again when it reached down and simply tapped the blade of the knife on the left side of his jacket, right where his heart would be.

“Yes, I have had much practice,”

Bentley sobbed, trying to move, to escape, but failing miserably. “Sevyn…”

He didn’t want to die. He knew he could come right back to life, but he didn’t want that alien to sink its electric knife into his heart — he could only imagine what it felt like. An agony that wouldn’t even come close to any sensation he’d ever felt before.

How did other Guardian’s die every day?

With one last round of animalistic clicks, the Fallen lifted the knife far above Bentley’s chest, tilting its head again when the teenager tried one last time (and failed one last time) to wriggle out of its grip. He wasn’t strong enough — all the strength in his entire tiny body wasn’t strong enough.

“Please,” Bentley choked.

SHNNK.

It took Bentley about a whole five seconds to realize that there was not a knife in his chest.

Instead, there was a flash of something white.

Crow was suddenly on the large Fallen’s shoulders, his combat knife buried deep into the alien’s skull. Bentley had never been happier to see his blue skin and bright, cheesy armor. He didn't think he'd ever been happier to see a human shaped creature in his life.

The alien’s grip on Bentley’s body loosened, and Crow leaped off of it, kicking it to the side so its massive weight didn’t crash down on top of either of them. He landed a perfectly executed flip, his Hunter cape settling over his head and face so he had to shove it off.

“Bentley,” He scolded, though Bentley didn’t really hear it. He was too focused on staring at the body of the Fallen that was now laying beside him, twitching menacingly but showing no further signs of life.

That thing had almost… almost…

All of the other Fallen, small and large alike, leaped into action, charging at the battle’s newest arrival with shrieks of rage for their dead friend. The zips and bams of their guns returned, and Bentley stayed low to the ground, the body of the dead Fallen large enough for him to use as measly cover.

Bentley watched in a silent sort of shock as a full-blown battle played out before his eyes. Crow dodged the Fallen’s projectiles with some kind of backwards summersault the child couldn’t even seem to comprehend, whipping Hawkmoon — the largest revolver Bentley had ever seen — out of a holster on his hip. He spun it around his fingers before he began repeatedly flicking the hammer, sending out eight back-to-back bam, bam, bams, each one resulting in a Fallen crumpling into an unmoving heap on the ground.

One of the large ones, now armed with a giant, electricity-sparking sword, swung for Crow’s head, which he ducked and slid away from just in time to not get decapitated. He dropped the cylinder from Hawkmoon and replaced it just as fast, turning and unleashing a lightning-fast stream of eight bullets into the monster’s chest. It roared, staggered, and hit the ground.

Its roar echoed and bounced through the canyon with a chillingly repetitive melody. Bentley watched in silence as Crow extended his hand, a ball of fire forming and spluttering in the air above his palm until he threw it right at the smaller Fallen that were attacking as a group — it exploded into a huge wall of flame that charred and burned the aliens into lifeless crisps on impact.

“Eyes up!”

Bentley looked up, coming face-to-face with Sevyn, who was hovering right in front of him. The little Ghost’s segments spun and twitched worriedly, his robotic eye flicking about Bentley’s form with a little bit of pity in its mechanical iris. “I’ve got you, Guardian.”

Sevyn then moved toward Bentley’s left shoulder, a small spray of light shining from his eye onto the teenager’s wounds that almost felt like a layer of cold mist. Bentley couldn’t help but sigh in relief as the pain was warded away, the Ghost’s Light slowly rebuilding and reattaching the very atoms of his flesh — closing up the gunshot wound and shifting his shoulders back into place in mere moments. The scratches and bruises he could already feel forming across his body from hitting the cliffside dulled in discomfort in seconds, until they disappeared entirely from existence.

In only a moment, Bentley was whole again.

Sevyn moved forward, tapping himself gently against Bentley’s forehead in an affectionate gesture, before fizzling into atoms again.

When Bentley looked up, all of the Fallen were dead, and Crow was standing in the midst of the corpses, revolver in one hand, his Ghost, Glint, hovering just above the other. The little crimson robot moved about the older Guardian, shining his healing light on his injuries and mending them in a blink. He disappeared into a fizzle of atoms right after.

Bentley exhaled shakily, bringing a dirty hand up to wipe and his still watering eyes. He scooted slowly away from the body of the Fallen he had been using for cover, cringing at the still sparking knife that was laying in the dirt not a foot from his boot -- the knife it was going to sink into his chest. Into his heart. He brought one hand up to his jacket and tugged at it, eyes unmoving.

It was only then that he noticed how badly his hands were still shaking — how hard his heart was pumping, how shallowly and quickly and shakily he was still breathing. He couldn’t really get much air into him at all. And he couldn't seem to stop crying.

Crow’s boots came to a stop in front of him. “What are you doing outside of the Tower?” He all but demanded.

Bentley opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, eyes locked solely on the alien corpse. After a few moments of that, Crow moved forward and hauled him off the ground, gently, setting him on his wobbly feet and checking him over for injuries. The older Guardian was speaking, but Bentley couldn’t really hear it, his eyes still lingering on the knife. The crack, crack, crack of the electric blade made him want to throw it off a cliff. He sniffed and hiccuped as softly as he could, bringing a hand up in an attempt to quiet it.

“Hey, focus on me, Little Light,”

Bentley blinked when Crow manually turned his head so their gazes met. He was taller than the teenager by maybe a foot, maybe more, his dazzling skin a pale blue that looked foreign next to Bentley’s pasty beige. He pushed some of his black and white hair back from his eyes, the glowing, orange orbs locking onto Bentley’s and staying there. He wasn’t sure how old Crow was — he looked to be in his early twenties, but for all the teenager knew, he could’ve been hundreds of years old. But however old he was, he was familiar -- and that was comforting enough.

Bentley broke their eye contact to look straight down at his own boots, rubbing at his eyes, pushing his red hair out of his face.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered.

With a sigh, Crow put his hand on the back of Bentley's head and tugged him into his chest. “You’re okay, kid.”

Bentley squeezed his eyes shut and kept his hands over his face, the sudden hug only seeming to make the crying worse. “That was so scary.”

“I know,”

There was a little whoosh that let Bentley know Sevyn had materialized by his side, and a second whoosh, which must’ve been Crow’s Ghost appearing, too.

"Let's get you out of here, yeah?" Sevyn's voice came, close to his head.

Before Bentley could respond, a low rumble shook the ground beneath their boots, the loud, menacing whir of an approaching ship piercing the air. Bentley pulled away from Crow to glance up to the sky — in not a millisecond, a large ship was hanging there, casting a huge, dark shadow over them. It looked almost primordial, cobbled together skillfully with metals and machines.

Bentley was no expert on alien things, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t a Guardian’s ship.

“Sevyn, get Bentley out of here. Now,” Crow demanded, pulling the shiny silver revolver from his hip and replacing the cylinder in one swift motion. Glint, his little crimson Ghost, spun and then disappeared in a fizzle of atoms.

Sevyn hovered up next to Bentley’s head, his purple segments spinning, emanating a few small beeping sounds. “I… I can’t. Something in that Fallen ship is jamming my signal! I’ve never felt anything like it before — like a solid wall between us and the Vanguard!”

“Splicers?” Crow whispered. Bentley didn’t know what those were, and he decided he probably didn’t want to. Crow glanced back at him, reaching back and squeezing his shoulder. “Hide. And Sevyn; stay out of sight.”

Sevyn fizzled away, and Bentley quickly returned to the only cover in the area — behind the body of the big, dead Fallen.

Not a second after he was hidden, the bottom of the ship sprung open, and several mechanical arms came out of it. They each held an alien, and dropped them from the ship onto the ground before retracting and fetching another.

Bentley immediately noticed three things about this particular group of Fallen:

1) They were all the big kind, some even bigger than the dead one he was hiding behind. And their armor was nicer, cleaner, better. They dawned capes and hoods that looked like they could’ve been made by people instead of the rough looking outfits the little ones had been wearing.

2) They all seemed to have some type of machinery on them, wether that be strange, glowing goggles over their blue eyes, backpacks that looked more like a giant radio with antennas, or literal limbs replaced by robotic parts. He wasn’t sure why, but they were more off-putting than the normal Fallen.

And 3) Their weapons looked better, more powerful, though there were more knives and swords and less guns — only three with guns, really; and they all seemed really angry.

There were probably two dozen of them, and only one Crow. The ship whirred and shot off, disappearing into the sky beyond, leaving its warriors behind.

Even starkly outnumbered by aliens twice and three times his size, Crow didn’t hesitate to leap into action. One of the Fallen shot at him with a big, strange rifle — a glowing orange projectile that whirred and made weird noises. Crow dodged it by sliding directly at the alien's feet, coming back up and swiping at the hammer of Hawkmoon, sending three methodical shots into the Fallen — chest, throat, head. It hit the ground.

Bentley stayed crouched behind the corpse as low as he could, and Sevyn’s disembodied voice came from nowhere: “As soon as I get a stable connection, I’m sending you anywhere but here!”

“We’re just going to leave him?” Bentley whispered, watching Crow dodge another electric knife-sword-thing and slide between a huge Fallen’s legs, popping up behind him and jerking on its cape with his full weight. It’s back arched, sending its head down to Crow’s level, and he sent two bullets into it. Its body made a thump.

“He’d appreciate the sentiment, Guardian, but given the fact that you have zero training or abilities to fight with, staying is… well, kind of stupid,”

Bentley said nothing, but watched Crow do another chest-neck-head trio of shots, dropping his cylinder and replacing it with another while dodging a blade with some kind of flip-spin-thing. Three huge Fallen down, twenty-ish to go.

“I’m reading the Tower! It’s faint, but it’s there! Probably only a few more minutes before I can get you there!” Sevyn announced.

Crow released more rounds and dropped two more Fallen, dodging strange orange projectiles and blades like he was nothing more than a shadow. The aliens, big and strong as they were, seemed to be no match for an agile Hunter like him.

(Bentley wished the Commander would let him learn how to fight like that.)

As if on queue with Bentley’s thoughts, Crow got struck in the shoulder by one of the strange orange projectiles with a ding! sound against his armor. There was no blood, and he didn't seem to be in pain. There was a tiny metal machine stuck to him instead, and orange electricity suddenly exploded out of it with a loud, crackling vengeance.

Bentley heard him cry out, collapsing and convulsing when the electricity pulsed through his body. The nearest Fallen grabbed him by the cloak and lifted him as though he were weightless, slinging him into a nearby cliff with a crack.

Bentley flinched, but before he could even move, Sevyn announced: “Don’t you dare get yourself seen! I mean it, Guardian!”

Crow’s Ghost began to materialize next to him, but he must’ve told him not to, because he waved his hand and the robot never fully appeared. The group of up-teen massive, scary Fallen were crowding where he laid, and like he was being tortured, Bentley had a line of sight directly between the aliens. Directly to Crow.

(He’d never seen another Guardian — or anyone — die before. Did he even want to watch?)

Sevyn answered that for him. “Don’t look, Guardian.”

Bentley couldn't look away.

Instead, he watched Crow flick his hand, summoning three sparks of fire that turned into flaming knives that he launched into the two nearest Fallen. One of the aliens caught two of the fiery blades in the face, stumbling back with a terrible screech. The other blade lodged in another Fallen’s throat; it went limp on impact.

The other seventeen closed in on Crow like a swarm of vultures.

Bentley saw him lift his hand up toward the sky like some sort of last stand — reaching for the final beams of fading sunlight. The Traveler was up there, too, the huge, white orb hovering over the planet like a second moon. Bentley wondered if it ever responded to Guardians… after all, it was what gave them their power, their Ghosts.

Bentley’s eyes drifted back down to Crow, whose hand was still outstretched — and the fleeting beams of sun came down to meet him.

With a loud whoosh and a flash of light, Crow’s entire body was engulfed in Solar Light, setting him on fire from the crown of his head to the soles of his boots without as much as singing his armor. In his outstretched hand formed a pistol made of pure flame — a rapid fire revolver like the one he carried.

Bentley flinched when the ablaze Hunter fired a fan of six shots into the crowd of Fallen with loud, almost deafening bangs, much much louder than Hawkmoon. The bullets, blazing with a fiery rage, incinerated the massive Fallen on impact and then continued to the ones behind, blowing fiery holes larger than a shotgun slug through their bodies and disintegrating them into piles of ash. A wave of heat washed over Bentley all the way from where he was, staring in shock and awe. Not an alien was left standing.

He’d never actually seen a Guardian do that before — channel all of their Light into a mega-magic-assault capable of destroying entire hordes of massive aliens. Vanguard slang called them supers, the most violent offense a Guardian could have in their arsenal — a final call to the Traveler’s magic for help, a last stand, an unleashing of all the power left within. The one Crow had just performed, Bentley had learned over the years, was referred to as The Golden Gun.

Crow then slumped back against the cliffside, the flames that had swallowed him fading, still convulsing and jerking thanks to the orange electricity coming from whatever little machine was stuck to him. Glint materialized next to him, frantically fluttering about, and Bentley shifted.

“Don’t! I’m still picking up Fallen signals inside the-“

Bentley ignored Sevyn’s orders and sprung to his feet, jogging across the now-empty canyon and little creek to Crow’s side.

“Crow!” He exclaimed, dropping to a crouch next to him. He eyed the little metal thing on Crow’s shoulder that was creating the electricity, and then he reached for it.

“Bentley, no!” Sevyn exclaimed, and Bentley cried out and flinched away when the strange electricity jumped to his hand, not only electrocuting him, but leaving his skin and muscles burning and tingling like he was holding his hand inside a extremely hot fire.

Sevyn materialized next to him in a blink, shining his healing light on it, immediately cooling it and staving the pain. “Need I teach you not to touch strange alien electronics?”

Bentley glanced from Sevyn back to Crow, who was jerking and writhing on the dirt under the influence of the electricity. His features were contorted into an expression of agony, and Glint was floating about, lost, watching as though Crow's pain hurt him, too.

Bentley eyed the little metal machine on his shoulder again.

"Bentley..." Sevyn started, glancing between him and Crow. "If you're thinking-"

Before Sevyn could continue his likely long-winded protest of his Guardian's impulsiveness, Bentley moved as fast as he could, biting his tongue and shooting his hand forward, ripping the small machine from Crow's shoulder in a blink.

It felt like he got struck by lightning, and he couldn't help but shout in pain when the electricity seared and stabbed its way up his whole arm. He threw the little machine to the side as his muscles tensed and tightened under his skin in response to the electric pulse.

"Sevyn!" He managed, shaking out his arm like it would help; tears immediately springing in his eyes at the strange numb-veins-filled-with-lava feeling it left him with.

"Geez, stop taking after the reckless ones!" Sevyn all but scolded, moving toward Bentley's arm and shining his healing light there, too. In his peripheral, Bentley could see Glint doing the same, moving methodically about Crow's body, starting at the worst of it and moving on from there.

"Will he be okay?" Bentley asked softly as Sevyn finished healing his arm for the second time, the small robot hovering close by his head. Crow seemed practically unconscious -- though Bentley didn't blame him. He probably would've blacked out on the spot, had his entire body been electrocuted like that.

"Of course he will. It'll just take me a bit to patch him up. What were you doing out here, anyways?" Glint questioned, still floating about Crow's battered body. Bentley shrugged.

"Just wanted to... do something. Other than sitting in the Tower all day,"

Glint hummed in response. "Ye old person-isolated-against-their-will-breaks-out-and-nearly-dies act. I could have assumed. No hate, of course -- I'm not one to talk. Crow and I spent a long time living under someone else's will, too."

Bentley's eyes trailed down to the ground he was sitting on, and Sevyn bumped himself against his shoulder supportively. "Chin up, Guardian."

Suddenly, the ground shook again, and Bentley, along with the two Ghosts, glanced around the canyon.

A second ship just like the first swooped down toward them, and a horrendous amount of dread blossomed in Bentley's stomach at the sight of the bottom opening up, mechanical arms extending outward.

He inhaled shakily, shifting on the ground. "Glint?"

Crow's Ghost was now working frantically, beeping in a weird pattern that indicated anxiety. "I'm working as fast as I can!"

The robotic arms reached into the ship and came back out with more Fallen -- the same, massive ones whose bodies were littering the floor of the canyon. It dropped two with a thud, and two more after. They were all carrying the terrible electric blades -- all but one, who had a gun that resembled a sniper rifle whose barrel was glowing orange.

There was a whoosh of Sevyn disappearing. "Hide, Glint!" He said from nowhere.

Crow's Ghost kept working despite Sevyn's words, bathing his Guardian in Light. "I'm almost done!"

"If you get sniped, you could cost Crow his life!"

Bentley barely heard the two robots bickering -- instead, he watched in silence as the huge Fallen zeroed in on him and Crow, clicking back and forth like they were communicating. The ship sped off into the distance and left the four aliens there, alone, with Bentley and two panicking robots; and the only one there that could defend them was hardly conscious.

Bentley blinked, and stared at the aliens, the strange realization that he was actually about to die washing over him and leaving him feeling oddly cold. (Didn't getting revived after make it okay...? Why didn't it feel okay?)

The Fallen with the rifle lifted it and pulled the trigger, a beam of orange electricity arcing through the air right toward them -- though it didn't hit Bentley; It was aimed at Glint, who narrowly dodged it by ducking to the side. The beam cracked loudly against the cliffside behind them.

Bentley reached out and grabbed Crow's Ghost by his eye, getting him out of sight the one way he knew how -- by holding him behind his back.

"Whoa, kid!"

"Bentley!"

Bentley looked forward, and all four of the massive Fallen were staring at him.

(He was about to die.)

But the Fallen didn't rush to take him down, no -- the one with the gun even stowed it, pulling out blades instead. They moved forward at a slow, menacing crawl, clicking back and forth, eyes trained on Bentley like they were mocking him. He stepped backwards until the heel of his boot nudged Crow's leg.

"Tiny Guardian," One in the front said -- it's voice sounded vaguely female, raspy and layered. It swiped its blades across one another with a shnnnnk. "Thought Lightbearers were bigger, yes?"

Bentley said nothing as the four of them moved closer like animals stalking their prey, eyes bouncing between the four of them. Their glowing, empty eyes, creepy, lanky statures. Part of him wanted to run and never stop, but the thought of leaving Crow there vulnerable and in the open made him feel vaguely sick. The fact that he could be brought back to life wasn't good enough to make Bentley's feet move. Glint wiggled around in his hand, fighting against his grip, but he didn't dare let him go.

"The Great Machine makes bad choice, yes," One of the others replied, a lower baritone. Did they mean the Traveler? "Yes; tiny Lightbearer smells of fear. Fear of death. Tiny Lightbearer has not met her yet."

Her? Her as in death?

Bentley cleared his throat, and the four of them glanced back at him with their glowing eyes, curiously. "I'm... right here, you know. Gossiping is bad."

Sevyn made a strangled noise in his immaterial state, likely revolting against Bentley's audacity.

The one closest to him -- that sounded vaguely like a girl -- made a few clicks, coming closer. "Tiny Lightbearer speaks, yes. Has attitude. Reminds Avix of her own son."

Bentley flinched with a gasp when she sprung towards him on all-sixes, crawling across the ground and rising back up mere feet from him. He scrambled backwards until he thudded into the cliffside next to Crow's unconscious form, keeping Glint hidden behind his back.

The alien stood, and stared, tilting her head back and forth with a few clicks. Bentley could practically feel his heart trying to escape his chest.

"Tiny Lightbearer is... harmless, yes." She said, turning to the other three and clicking. Then she looked back at Bentley, holding out one of her three-fingered hands. "Give Avix Little Machine -- then run, yes?"

Bentley tightened his hold around Glint, exhaling shakily, staring at her hand. "Uh... n-no."

He gasped when the giant Fallen -- Avix -- moved forward, forcing him backwards until he was pinned between the cliffside and her, Glint pinned tightly behind him. She reached forward at the speed of a cobra's strike and grabbed his face with her giant, gross hand, squeezing lightly. Bentley let out a sound akin to a squeak, his other hand coming up in an attempt to bat her's away, a burn already threatening to surface behind his eyes.

"G... get off," He said, but it wasn't threatening in the slightest.

Avix kept getting closer, crouching down until her face was mere inches from his own, her glowing eyes staring right into his. The crackling of her electrified blade came from one of her other hands, and his eyes flicked to it momentarily.

"Look at me!" She shrieked deafeningly in his face, and Bentley couldn't help but jump out of his skin, forcing himself to lock gazes with her again. The burn behind his eyes got worse, and his vision started going watery -- he didn't want to die.

"Tiny Lightbearer cries, yes. Has not met death. Smells of much fear, yes, much fear," She stammered, shaking his face when he glanced at the blade again, forcing his eyes back on her. "Give Avix little machine -- Tiny Lightbearer will not meet her. Avix says so. Avix is leader, yes. Others will not kill what Avix does not kill."

Bentley glanced back at the other three Fallen, who were staying in the distance, weapons drawn, lurking here and there in the now almost pitch-black canyon.

The odd feeling of Glint de-materializing between his fingertips made something in Bentley relax.

Carefully, he lifted both of his hands to the giant alien, palms out and open, revealing that there was no robot there.

Avix jerked Bentley away from the wall to check behind him, and when there was nothing there, she made a loud, unidentifiable screech and shoved him into the stone with a thud so hard it seemed to rattle his bones and leave his head foggy. With a few clicks and hisses, she stalked her way back to the other three and turned on her heel.

“Tiny Lightbearer dies,” She growled, and the one behind her pulled out its rifle again. “His body comes with Avix, yes. I have plans for when Tiny Lightbearer rises. He will not disrespect Avix again, yes, yes.”

They were going to kill him? And then take him with them?

Bentley glanced at Crow, who was still unresponsive.

“Sevyn?”

“It’s now or never, Guardian! Channel the Traveler’s Light! Call on it! I’ll help you the best I can!” Sevyn exclaimed from nowhere.

“I can’t use the Light!” Bentley replied, and a wire of orange shot from the rifle, zinging right past his head, only narrowly missing thanks to a well-timed duck.

“Now would be a great time to learn!” Sevyn shouted. “Just imagine yourself destroying all these Fallen using the Light!”

With no other options, Bentley ducked behind one of the massive Fallen bodies and closed his eyes, hoping and praying the Traveler would help him.

“Feel the Light inside of you, Guardian. It is in you, whether you believe it is or not. You can do this,” Sevyn mumbled. Another zing! went past Bentley, and he flinched. “Focus — Concentrate. I have my eye on the Fallen.”

Bentley tried. How was he supposed to feel the Light now when he’d never felt it before? He’d heard stories — that most Guardians found their Light in times of dire trouble, and he was pretty sure getting kidnapped by aliens counted.

“Tiny Lightbearer!” Avix’s enraged voice came, growing closer to him. “Hiding is futile when Avix knows where you are, yes!”

Bentley focused really hard on his own body, imagining the Light like Sevyn had said. How did other Guardians do this so easily, so fluidly?

“Tiny Lightbearer will make Avix good pet, yes! Fun to watch squirm!” She shouted, her voice drawing nearer and nearer.

Bentley suddenly felt… strange. Not in a bad way, though — strange like something simultaneously cold and boiling was pooling in his fingertips. Like something was moving through his veins, like gasoline -- cool, but also ready to explode. He peeled his eyes open to glance at his hands, and-

They were surging with bright, glowing Arc Light, white-blue bolts of electricity sparking from his fingertips and crackling across his skin, though it didn’t hurt. It felt like his whole being was buzzing, vibrating in anticipation. He felt… empowered.

“Now, Guardian!”

At Sevyn’s mark, Bentley stood up and turned, extending his electrified palms outward. An unknown, never-before-felt power surged inside of him. Electricity seemed to burst out of his entire body, crackling, striking, bolts of lightning crawling across his skin and cracking atop his clothes. It illuminated the entire canyon in the nighttime with a blinding, luminescent glow.

He felt his feet leave the ground. Avix and her three minions were not too far from where he was, now, blades and rifle drawn to attack.

Bentley cried out when power exploded from him, a solid beam of screaming electricity shooting from the palm of his right hand. It slammed directly into Avix’s chest, knocking her backwards maybe six or seven yards, boring a charred hole through her chest and disintegrating her entire body not a second after. Bentley made a sound of surprise as the smell of charred flesh and static electricity filled the air.

“Keep going, Guardian! You’re doing it!” Sevyn encouraged, sounding probably the giddiest he ever had. At his excitement, Bentley turned his sights to the other three Fallen, and the beam of electricity followed where he led. He raked it across the final trio of aliens and it blitzed right through them, severing their bodies in half before incinerating them completely.

As soon as the four Fallen were dead, Bentley’s power, as well as all his remaining strength, fled, and he fell a few feet before crashing hands-and-knees in the dirt. His whole body was still buzzing, his arms and legs tingling with the remnants of leftover power. Everything around him seemed to be swimming a little, sounds muffled and vision swirling around his head. He felt like he could go to bed and sleep for a year.

There were two little whooshes next to his face.

“You did it! You casted a super! Bentley, you’re a Warlock!” Sevyn all but screamed, hovering up close to his face, tapping himself gently on his forehead over and over. “You’re a Warlock! A Warlock!”

There was a small sound of Glint finishing his healing process, and Bentley heard Crow groan, sitting up a few yards to his right.

“Ugh. That was unpleasant,”

“While you were down, Bentley casted a super! Chaos Reach!” Sevyn screamed at him. “He’s a Warlock, Crow, a Warlock!”

With a grunt of effort, Bentley pushed his vibrating body off of the ground and onto his feet, teetering a bit on reaching his full height. Black dots danced around in his vision, but didn’t fully take over -- like they were taunting him. He couldn’t even seem to process the words Sevyn was screaming right in his face.

In the blink of an eye, Crow had come up next to him, both Ghosts hovering by his side.

“Yeah, he sure looks like he casted his first super,” Crow said with a snicker, and Bentley felt his gloved hand land on his left shoulder. He looked up at the older Guardian, but he couldn’t really focus on his pale blue face.

“Yep, there you go,”

Bentley didn't even realize he’d fallen over until he was hoisted limply up into Crow’s arms, settled against the soft front of his cloak.

“Mm… Sorry,” He hummed.

“Nah, you’re doing great to stay conscious at all. I passed flat out as soon as I came out of my first super. In the middle of a horde of Taken, no less,”

Bentley didn’t know anything about Taken besides the fact that they were aliens, but he also didn’t have the willpower to ask.

“I’ve gotcha, kid. Glint, Sevyn, to the Tower please,” Crow ordered.

“On it!”

Bentley’s world proceeded to fade to black, but his hearing remained just long enough for him to hear Crow inhale and exhale deeply.

“I'm so dead for this.”

Asten’s story is below ↴

IN GAME CHAOS REACH:

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IN GAME GOLDEN GUN:

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ASTEN ↴

THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE LAST CITY, OLD EARTH, SOL SYSTEM -- 6:16PM

YOU SEE, ASTEN WAS A TOUGH KID. Tougher than most. Growing up homeless on the outskirts of the Last City presented him with no shortage of things he had to endure in order to merely survive — muggings, beatings, high-stakes chases, a life of thievery, actually getting stabbed, twice, flashy guns waved in his face, really bad habits, and lots of time spent cursing his existence into the wind. He’d survived more things than he’d like to admit in all his sixteen years. Forcing himself to fight with a knife in his shoulder and still coming out on top, having a Guardian called on him and watching it's Ghost scramble to resurrect them nearly six times before they ever got close enough to put a hand on him. In his mind, he was invincible — or at least he could be, when he needed to.

That invincibility seemed to have fled on this particular day, because he’d woken up having apparently caught the Black Plague. It was hard to move, to think, to breathe, to see, to hear — he felt trashier than a full dumpster from the Fallen District, and given he’d managed a stab wound and cauterization with half as much suffering, he knew he’d be down for the count, and soon.

So, he soldiered through it in his incredibly Asten way, willing himself to fix it before it killed him. He forced his way to the nearest pharmacy, walked in circles around it for about an hour, almost passed out twice, before he was able to form some semblance of a plan within his muddied brain.

And of course, it had backfired. Now, he was in a fenced-off back-alley of The Last City that he often used as a hideout, with a small pack full of stolen medicine, an entire platoon of security searching for him, and about as much will to move as a blade of grass. (Running at full-speed for a solid ten minutes away from the pharmacy hadn’t been the most brilliant idea for a kid sporting a fever so high he could practically hear his brain frying.)

Any other night after stealing something big like a bag full of expensive medicine, he’d be watching his surroundings extra carefully — moving to different hideouts methodically until the initial search was over and security gave him room to breathe… but tonight he wasn’t. Tonight, he was barely hidden from view by various dumpsters and trash cans, curled up, shivering on the cool concrete. It was mostly quiet there, and he could hear the wind whistling through the city. The only things that accompanied him in the dark, gross alley was the trash, a chain-link fence, and the walls. That was all.

While the air was pleasantly cool for the other inhabitants of the city, for him, it was an icy cold that made his skin tingle. He was shivering despite his blackish-blue hair and first layer of clothes being drenched with sweat. The strong smells coming from several different establishments and sewers were only working to make his head hurt worse and his stomach turn unsettlingly. Which, for him, was strange. Usually, the very prospect of food would have him climbing through vents or breaking open windows if it meant he wouldn’t have to go hungry for another day, but right now, he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything other than disgust at the very thought.

The stars shone brightly above the Last City. He would usually be staring at them, watching them move with a nonchalant air about him, going from here to there and sending guards to the wrong places over and over again. But tonight, he didn’t really have the willpower to open his eyes. Right now, he didn’t even have the willpower to take any of the stolen medicine.

He winced as his head throbbed with a newer, sharper pain than it had all day, probably in response to pushing his body way farther than it should’ve been pushed. He coiled up tighter. He was really glad no one really traveled those alleys, because he must’ve looked more pitiful than a crippled puppy. His arms and legs were aching in a way that made him want to weep, feeling like they were tied to cinder blocks he had to drag around with him. His head felt like it was full of cotton, hazy and blurry and a feeling a little bit like it might explode, like it had too much of something in it. Every organ in his body was revolting its very existence, and he swore he’d rather have a knife in him again than feel like that.

He’d made doubly sure his trusty sniper-rifle was within grasp — an old thing, dropped by a guy in a fight long ago — which, naturally, had led to him clutching onto the faithful firearm like other kids would a stuffed animal. It was smushed against his torso, safety on, because he had his arms wrapped securely around himself as to not upset his body anymore. It wasn’t the best weapon for close quarters fighting like running from security in the city, but it was all he had. He was pretty good at hip firing the thing anyways — not that he was looking to blow anyone’s head off anytime soon.

Even when he was wholly convinced he was dying, vague thoughts still pestered his mind — like the fact that most security knew about this particular hideout, and that most security definitely knew what he looked like, blue hair and all. He would’ve ditched his clothes and hid his hair after a normal heist. Instead, he pressed his burning forehead into the cool concrete beneath him and grimaced.

He drifted in and out of consciousness for a while. Sleep seemed like it would be a sweet release from the terrible state his body was in, but he couldn’t actually seem to fall asleep. Not while he had to keep one eye open for security. When they got here, he’d run, he kept telling himself. Just five more minutes. When he heard them, he’d go.

Those five more minutes turned into an indecipherable amount of time loathing his existence on the ground before a pair of voices flitted down the alley and made his head hurt worse.

“Are you sure this is where they said he went? There’s nothing out here!” Said a small voice — quiet, and somewhat… robotic? “They said he’d been stealing for years, surely he'd have a better place to hide!”

“I’m pretty sure hiding somewhere unsuspecting is the point, Glint. Run a thermal scan,”

Asten immediately forced his heavy eyes open as a realization dawned on him — that the first voice had been too robotic to be a human’s, overlaid with something mechanical. The second, too calm, too unbothered to be a guard on the City outskirts where sketchy people lurked and bad things crept in the shadows.

This wasn’t a pair of security guards — this was a Ghost and a Guardian.

They’d sicced a Lightbearer on him, again.

He felt his heart rate pick up as he pushed himself upright, the entire world spinning there for a few seconds before he was able to right himself. He fumbled for his bag and his rifle, forcing himself onto his feet only to careen into the alley wall thanks to the black dots dancing in his vision that had invited their friend violent vertigo to the party.

Last time they’d sent a Guardian out to pursue him, the Titan had been so brutal with his magical-superpowers and epic-hand-to-hand-skills that he didn’t let Asten breathe until he couldn’t move. Until he was beaten and battered and had lost enough blood that the huge Titan was able to drag him through the city streets by the collar of his jacket without a single sound falling from Asten’s lips except soft, nearly unidentifiable sobs. He’d been thirteen then. He wondered if all Guardians had a knack for torturing children who were just trying to live.

Something cold and mean blossomed in his chest when he realized that, in this state, he wouldn’t be able to survive a beating like that again.

Instead of deciding on something rational, like turning himself in, or simply begging for mercy and letting them know he was the sickest he’d ever been in his life, his first instinct was to grab a magazine from his belt and jam it into the bottom of his sniper rifle.

This Guardian was not going to touch him.

“I’m picking up a heat signature in the next alley,” Came the Ghost’s voice.

Once the vertigo had mostly subsided, Asten forced himself to move even though it made him feel like passing out and throwing up and maybe even dying on the spot. The chain-link fence on the opposite end of the alley would do little to keep the Guardian out, but maybe it’d give him just a little head-start. At this point, he’d take what he could get. He pushed himself out the back end of the alley, between the old buildings and the the city walls, and went to the left. Forced himself to move quickly and quietly even though it felt like torture, watching buildings pass as he went.

Once he reached a reasonable distance away, he turned back and shouldered his sniper rifle, sliding the lever with a click-click so it loaded a round. Bringing the sights up to his face, he let the reticle rest just on the mouth of the alley he’d left.

He wouldn’t feel bad for killing him. He wouldn’t. He’d just come right back to life… like Guardians always did. Better that Ghost have to work than Asten be reduced to a pretty little stain on the concrete. A pretty little stain on the concrete that didn’t have a Ghost to bring it back to life.

Not two seconds later, a Guardian broke the threshold of the alley — a Hunter, it looked like, for a long cape flowed behind his back. He looked strange, dawning white armor that sort of looked like scales, or feathers, maybe, with pale blue Awoken skin and no helmet. He had a large, shiny revolver in his hand that reflected light right in Asten’s eyes.

No helmet — a rookie mistake.

In one fluid, mechanical movement, his heart thumping wildly in his chest, Asten held his breath and took the shot.

BOOM!

Even though he was crouched, the recoil nearly knocked him over in his weak state, the boom leaving a piercing ring in his ears that threatened to crack his skull. The Guardian’s head exploded in a mist of red.

At the sight, Asten’s entire body twisted — his mind, his conscience, his morality, his guts — and his response in his sickly state was to gag. The ringing was still present in his ears, and he let the sniper rifle fall to brace one hand on the ground, staying crouched in the back-alley. Black dots came into his vision and danced around some more.

He let out a string of curses he barely heard, forcing his eyes back up to the body of the Hunter. His Ghost was hovering over him, glowing, its segments split wide open and spinning around a ball of bright Light.

Asten knew Ghost mannerisms well enough to know the Hunter was about to be resurrected. And he couldn’t be here when he was.

With that realization, he grabbed his rifle and forced himself onto his feet, again, still not hearing or seeing very well, his entire body screaming at him to stop. But he didn’t; instead, he forced himself forward and past a few more alleyways, only taking a right turn into one that he knew contained a fire escape. He fell into a wheezy, barky coughing fit that left him breathless and hardly able to stay upright; The only thing keeping him off the concrete at this point was pure adrenaline.

He reached for the medicine bag to make sure it was still on his shoulder, a terrible ache settling in his chest after the bout of coughing — a kind of soreness in his lungs that made even breathing painful. He wiped at his involuntarily watering eyes and pushed himself up the stairs of the fire escape, settling on the first platform and jerking on the lever of his sniper again, loading another round. The movement sent more pain streaking through his chest, and he coughed and coughed until he was seeing stars, felt unbearably hot, and thought his lungs might splat on the fire escape.

Luckily, they didn’t. Unluckily, the violent coughing made his lava-filled stomach churn, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before it demanded to have his undivided attention.

Despite the fact that his whole body felt like it might cave in on him, he crouched and lifted the rifle to his shoulder again, settling his eye on the scope. His arms proved too weak and shaky to hold it still, so he rested the barrel on the railing and aimed at the mouth of the alley.

“-this way!” The Ghost’s voice echoed in his head.

As soon as the white-clad Guardian rounded the corner, Asten wasted no time, a second shot from the sniper rifle ringing out and leaving an explosion of blood and another limp Guardian in it's wake. His Ghost appeared hovering over him — a little crimson robot with a worried air about him.

The recoil from the shot jolted Asten’s entire body. He saw stars again, heard nothing but ringing — a dagger of pain shot all the way through his torso, his shoulder, lungs, stomach, so sudden and sharp that it made him cry out. He reached for his thin jacket in an attempt to stave the pain — a terrible mistake, for his sniper rifle tipped over the railing and, even though he reached for it, his reflexes were botched. It dropped to the ground below with the telltale clatter of concrete on metal.

He looked up at the Ghost, the stars slowly fading from his vision; the little robot was staring at him.

He stared back.

And it dawned on him — now it was a race.

The Ghost immediately turned back to its Guardian and opened up frantically, expelling a bright light. Asten, with all his senses shot, conscious from nothing more than mere spite, forced himself to stumble back down the metal stairs. He had to focus all of his remaining energy into his legs just to keep from face-planting. And then-

And then another round of ultra-violent coughing sprung forth from inside of him, completely halting him in his tracks. His chest rattled and constricted with a vengeance, putting him in so much pain he actually considered crying. He had to completely stop moving just to keep from hitting the ground, and the coughing continued and continued and continued until everything he’d eaten in the not-so-distant past was displayed on the ground for the Ghost and Guardian to see. He had to move for a wall to stay upright, bracing himself against it and taking a moment to breathe — a painful action that sounded more like horrific wheezing.

Thankfully, his outburst seemed to have distracted the Ghost, who was back in one piece and blinking at him in surprise. For a moment, he thought the little thing might even try and speak to him — instead, it turned and opened up again, to raise its Guardian.

Asten glanced at the sniper rifle laying about a dozen feet from him. Moving for it, reloading, aiming, all while hardly able to make his body obey in the first place would take too long — the Guardian would be awake by then.

So he lunged for the Ghost instead.

The little robot shouted: “Ah!” When he grabbed it by its eye, and in a blind moment of adrenaline, he fumbled around on the concrete until he found the Guardian’s dropped revolver, pressing the cold barrel against the Ghost’s center.

“Oh, not again!” The little thing pleaded, writhing in his hand. “Let me go! I’ll contact the Vanguard!” It threatened.

“And I’ll blow you to bits and leave your Guardian to rot,” Asten hissed. He sent a glance to the Hunter, though he didn’t look for very long since a portion of his head was missing thanks to a bullet he'd let fly.

“Raise him,” He ordered at the Ghost.

“No!”

“Raise him!” He repeated, louder, though his voice was hoarse now, and his mouth tasted vile. Not that he had been very threatening in the first place. He pulled back the hammer of the revolver with a shrill click that echoed in the quiet alley.

“Okay, okay, okay!” The Ghost murmured, sighing heavily. It opened up, eye still held tightly in Asten’s hand, shining a bright light on its Guardian. For a split second, Asten’s hand that was engulfed in the light cooled off and he felt… okay.

And as soon as the Ghost closed and his Guardian sat up with a groan, Asten felt like a heaping pile of death again.

It took a few seconds for the Hunter to comprehend what was going on, his orange glowing eyes flicking around and then coming to rest on his Ghost.

“Crow…” The little robot begged, wiggling in Asten’s grip. Crow must’ve been the Guardian’s name, he guessed.

The Hunter — Crow — popped off of the ground, reaching for his holster that had no gun. His glowing orange eyes flicked to said holster, to the revolver in Asten’s hand; to the sniper rifle on the ground behind him.

“Hands up. You move, he dies,” Asten ordered. Crow obliged, lifting his gloved hands — though Asten knew he could blow him sky high with superpowers if he really wanted to. He just kinda hoped he… didn’t really want to. Or that he was threatening enough to dissuade him… maybe.

Crow and Asten stared at each other for a solid ten seconds, the former sending a glance to his Ghost. He shifted uncomfortably, like seeing the little robot — what had he called him earlier, Glint? — in such a dire situation physically pained him. Asten knew the relationships between Guardians and Ghosts were insanely intimate, like having a part of their soul manifested in physical form to aid them.

That’s why he kept the barrel of the gun pressed firmly against Glint’s eye when he growled: “Leave me the hell alone.”

“Look, I… I know you're scared. And I wouldn’t have chased you like that if I knew you were just a kid-” Crow moved, maybe to step forward, maybe to reach for Asten, he wasn’t sure -- but he squeezed the Ghost’s eye hard enough to make the robot squeak out a pained sound. The noise all but glued Crow’s feet to the concrete below them, and he stretched his hands out, a desperate look on his face. “Please, let him go. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Bullshit,” Asten murmured. “I’ve been burned enough to know that's a half-assed lie. At least be more original.”

He tried to make it sound venomous, but given that the force he had to put into the words sent him into another moment of rough-sounding coughing, it probably came across more like an angry toddler.

“All I was told was that I was chasing perp with over a hundred robberies and years of stealing under his belt. I didn’t realize you were…” Crow trailed off, really taking in Asten’s appearance for the first time. He was pretty sure he looked like death incarnate, given he felt like it. His hand that was holding the revolver was shaking from the effort, but he didn’t dare let it move from the Ghost’s eye. “Well, I’m guessing you didn’t raid that pharmacy just for fun.”

“Just get the hell out of here, superhero. Once you’re out of sight, and once you promise not to follow me or come after me again, I’ll let your little pet go,” Coming up with and forcing out words was starting to become way more of a task than it should’ve been, and Asten’s head started getting foggy, everything feeling a little bit… off. More off.

Crow watched him intently with his glowing eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t leave you out here.”

“Like hell you’re taking me anywhere,” Asten hissed, the sudden, loud words sending a burst of pain through his head that made him wince, though he thought he hid it pretty well under a scowl. “You’re-”

A few quiet noises emanated from the robot, and Asten glanced over with an appalled expression when it shined a bright light up and down his face, like it was scanning him.

“What the f-”

“Internal temperature is one-hundred-four-point-five degrees,” Glint announced, as though he didn’t still have a gun pressed to his eye. “He’s very… well… he’s very unwell, Crow. He threw up on the ground right before you woke. Hardly-”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Asten forced out, gritting his teeth at the pain it sent rippling from his head, down his neck and into his chest. He coughed a few times, muffling them by keeping his mouth closed. His voice was completely and utterly gone when he rasped out: “I just want you to… leave.”

“Sent out to take medicine from a sick kid. Why do I get stuck with all these jobs?” Crow muttered, mostly to Glint, but also to himself. “Look, what’s your name?”

Asten scowled. “Not-stupid-enough-to-answer-that-McGee.”

Crow breathed in and out, visibly irritated, though he pushed it back and kept his composure, trying a different approach instead. “I know you feel like shit -- flu’s been going around the City like no one’s ever seen. Lots of people have been hospitalized. The Vanguard even has Guardians helping out in some of the medical establishments around.”

Asten didn’t reply -- because, what was he really supposed to say to that, anyways? Plus, he was starting to feel nauseous again, so he didn’t really want to open his mouth.

“I spent a long time doing… bad things just to keep myself alive. Worse than stealing someone's food or robbing a place,” Crow started, holding a hand out to him. “I know how hard it is to trust people, to trust Guardians… I spent the first while of my Risen life getting murdered by them over and over again. Like they were playing a game with me.”

Asten vaguely wondered why the other Guardians would murder one of their own, but he didn’t give it much thought. He couldn’t; not really. Not when he was focused solely on not hurling. “Go away. Please. I’ll let him go, just… leave.”

“I want to help you,” Crow tried, stepping closer, daring to edge his hand nearer. Part of Asten yearned for the idea of help. Of letting someone else make sure he didn’t die for once.

The rest of him was revolted at the proximity he was allowing the Guardian to gain on him.

“No,” He breathed, voice still squeaky and wheezy. “I don’t want your pity help. The last Guardian that talked to me like this dragged me through the city half-dead. Like I was some kind of trophy.”

“And I’m so sorry one of them treated you like that,” Crow apologized, and Asten searched his face for a lie; all he saw was dangerous, dangerous sincerity. Sincerity that made the teenager want to cave. “Please let me help you. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You won’t get in trouble. I promise.”

When had someone last spoken to him like that? He wasn’t sure anyone ever had. And every single expression, movement, mannerism led him to believe Crow was being wholly genuine.

And it made him want to cave so damn bad. A Guardian, of all people.

“Asten,” He croaked.

Crow cocked a brow, his glowing eyes searching his face. “What?”

“My name,” He replied. Part of his conscience was kicking him over and over for giving him his real name -- the rest was whispering for him to give in.

“Asten,” Crow tried the name out, deciding it sounded about right. “How old are you?”

Well, since he was on a roll… “Sixteen.”

He heard Crow curse under his breath.

“Listen... I’m sorry if I scared you, I really am. You’re an incredible shot,” He started, eyes scanning him repetitively, forcing this little, quick smile on his face. “Please, let me help you. You… don’t look so good.”

“One-hundred-four-point-seven,” Glint chimed in.

Asten just stood for a moment, staring at the Guardian ahead of him. His words bounced around and around in his head. Promises for help, that he wouldn’t get hurt, that he wouldn’t die from the plague. That he wouldn’t be in trouble and thrown into confinement again. It all sounded too good to be true, and most of him knew that. But there was a little voice in his head that was rejoicing because someone actually… cared. In all sixteen years, someone actually…

Oh, shit. All those fancy promises about help and rainbows and butterflies was starting to-

“No,” Asten tried once more, his already gone voice breaking slightly in the middle of the word. He wasn’t sure why, but his eyes began to water. He chose to believe it was the fever and delirium and the fact that he felt like death making it happen, but part of him knew that wasn’t really the case. “Just… stop. Go away.”

(He didn't say stop because he really wanted him to stop, though — he said stop because he was caving and he knew it.)

Pity rippled across Crow's features -- sadness. "If you really want me to, I will. But I don't think that's the case."

Asten said nothing, but bit the inside of his cheek hard, forcing the wetness in his eyes to subside. Of course, it didn't really work.

"Why are you crying?" Glint questioned innocently. His little robot voice was doing that same thing Crow's had -- going soft, quiet, gentle.

"I'm not crying, you little shithead," Asten snapped, blinking rapidly in an attempt to ward the tears off again.

Crow opened his mouth to speak, but with a sudden and violent intensity, Asten’s entire body seemed to go on strike; He threw up all over his own feet, his hands slipping from both the Ghost and the gun to slink around himself instead. The revolver clattered on the concrete and Glint whirred up to his Guardian’s side, turning to look back at him.

His leverage was gone.

That was about when he realized darkness was not only dancing in his vision, but threatening to take in entirely, his whole body going into a strange, numb feeling that Glint seemed to catch onto before it fully took over.

“Catch him, Crow!” The Ghost shouted, before Asten was even falling.

But then he was — his legs gave out beneath him not a second later. Only, for the first time in his life, he didn’t hit the concrete — instead, Crow scooped him up like a small child, and he let him.

“Glint, take us to the Tower,” Crow ordered.

Oh, Asten was so going to die.

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere @skylathescholarly @beatyoutothatusernameloser

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ronaldofandom · 2 years ago

Text

Drunken Truth or Dare

Ok people. This is the craziest, whackiest, most insane drabble I have ever written.

Plot: Ram, Bheem, Sita and Jenny go on a double date. Get drunk. And play truth or dare. The women get nuts and the men get scandalized.

No warnings. This is sheer whackiness with some fluff.

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

Jenny and Sita had spent only two months together. But in that short time, they had forged a deep, unbreakable bond, almost akin to Ram and Bheem.

They had so many layers of shared memories and stories by now; it felt like they had known each other since forever. Each was that friend to the other, who is always there just when you need them. Who has this weird telepathy with you and can just tell when something is off with you. Who knows you and understands you like no one does.

This friendship had meant a lot to Sita. But it meant infinitely more to Jenny. She spoke to Sita about some things that she didn’t even share with Bheem, not yet. Sita was her mentor, her guide, and her support system in this new world. Jenny learned from Sita’s silent wisdom every day.

The woman was also crazy when she wanted to be. Very few people knew that side of her. Maybe since her circumstances never really allowed her to let loose. But with Jenny, Sita took the liberty to discuss anything under the sun.

The two women were sitting by the lake, chattering away. While the two men were indulged in a passionate, animated debate about some plan of action a short distance away. The women knew it was normal for them. That they would kiss and make up soon after the argument. So they ignored them and got back to their discussion, which was far more interesting than the men anyway.

Sita had that half smile on. Jenny knew she was about to ask a scandalous question.

‘Sooo, who was the first person you had a crush on? The first person you wanted to kiss? And don’t say Bheem; that’s such a boring answer.’

Jenny narrowed her eyes at Sita.

‘What if the answer ACTUALLY is Bheem?’

‘But it’s not, right? I can feel it’s not. C’monn, tell me no.’

Sita wiggled her eyes at Jenny, making the younger woman smile. Jenny caved, and started to tell the story.

‘Well, he was a professor at Eton who used to home-school me on subjects I was curious about, which were not covered in my school. World history, economics, oceanography etc. I heard my cousins talk about these things all the time and I wanted to learn too. So my folks caved and let me have this home tutor. And boy, he was something.’

She giggled and looked down. Sita clapped her hands in delight, waiting for Jenny to continue.

‘He used to come every day at 6, and our session went for an hour. But I always had so many questions, so it went on for a bit more. I loved his intellect, his gentle eyes, his non-patronising attitude, and his genuine willingness to help a 15 year old girl learn. And…well, he had a great physique too. Like really amazing.’

‘Ofcourse he did.’

The women giggled together.

‘So, did you ever tell him?’

‘Are you crazy? He was a friend of my eldest cousin. The scandal would have been drastic. And I wasn’t in love or anything. I just wanted to spend time with him because I guess he was the first true gentleman I had met. So different from everyone else I knew at the time. He was the reason I started to travel more, to learn. And that’s how I also came to India by the way.’

‘Hmmm.’

‘Now, your turn. And if you say Ram, I will hit you.’

Sita laughed and covered her face with her hands.

‘My answer is silly. You will laugh at me.’

‘I promise I wont. Tell me, please?’

‘Uhh ok. Well, my first crush was not a person. It was a god.’

Jenny was about to gasp, but she recovered quickly, nudging Sita to continue.

‘You see, we have a god called Krishna. We all have heard his stories while growing up. Particularly his tales from when he was a child / teenager. He appealed me to in a way I can’t describe. He was everything I could dream of.’

Jenny was tuned in by now. Krishna had captured her attention.

‘His earth-shattering cuteness as a baby made me want to have him as my child. To care for him. To take pride in him being my kid. He was that kid who was the apple of everyone’s eye. Everyone wanted a piece of him.’

For some reason, Jenny immediately thought of Bheem. And wondered what his childhood had been like. Somehow, she felt Bheem would have been that kid too. Everyone would have wanted a piece of him.

‘He was a very naughty child, he troubled his mother so much. But he loved her a lot, the most. I wish I have that one day.’

For the first time, Jenny wondered what it would be like to have Bheem’s kid. His mini-me. How could having a little version of him around be daunting? What was she so afraid of? She hadn’t been there for Bheem’s childhood but maybe she could experience that with his kid. To see him be a baby again with his child would be priceless. Shocked by how real and imminent that emotion felt, she tried to put that on a back burner and focus on Sita’s story again.

‘He was a cute little thief. Thief of hearts mostly, but also butter. He loved it so so much that he used to steal it from other women in the village. Funny thing is, if he had asked, they would have given it to him anyway. But he loved playing with them and teasing them. Secretly, they loved it too.’

Jenny closed her eyes and tried to visualise this menace of a child. All she could see was round perky cheeks and curly hair. And the kid could run like the wind.

‘And, when he grew up, he became the centre of attention again. Of all the young women. Everyone loved him. Everyone wanted him. Gosh, they would have done anything to be with him. To be his chosen one. He was sweet, kind, mischievous, gorgeous, loving, caring and strong. All in one. There are many stories of him protecting the people. He was their saviour, their healer, their pride. He was divine, yet so real.’

Jenny rolled her eyes. This was a story she had heard from Sita and Loki too many times. Of how everyone wanted a piece of Bheem now as well, but in a different way.

‘But, he had his heart set on one. While there were many gopis, there was only one Radha for him. She was his one true love, his whole heart.’

Jenny had no control on her reactions anymore. Her eyes were moist and her heart was racing. This was too real, way too real.

‘Did they end up together, then? Did Krishna marry his Radha?’

Sita came out of her trance and looked up at this question.

‘Actually, they didn’t.’

Jenny’s heart broke for Radha.

‘Why?’

Sita pondered over it for a few seconds.

‘I think Krishna had to go away. At least that’s what I remember. But I will ask the village elders, they would know better. Somehow I can’t remember the full story.’

When Jenny just nodded and didn’t look up, Sita linked her arm with hers.

‘Even though they didn’t end up together, what they had was eternal love. Even today, their names are always taken together. There is no Krishna without Radha, and vice versa. They were soulmates, and somewhere in heaven, they must have found each other.’

Jenny looked up at her friend. Once again, without her saying anything, Sita had understood the turmoils of her heart. Gosh, she was really a godsend.

Sita attempted to change the mood, and chimed in.

‘So, how long did it take for you to imagine your Bheem, when I spoke of Krishna? Not long I am guessing.’

Jenny just smiled. It seemed like a rhetorical question.

‘Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is a woman madly in love.’

‘Yeah? As if you are any different.’

Jenny elbowed her. Sita elbowed back, laughing at their antics.

Both knew how deeply they felt for the two men. Their relationship dynamics were very different, yet the depth of the bond was similar.

This is how Ram found them - giggling and play jostling with each other. After the heated debate he had just had with Bheem over their next mission, he was in no mood for such perkiness.

‘The cabin is ready. Bheem is putting the final touches. We can go now.’

He said curtly, making the women look up at him.

Sita stood up first, half-annoyed with his tone, and ended up stomping on Jenny’s toe.

Jenny cried out in pain and Sita cried out in guilt. She bent down to check the gash her heel had made on Jenny’s toe. It wasn’t too deep but it needed immediate tending to. She just hoped it didn’t need any stitches. Sita needed her medical kit, which was in her bag in the hunting cabin. She always carried her kit with her, it had become a habit now.

Ram was still processing the scene in front of him and wondering what to do. It was all too sudden. But Sita swung into action immediately.

‘Ram, we need to get her to the cabin. Quickly. Carry her and follow me.’

Both Ram and Jenny recoiled in horror at that statement.

Ram dragged Sita aside and started speaking in native tongue.

‘Are you out of your mind? I can’t carry her.’

‘Why the hell not? This is an emergency. We need to get her to the cabin. NOW.’

‘Sita, she is……why do I need to spell it out? Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Are you really that small minded, Ram? You seriously think Bheem would have a problem with this? That he won’t understand the situation? What’s wrong with you?’

‘What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with YOU? Even if I forget Bheem for a second, which I can’t, don’t you think she would have a problem with this?’

‘Well, both of you need to suck it up. If the situation was reversed, don’t you think Bheem would help me?’

‘It’s different. You don’t hate his guts. And he thinks of you as his sister.’

‘Why? What do YOU think of her, then?’

‘THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT AND YOU KNOW IT.’

Jenny was hearing the argument from the sidelines and understood enough that it was about her. She stood up with some effort and tried to put pressure on her toe. It wasn’t that bad.

‘Sita, look, I can walk. It’s not bad. I promise. Let’s go to the cabin.’

Sita looked between the two stubborn people, huffed in annoyance and agreed reluctantly.

‘FINE. But for the record, I am very displeased about this.’

‘Heyyy, I am the one who is hurt. Now come and help me.’

Sita stood next to her, wrapping her arm around Jenny’s waist. Jenny leaned on her, and held on to Ram’s arm on the other side.

The cabin wasn’t too far and they reached in a short while.

Bheem was fixing the outer boundary of the hut when he saw them. But something was off, they were walking weirdly. That’s when he realised Jenny was limping, and galloped in their direction. Reaching them in a few seconds.

He scooped her up in his arms immediately, and paced towards the cabin. Sita gave him a download of what happened.

Both the healers tended to Jenny’s injury. Thankfully, it didn’t need stitches.

‘But why did you walk?’

Sita looked at Ram pointedly, in an ‘I told you’ look, but stopped short of ratting him out.

‘Because it wasn’t too bad. Look, it’s healing already. Stop worrying, please.’

Bheem was neither pleased nor convinced, but this wasn’t the time to pick that up. So he let it go.

The group had their lunch then. Today was one of the rare days when they all had the afternoon free. Jenny and Sita had completed all their chores and classes for the day. And the men had only returned last night from a long mission, so there was no training today.

The mood improved markedly with lunch. Jenny had made the dessert with a lot of love. She had recently learned it and it was one of Bheem’s favourite too. Sita’s fish curry was legendary as well.

In the middle of the chatter, Bheem kept re-applying the ointment on Jenny’s wound every 15 mins, earning her a teasing smile from Sita.

It was a happy day. Sita was feeling particularly joyful today. And playful. It had been a long time since things seemed somewhat decent and stable. She didn’t know how many such days were there in her kitty. So she wanted to live today to the fullest. She wanted to let go and for once in her life, she wanted to have fun. They were away from others, up at the hunting cabin. It was the perfect time.

‘I have an idea.’

She said chirpily, with a twinkle in her eyes. Jenny knew she was up to no good.

‘You know what will make this afternoon memorable? Some bhaang.’

Bheem choked on air and Ram choked on water.

‘Yes, you heard me right. I said bhaang. Guess what, I have had bhaang too. More than once.’

Ram looked at her like she had grown horns. Who was this woman and what had she done to his fiance?

His reaction made Sita more adamant.

‘Why the surprise, Ram? Because I chose to not be sullen all the time? Or because only men should drink, not women? What is it?’

Ram had no such patriarchal notions. Neither did Bheem. They were just genuinely surprised by all this coming their way from Sita.

‘Umm, I am not sure we have the ingredients.’

Bheem pitched in, when Ram was still struggling to form words.

‘Oh I am sure I saw some bhaang trees on the way, not far from here. Ram, would you be a dear and get some for us?’

‘It would also help with the pain, I guess.’

Jenny chose that moment to double down, looking at Bheem lovingly, while holding on to his arm.

Sita smiled proudly at her friend. Well played.

Ram and Bheem looked at each other. They had never seen either woman drunk. Heck, they had never seen each other drunk. This was all a new unchartered territory for them.

But they both felt that there was no getting out of it. Sita knew that the decision had been made, and she was going to get her wish.

‘Bring enough for a few turns. Don’t be miserly.’

She instructed Ram, who nodded in response and went away quietly.

‘Are you sure you want to have it? It’s quite strong.’

Bheem whispered to Jenny, while Sita was merrily preparing the rest of the ingredients.

‘I could try. I haven’t had much hard alcohol before but I have had fair bit of champagne. It was quite nice.’

She smiled at him with excitement, still holding on to his arm, and Bheem didn’t have the heart to say anything else. So he shoved his concern aside.

Ram returned a few minutes later, carrying a ton of bhaang leaves, as instructed.

As Sita started to pour them into the mixture, Ram began to instruct her on the quantity. But she shushed him.

‘I know.’

She said decisively, leaving Ram guessing how many times she had made it before.

‘Ta-daa.’

Sita put down the glasses in front of everyone, beaming with joy. Bheem looked at her and smiled. She had never been this open, this cheerful before. He wished she had more moments like this. She definitely deserved it, for the wonderful kind heart that she had.

Bheem decided to join in the cheerfulness, but Ram was still wary.

All three of them took the first sip and sighed happily.

Jenny looked at their reactions, and decided to take her first sip as well, with Bheem side-eyeing her throughout. She gagged, but the taste became better after a few seconds. So she took another sip. And another. Bheem constantly requested her to pace herself, but she paid no heed to him.

When she climbed into his lap after downing two full glasses quickly, that’s when he cut her off. She protested loudly, but Sita sided with Bheem. That traitor. Jenny swore to her that she would remember this, but Sita laughed in her face. That was annoying. But she was too happy to care. This liquid joy was addictive, and Bheem’s lap was too comfortable. She snuggled happily and tuned out the world for a few minutes.

Sita was nowhere close to done yet. She put another glass in front of the rest. Bheem refused politely, pointing towards Jenny who was mumbling gibberish in his lap.

Ram liked this feeling. Of zoning out. Of not constantly thinking. He wasn’t there yet but he was on the way. So he took the glass readily and then another one. They were four glasses down now.

Bheem was very amused by their antics. Ram was still mostly under control, mostly, but he had a loopy smile plastered on his face.

Sita was laying flat on her back and laughing maniacally, while breaking into a strange floor dance every once in a while. Ram cheered her on.

That’s when Jenny decided to wake up. She was still heavily drunk but her senses had absorbed the worst of it. Bheem slowly placed her outside of his lap, next to him. She didn’t protest and moved willingly. Just when he thought they were close to winding down, Jenny clapped her hands.

‘Alright everyone, let’s play a game.’

‘Yessssss. Letsssssssss.’

Sita rose up from the floor, swaying heavily on both sides.

‘So it’s called truth and dare. We can get a turn where we have to pick either truth or dare. And the person has to do what others ask.’

‘That’s such a profound game. I love it. Let’s do it.’

Sita backed her friend.

Bheem continued to be amused.

Ram was nervous - he didn’t like the sound of this game at all. But he didn’t protest. Not loudly at-least.

‘Wonderful. I can start to set the pace. Truth. Now you can ask me anything.’

Jenny giggled while rubbing her hands. Bheem loved this look on her, and smiled from ear to ear. The bhaang had done nothing to him yet but the giddiness of the environment was infectious.

‘Oooooh let’s see. Why don’t you tell me something juicy from your time in Delhi? Maybe something about the three of you?’

Jenny thought for a few moments, then jumped when realisation dawned on her.

‘I have got something. Do you know how my first meeting with Bheem was manoeuvred?’

The smile drained from Bheem’s face. As did all the colour. He avoided looking at Ram but could feel him staring daggers in his direction.

It had taken Ram half a second extra to process. When he did, his jaw dropped. How could she know? Unless Bheem had….that traitor. Ram had done it for Bheem’s benefit and that smitten puppy couldn’t even keep his mouth shut.

Smitten puppy. That’s what he will call Bheem from now on.

‘Ram threw iron nails on the road to puncture the tyres of my car. That’s how.’

Sita looked at Ram in disbelief. And part admonishment.

‘Ram, that’s so creepy.’

‘I-I know but hey, it worked right?’

‘God, are you really that stupid or you chose that particular day to say bye-bye to your brains? What if the nails punctured other cars, what about them? Did you go and help all those people too? Did you pick up the nails after?’

Ram looked down, like a scolded kid. Bheem couldn’t take it anymore and came to his rescue.

‘Look at it this way. If it wasn’t for that, we all wouldn’t be here right now. Sometimes the end justifies the means right?’

When both women narrowed their eyes at Bheem, he raised his hands in submission.

‘Can we please forget this and move on, in the spirit of the occasion?’

‘Fine.’

The women said together, then looked at each other, and laughed. Bheem breathed a sigh of relief.

Ram stood up to clear the plates and Bheem followed him, hugging him from behind.

‘Sorry Anna. I just blurted it out to her one night by mistake. Please don’t be mad at me. Please?’

Ram tried to break free from Bheem’s bear hug but Bheem just tightened his hold. And doubled down.

‘I love you, Anna.’

All fight went out of Ram. In a jiffy. This was a Brahmastra that never failed. Bheem could commit a murder and apologise after. And people would forgive him for it.

Bheem knew he had succeeded. So he ruffled Ram’s hair one final time and went back to the ladies, with Ram following behind. He would still call Bheem a smitten puppy though, that was decided in his head.

‘Ok Bheem, your turn. What’s it gonna be?’

‘Dare.’

‘I am proud of you.’

Sita patted his knee, and the whole group smiled at her antics. Including Ram.

Frankly, Ram was stunned to see this side of her. But it made him happy.

‘I heard you guys danced at that party right? I wanna see it. Please please please. I have heard so much about it.’

‘Gosh, it was amazing. Best thing I have ever seen. Everrrrr.’

Jenny chimed in.

Bheem couldn’t say no to the first thing Sita had asked from him. So he did a few steps himself, with a loud cheer from the rest. Then he dragged Ram up and the two danced together, instantly falling in sync even in an inebriated state. Without music. Without even looking at each other.

Sita was mesmerised and Jenny was nostalgic.

Once they were done, Bheem extended his hand to Jenny, asking if she wanted to dance with him. She didn’t know how much she could manage in this state but she could never say no to such an invitation.

He helped her get up, then placed her bare feet on his, moving them effortlessly.

Jenny was stunned to see that he remembered the steps. Like the back of his hand.

When she lost balance & swayed to one side, she yelped, and both his arms wrapped around her waist.

‘Shhh, I got you.’

He whispered slowly in her ear.

She smiled & wrapped her arms around his neck. This was not the posture of waltz but neither of them cared. They only cared about gazing into the eyes of their soulmate. Both thought back to that afternoon of the party a few months back and how much had changed since then.

Jenny willed herself to not get overwhelmed. To not cry. Because the moment was surreal.

However, Sita got teary-eyed looking at the two. Their love was palpable. She had seen their journey first hand - from the nervous shy looks to baby steps towards other to being madly in love. They made her believe in miracles. In destiny. They also reignited her faith in love.

It was sweet for a while but when the two kept going, she had to intervene. She was happy for them and everything but they didn’t need to rub their closeness in her face.

‘Ummm hello, get a room you two.’

They blushed profusely and sat down, still holding hands. Jenny tried to kick Sita but the woman anticipated it and ducked away in time.

Ram was glad for the intervention. Because he was about to puke at this mushy display. Smitten puppy was such an apt name for his love sick friend.

‘You are extra chirpy today, aren’t you? Fine, your turn then. Let’s see if you dare to pick dare.’

Jenny goaded Sita, wanting to get back at her. And it worked.

‘Oh please, I am not a coward. Fine. Dare it is.’

Jenny laughed her best naughty smile. Making Sita nervous for the first time that night. She didn’t like where it was going.

‘Give Ram a lap dance.’

‘WHAT????’

Ram and Bheem gasped loudly. Sita looked down. Her evil friend had her checkmated, or at-least that’s what she thought. But Sita was in no mood to cower away or back down. Not tonight.

She stood up, made another glass of bhang, downed it in a few sips and came back to her spot.

The men looked at each other nervously, and at the two women, not knowing what else to do.

‘Let’s do it.’

Sita declared, looking straight at Ram. The said man died a thousand deaths instantly.

‘Ok that’s enough. This is madness. This can’t go on. I can’t watch this. This has to sto….’

Jenny interrupted Bheem’s rant by covering his mouth with her hand.

‘Stop being such a prude. This is happening. If you can’t watch it, go sit in a corner and cover your ears.’

Bheem did exactly that. He huffed and puffed his way out of the circle, found the farthest corner, sat down facing the wall, and plunged his fingers in his ears. Sita was like a sister to him, and watching this would be wildly inappropriate.

Sita kept looking straight at an ashen faced Ram. Who was stunned into silence. And numbness. At the suggestion. And the acceptance. Both.

Sita wanted to do this partly to not back down. But also, she knew they would never get a chance to do anything remotely wild again. Their real life didn’t allow it. This was the only moment and she wanted to seize it. Curiosity got the best of her. Jenny had told her about their night in the cabin. She knew she could never have that degree of adventure but this was massive for them too. She wanted to know what this would be like.

But her legs didn’t move. Despite her best efforts. She needed more liquid courage, so she asked Jenny to fetch her another glass of bhaang. And gulped it readily.

When Ram realised she wasn’t backing down, he decided to put his foot down.

‘Sita, no. You are out of your mind. And pissed drunk. Let’s go back.’

Sita blew raspberries at Ram, making Jenny burst into a fit of giggles. Bheem could mildly hear the commotion from the corner and was horrified that the dance had already begun.

‘YOU ARE ACTING LIKE A CHILD.’

‘Oh, that’s the opposite of what I am going to do just now.’

Sita stood up, and slowly walked towards Ram, petrifying the shit out of him.

She opened her hair, letting them fall to her waist. And transformed into a siren that neither Ram nor Jenny could ever imagine.

‘L-listen, this is…..this is…..’

‘You just saw those two, didn’t you? Then why is this any different?’

‘Because…because..’

‘For once in your life, stop being a buzzkill will you?’

Ram shut up and stayed rooted to his spot, as Sita started to caress his torso and dance around him. She slapped his hands away from his face and made him look at her. Actually look at her.

Ram was equal parts horrified and mesmerised. Extremely confused by his emotions. The woman glided into his lap, and moved like the smoothest jazz dancer. For the life of him, Ram couldn’t figure where Sita had learned that from.

Jenny’s mouth open and closed repeatedly. She had no idea her dare would unleash this kracken. While she wasn’t a party to the dance, she was feeling all bothered inside for some reason. For a moment, she wanted to be in Bheem’s place. This had started to feel like an invasion of their private moment. But then, she would have never known this side of her friend.

6 glasses of bhang in one hour and can drive the best drinkers nuts. And Sita had very little experience with that drink earlier.

So, just when Jenny was sitting on the edge of her seat, literally, Sita passed out in Ram’s lap. Like a light. Ram looked at her in confusion. Then looked at Jenny. The roller coaster of emotions had thrown their senses haywire. They had lost all context of reality.

‘Is the atrocity over or is it still going on?’

Bheem’s pained voice got them back to earth. Ram gathered Sita in his arms while Jenny found her voice again.

‘Umm yeah, it’s over. You can come back.’

Bheem returned to find Ram and Jenny shell-shocked, while Sita was dangling in Ram’s arms. He had no intention of ever finding out what happened there.

‘I-I should go back to the village. She needs to have some lemon in her system soon. And we don’t have any here.’

Bheem nodded at Ram, and Ram walked back to the village. Carrying a passed out Sita in his arms. If it wasn’t for the weight of her, he would be pinching himself right now to snap out of the dream he was in. Because, how could anything that happens just now be real?

Jenny decided that she needed another glass to recover. Looking at her face, Bheem didn’t even protest.

The drink did it’s job, and Jenny was chirpy again in no time. The scene from earlier already a distant memory in her head. But the heat from the situation remained. She hugged Bheem tightly, peppering kisses all over his face.

Before he could recover, she had dragged him to the cot and pulled him on top of her.

Bheem broke their kiss shortly, rolling off to her side. She whined loudly, reaching for him again, but he stopped her mid-way.

‘Jenny, you are in no state to give consent. Nothing is going to happen tonight.’

He said decisively, leaving no room for arguments. She wanted to be annoyed, to tell him that she was in full senses and that he should take her word for it instead of making his own assumptions. But she knew his heart was in the right place and she could never get him to budge on his moral grounds.

Cuddling with him was the best she was going to get. When she snuggled next to him and adjusted her legs, a cramp made her wince loudly.

Bheem immediately swung into action, inspecting the area and stretching her leg.

‘See, this is why you shouldn’t have walked after injuring your toe. You ended up putting extra pressure on this leg. Wait.’

He looked around the cabin and was glad to find some oil to massage her leg. He lifted both her legs to his shoulders, applying the oil on them tenderly. Jenny looked at his face throughout, as he tended to her.

In a different situation, the sight of her disheveled like this would have garnered a different reaction from Bheem. But right now, he was only concerned about bringing relief to her, and nothing else. There was no end to this man’s amazingness.

Somewhere along the way, she fell asleep, knowing he would be by her side through the night.

It had been some evening. They had all ventured into some unchartered territories, leaving some scandalized and the others giddy. But one thing was for sure. None of them was going to forget this evening and what transpired here.

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

P.S. - I may have been drunk while writing this.

@irisesforyoureyes @rambheem-is-real @thewinchestergirl1208 @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @rorapostsbl @yehsahihai @budugu @maraudersbitchesassemble @justmeand-myinsight @rambheemisgoated @rosayounan @jrntrtitties @obsessedtoafault @rambheemlove @jjwolfesworld @alikokinav @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @dumdaradumdaradum @lovingperfectionwonderland @chaanv @ssabriel @milla984 @kaagazkefool @boochhaan @mesimpleone @filesbeorganized @ladydarkey @teddybat24 @stanleykubricks @burningsheepcrown @veteran-fanperson @ronika-writes-stuff @beingmes-blog @yonderghostshistories @nisreenart @chaidrivenwhore @bheemaxrama @umbrulla @mizutaama @rosefulmadness @gifseafins @fangirlshrewt97 @voidsteffy @maooyinysparkle @amalthea9 @vijayasena @stars-in-the-distance @astrafangs

#rrr #tarak #jr ntr #bheem #ntr jr #charan #rambheem #bheem rrr #ram #bheemjenny #jenny rrr #sita rrr #ramsita

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shehsart · 1 year ago

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My favourite thing about MHA is that Hori will write the whackiest shit ever yet somehow make it seem believable

#he mixes reality with fiction just the right amount #idk how to tell you but #there were signs from the beginning yet you didn't notice #you'll be laughing like crazy in one chapter yet crying in the next he is insane #mha #mha 405 spoilers

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limerental · 4 months ago

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my ficlet month this year may end up being the whackiest yet tbh when am I going to stop adopting new blorbos and side canons from allegedly the same canon...

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ineffabildaddy · 1 year ago

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absolutely adore all of this!

some thoughts i've had after reading:

1: you mention in the third-to-last paragraph that crowley's adapted to modern british humour - dry, sarcastic, self-deprecating. british people love to complain and joke about issues they have with the practical, the mundane (see Very British Problems for some stellar examples). we hate to be inconvenienced, but we love to complain about it more than anyone else on earth. crowley knows this, and therefore he likes to inconvenience humans more than anything else.

crowley's idea of what is silly and ridiculous in a work context is easily understood when you think about the scene in hell in which he proposes his changes to the m25 plans ("can i hear a wahoo?"), or the scene where hastur and ligur are comparing temptation notes with him in the graveyard. unlike other demons, his chosen temptations and troublemaking exercises aren't giving serious consequences to people with serious jobs (i.e. corrupting priests or sabotaging politicians) - he likes to think outside the box, and he has fun doing it. his alleged invention of the selfie, his sabotage of the telephone lines, etc. are not conventional demonic activities - in fact, they're clearly seen as frivolous by hastur and ligur ("what's a computer?") - and yet they're more effective than darkly tempting one person at a time. it's the reason why head office "love him down there", even if they don't understand what he's doing, or remain unaware that he's taking credit for human ideas.

2: i've tried to express this previously but i don't think i did it very well - in television especially, the idea of being a 'silly' person, being whimsical, being accidentally or intentionally funny, being 'over-the-top', is often not conducive to being portrayed as attractive. the funniest, zaniest, whackiest characters in sitcoms are never the legitimate love interests, and the same can be said of many dramas, too. there are a few exceptions, like deadpool, in which a character's silliness is part of what makes them attractive, but these are rare. i really like that aziraphale is just outright camp and over-dramatic and ridiculous and yet crowley still eyefucks him at every possibly opportunity. crowley doesn't think aziraphale's hot in spite of his silliness, crowley thinks aziraphale's hot (partly) because of his silliness. it's one of the multiple methods the show uses to prove to us that there's not just one way to be attractive.

3: aziraphale and crowley may not know they're flirting in some moments, for example when aziraphale is asking to borrow the bentley, because they don't flirt like humans do. they flirt with a knowledge of the other person that has been built up after thousands of years. because they know each other exceptionally well, their flirting doesn't just make the other blush, it really, deeply speaks to their respective hearts. they don't need to use pick-up lines and they don't need to teach each other new sports as an excuse to get closer to each other. if i told you my mate got a stain off my jacket, you'd ask me if they used vanish or tide, not tell me they might be into me. if i told you i begged my mate to borrow her car, you'd ask me when i had to give it back, not why i'm encouraging them to share an integral part of themselves with me.

when humans flirt before they're in an explicitly romantic relationship, what they're basically saying is, "i think you're cute and i want to get to know you better". but when aziraphale and crowley flirt, they're saying "i know you so well that i already know exactly how to make you happy, and i'm going to do that to the best of my ability so you know how i feel about you".

and, i mean... it works, doesn't it?

Silliness and why it’s important

Crowley and Aziraphale are so silly and it’s something I really love about them and it’s something I think is really important to them because they can be silly with each other in a way they can’t with anyone else.

Both of them are silly – Aziraphale displays this side of himself much more readily and more often than Crowley does, but Crowley is silly too. Even present day Crowley who often seems to get labelled as dark and jaded and traumatised is actually still really quite silly.

Quick note - this post is part of a series which contains my opinions on Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship dynamics. I already wrote one on what they ask of each other (click to read it!). This one is silliness, by which I mean the funny things they do to amuse themselves and each other and also to a lesser extend the times when they are just a bit weird, because they are both slightly bonkers sometimes, for no other reason than they want to behave like that.

(By the way, if you make it to the end of this post without the word silly becoming, well, silly, then I applaud you!)

Why is being silly with each other important?

Can you imagine them being silly with any of the other demons or angels? There’s no way Aziraphale could display his silly side in heaven, the archangels are serious and wouldn’t understand the silliness, they’d just think Aziraphale was mad. Same for Crowley, the demons of hell just wouldn’t get it, they’d be scornful or dismissive at best, and also probably think he was mad (in fact we know they would because Aziraphale later utilises this idea when they body swap). In addition for both of them silliness around humans is something they can and do indulge in, but they don’t get a lot out of it because humans probably just think they’re a bit odd. Aziraphale for example isn't as socially unaware as he first appears, unless he’s playing a character (for example when he’s the magician or reporter), he tends towards being basically affable around humans, because that’s the sort of persona he wants to cultivate. Crowley generally wants to look suave so silliness around most humans is out for him too. It’s not that they are never silly around humans (see 1601 for just one example) but usually they aren’t. That leaves them with each other.

Crowley’s silliness

Taking them one at a time, let’s look at their silliness and what it says about them. I’m starting with Crowley because his is less obvious. Crowley doesn’t seem to be super silly at first glance. His silly streak is overshadowed by Aziraphale’s and also his tendency not to smile and be so overt whilst doing silly things. It’s partly why he looks like he’s lost a lot of his joy in life, but I’m not so sure that’s true. Crowley is optimistic and continues to be optimistic right up to season two – he also continues to be silly.

Let’s look at some examples of Crowley’s silliness through the ages:

Firstly angel Crowley is obviously a bit inclined towards the ridiculous – look at the weird and wonderful noises and faces he makes whilst creating the nebula. Aziraphale is utterly charmed (and so are we all).

Next another obvious one – Bildad the Shuite. This whole persona is just silly. From the odd facial hair to the weird things he does, Crowley is just having quite a lot of fun here. His ridiculous summarisation of the permit (“hugs and kiss, God”), more weird noises and faces as he fireballs the goats, his over-exaggerated setting everything aflame in the house (here some of his silliness is for a different purpose – to test Aziraphale’s trust in him), and then ending with his farcical cobbler/obstetrician doing a fake child-birth, complete with ridiculous over-acting for the benefit of the angels. For a lot of the Job incident Crowley is indulging his own silliness for a serious end.

After that we have to skip right to 1826 for the next bout of blatant silliness on Crowley’s part. For a start he’s ricocheting through Scottish accents, sometimes changing from one sentence to the next. He’s having fun with the persona he’s created for himself and he really doesn’t care who notices. He also banters with Aziraphale, Elspeth and Dr Dalrymple here in a way I really love, “bet you left your loom on your farm!”, “more murders, I’ll drink to that!”

There’s a lot of silliness in 1941 and I really don’t need to list it all – the middle name that’s just a J, the weird American accent, his very genuine laugh of delight at the snakes in a can trick, and more. This isn’t a demon that’s so jaded he isn’t still having fun.

So then we get to the modern day. There’s limited opportunities for super overt silliness because the situation is serious in both seasons, but there’s still some there:

In series one instead of miracling the guy with the paintball gun to sleep he literally turns himself into a monster and then declares “that was fun!” It’s ridiculous behaviour if you think about it, but Crowley enjoys himself.

The way he drinks the coffee in S2E1. Seriously. Why does no one talk about this? He gulps it down and then hisses/pulls a really stupid face. Maybe it gets overlooked because it’s sort of a bit sexy too, but honestly, it’s pure ridiculousness and he knows it.

From this point on Crowley’s silliness tends towards being more quiet silliness, rather than over the top silliness like Aziraphale’s is (with one notable exception). In the pub scene he orders the drink with a joke about Aziraphale, and then proceeds to intimidate Mr Brown in a not at all normal voice. He later asks Nina stupid questions about awnings and sudden rain – he must know these are silly questions from her perspective, but he does it anyway because he’s got a plan and he’s just a bit daft and doesn’t mind appearing weird around humans if need be. Later in the bookshop he throws the books around – honestly he could just place them down, he will know he’s being silly when he chucks them all over the place, but he does it anyway. In between this we have Muriel, which is a delightful moment of them both being a bit silly together at Muriel’s expense, except they’re both really quite kind about it as well. Then we get the exception - in the magic shop he dons a fez and messes about with a crystal ball – really do I need to say more about how obviously overtly silly this is?

I’m sure I’ve missed plenty of other examples as well (I've not even mentioned how silly the apology dance is!), these are just the ones I can think of right now.

So all this to say that Crowley is silly and most of his silliness is when he’s around Aziraphale. We as the audience don’t see Crowley being super silly very often, but we can extrapolate from what we do see that throughout the history we don’t see he must display his silly side to Aziraphale reasonably regularly. The biggest piece of evidence for the idea that Crowley is a lot sillier than we tend to see him is when we glimpse him through Aziraphale’s eyes. We know he sees Crowley as someone who does funny things and that this is something Crowley continues to do right up to the present day because when they body swap and Aziraphale takes his place in hell what are the two main characteristics of Crowley that he plays up? Sarcasm and silliness.

So what does Aziraphale think of Crowley’s silliness? Well, he doesn’t actually react much to it (see later for one reaction he does tend to give). He definitely seems to expect it though, he takes it as a given part of Crowley’s personality and I think we can safely assume he likes it, since he likes Crowley. Is Crowley aware of his own silly streak? Absolutely. How do we know? Again because of how Aziraphale sees him. The first thing he tells Crowley about on his return is how silly he was: “I asked them for a rubber duck!” and Crowley laughs along with him, delighting in the silliness of it all. This reaction is a tacit acceptance of what Aziraphale has done yep, that’s totally the sort of thing I would have done, angel, I know I’m sometimes silly like that and I’m delighted that you see that and that you are also silly.

Aziraphale’s silliness

Aziraphale’s silliness is so overt that I’m not even going to list examples of it. We all know how silly Aziraphale is, right? We’ve all seen his stupid behaviour in the magic shop and his daft attempts at speaking French because he’s somehow wiped his ability to speak proper French from his memory (anyone got a meta about how he’s achieved this because I don’t think it gets enough attention?)

Basically Aziraphale is quite often as mad as a box of frogs and Crowley adores him for it. Sometimes he teases him about it, but a lot of the time he doesn’t even do that, he just shakes his head a bit and looks at Aziraphale like he can’t believe what he’s hearing or seeing and like he thinks Aziraphale is absolutely insane. This is a massively important part of their relationship dynamic. Aziraphale is silly and Crowley fake rolls his eyes at him – it’s what they do.

Why is this so important? Well firstly Aziraphale’s silliness is something that he gives to Crowley. And he only gifts it to him after he starts to trust him – Aziraphale’s silliness is a symbol of trust and Crowley knows it. If you made a graph of their silliness around each other through time then Crowley’s would stay fairly consistent, maybe even drop off a bit, (as he gets more worried about their situation), but Aziraphale’s would be a massive upward curve probably starting sometime around the arrangement (which is around 1020AD according to the book). This is another reason Crowley falsely looks super morose and jaded by S2. At the beginning of their relationship Crowley is the only silly one and he’s overtly silly fairly often (and probably this continues in meetings we don’t see), whilst Aziraphale is anxious and serious a lot of the time (there’s no real silliness from Aziraphale during the Job incident) because he’s struggling with his own morals and his own place in relation to heaven and God’s will.

Over time though he starts to trust Crowley and once he does he unleashes the silliness and this becomes a basic part of his personality. For the audience 1601 is the first time we see this, but it’s clear by that point that Crowley knows he’s silly and isn’t surprised by it. Once Aziraphale starts being silly around Crowley he does it with increasing regularity and by the time the events of S2 come around he’s silly so often and so wildly ridiculous about it that it makes Crowley look serious and maudlin by comparison (even though he’s more-or-less maintained his original silly streak at least up to the point where he drinks the coffee).

The second reason this is so important is linked to the first. Sometime after Aziraphale starts being silly this becomes how they flirt without flirting. Aziraphale is silly and it delights and surprises Crowley (surprises in terms of he doesn’t know how Aziraphale is going to be silly today, he’s not surprised by the fact that he is silly).

We see this in 1601 with Aziraphale shouting inappropriately silly things to Hamlet and looking at Crowley whilst doing it. He’s offering Crowley his silliness as a sign of trust and something more, the subtext is, You know how to be silly, I’ve seen you be silly, I know you love silly things and I’m silly too. Crowley reacts with a look we will see from him a lot in the future, you’re being ridiculous angel. He knows it’s silly, he knows Aziraphale knows he’s silly and he knows why Aziraphale is doing it. He doesn’t laugh though because they’re already on their way to established roles in their relationship, Aziraphale is silly and Crowley rolls his eyes at it whilst secretly delighting in it (it works the opposite way too – see the fez scene where Aziraphale is the one who reacts, you can just see the start of a, “seriously, what are you doing, Crowley?” expression before the camera cuts away to Crowley’s mad moment).

The dynamic later evolves into more overt flirting. By the time Gabriel turns up Aziraphale is very definitely using his silliness to flirt. The car scene (which I’ve written more about in another post) is the most overt example of this. Crowley isn’t being walked all over here, he’s playing up to Aziraphale very obviously flirting to get his own way, and by doing so is encouraging him to keep doing it. Aziraphale starts the scene off being silly about the clue and “investigating” because he knows Crowley likes it, and then he ramps up the silliness with his voice and hand gestures the more Crowley reacts with grumpiness and refusal. That this is all an act becomes very obvious when it continues inside after Crowley has removed the plants from the car. Clearly the car borrowing is already happening at this point but Crowley continues to protest and Aziraphale continues to flirt over the issue, right up until Crowley playfully pulls the car keys away from him at the last second and turns the tables by indirectly flirting with Aziraphale via his conversation with Muriel.

One interesting question here is, do they even know they are flirting? And you know what, I’m not entirely sure. I doubt they’d describe it like that to an outsider, but what they do understand is the effect their actions have on the other one, particularly Aziraphale. He knows flirting-using-silliness is a good way to get his own way on minor issues and Crowley, possibly sub-consciously, but definitely willingly, falls into his role in that dynamic providing it’s something he feels he can give (see my other post for more on that).

So is Crowley jaded by life in season two?

Tricky one! I can see some evidence of it and I do think he’s drifting a bit aimlessly this season, with no real home, no direction and feeling generally a bit lost about his place in the world. But I also see him being quite silly, sarcastic and generally amusing throughout the season as well, and he’s definitely still enjoying Aziraphale’s silliness, right up until the ball when Aziraphale won’t listen to him because he’s too busy being giddy. Also though he literally shares a joke with Mrs Sandwich when he’s rescuing the humans from the demons and he laughs in delight when he finds out Aziraphale has blown up his halo. He’s fed up about some things, but he’s not so fed up that he’s completely lost his sparkle.

Why does Crowley seem different though? Well, Crowley, whilst definitely very much inhabiting the ‘thin dark duke’ persona in the present-day scenes, still retains a lot of his sense of humour, it’s just changed over the years. He’s more likely now to channel his silliness into sarcasm, which makes total sense – he tends to keep up with the modern world a lot more than Aziraphale does and he’s lived in Britain for a very long time and British humour is very inclined towards sarcasm, which is basically a more grown-up form of silliness. Crowley hasn’t become jaded, he’s adapted his humour to the modern British world, but also still retained some of his original inclination to just behave in bizarre and unpredictable ways (Coffee drinking! Fez wearing!) He also doesn’t need to be as silly himself now because he’s got Aziraphale, who is more than silly enough for the both of them, and Crowley loves him for it. “I say something brilliant, he says something unintentionally funny. It’s great!”

Conclusion?

Yes, sort of! The whole thing can basically be summarised by something @ineffabildaddy said in response to my previous post. “Aziraphale and Crowley don’t just love each other, they like each other, too.” They haven’t hung around each other for 6000 years and fallen in love against their will because it’s fate or some nonsense like that – they liked each other first. They’ve always liked each other from the moment they met as angels and they have grown to like each other more at every meeting since. They like each other’s personalities, conversation, sense of humour, silliness and so much more. These are the things that bind them together.

We the audience only see their big moments, times when something happens that pushes their relationship forward (1941) or changes their sense of who they are (Job). In S1 we see them face a huge challenge together and come out the other side. What we don’t see and so what we can sometimes forget as the audience is that there is a massive amount of time in their history where these things weren’t happening, where they just met up and had normal conversations and hung out because it was fun for them to spend time together. To spend 6000 years hanging out together and still be able to find the other person interesting and funny and just generally worth being around is pretty impressive and show just how strong their relationship really is. I hope that no matter how big and dark things get in season three that we at least get some chance to watch them be silly together some more, I think they deserve it after all they’ve been through!

#good omens #meta #you're being sillyyy #ineffabildaddy

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missmeinyourbones · 3 years ago

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HELLO I JUST WANTED TO SAY THE AOT CHARACTER IVKS KEEP ME UP AT NIGHT BUT ALSO HAVE MADE ME LAUGH SO HARD I ALMOST THREW UP SO THANK YOU!!!!

And!!!!

Can I ask for AOT character's as parents but like.. the stuff they do wrong that their spouse would get mad at them for and that makes ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE like??? "Why did you use a solo cup to feed Charles?" "All the bottles were dirty." I am LIVING for this stuff rn 😭😂

this is so fucking funny please. i love a good crack post, esp when its aot characters being stupid. here are some aot characters x stupid parent moments. also thank u for reading the icks im super glad they made you laugh ^v^

eren doesnt feed his babies real food. like food that will actually provide their growing bodies w nutrients and vitamins. you ask him to pack their lunch for school and you look over and see him putting in the whackiest shit: a few peanuts, a bag of cheetos, some oreos, a singular laffy-taffy. hes sick for that. also when his babies are really young and cant eat solid foods yet hes like babe can i give them a bite of pizza? can i let them try this cookie? NAUR

mikasa read once that talking to your baby in a normal adult voice provides faster growth and development so she refuses to talk in a baby voice or play with your kid in a child-like manner. she speaks to your baby like a normal ass person (which has its pros!) but is so fucking funny to see her converse with the 2 year old like theyre 30 and paying a mortgage. shes like “what would you like for a snack?” and the baby babbles complete nonsense and shes like “ok, i dont understand that, can you enunciate a little more?” or the baby is making a mess and shes openly says “stop. thats annoying” WHAT DO U MEAN UR BABY IS BEING ANNOYING LMFAOOOOO

armin is that weird parent that doesnt let his kid watch shows like spongebob because he thinks its somehow connected to witchcraft and doesnt teach ur kid anything. like he only lets ur kid watch tv if its an educational program (fun police fr). you come home to him and ur 3 year old watching a documentary on photosynthesis. LET UR BABY WATCH SOMETHING NORMAL LIKE DORA DAMN

mentioned this before but jean lets his kids pick out their own clothes to support their decisions and encourage self expression and confidence! but the issue w that is the fact that his kid is like 5 and picks the ugliest shit that does not match....like at all.....so they leave the house looking homeless. im talking you come home and ur kid is wearing neon orange pants with brown boots and a yellow and purple blouse that says something stupid like TROUBLEMAKER <3 and ur like jean. tell me they didnt leave the house like that. (they did.)

connie complains about changing ur kids diaper every time he does it. EVERY SINGLE TIME. he still does it, but not without being such a fucking baby about it. youve been home alone watching ur baby all day and connie finally comes home and u guys are hanging out and ur like babe can you please change them im exhausted from today and hes like EW it smells so bad :/ or GROSS IT GOT ON MY HAND >:( and you can feel your eye twitching bc ur covered in baby poop and spit from the entire day

sasha openly swears around ur child and then acts dumb/surprised when they repeat her words. she doesnt even think to censor herself when ur baby cant talk yet so shes all FUCK and SHIT around the house. which is fine until your baby’s first word is bitch and shes like O.O WHERE DID YOU LEARN THAT. you come home and shes like show mama/dada/whoever what you learned today! and ur baby looks you dead in ur eyes and says bitch.

reiner does puzzles with your kid but gets equally if not more frustrated than they do when he cant figure it out. theyre doing a butterfly puzzle and reiner is trying to teach them how to separate the corner and edge pieces first. once they get to the middle pieces, the two of them are putting any piece anywhere it kinda fits, trying every combination and turning each piece every which way. he starts to get overwhelmed because why is this puzzle for eight year olds so fucking hard and ur daughter notices and is like “dad, its ok, i kinda wanna play dolls instead anyways”

im stealing ur example w the bottle for porco because its so fucking him. so nonchalant he doesnt even think twice about it. hes like oh the bottles are all dirty? why would i LOGICALLY THINK TO WASH ONE when i could just give them formula in a plastic cup? hes so fucking stupid he doesnt understand that babies like struggle swallowing and cant sip and stuff so hes like why arent you drinking? must not be hungry :/ IDIOT

#aot headcanons #aot hcs #eren headcanons #mikasa headcanons #armin headcanons #jean headcanons #connie headcanons #sasha headcanons #reiner headcanons #porco headcanons #eren x reader #mikasa x reader #armin x reader #jean x reader #connie x reader #sasha x reader #reiner x reader #porco x reader

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princess-of-the-worlds · 4 years ago

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tldr: As of this October, it has officially been one year since I first watched Torchwood and started reading fics. Although I didn’t start writing my own fics until March 2020, I have written...like a lot of fics in the past seven months. But I wanted to celebrate my favorite fics by other people. So here is Part 1 of probably several eventual fic rec posts. These are what I consider fandom staples.

To The Sticking Place by zephyras13

The end justifies the means. Failure is not an option. There is always a choice, except when there isn't. These are the phrases Ianto Jones lives by and he refuses to allow anyone, even Captain Jack Harkness, to change that. Jack/Ianto, AU, Torchwood One Agent!Ianto.

(janto & others | complete | mature | 96K)

Nik: I legitimately cannot explain why I love this fic so much other than the fact it is so great! It was one of the first fics I read, and I still adore it. It follows canon so well while making you feel very range of the emotion spectrum. The author’s take on Ianto is so complexly-written but still feels true to the canonical Ianto. Literally one of the first fics I’d rec to anyone new to fandom. A must read.

only fools fall by transjackianto

“Oh my god,” he gasps out when his laughter has died down to softer chuckles, “I am so glad I stuck around to hear that. Thank you Jack, I needed to laugh today. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he pushes back from the table for the third time but Jack stops him again with a hand over his own. It is a softer touch than before and that unnerves Ianto more than anything.

He looks up, terrified he’s going to see some kind of earnest emotion on Jack’s face. When he finds Jack looking instead like he swallowed a handful of pins he relaxes. He’s not sure he could handle finding out Jack had some kind of ridiculous unrequited crush on him.

“I know,” Jack groans, dropping Ianto’s hand and letting his head thunk against where his arms are crossed on the table, “I want to punch myself just for saying it, but I mean it Ianto. I need you to be my boyfriend.”

Aka, Ianto just wants to make it through his summer as a newly single sixth form graduate and eagerly await the end when his ex comes back from her summer trip and they can reunite.

His ex-friend Jack Harkness throws a wrench into the works.

(janto, lisaianto, & others | complete | mature | 182K)

Nik: Okay, so I’m a tiny bit biased with this one considering that the author is my friend whom I adore and also one of my favorite people in this fandom. And I...also betaed this entire fic. But take it from me! It’s so, so well-written and the shift from enemies to lover is so perfect. There is angst, oh so much angst, but it is worth it. Plus, it’s incredibly hot! And I know the author has eventual plans for a sequel, although no promises when it’s coming. Another must read!

Halfway Back by Sholio (@sholiofic)

Team Torchwood run a sanctuary for magical creatures, and this time they've got a basilisk on their hands.

(gen | complete | teen | 13K)

Nik: Okay, so literally anything by Sholio is perfect. They have an incredible grasp of the team dynamic that still blows my mind, and their fics have topnotch Owen-Ianto interactions. But I chose this fic because the premise felt like almost nothing I’d read in this fandom before. Plus, there is still the requisite amount of Owen angst in this. (Also check out The Cartography of Feeling, which is another personal favorite.)

Conversational Japanese, Plus Frogs by james

Tosh and Ianto have been taken prisoner. They cope.

(janto | complete | teen | 6K)

Nik: One of the older, shorter recs on this list but still a classic. A fascinating in-depth character study of Ianto and Tosh and their friendship in confined quarters that also explores the trauma that follows some of Torchwood’s misadventures. I don’t think I can say much else besides urging you to read it!

Sharkreef (Or, Why Torchwood Was Set in Cardiff and Not the Bermuda Triangle) by queenfanfiction

There is the story of a team who tried to save Earth from aliens. This is not that story.

(janto & many, many others | complete | teen | 2K)

Nik: Look, I know that some will actually despise that I included this rec, but this fic is ICONIC. It’s cracky, yes. Cracky crack. Very crack. But it’s also legitimately one of the strangest/whackiest/what-the-fuck fics I’ve ever read. It always startles a genuine laugh out of me. It has all of our favorite tropes...coupled with some lobsters. (Sidenote: This reminds me of John Mulaney/SNL’s Diner Lobster sketch, which I also encourage you to watch.)

Insignificant Other by parachutewoman

Ianto is tasked with telling Rhys that his newly wedded wife has ditched him to go to London with Jack on a “very important mission”. Refusing to have his day ruined, Rhys drags Ianto along to the Six Nations final and the two ‘other halves’ try to make sense of their place in the world and their partners’ lives.

(janto & gwenrhys | complete | mature | 6K)

Nik: Ianto-Rhys friendship content is something that is severely lacking in this fandom, which is a damn shame. You can see from COE that Rhys seems to genuinely care about Jack and Ianto, which I presume is from post-Exit Wounds bonding with his wife’s coworkers. And I know that the audiobook Ghost Train has a lot of good Ianto-Rhys bonding, although I just haven’t had the time to listen to it yet. Either way, this fic, and the other fics by this author, are very well-written and beautiful. This one, set circa S2, has just the right amount of angst mixed in as well as you watched Ianto go from reluctantly accompanying Rhys to actually enjoying himself. I definitely enjoyed this fic.

Beast Inside by Flamingbluepanda (@flamingbluepanda)

"Argue with anything else, but don’t argue with your own nature.” - Phillip Pullman

Inside us all, there is an animal that expresses our soul. How would the world change were those animals outside?

(janto & others | complete | mature | 26K)

Nik: Admittedly, this one is also a bit biased because the author is my friend and I am their loyal occasional beta, but I started reading it before I met the author. Although daemons do come from His Dark Materials, they have become a sort of AU on their own, and thus, you do not need to have read HDM to read this excellent fic. I definitely have not. There is angst, there is fluff, there is canon compliance. And there is Dai. Dai, Rhys’s corgi daemon, is probably not the one you would expect to steal the show, but he stole my heart. (I mean, Navi and Emma, Jack’s bear daemon and Ianto’s terrier daemon, adorable respectively...but Dai!) Expect to fall in love with Dai by ths end of this fic!

To Let by Amand_r

Ianto Jones is a good housemate.

(janto & lisaianto | complete | not rated | 12K)

Nik: Now this fic is a little bit different from the rest because it is not only second person POV but is also outside POV, which makes it slightly odd to read at first. But I can assure you, it is most definitely worth it. Ianto’s unnamed housemate makes for an interesting perspective into Ianto’s personal and domestic life as well as exploring his relationship with Jack. His housemate, of course, doesn’t remain one-sided, with loss and love and life of his own, but you can tell that his bond with Ianto is genuine. This fic provides a nice break from the explicit canon while still exploring familiar events.

Your Job Knows What It Is by ShastaFirecracker

Torchwood Three, 2045. Bram Hudson's just been recruited by Jack Harkness, it's xir first day of work, and orientation is being handled by some old man named Jones.

(janto | complete | gen | 9K)

Nik: Okay, I lied. This fic is outsider POV as well, but Bram is so well-written and complex even from the short while we have with xem. As an alternate to the previous fic, this one provides great, interesting exploration into a future, slightly different Torchwood while also serving as a COE fix-it fic. Older Ianto is just as badass as when he was younger, and the insights into his relationship with Jack are sweet and will leave you craving more.

Worrisome Heart by thepsychicclam

It's 1922. Ianto accidentally stumbles upon a speakeasy owned by Captain Jack Harkness. When Ianto becomes a bartender, he quickly learns how dangerous everything around him truly is, and more importantly, how dangerous Jack is. But the longer he knows Jack, the more he doesn't care.

(janto | complete | explicit | 42K)

Nik: This fic, this series in fact, is one of the only complete Historical AUs I have found in this fandom. Set in 1922 New York, it features all our beloved characters as completely human and sans Torchwood and aliens, which - of course - means that they can feel a bit OOC at first. Still, as you read on through this fic and its three sequels, you will realize just how well adopted the events and characterization from canon are. If you going in thinking of this as original work rather than fic, it might help you adjust to the differences. Quite well-written!

Intersecting Geodesics by NancyBrown

Stuck in a time with a Jack who hasn't met him yet, all Ianto wants is a way home.

(janto & jackjohn | complete | mature | 37K)

Nik: There are numerous “Ianto gets sent into the future by the Rift or an artifact and meets past!Jack” fics existing in this fandom, but this is one of my favorites. For one, it’s written by the incomparable author who has many, many excellent fics that I like. (Their smut is seriously topnotch, especially for some of your kinkier tastes if said tastes exist.) The distanced younger Jack provides just the right amount of angst, and his eventual fall for Ianto is built-up just enough to work believably. The resolution is satisfying enough, and the author has a few other fics in this series to keep you going!

For Captain and Cardiff by blackhemlock

"At midnight, a nationwide security alert was sent out... Torchwood London, demands all agencies' cooperation in issuing an arrest warrant for Ianto Merric Jones, 24, of Cardiff."

Torchwood Three's Archivist has gone rogue. But, he does have a very good reason, and he looks stunning in his new suit.

(janto & tenjack | complete | gen | 42K)

Nik: Admittedly, I will often be picky in my fics featuring the Tenth Doctor because of how he mistreated Jack, but this fic features a true-to-canon portrayal of Ianto and the Doctor that I adore. It does well in building up your expectations of Ianto and the Doctor’s encountering and then subverting it. There is also good room for Jack-Ianto angst, which only adds to my enjoyment of the fic. I don’t necessarily know how to explain it, but this fic also feels sleek and modern despite its timey-wimey elements.

What Dreams May Come by AVAAntares (@avaantares)

It's bad enough that a plague of alien parasites have fallen through the rift and are preying on Cardiff's citizens. It's worse that someone from Jack's past has come from the future to confront him on Earth. But when Jack himself is taken by the rift, Ianto and Gwen are forced to rely on the most unlikely of allies to keep Torchwood running without him.

Stranded in another century on a distant planet, Jack has only one hope of returning to Earth. But time travel with the Doctor has never been an exact science, and when he returns to Cardiff, things are not at all as he expects to find them...

(janto | complete | teen | 88K)

Nik: Honestly, I think one of my favorite parts of this fic may be the inclusion of an OC, Jamiya Thane, AKA Jack’s mother. I’m just a sucker for fandom’s takes on Jack’s canonical family and past as Javic Thane from Boeshane, and this plays into it well. It’s endearing to watch Jack’s found family, especially Ianto, interact with his mother. Also included is a rather brilliant time-travel mystery that will tug at your heartstrings on many levels. Excellent soft Jack-Ianto content in chapters and a creepy use of a one-off Doctor Who creature.

Ghost Story by Mad_Maudlin

I called out. "Would you like to hear a ghost story?"

For a moment Jack didn't move, and I knew he'd recognized my voice. After a moment he said, flatly, "I don't believe in ghosts."

"It's a complicated story," I admitted, and pulled the watch from my pocket by the chain. "And it starts with 'Long ago and far away.'"

(janto | complete | teen | 70K)

Nik: This fic! I passed this fic many times on my search for new fics to read, and the summary always threw me a bit, but when I decided to take a chance on it, I realized what I’d been missing out on. There’s so many fics in this fandom, and on this list, that take familiar tropes but twist them into something new, just like this fic. Without giving too much away, I can say that this fic features Time Lords, pocket watches, shifting POVs, and a COE fix-it, all packed with a brow-raising plot twist. It’s enough to make me forgive the first person POV, which I can usually not stand but actually works quite well for this fic! A fic worth reading at least once, if not many times. It feels so utterly unique!

Time Tracks by Cyborgtamaki (@cyborgtamaki) and thirteeninafez (@thirteeninafez)

It took him a second to realise what had happened; what had felt like hours while travelling through the rift shrunk itself in his head to a mere instant of searing gold. That’s when the flicker of the fire in front of him finally registered through his confused daze. In his haste to get away from the flames around him, he slipped and fell, scrambling back until he was a safe distance away from the smoke and the heat. It was only then that he took notice of the voices behind him. He turned towards the noise of a deep, northern voice spluttering and saying, confused and almost angry: “Who the hell are you?” The man rolled over onto his knees and stood up, looking around like he’d never seen a street before. “Jones.” He sounded uncertain but then spoke again with more confidence. “Ianto Jones.”

(janto & ninerose | complete | teen | 174K)

Nik: There’s many “Ianto travels with the Ninth Doctor and Rose” fics in this fandom, but this one is the longest, most recent, and one of the most excellent that I’ve read. The authors have written in-depth chapters of the Doctor Who Season 1 episodes we already know and adore as well as adding their own unique “episodes,” all of which are deeply enjoyable. There is excellent character interactions, specifically a wonderful Rose-Ianto friendship, and so much soft Jack-Ianto. The authors have, personally, promised several more installments coming by the end of the year or later, and they are sure to be worth the wait!

Club Wales by pocky_slash

In the wake of Jack's disappearance, Gwen finds comfort in a new friendship with Ianto. Gossip, bonding, and other hijinks of understanding ensue.

(gwenrhys & janto | complete | teen | 19K)

Nik: This author is single-handedly a Gwen-Ianto dynamic icon. Their grasp on Gwen and Ianto’s respective characterization is brilliant, and their friendship in this fic, and any fic the author writes, is well-fleshed out and believable enough for the moments we only really see on-screen briefly in the show. This fic, and overall series, serves as a compelling insight into how the team originally views Jack and how Gwen and Ianto grow closer. Gwen truly was one of Ianto’s big sister figures, which is excellently reflected in this fic. A must read!

Just this once by Beleriandings (@ultraviolet-eucatastrophe)

(Everybody lives.)

(Or: when a certain Doctor arrives to save Owen Harper from a stricken nuclear power station, it begins a chain of events that will lead Torchwood Three down a very different path. From time locks and telepathy to tea and coffee, high-speed chases to unresolved sibling issues, their new lives (and new and old loves) may be different, but their bonds of friendship and family grow stronger every day. But when every child on earth starts speaking with one voice, the team are torn apart again as they’re forced to fight for their lives, and to confront monsters they’d thought they’d left behind in the past. But with all of them working together – along with some allies they’ve made along the way – Torchwood Three will stop at nothing to save their friends and set the world to rights. The consequences will ripple out across the universe and into the distant future. But they have to start somewhere, and the present is as good a place as any.)

(janto & others | complete | teen | 239K)

Nik: Many fics are post-Exit Wounds and COE fix-its, at the same time, but dare I say that this one is the best? (Or one of the best at least.) The Tenth Doctor receives his own iconic “Everybody lives” moment, but that is only where this fic BEGINS. This beautiful monster, which I mean in the very best sense considering its length, traverses Exit Wounds, COE, and slightly Miracle Day and gives everyone a happy ending. In addition, the author, another friend of mine, I’ll be honest, manages to redeem and humanize Gray in a way I didn’t think possible, but I actually found myself liking him. This is definitely a must, must read, especially if you’re new to the fandom or just finished having your heart thrown out.

The Stars Might Stick You Where You Stand by methylethyl

Following the fall of Torchwood One, Jack Harkness went to ask Torchwood Three for a job. He didn’t expect to fall a little bit in love with its director, the practical and ever-calm Ianto Jones. He also probably didn’t expect that Ianto Jones would end up holding the answers to his most precious secret.

(janto | complete | explicit | 20K)

Nik: I’ll be honestly - I’m a sucker for role reversal AUs in any fandom, and this is one fic I see rarely mentioned or recced, which I think is a damn shame. It is definitely in my top five fics; I adore it so much. Jack is cast in the role of Ianto, gunning for a job at Torchwood Three after the fall of Canary Wharf. His “Lisa” is his desperate, life-long search for his brother Gray who was taken by Torchwood when they were both children. Ianto is, obviously, the immortal director of Torchwood Three, but what makes him even more compelling is the lack of direct reference to his AU past. We don’t know who this Ianto Jones was before he, like Jack, arrived in Cardiff in the 1800s, newly-immortal and ensnared into working for Torchwood. Instead, this fic, and series, focuses on a stretch of episodes from Season 1 intermingled with elements from Season 2, as well as subverting the expected team relationships. Jack and Ianto are believably different but still realistic in their characterization, and look, I adore this AU, which I’ve already said. A personal favorite and must read!

Cling to the Ways of My Name by engagemythrusters ( @iianto-jones)

If Ianto Jones thought his legacy would die out with him in Thames House, he was dead wrong.

(janto & gwenrhys | complete | teen | 37K)

Nik: Hopefully, you’ve already read this fic by now. If not, may I dare ask what you’ve been doing with your life? This is one of my favorite fics of all-time in this fandom, as well as my favorite kidfic ever. It’s so well-written and just so damn unique. I cannot capture in words what makes it so special, although I will try. Ioan Jones is the sweetest janto baby ever, and I love him with all my heart. Jack’s adventures raising Ioan are just so endearing, and later installments, which feature Ianto, serve to satisfy the domestic Jack-Ianto as parents craving you might not even have known you had. There’s just so many little details about this fic I love, including but not limited to - Jack’s found family in the Joneses, Ioan-Anwen friendship, and Ioan loving blue. A definite must read fic to give you the serotonin you need.

Waking Gods by toldthestars

Why are Ianto's dreams coming true? What's in the box with the symbol on it? Oh, and while we're at it, what's the meaning of the life?

(janto | complete | not rated | 7K)

Nik: This fic is another one with a completely unique premise in this fandom. In fact, there is only one other fic I’ve read that even gives me similar “vibes” for this fic. Here, Ianto suddenly finds himself gaining powerful, unexplainable abilities, essentially becoming a god, and oh my, this is excellent. Ianto is just trying to do good in the world, and the team’s growing fear and distrust of him and his power really sucker-punches you straight in the heart. It’s all so beautifully-written, with powerful imagery that left me awe-struck. The janto angst is oh-so-excellent. Reading this fic for the first time is an experience that I don’t believe can be replicated.

fool me once, fool me twice by princessoftheworlds (aka me)

When, after the events at the House of the Dead, the Rift spits Ianto out on an alien planet a thousand years later, so begins a goose chase that will take him across the universe and across time until he finds Jack again.

(janto & others | complete | explicit | 52K)

Nik: What kind of fic writer would I be if I created a list of fic recs for Torchwood and did not include one of my own? I consider this fic my masterpiece. The House of the Dead!Ianto get sucked through the Rift and spat out across time and space, turned into another fixed point, as he begins his search for Jack. I don’t know if I can say much else without it sounding like bragging, but it features - in no particular order - a happy ending for one, Ianto getting some badass adventures of his own, a sorta redemption arc for John Hart, numerous references to Big Finish, and too many spinoffs with more to come! Give it a shot, why don’t you?

#torchwood #torchwood fic recs #janto #jack harkness #ianto jones #gwen cooper #toshiko sato #owen harper #nik's fic recs #nik's torchwood fic recs #i'll figure out an actual tag later tbh #i wrote this all out in three hours #so i spent TIME on it #hope this doesn't flop lmao cause i could have and should have been studying #three upcoming midterms #and now i'm rambling

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coefore · 6 years ago

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My whackiest idea yet

#transformers #tf #tfs #maccadam #megatron #optimus prime #optimus primal #fanart #erinni #megop #megaop

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eagle-raider · 4 years ago

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Tomb Raider: The Ten Thousand Immortals? If you have read it. Also ghosts :o

I haven't read it, but I've read reviews from fans and people who really liked the Survivor timeline. From what I gathered, the title should have been changed to Lara Croft and The Ten Thousand Train Stops because that's what she does most of the time. Girl lives in the Tube.

Ghost eh?

I've had experiences I couldn't really explain. I do believe that there are still souls trapped here, either by design or waiting for something, i mean I won't get into details but I told you: things happened to me and there's no logical or rational explanation as to how or why.

And I'm not one to usually go for the whackiest answer. I like logic, I like when things have a cutout explanation, so ghosts are pretty low on my list of solutions to problems.

I don't go around telling people about ghosts/spirits. It's just one of those things.

Tl;dr: I think they exist.

Spooked yet?

#I'm probably going to lose followers over this #it's fine guys!#lemme just put my tinfoil hat back #and shove my Ouija board somewhere #thank you for the ask!

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mianmimi · 2 years ago

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DS2 was disappointing, but at least it gave us enough material for fanon that's oh so good. Personally, I love how different Strordo and Wonrange can be depending on which variants you're shipping. We know nothing about Defender Wong, but since Defender Strange is described as a swashbuckling adventurer, I like to think DW is also laidback/adventurous. Then there's 838 Strordo being tragic relationship goals, 616 Stephen/838 Mordo hatefucking, 616 Mordo/Sinister Strange second chances, etc...

Exactly sweet Nonny 💕 I feel like the best parts are the ones implied, like 838 strordo 🥰 The movie definitely gave us enough to munch on. Although…it’d honestly just the fans making the best out of a bad situation.

It reminds me of those mystery boxes in cooking shows where contestants don’t know what the ingredients are, but they still gotta cook a meal with it. Some folks get the really great ingredients and others get the whackiest things. I feel like we ended up with the most random ingredients that don’t go together and yet, by some minor miracle, we made it work. We made it edible. We shared yummy headcanons to drown out the bad.

I love how there’s so many ships to mix and match. Especially with all the variants running around too. Ahhh I gotta know more about Defender Wong. Like what was their dynamic like? Will Defender Wong ever find out that his Stephen is dead 🥺

My favorite combos are the ones with the Mordos 🤣 If there’s anything I’ll always be thankful for in regards to MoM, it’s Master Mordo. That’s literally their big redeeming factor for me. Sure the movie crumbles with a delicate poke 🤣 But we got Master Mordo out of it, along with all the delicious headcanons.

#doctor strange #stephen strange #karl mordo #strordo #ask and answer #stephen strange/karl mordo #thank you nonny #otp feels #master mordo #earth 838

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atendersun-archived · 3 years ago

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Josie's arms are full of chocolates and other goodies. She hurries towards him, forcing herself inside his apartment. "I gotcha some goodies 'n stuff," she beams, turning around after dropping the snacks onto the couch. "I also got us matchin' rabbits!" she held out the little plushies, allowing him to choose his. One was pink and black and the other blue and white. They had pinstripes and top hats and eye patches - very cute.

For the last couple days alone, the male had been content-- if not overly so at how increasingly more noticeable it was becoming that he'd abandoned the idea of showering as a means of dedicating more time to his hobbies-- doing things such as making cute shrink plastic designs of various animal photos online, looking up animal shelters to see what unique names they'd given to bunnies looking for good homes, putting on the whackiest clothing combinations from his wardrobe under the principle of making himself look as much of an Easter egg as possible, and watching any special centered on the holiday he could find for any of his most beloved television shows.

Most of the content of course expectedly came from children's media, but he made sure not to associate the concept of shame to anything he was engaging on. Whether it was because he was healing his inner child, or providing a safe space in which he could authentically be a version of himself that honestly revealed the fact that there wasn't much of an inner child at all, but rather just the same youthful soul with more space to fill in a larger body, he was appreciative of the connections he was making within himself regardless. So much so even he felt far from intruded upon by someone as joyful as the woman before him.

"Huh.. Lots of Easter candy is not for me to be eating, because it isn't vegan, but I guess that would have meant that I had to learn how to make my own, you know!!", he boasted, eager to show off the homemade Cadbury eggs that took him a couple years to perfect. They could wait, of course, because better yet was to mingle and get some legitimate food into their bellies first. And exchanging of gifts, of course!

Seeing the plush animals extended out for him to observe, the blond could only let out a laugh centered all the way down into his gut. Hands waved about in a physical display of amusement up until he mustered the ability to make a light sounding clap that was just loud enough to earn him the inquisitive gaze of two animals gazing within his direction.

"I- I bought Match and Bunny those, too! Now everybody is going to be matching!! But, no, no no, you hold to those for this minute, because YOUR stuffed animals are now going to have to partake in a tea party with MY stuffed animals!! I'ma go get 'em.."

#shatterher

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shannrussell-blog1 · 6 years ago

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When you say ‘Coober Pedy’, three things usually come to mind. Firstly, opals. It’s the opal capital of the world. Secondly, hot and remote. And finally, it makes a convenient stop on your way to Uluru or somewhere else you actually want to go. And all of those things are true.

What’s also true is Coober Pedy actually makes a pretty good base to do some serious exploring in the region. A one trick pony it ain’t – it’s a genuine destination in itself if you’re prepared to look a little further afield and don’t mind getting dusty.

I recently drove up for the Kanku-Breakaways Marathon and that’s where my adventure started.

The view of the Kanku-Breakaways.

Do you need a 4WD for this trip?

The Kanku-Breakaways is about 30km north of Coober Pedy. The road in is unsealed, but fine with a 2WD. It’s worth mentioning, any unsealed road can have issues in wet weather though, so an SUV would be preferable, but a 4WD is the best and safest option. In good conditions though, a 2WD will get you where you need to go. Eventually.

You can take a 2WD, but a 4WD would be preferable.

Gear to take

When I’m on the go like this and lightweight gear isn’t required, I go for extreme comfort and sleep in the back of my SUV with an Exped Megamat and the Coleman Pilbara C-5 sleeping bag. It may be warm during the day, but at night it can get down to around zero, so you’ll want something that keeps you warm.

Are there opportunities for hikes or walks?

There aren’t really any hikes or opportunities to explore on foot at the Kanku-Breakaways, it’s very much a case of driving in and stopping at a few lookouts to take in the views. Which are awesome. There are two main lookouts and a few places to stop throughout the park, including the dingo fence and the Moon Plains – an unbelievably barren landscape that, as the name suggests, looks not unlike the moon. This spot has been used in a number of films including Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome and The Red Planet.

You can do a round trip, entering off the highway and coming back to town via the unsealed Kempe Road. It’ll take half-a-day tops and only a few hours if you’re on a mission.

If you want to head off on foot, you can explore the Moon Plains.

Exploring the town

My next stop was to do some exploring around town. I’m not big on tourist attractions as such but I figured I’d take in some of the sights. In half a day I visited Tom’s Opal Mine and did a self-guided tour.

You’d probably get more information on a hosted group tour, but a quick self-tour is also fun and more my speed. They even lend you a blue light to spot opal in the mine walls which is very cool.

The grass-less golf course is one of the things to see in Coober Pedy.

Crocodile Harry’s

I’m not one for golf, but driving past the local golf course with not a blade of grass in sight is a good reminder of the Aussie sense of humour.

And, a visit to Crocodile Harry’s Underground Nest is a good reminder that heat can fry your brain. Crocodile Harry was an actual crocodile hunter in the Northern Territory before moving to Coober Pedy where there’s a distant lack of crocodiles, so he started hunting gemstones instead. He ended up building one of the whackiest houses you’re every likely to see. And trust me, I’ve seen a few.

Like a lot of miner’s homes in the area, his is underground. What’s not like other miner’s homes, is his home decoration skills which are off the charts. Well worth a look and a laugh. Both are only a few minutes out of town.

Crocodile Harry’s is a unique tourist destination in the town of Coober Pedy.

Sightseeing in Coober Pedy

If you’re up for more sightseeing around town, there’s Faye’s Underground Home, the underground Catacomb Church, the underground Serbian Orthodox Church, the underground bookshop and if you’re hungry, John’s Pizza which weirdly enough, isn’t underground.

Equally weird, they claim to have once been included in a list of the top ten pizza places in Australia, but I’m yet to work out if that’s for real, or another quirk of the Aussie sense of humour. Much like their ‘Coat of Arms’ pizza which has emu and kangaroo from the Australian coat of arms. I kid you not.

Galleries to visit when in the town

Back in town, you could visit any number of galleries offering various indigenous art, but Josephine’s is the one to go to because it’s also a kangaroo orphanage and…baby kangaroos are awesome! They close the gallery and feed the roos twice a day, so get there on time, or get locked out.

Josephine’s – the gallery and kangaroo orphanage is the best one to visit in town.

Accommodation in the area

There’s plenty of accommodation options in town including numerous underground hotels. I was on a budget, so I opted for a cabin at the caravan park, opposite the drive-in. Yes, there’s a drive-in that usually operates on weekends.

Day trip to the Painted Desert

If you’re up for some more serious exploring, The Painted Desert is a full day trip. You could do it on your way to somewhere else, but I did it as a loop ending up back in Coober Pedy. I went there via Kempe Road, an unsealed road directly out of town then turned off to Arckaringa station, and came back via Painted Desert Road.

You’ll need a full day to check out the Painted Desert.

It’s definitely do-able in an SUV but I’m not gonna lie, a few pieces broke off my car as it was so rocky and rough in places. If you go slow or have a real 4WD maybe it won’t be an issue, but this area is remote and the roads can be pretty rough in places.

You could do this trip on the way to Oodnadatta, or pop out on the highway about 150km north of town and be on your way up to the NT.

Due to the rough roads, it would pay to be in a 4WD.

The Painted Hills

Breaking your trip up and staying the night at Arckaringa probably isn’t such a bad idea either. I’m usually travelling with time restrictions and so I squeezed this trip into half a day, driving back down the highway after dark – which is not something I’d really recommend with sheep, cattle, wild brumby and roos on the road.

The Painted Desert itself is quite spread out. There’s a lookout area, and a few kilometres away, a short walk you can do which is pretty cool.

It’s worth checking out Wright’s Air for a tour of the Painted Hills.

As good as the Painted Desert is, I can’t help but feel it’s the poor cousin to the similarly named Painted Hills, south-east of Coober Pedy. I’m almost certain you can’t actually drive there regardless of the vehicle you have unless that vehicle happens to be a light aircraft. If you don’t have one of those, hit Wrights Air up for a tour.

They’ve just worked out a few of their light aircraft can land nearby, and have started doing tours in the area. Although all I did was fly over, this looks like total bucket list stuff to land, and go in for a wander. I’m sure it’s only matter of time before you can access it by road, but for now, it’s by air only.

Visiting Lake Eyre

And, if you’re going to jump in a light aircraft, you may as well check out some of the other local sights including Lake Eyre which, right now is one of the rare times it’s filling up with water courtesy of the Queensland floods a few months back.

As great as it was to see Lake Eyre filling up with water, the true highlight for me was simply the landscapes from above. They were absolutely mesmerising. The shapes. The colours. The textures. The patterns. I literally could not take my eyes off of any of it. It was incredible.

I know a tour in a light aircraft won’t be in everyone’s budget, but I cannot recommend highly enough that you find a way to do it at least once.

The view flying over Lake Eyre was incredible.

Stopping over in Woomera

Finally, there’s the trip between Adelaide and Coober Pedy. I went up via the highway, stopping in Woomera for the night. It’s where the rocket base was back in the 60s. Unfortunately, there’s really not many accommodation choices there or anything else for that matter, although, there’s an outdoor space museum which is well worth a half-hour look.

I stayed at Mt Ive Sheep Station on the way home.

Mt Ive Station

On the way back, I headed inland into Kingoonya and down the west side of Lake Gairdner, staying the night at Mt Ive (sheep) Station. Even a few weeks later, my teeth are still rattling from the drive as some of the unsealed roads are super corrugated, but the landscape was amazing, and there was plenty of wildlife along the way including emus, kangaroos and wombats.

I went there because Mt Ive has direct access to nearby Lake Gairdner, the salt lake where the Dry Lake Racers have Speedweek in March every year. Mt Ive Station has camping, basic ‘Shearer’s Quarters’ accommodation, and if you’re lucky and it’s available, ’the princess suite’ – a restored, stand-alone cottage with air conditioning – which is where Miranda Kerr stayed when doing a photoshoot in the area.

All in all, my trip to Coober Pedy and the Kanku-Breakaways Park was a good one.

Coober Pedy is a dry and remote location, but it’s still a seriously cool place to explore if you don’t mind the dust and you’re ready for an open road adventure.

Are you thinking of heading off on a spontaneous road trip to the arid and scenic Coober Pedy?

The post Coober Pedy’s Travel Secrets – More than just Opals & Mines appeared first on Snowys Blog.

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avtureblog · 4 years ago

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Log 28th July 2020

I remembered a few weeks ago, I put an anonymous post in my page mentioning about five elements released in all over the world. And I also dreamt about Multiple Thunderstorms would happen. The weird part about it is, it does happening right now. Although not as worst as in my dream. I wanna put down those two insights in the text so that you guys could, y'know, interpolate it in your own mind. Because I might read it wrong. The five elements I mentioned that time was because I noticed that several parts of this world started having extreme weather and weird situations. The five I mentioned was: Flame, Frost, Wind, Earth, and Lightning. The Flame is represented by several cases such as Forest Fire, Burned Buildings, Accidents that causing Fire. The Frost is represented by Dropped Temperatures at an extreme level. The Wind is represented by Hailstorm and Hurricane that's happening in some parts of the world. The Earth represented by Landslides and Floods in extreme measures. And lastly, The Lightning represented by closed encounters of Thunder and also some weird phenomena such as massive Blackout in some cities of the world.

You see the patterns emerging there? Look, I don't wanna make people afraid of what's happening here, but clearly, at this stage, I wanna say Magic? But it sounds fantastical? If you guys want a logical explanation about those mentioned above, may be an organization that "Huge" enough to cause this is on the run. But do you think it is possible for them to causing landslides and floods that massive enough to even flood the driest place in the world, UAE? That's just the whackiest action, man!! I mean if there's anyone "powerful" enough to cause this, might as well nearly called a God!!

But I don't believe that. I mean I am a Pseudo-Scientist, so I'm trying hard enough to not really twisting reality and fantasy. But this year's catastrophic incidents? It is nowhere, literally nowhere, current Science could explain it. If we limit ourselves in current Science, that is. But what if we expand the Science into a fantastical level?

The first thing comes to your mind, probably Alien did this in a very twisted way? Yes, it is possible. We're talking about Alien here, so how did they do it? If I am the Alien, judging from current situations. First, causing terror in Human's minds, making them fight themselves in regards to "Freedom and Justice" all over the world. And then giving a sickness Human hardly able to cure it. And then giving them a series of Natural Disasters. The Alien just sit back and watch waiting when most humans started doing suicidal actions because of desperate situations.

But that's, yeah, IF really the Alien doing it. And then what second thing comes to mind that could cause these? A Time Criminal, an intelligent being send from the future to prepare the New Life for the future world. It is possible, right? Time is one of the things in this world could not control. So that "being" uses it to attack humans. Why did I mention this being a "Criminal"? Because there's no way a "wise creature" thinking of destroying other creatures to create a better future. The "right" way to create the future is to let Humans learn from the best to create a harmonious life between intelligence. But these incidents and accidents? I don't think they're wise enough.

So what's the last may cause all these? It's Aftermath Exploitations. Some of you might ask, "What is that?" Simple. The Earth, and any other Space exploration that twisting the Natural given, is deflecting its rotation of Life Cycle. It started to, I wouldn't call it Counter Attack, I'd say revert back to its Original Status is what's happening right now. But some parts of the incidents kind of off to support this theory. Why some animals affected too if its just "return to its original"? Does that mean it wanted to revert to the time when there's nothing on Earth? Well, that is crazy yet understandable.

So those 3 is the only thing that comes to my mind that could be causing all these. But of course, these theories could just tear down if the incidents stop at some point and time, where, all human realizing, and then catastrophic disasters stop. But the question here is, How and Will it come again in the future? Who knows, right?

#theory of future #2020 theories #what if

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frameflax4-blog · 6 years ago

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Jana’s Studio ~ Ice Cream Interview

You know that ice cream is sweet, cold and delicious, but do you know how it's made and what goes into it? Jana gets to the heart of it and has a delightful chitchat with Lewis Alfonso, an Italian gelato maker, and discovers fascinating facts about ice cream. While she is about it, she has a taste of Italian language & learns how to order a pistachio gelato.

This episode is dedicated to Lydia Geneva, who we will be hearing from later. Do you hear that sound?

Hello, and welcome to Jana's Studio, where I talk to fascinating people about fascinating things.

Is there anyone out there who doesn't just love ice cream? Well, there must be someone somewhere, but I am yet to meet them. Who could resist the sweet chimes of the ice cream van, without the urge to rush out to buy their favourite flavour? Here in the UK, the sound of the British summer arrives with the good old ice cream van, accompanied by its jangly chimes. And in India, the ice cream seller, sometimes sings a song to advertise his ice cream, called Kulfi, which has flavours like cardamon, mango and pistachio. There are variations on ice cream the world over, but in my view, the most scrumptious is Gelato, from Italy.

Whilst out in an upmarket shopping area in Oxford, my curiosity led me to the cutest little ice cream van, though it doesn't have any chimes. I got chatting to the owner, 24 year old, Lewis Alfonso, who grew up in Rome, and I discovered that his ice cream is authentically Italian. After much indecision, I finally settled for the dark chocolate flavour to try. It did not disappoint. It was delicious and creamy without being too sweet. Every morning Lewis makes his own ice cream and sells it from his van which he had built to order in Italy. It's actually based on an Indian tuk tuk. Lewis loves ice cream and knows all sorts of interesting facts about it. And is now living his ice cream dream.

So here joining me today, is Lewis Alfonso. Jana - Bonjourno Lewis. How important was ice cream for you when you were a child?

Lewis - Growing up in Italy, ice cream was such an important part of everyone's life, including mine. I remember we used to have this local ice cream place called a 'qui quo qua'. We used to go there everyday.

Jana - What does 'qui quo qua' stand for?

Lewis - Qui quo qua is the name of the three ducks from Mickey Mouse.

Jana - Donald Duck? Huey, Louis & Duey? Oh my Gosh! That's so funny because we were watching that last night!

Lewis - Yeah, so qui quo qua is Huey, Louis & Duey. So that's what the name means. That was an ice cream place that I think had more kids around basically. It was more targeted for that. But that was our local one. And this was in Austia, which is just on the coast. Afterwards as you got older and older, especially more towards I started becoming 16 or 17, a lot of really really high quality ice cream places started to open up. And they were fantastic because you could see all the laboratories. So where they were making it. You could see from the back, you could see all the fresh ingredients arrive. Some of them were famous because they had a really wide range of flavours and some of them were really indulgent, some of them had not that many flavours, but the places that had 8 flavours, they were so good that people would still go there. Jana - What was your favourite flavour as a child? Lewis - I always liked the chocolatey flavours, the more creamy ones. And now that I've started making it, I think I have more of an appreciation for all the flavours. So, appreciate the fruit ones a lot more and also ones that are just interesting flavour combinations, and things that are just abit unusual. Jana - I wanted to ask you, what's the most whackiest or unusual flavour that you've ever made? Lewis - We made one that was a beer ice cream with a peanut praline on top. We also did some other really whacky ones.

Jana- Goodness, I wouldn't mind trying that one. Lewis - It was actually really nice. I think it was a honey ice cream with balsamic vinegar reduction on it. Yeah. Jana - That does not sound good to me. Savoury and ? Lewis - Balsamic vinegar. So you've got a tang to that, but then you've got the sweetness. So it's like sweet and sour. This was in a course I did in Italy. That's where I learnt to make it. And actually there is one that is worse than that. Pecorino, which is a type of sheep cheese. It's like parmasan. Jana - Oh yes, pecorino. Lewis - Yeah, and that with black pepper. So that is what's called a gastronomic ice cream. So it's basically savoury ice cream. Jana - Lewis, you like coffee. Lewis - I do. I do really like coffee. Jana - I would have thought that coffee would have been your favourite? Lewis - The coffee I do is actually a really really strong coffee. I call it Italian espresso. 50% of the ice cream is actually espresso. It gives a real kick. You end up with about two shots of coffee per scoop. Jana - My daughter loves mocha. Do you make mocha ice cream? Lewis - Not yet, but if they want, they can always have chocolate and coffee. The other really interesting thing that I found about while I learnt and started making ice cream, you're used to tasting things at room temperature, which is not something you think about. You just take for granted that you taste something at room temperature. What happens is, when you serve something that's very cold, you actually find that, that flavours actually decrease. Something that tastes really strong warm, when you chill it making it suddenly very cold, most of the flavour goes. Jana - Ah yeah. Lewis - The mint stracciatella that we do, so it's vanilla infused with fresh mint. And then bits of dark chocolate in, and sometimes I put orange peel in the dark chocolate. So when you're eating it, you get the sweetness first, and then the mint. And then, so that the ice cream melts first in your mouth. And then you're left with a black chocolate, dark chocolate that melts in your mouth. You kind of get flavours coming one after the other. Jana - Sounds wonderful! So I understand you did a degree in chemistry. How does that help you in your job? Lewis - Having a degree in chemistry actually really helped in ways that I didn't expect. When I first got the degree, I never thought when I was doing chemistry that I would eventually be making ice cream. Jana - How much sugar is there in ice cream? Lewis - Probably it's about 20% sugar. Jana - Actually that's not as much as I would have thought. I'm actually allergic to sugar, so. I do like ice cream of course, like everybody else does, but I would want one that's tasty, as well as something that's not going to give me that allergic reaction. Lewis - Problem is, if you didn't have any sugar in the ice cream, and you took it as a temperature that we serve it at, so it's about minus 13, it would just be a solid block. So it would be too hard. You put sugar in basically, partly to give it sweetness, but partly to give it a softer texture. Jana - Mmm. Lewis - If I was to put loads and loads and loads of sugar in, and they gave it to you, it would basically be, even if was really cold, it would still be pretty much liquid. Jana - Ok. So the more sugar, the creamier or liquidy.. Lewis - Yeah, the softer it is. You have to have the right level of sugar in the ice cream, you have to have the right amount of fat. There's no such thing as the perfectly healthy ice cream. You have to put something in there to give it the right texture. Jana - Ok. That leads me onto the question, what do you think of Mr Whippy, the, you know where they pour it from the machine? Lewis - Soft serve ice cream can actually be pretty good quality. But it can also really not be very good quality. So you can have loads of preservatives, loads of other chemicals that give it a structure and texture, you know, artificial flavourings. So the way I see it, there's very little naturalness to it. Jana - What makes Italian ice cream taste so wonderful? Lewis - What makes Italian ice cream taste so wonderful is just the texture. That's the first thing that people sort of notice. The texture's incredibly creamy and melts in your mouth very quickly. Yeah, so you're serving it at about minus 13 degrees, versus normal ice cream, which might be minus 20. Actually it's quite a big difference. And because you're serving it at a warmer temperature, it means that you put less fat in it and less sugar because if you had the amount of sugar that you had in normal ice cream, and served it at that temperature, it would just be liquid. In Italy, traditionally you have kind of plainer flavours in terms of the nut flavours of example are really popular, like pistachio and hazelnut. You don't need a lot to really make it taste very good. You use just the actual nuts itself. There's no artificial flavouring, no artificial colouring, or anything like that. It's just a kind of very authentic, natural taste and experience. Jana - I think pistacho is actually one of my favourites, if I should be honest, yeah, or hazelnut. Lewis - It's the one that probably gets the most compliments. Jana - Ok. What flavours would you absolutely never get rid of? Lewis - Salted caramel just because it's my most popular and people really love that. Mango, people love mango. So propbably salted caramel, mango and pistachio, just because people can't seem to find good pistachio around, so. Jana - Is your pistacho imported from Italy, or? Lewis - I think the main places that make pistachio are Iran and America, actually. And there's some places in Italy that make it. It depends on where it grows, so I actually get it from the states mostly. Jana - Ok, so what would you say children then, go for most? Lewis - Children in general, they don't like something that's too sharp or too bitter. Jana - Right. Lewis - But then again, I've had very small children try a dark chocolate that's very very dark and a milk chocolate. And then actually prefer the dark chocolate, whereas most adults find the dark chocolate too bitter. I feel like a lot of it is just exposure. It's important to try lots of different things. You know really what you like, rather than just you're told what you like. I like to think of my ice cream sort of as a Disney film. It's aimed at children, but adults can enjoy it too. Jana - Of course. Yeah, they do. Lewis - Adults, they generally try the ice cream as well, and they're really often surprised by how much they like it. So, I think that's one of the cultural differences. In the UK people consider ice cream very much something for kids, whereas in Italy, it's not considered something for kids. It's considered something for everyone. You're more likely to see old couples and old people sat outside having ice cream, rather than children. Jana - Yeah. Lewis, how did you learn to make ice cream? Lewis - I initially started making ice cream at home. I probably was making it for a good couple of years because I just love cooking in general. And then once I decided I actually wanted to go further and actually try to set up an ice cream business, I then looked and decided to do training in Italy, just because that's where I'm from, and that's where they make the best ice cream in the world. So, i figured it was a good place to go. I went to Rome, and did some courses there. And actually the person who taught me was a chemist as well. So it was very interesting to sort of talk about things that way. So it was really really useful. We spoke a lot different aspects of things and yeah, it was really eye opening. And during the course I realised that it's definitely the right thing for me. And it was something that I really wanted to continue. Jana - What was your worst moment during this period, I mean did you have any disasters? Lewis - Not too many during the course because it's very sort of supervised and there's more sort of learning. I've had a lot of disasters making it while actually running the business. I think the worst one, or the one that sticks out in my head the most. Basically, I poured 8 kilo's of salted caramel mix, and as I poured it into the machine, I realised that I didn't actually have the beater inside. So there's a beater inside the machine that actually mixes it that wasn't in there. All 8 litres of it went and started pouring inside of the machine. Jana - Oh goodness. Lewis - All over th cogs and then out of the sides and then onto the floor. Trying to clean up 8 litres of something sweet and gloopy was just.. It took me about an hour just to sort of get most of it off. Jana - What does an ice cream seller do in winter? Lewis - They spend 3 months on holiday in the Bahamas. Jana - Oh, like a bear who's having hibernation? Lewis - Yeah, they're getting ready for the next season and relax. Jana - Ok. That sounds like a wonderful job. I might come and work for you. What can you see happening in the future for you? Lewis - I think I'd really like to open a second place as well, in Oxford. I'd also like to supply more restaurants and do more events. I did a few weddings and corporate events this summer and I really enjoyed those. I think it'd be nice to do more of that next year. Jana - So how did you get started up in Oxford? Lewis - I initially approached the council. You had to suggest a new spot, do all the leg work yourself to actually get approved. Find a spot, suggest it, see how it impacts the local area, traffic. So that was the first step and that took about 3 months to get the spot and get the authorisations from all the relevant people and the ok from all the local,businesses. Jana - Oh, so there was a lot of hard work in the first place. Lewis - Yeah, it took me about a year of getting everything ready before I could actually even open up. Once I got the authorisation or the consent form, the rest of it, sort of getting the actual van ready, which was built in Naples, because I couldn't find anyone in the UK that would make it how I wanted it. So I had to go back to Italy again. Jana - Actually, I've seen you're van and it's a very cute van. It's very appealing actually. Can you tell me a little bit about your van? Lewis - Yeah, so it's a converted tuk tuk. Yeah, it's really beautiful, it's exactly what I had in mind. And it's pink and beige. The colours, branding, everything is just perfect. It's exactly how I wanted it. Jana - Slight Indian touch would you say? Lewis - Slightly. Well, actually it was built originally in India. So it went from India, to Naples, to Oxford. Jana - That's amazing, I love that. Brilliant. have you ever made a hot and spicy ice cream? Just because I'm Indian, I have to ask. Lewis - Er no, I never have. I think some people have asked me for chilli and chocolate. So maybe in the future. Jana - If I was a tourist in Italy, how would I ask for a pistachio ice cream? Lewis - Posso avere un Gelato al pistacchio per favore. Jana - Can you say that slightly slower? Lewis - Posso avere un Gelato al pistacchio per favore. Jana - Posso avere un Gelato al pistacchio per favore. Yay. I love Italian language. I love it. And Italian ice cream, of course, of course. Although I'm allergic to sugar. I'm sorry, I just am. Lewis, Gracias, Arrivederci. Lewis - Thank you very much, I'll see you very soon, too.

A huge thank you to Lewis for coming to talk to me today, about the wonders of ice cream. Yum yum. We all wish him good luck and blessings in expanding his business! And I am delighted to dedicate this episode to Lydia, who is 4 years old and lives in Washington State. Lydia sent us this little message via twitter. Lydia - I love you Storynory. Jana - Aw that's so sweet, Lydia. Thank you! I do hope you love ice cream as much as you love Storynory. And a big thank you to your mother, Elizabeth Geneva-Wood for supporting us on Patreon. I'd be delighted to hear from any of you who have found this interview interesting. My question to you - Which combinations of ice cream ingredients tickle your fancy? If you can dream up any unique, strange and wonderful ice cream suggestions, that I can put forward to Lewis, do drop me a comment and let me know what they might be? Our comment box is on our website. And, as ever, we value every bit of support we can get to help us provide the world with free stories. So a huge thank you to all of our Patreon supporters. It means so much to us. If any of you are interested to learn more about Alfonso ice cream, please do check out Lewis's website. www.alfonsogelateria.com The link is on our website. Or, if you happen to be visiting Oxford, you can find Lewis and his amazing tuk tuk van in Summertown, North Oxford, where he'll be happy to serve you with a big smile. From me Jana at Storynory.com Caio.

Alfonso's website is http://alfonsogelateria.com/

Lewis Alfonso Ratto lived in Italy for 17 years until he moved to the UK in 2010, where he completed his A-levels. It was then that he discovered a passion for science and decided to study chemistry at the university of York. During his degree he realised that he didn’t want to be stuck in a lab and after finishing, he did a few odd jobs before deciding to set up his own Italian gelato van. The idea for the van came from seeing these fantastic gelato places in Italy that were hugely popular selling only 8-10 flavours at any one time. He made his mind up to start out his dream in a mobile setting in Oxford, since he realises people in the UK were already culturally used to the idea of an ice cream van.

He set out to get the required licensing and training up to scratch, burnt through all his savings and multiple loans to buy all of the top end equipment and the lovely van and set out with the idea of making the best possible ice cream he could make using the best ingredients, putting the taste and quality first. The name ‘Alfonso’ was chosen after Lewis's Italian grandfather who emigrated to the Uk in the 50’s. He would always talk about how he would have loved to open up an Italian ice cream parlour if he could have started again.

This is Lewis's first year and it has been incredibly successful so far and is looking forward to growing the business in the next year.

Source: https://www.storynory.com/ice-cream-interview/

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