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cepetriwrites · 1 year

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Into the Storm - Chapter 6 - Lucerys I

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Summary: Helaena always found her sister Rhaenyra and brother-in-law Laenor more attentive to her than her own parents. As a young child she hopes to marry Jace in order to join gain them as parents. As she grows older she realizes a dark truth, there is a storm coming. With two rising factions threatening to tear apart her family and homeland, she comes up with a solution that can ensure everyone's survival. A marriage between her and Jace, but is such a union even possible with her grandfather's power grab and mother's hatred?

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Lucerys was the youngest of the newest generation of Tarygaryens, there were upsides, being fawned over as the baby of the family, and downsides, being treated like the baby of the family. His aunt Helaena was always trying to play house with him and Jace, and making him be the baby. Almost everyone called her weird, or ‘unique’, but he knew the truth: Helaena was cool.

She was quiet, sure, but she knew the name of every bug and anything that crawled. She had a pet tarantula and scorpion that she let Luke hold. The tarantula tickled. Helaena was probably the coolest Tarygaryen to ever live. Their ancestor Aegon had united the seven kingdoms, but had he ever eaten a live worm?

It had happened one day when Luke was digging through a courtyard showing Helaena every bug he could find and seeing if Helaena knew their name. She was working on her special book that would detail information about every bug in Westeros. He had presented a wood roach to Helaena, to which she said, “Did you know some regions eat bugs?”

“Ewww,” Luke squealed, “Whyyy?”

“They’re crunchy, and tasty, and very filling, apparently.”

“I can’t believe you can eat cockroaches.”

“That’s not the only bug you can eat.” She teased.

Luke started having Helaena flip through her book, asking which bugs can be eaten. The answers were mostly yeses and maybes, only a few were definite nos due to their poisonous innards. Luke spotted something crawling in the dirt beneath them, he pulled out a dirt encrusted worm. “What about this?”

Helaena nodded, “You can even eat it raw. Try it.” Helaena pushed the worm towards Luke’s face. He laughed and dodged the wriggling creature.

“No! You!” He shoved the worm into her hand, “I dare you!” Helaena stared at him for a moment, looked around the courtyard for any witnesses, and then, to Luke’s shock and delight, threw him a wink and then tossed the worm back, and swallowed. Luke squealed like a pig, part excitement, part disgust, “What did it taste like?”

“Dirt. And it wiggles on the way down.” Yes, Helaena was the coolest Targaryen, and only Luke got to see it. It felt like his personal secret. He didn’t even tell Jace! Playing house got old, he was starting to get at the age where being carried felt childish, but Helaena let him have pet bugs and touch her tarantula when he agreed.

Not only that, she had spent the last few months intensely dedicated to her dragon training. His mother had been very hesitant to give permission, establishing several rules and benchmarks Helaena had to meet. She gently warned him Helaena may be too wrapped up in getting to know her new dragon to be focused on giving him rides. To his mother’s surprise (and probable chagrin), Helaena stayed true to her promise and focused on building a bond and mastering Dreamfyre to Rhaenyra’s comfort. Today was the final test. Rhaenyra had given Helaena a sequence of aerial commands to attempt. If Helaena successfully led Dreamfyre through it, then she could give Luke a short ride, with Rhaenyra accompanying on Syrax. Up, down, diving, gliding, steering left and right, Dreamfyre smoothly went through the sequence, finishing with a smooth landing in front of Rhaenyra and Luke.

“She did it!”

“Yes… she did,” Luke could tell his mother did not want to allow this, but a promise was a promise, no take backs. Helaena called Luke over and he hurried to climb onto Dreamfyre before Rhaenyra put a stop to everything.

Luke was sat in front of Helaena, and tied in, “You can feel her scales,” Helaena placed both their hands on the dragon's side.

He could feel vibrations under his hand, “She’s purring!”

“She does that a lot, and stretches like a cat, I think she might be one.” Once mother was on her mount and gave her nod, Helaena gave the command and Dreamfyre took to the sky. The she-dragon climbed into the sky until the people of King’s Landing were the size of ants. Dreamfyre began gliding in a lazy circle around the city, with Syrax flying by their side. Luke excitedly waved at his mother. He had ridden on hers and father’s dragons before, but each ride on a different dragon was a unique experience. He stuck his hands in the air and enjoyed the wind whipping through his curls. Luke couldn’t wait till Arrax was large enough to ride. It would only be a few more years hopefully.

“Can you have her dive?” Luke asked.

“Your mom will kill me!” Helaena said.

“It’d be worth it!” His aunt decided against pushing her sister’s patience, and after about ten minutes safely landed them on the ground. He wanted to stay in the sky forever.

Helaena gave Luke a hug and whispered in his ear, “Tomorrow, sunrise, I’ll let you and Jace take some dives on Dreamfyre. Don’t tell your mom.” He nodded, nearly bursting with excitement. He couldn’t wait to tell Jace.

The next morning, as the dawn was breaking, Luke was waiting with Jace near the entrance of the dragon pit, which faced the sea. The young prince was buzzing with excitement, he wasn’t a troublemaker like Aegon. He would normally never be near the dragonpit unsupervised. Only Aemond had a penchant for trying to get barbecued. Which made today so exciting, a secret dragon ride before everyone was awake! Luke knew the aerial moves Dreamfyre was capable of, he was excited to experience it. He and his brother had snuck out before the sun had started rising, and crammed a small breakfast of apples, cheese, and bread that Jace had secured the night before.

He heard the gate open, and Dreamfyre came sauntering out without keepers. They were lax with Helaena, who always responsibly returned the she-dragon to her nest. Dreamfyre had a lot of energy as well, and would often take solo flights for hours after Helaena had ridden her.

Once Luke had gotten settled in place, Helaena handed him a pair of glass goggles. “What are these for?”

“It makes the dives less irritating on your eyes. Is your cloak secured?” Luke double checked and nodded. He had been ordered to dress warm, as the early morning and high altitude would be a chilly combination.

“Soves Dreamfyre.” The dragon leapt into the air with a speed that jerked Luke back into Helaena. Cold air rushed past his ears making him shiver. Higher and higher they climbed. “Are you sure about this Luke?” Helaena asked.

“Yes!”

Helaena gripped the handles on her saddle, “Brace yourself.”

Luke placed his hands next to Helaena, they were cold and clammy, his heart beating fast in anticipation. He was glad to be between Helaena’s arms, it made him feel safe. “Why?”

“Because Dreamfyre wants to have fun.”

Dreamfyre gracefully and slowly arced her body up and then down, for a moment, as Luke and Helaena were the highest point on the dragon’s body, it felt as if time stood still. He could see the glorious city, the bay, and orange and pink colored clouds. It was breathtaking. Suddenly they were rushing towards the sea, faster and faster, his tiny body was shaking from the wind battering him. Dreamfyre had folded in her wings to increase her speed. Helaena started screaming in excitement and Luke joined her, the wind drowned them out. The ocean was approaching at a dangerous rate, but Dreamfyre did not pull up. When was Helaena going to give the signal? Less than a hundred feet, neither rider or dragon was moving. Jace was starting to get bigger.

“When do you pull up? Helaena? HELAENA! HELAENA PULL UP!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, they were fifty feet above the ocean. Dreamfyre unfurled her wings and the dive turned into a level glide. He collapsed in relief against Helaena.

His aunt was laughing, “Dreamfyre! You almost gave him a heart attack!” She said in Common and then in Valyrian. The dragoness made a noise that sounded like laughter. He started shaking, “Are you alright?” She asked, squeezing his shoulder.

“That was amazing! I want more!” He said giggling.

“Oh Dreamfyre,” Helaena said in a sing-song voice, he felt a shudder run through Dreamfyre’s body. He was not bound to the dragon, but even he could feel the excitement radiating off of the beast. “Soves.” Soves meant flight, but the tone Helaena used signaled the permission Dreamfyre was waiting for.

She shot up again, going completely vertical and then soaring backwards into three loop de loops. His stomach did three corresponding somersaults. Dreamfyre climbed higher and soared horizontally before spinning her body. Luke felt as if his eyes were rolling around in his skull. She did another dive, shorter, and getting closer to the ocean, so close the sea sprayed him as he screamed in delight. The future Lord of Driftmark, both dragons and the sea were a delight to him.

Helaena landed near Jace, Luke tried to climb off, but found his legs were made of pudding. He slid down and collapsed, the world was very wobbly. “Luke! You’re green!” Jace said, running to help him up.

Luke opened his mouth to tell him how amazing the flight had been, instead he vomited, dropping to his knees. Helaena was by his side, “Are you okay?” He dropped to the ground, and rolled to his back, giving Helaena a shaky thumbs up.

“Best. Flight. Ever!” His muscles were sore from gripping so tight, every extremity was chilled, the ground and his stomach were still moving, he couldn’t wait to do it again.

“Maybe you shouldn’t do this Jace,” Helaena said, probably worried about their mother, Luke would make sure he wasn’t sick before he needed to go back to his quarters.

“Are you kidding! I have to ride Dreamfyre, and I’m not throwing up.”

Luke looked at Dreamfyre, who he swore winked at him. Five minutes later Jace was back on the beach, on his hands and knees, trying not to vomit while Helaena and Luke were in tears laughing. “He looks like a cat.” Luke said as his brother’s back rose up and down as he tried to quell the rising vomit.

“Jace c’mon, you’ll feel better afterwards,” Helaena said, Jace finally relented and vomited, before collapsing like Luke had. “Why aren’t you sick?”

“I skipped breakfast.” She flinched away from the handfuls of sand they threw at her while yelling. Once they had recovered, the boys dunked themselves in the ocean to wash away the smell of dragon. They rushed back to their quarters to get changed for the morning. Mother would likely chastise them for going to the beach unattended. Father would wave it off, saying they were Velaryons, of course they were going to play in the ocean. Luke was an erratic mess for the septons that day. Instead of giving his full attention to the history of Westeros or training in the yard, he daydreamed of his flight on Dreamfyre, and when he could do it again.

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runnersnz · 1 year

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“So what's my WHY when it comes to running? Well it's definitely evolved over the years to a point where it is now a key part of my identity, my passion and my life.

I was a nerd as a school-kid. Straight A-student, but not sporty at all. I was always jealous of the athletic types and their popularity. Fast forward to university and I continued to study hard, but party harder, and by the time I finished my degree in London, I was very unfit, smoking, drinking too much, and eating poorly. Then I went out to watch the London Marathon one day and I was blown away by the determination shown on the faces of the athletes, all running for different reasons, but united in their goal, and the support to propel them was awe-inspiring. A seed was sown and a few years later, it came up in a conversation with my old man. I made a throwaway comment about how cool it would be to run it one day. In his 50s at the time, and willing to call my bluff, he threw down the challenge - "Well if you're in, I'll do it with you". The gauntlet was laid down. We got charity fundraising entries (failing in the lottery) and spent the next 6 months training for the 2007 London Marathon. The day came - I went out like a hare and crashed and burned by mile 20. He went out like a (smarter) tortoise and caught me close to the finish line. That was a special day.

After moving to NZ, I continued road running for many years, mainly as a commute to stay fit, but also did several 10ks, halfs and marathons again. In my 40th year, I set myself the challenge of 4 marathons in a year, and ticked off Hawkes Bay, Wellington, Dunedin and Queenstown. But injuries kept coming back and I was getting slower and losing interest against the pressure to get faster. Then a friend at work suggested I try an XTERRA race at Makara West Wind. It was brutal, but I loved it. The goal was no longer to finish in front of others, it was about supporting each other to get to that finish line, to revel in the amazing scenery we ran through, and to make new friends. I'd found my passion.

From there, I soon signed up to the full series, exploring all these cool trails on my doorstep I had no idea existed. On one of the races, I overheard someone talking about WUU2K. Two days later I was signed up. Then it was Taupo 50k, then Tarawera 102k, Old Ghost Ultra, the list goes on. But the races weren't the end goal - they were just the celebration of the journey, which was all about exploring as many trails as I could, soaking it all in. Yes it was training, but wasn't an effort like it used to be. I discovered the Wild Things trail directory which changed my life in that exploration aspect. And I found my tribe in WoRM - a collection of simply amazing human beings, who love running in beautiful places, and don't mind the odd beer or two afterwards!

I haven't slowed down since, ticking off lots of amazing events, exploring further afield in wild places like the Tararuas, and going further and further each year, the pinnacle being the summer just gone where I completed the Tarawera Miler then Ring of Fire, and a few of us have just done 3 of the Great Walks in 5 days.

I don't know how long I will be able to continue, but trail running has made me, at 45, fitter than I've ever been, not just in mind but in spirit too. It takes a lot of mental stamina to complete an ultra and the strength that's given me helps me in other facets of my life. As someone with very much a "carpe diem" mentality, I intend to keep exploring, and be grateful for each day I am able to run and do so in a safe and beautiful country with a wonderful community alongside me!”

Joe @infinity_runner_ (Kepler/Wellington) - Portraits of Runners + their stories @RunnersNZ

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Prompt~ hoping you'll like it ♥️

Things between the Nie brothers are not always nice and happy, they fight, just like any other pair of brothers, and sometimes things are said, sometimes these things are heavy and painful. Sometimes they're said in the wrong moment (maybe at the eve of a battle? Sunshot campaign?) and huaisang doesn't know what to do with the broken look his brother gives him before leaving the unclean realm. Because what if he doesn't return? What if the last thing he said to him was how much he hated the man he became?

Labyrinth - ao3

“But I didn’t mean to wish him away!” Nie Huaisang cried out.

“That’s really too bad,” the goblin king said, looking pleasant and humble and charming the way he always did, even in his cape of glittering gold and high-browed hat. “I wish there was something I could do for you, but the rules are the rules. You wished him away, and I took him.”

“Aren’t you supposed to only take babies?” Nie Huaisang demanded.

“Your brother’s enough of a crybaby to count, it’s close enough.”

“It is not!” Nie Huaisang wrung his hands. “You don’t understand, the last thing I said to him was that I hated him! Meng Yao, please!”

“It’s Jin Guangyao,” the goblin king corrected. His smile looked a bit strained. “Listen, do you think I’m happy about this? He’s my sworn brother! I’m only doing what I have to –”

“Oh, save it for Lan Xichen,” Nie Huaisang growled. “Show me the labyrinth already.”

“You’re going to face the labyrinth,” the goblin king said. His voice was very polite, and yet still expressed significant doubt. “You.”

“Yeah, me!”

“You remember that it goes ‘through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered’, right? Not ‘through a nice teacher and a forgiving grading system’?”

“Yeah, well, your father is a fragging aardvark. Let me at the labyrinth already!”

“You know what,” Nie Huaisang said thoughtfully. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

The life-sized animated puppet blinked at him. “You – don’t want my help?”

“Nope. I’m good.”

“You haven’t even gotten into the labyrinth yet!”

“It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t have a chance to get in,” Nie Huaisang said, patting around his sleeve and pulling out a fan. “So I’m just going to walk over and beat at the wall till something happens.”

The puppet followed him, staring blankly. Quite a change from his original apologetic ‘I’m sorry, I’m busy with my own things, I really can’t help you, also it’s too dangerous and you shouldn’t go’ response.

“You were blackmailing me to help you just a moment ago,” the puppet said after a little. “Don’t you need a guide?”

“Listen, I’m bad at memorizing things and I’m a little useless, but I’m not actually dumb,” Nie Huaisang said, fanning himself. “Jin Guangyao is a demon of the mind above all else, and the labyrinth is supposed to be ‘fair’ – which means, more than likely, that the labyrinth is a reflection of the subconscious, specially tailored to each person’s strengths and weaknesses. And that means that you, who sound exactly like Lan Xichen, are almost certainly a set-up sent by Jin Guangyao to ‘reluctantly’ aid me and then betray me.”

“Uh,” Lan Xichen-the-puppet said. “My name’s Hoggle, actually.”

“Whatever makes you feel better, er-ge…A-ha!” Nie Huaisang beamed at the gates that automatically opened. “Perfect!”

“Oh, don’t go that way,” the worm said. “Never go that way. And are you sure you don’t want to come in for a cup of tea?”

“No time,” Nie Huaisang said. “Thanks a lot – wait.”

The worm blinked at him.

“You’re a pretty attractive worm, in a slimy sort of way,” Nie Huaisang said, frowning at him.

The worm blinked again. “Why, thanks!”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Is your name Su She, by chance?”

“Definitely not!”

“Mm. Oddly vehement of you. Never mind. Just, quick, could you tell me exactly why do I not want to go that way?”

“I don’t suppose straight ahead is an option?”

The hands-faces stared at him.

“I’m just saying, I feel like most of my problems so far have come from the fact that I decided to accept the whole concept of turns. It seems like a mistake.”

“…it’s a labyrinth,” another set of the hands said. “You have to make turns!”

Nie Huaisang shook his head mournfully. “I should’ve brought Baxia or something and just – ZIP. Gone straight through. You know what I mean?”

“I’m dropping you in the oubliette regardless of your decision,” the first set of the hands said. It sounded a bit like Sect Leader Yao. “Just so you know.”

“My life is so hard,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “So hard! Do you know what it’s like to be overlooked by everyone? Do you know how hard I have to work at being this useless?”

“Drop him,” the set of hands that sounded like Sect Leader Ouyang said, and the set of hands that sounded like Sect Leader Yao said, “Yes. Now!”

Down Nie Huaisang went.

“I can take you back to the beginning of the labyrinth,” Lan Xichen offered.

“What, and waste all that time? I have a time limit, er-ge!”

“It’s better than being stuck in an oubliette. That’s where they put people to forget about them, you know.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes filled with tears. “You want to forget me, er-ge? You think I’m useless, don’t you? A good-for-nothing, who’ll never amount to anything –”

“Please don’t cry.”

“ER-GE! WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME!”

“Please stop crying!”

“So what’s the point of you?” Nie Huaisang asked the Wise Man with the Talking Hat.

“Not everyone exists to contribute to your storyline,” the Talking Hat snapped at him. “Some of us’ve got our own problems. Now hand over the candy!”

“Don’t be mean,” the Wise Man said. He had a white cloth over his eyes, and was smiling like he found the hat funny.

“Awww, but daozhang…!”

“Different plotline entirely, I guess,” Nie Huaisang decided. “Probably just here as a foil. Shall we keep going, er-ge?”

“I can’t believe you scammed me to get out of the oubliette,” Lan Xichen mumbled. “I can’t believe…”

“Oh, leave him alone, he’s just sensitive!” Nie Huaisang snapped.

“Am not!” the upside-down creature snarled, curled up on itself and trying to hide from all those that had been hitting him. Its fur was a vivid sort of purple. “Go away!”

“Don’t you have some sort of special power to help you here,” Nie Huaisang asked him as he tried to get him down before the goblins came back with weapons. “Rocks, maybe?”

“…lightning?”

“Well then get to it, will you?” Nie Huaisang frowned. “Wait. Lightning, constantly being tormented, terrible at communication, and purple? You’re Jiang Cheng, aren’t you?”

“…maybe.”

“Well then get down faster! I need to copy someone’s notes here!”

“Leave me aloooooooone!” Nie Huaisang howled, running away from the measuring snake.

“Wow,” Lan Xichen said, holding his cheek. “You kissed me.”

“You saved me from the snakes,” Nie Huaisang said. “Can we focus on how we’re in this awful stinking bog?”

“It’s not that bad!” a voice piped up. “I don’t smell anything!”

Nie Huaisang turned to stare, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course you don’t,” he said. “I bet the total absence of a sense of smell helps when you eat spicy food, Wei-xiong.”

“There’s nothing wrong with spicy food!”

“You’re short,” Nie Huaisang informed the small goblin-like creature with the big grin and the red ribbon in its hair. It looked vaguely fox-like, or possibly like certain large breeds of rabbit.

“Why you..!” Wei Wuxian crossed his furry little paws over his chest. “Just for that, I’m not going to help you.”

“Uh-huh,” Nie Huaisang said. “Really. That’s awful…oh no! A dog!”

Wei Wuxian jumped high into the air. “A dog?! Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan! Save me!”

Much to Nie Huaisang’s surprise, a furry dog immediately darted out of nowhere – only Wei Wuxian didn’t seem afraid of it, but rather hid behind it, teeth chattering.

Truly, Nie Huaisang reflected, the eyes of love are blind.

“I think the ‘dog’ is gone now,” he said. “Your brave and noble Lan Wangji must’ve scared him away.”

Wei Wuxian’s head popped out from behind dog-Wangji. “Well, Lan Zhan is really cool…hey. Are you trying to manipulate me?”

“Is it working?”

“No!”

“So you won’t help me?”

“No!”

“Not even if it means you get to figure out a really tricky puzzle?”

“No – wait. A puzzle?”

“I can’t believe this is going to work,” Lan Xichen muttered from behind Nie Huaisang. “I mean, I can. But also…Wangji…I love you, but you could do so much better than this.”

“Ugh,” Nie Huaisang said. “I’m so thirsty.”

“Have some Emperor’s Smile,” Lan Xichen said, offering a jar.

“Amazing,” Nie Huaisang said, accepting it and taking a swing. “I had my doubts, you know, but you’re actually good for something after all, er-ge –”

The golden bird was Nie Huaisang’s favorite.

He’d worked so hard to bring it back to his aviary – it couldn’t be forced, he knew; it would play along at first but in the end it would turn on you and bite you. It had to be coaxed with gentleness and kindness, approached indirectly so as not to spook it, convince it that you really did mean well – that you were harmless, that it had no reason to fear you. It was arrogant, too, proud of its shining feathers and ashamed of the brown plumage of its chick days, which still remained visible on its tender underbelly. Ironically, that was Nie Huaisang’s favorite part of it, the soft and gentle part; it might not be as pretty as the gold, but it felt more genuine.

Nie Huaisang smiled as he brushed the beautiful feathers, and the golden bird allowed him. He felt cherished, treasured. So what if he had to hide all the sharp parts of himself to get this close?

It was fine. He didn’t like to be sharp.

He wanted to be soft. Soft and gentle, careless and free, relaxed and without effort, good for nothing –

Wait.

No!

“It’s all junk,” Nie Huaisang hissed at the pile of burning fans, tears in his eyes. “I want my da-ge!”

“You’re all right!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, helping pulled Nie Huaisang up.

“Huaisang-xiong,” Jiang Cheng said, looking relieved. “You’re back.”

“We have to go to the temple beyond the Goblin City,” Nie Huaisang said, teeth gritted together. “We have to. I won’t let that bastard…we’re going to go there and throw all his damned tricks right in his face!”

“Just us?” Wei Wuxian asked. “I mean, I’m awesome, Lan Zhan is fantastic, and of course Jiang Cheng is great, too, but…uh…there’s a lot of goblins in the city.”

“We’ll sneak in,” Nie Huaisang said. “He thinks he’s sidelined me entirely – he thinks I’m useless. He won’t be expecting me to get this far.”

“I can get help,” Jiang Cheng said. “I have friends.”

“…not to be rude, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said. “But – really?”

“You know what,” Nie Huaisang said, eyeing the pile of rocks following Jiang Cheng around, each one painted with a name. One of the names was yellow. Two were in white, with forehead ribbons. “This is fine. I feel like it says something really rude about my empathy for and interest in our junior generation, or lack thereof, but you know what? I don’t care. It’s fine.”

“You saved me,” Nie Huaisang said blankly, looking at Lan Xichen, who shrugged, abashed. The remains of the mechanical temple guard were scattered all over. “Over – him?”

“Huaisang –”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said, holding up his hands. “Don’t. Don’t…I don’t want to hear you talk.”

Lan Xichen’s head dropped down and he looked at the ground. “You knew from the beginning what I was like,” he murmured. “I never tried to hide it –”

“I forgive you for being what you are,” Nie Huaisang told him, and Lan Xichen looked up at him, startled and pleased. “I forgive you for not having the backbone to stand up against Jin Guangyao for me – or for da-ge. For being willfully blind for so long, for needing someone else’s proof of his ill-intentions, for always picking him first, for never trusting me…I forgive you, even if you’d never forgive me for the same.”

He dashed away the angry tears in his eyes.

“I just wish this wasn’t a fucking metaphor.”

Nie Huaisang left the fighting to the people who knew what to do – Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng, even the rock-juniors – and went to the temple at the center of the city alone.

Some things, he knew, needed to be done alone, even if it was the type of alone when you were surrounded by other people. Even when those other people stood by his side and made him promise that if he needed them, he would only need to call. Some things…

“I want my da-ge back,” he said to the maze of stairs.

“Then go and find him,” Jin Guangyao replied, looking smug, and Nie Huaisang had to go up and down all those fucking stairs, because Jin Guangyao was nothing if not predictable with his trauma, looking all over, looking for –

Looking for pieces.

“It’s just a metaphor,” he whispered to himself, ignoring how tears were streaming down his face. “It’s just – I need to put him back together, it’s fine. I’m not too late – I’m not too late –”

Jin Guangyao held Nie Mingjue’s head in his hands, blinded and gagged and bound with talismans, pulled out of whatever oubliette he'd shoved it into to forget about what he'd done. “Beware, Huaisang,” he said, still smiling. Always smiling. “I’ve been generous up until now, but I can be cruel.”

Nie Huaisang laughed, scoffing. “Generous? What have you done for me that’s generous?”

“Everything! Everything you’ve wanted, I’ve done – I cared for you, I gave you attention, I got you out of work, doing your schoolwork for you and coming up with excuses to get you out of saber training. I gave you presents, fans and pretty clothing, and when that brute of a brother of yours tried to take them from you, I rescued you. And then I even managed your sect for you, answered all of your questions, any time you had – Huaisang, I’m exhausted trying to live up to your expectations of me. Isn’t that generous?”

Nie Huaisang bared his teeth. “Half of those are burdens that only fell on me because of you. Why should it matter to me that cleaning up your own mess and satisfying your own guilt is hard? Why should I pay such a price when all I wanted was to be your friend? When all da-ge wanted was to be your friend? How dare you, Meng Yao!”

“Huaisang…” Jin Guangyao shook his head mournfully. “Huaisang, the last step here is to say the words to break the spell. But you were never good at memorization, were you?”

Nie Huaisang bit his lip until he drew blood.

“Through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered,” he said. “I have fought my way here to the temple beyond the goblin city –”

“Huaisang, stop! Look at what you’re risking here. You know how everyone loves me – do you think anyone will forgive you for taking me down, for tricking them all? You’ll be all alone!”

I already am, Nie Huaisang thought.

“My will is as strong as yours,” he said. “And my kingdom is as great…”

His voice trailed off.

“I ask for so little,” Jin Guangyao said beseechingly, convincingly, looking just like he always did, like the man who'd been their friend. “Just let me fool you, and you can have anything you want. No responsibilities, no stress, a life of your own. You can even have Lan Xichen, if that’s what you want…”

What’s the last line, Nie Huaisang thought, hating himself for being such a poor student, for cramming things into his mind without any order, for never being able to retain a single drop of it no matter how hard he tried. What is it? Why can’t I ever remember?

“It’d be so easy,” Jin Guangyao crooned. “Much easier than this. Just fear me, love me, believe me, and I’ll be your slave.”

Sharp teeth in a false smile.

Nie Huaisang shook in terror. He couldn’t – his da-ge needed him – he couldn’t be afraid, couldn’t be a coward, couldn’t be good-for-nothing – couldn’t let Jin Guangyao win – couldn’t let him –

That was it.

Nie Huaisang raised his head until his eyes met his enemy’s.

Sensing something wrong, Jin Guangyao’s eternal smile dimmed, and he began to step forward, reaching out, but it was too late.

“You have no power over me,” Nie Huaisang declared, and the world within a world collapsed.

Nie Huaisang opened his eyes.

Nie Huaisang sat in his desk in the Unclean Realm, trying to amuse himself by trying to figure out what exactly he’d eaten the night before that had given him such bizarre dreams. It was not successful, on account of him being alone.

Alone, just as he had been every night, and every day as well, since the success of his scheme at the Guanyin Temple.

Just as the dream-Jin Guangyao had threatened.

It wasn’t that Nie Huaisang regretted what he had done – the dream was clear enough about that; he’d do it all again in a heartbeat if he had to. But in the dream he’d been working alongside his former friends, with Lan Xichen betraying but then returning to him, with Wei Wuxian dragging Lan Wangji around, with stone-faced Jiang Cheng and the rather interchangeable junior squad behind him…and in his dream, in the end, they’d let him go to take his revenge, telling him that if he needed them for any reason, he could just call.

Just call, and they’d come back to him. Instead of turning from him in disgust, they’d stand by his side…

“Stupid subconscious,” Nie Huaisang mumbled to himself. “What do you expect? That I'd write to them and say ‘for no real reason at all, I find that I rather need you’?”

Silence answered him.

“Well, I do,” he said with a sigh, putting his chin on his hands. “Does that make you happy? I do need you.”

“You do?” Wei Wuxian’s voice rang out, and Nie Huaisang jumped nearly out of his skin. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Nie Huaisang turned, staring: it was Wei Wuxian at the door, the human version of him, and of course there was Lan Wangji right before him, and Jiang Cheng, and the (still mostly interchangeable) juniors, and – and even Lan Xichen, who Nie Huaisang was sure had gone into seclusion with no intent to leave.

“What are you doing here?” Nie Huaisang squeaked. And why hadn’t any of his sect disciples warned him?

“We just bullied our way though the door before anyone could stop us,” Wei Wuxian said cheerfully, answering the unspoken question first. “As for the rest – it turns out that I had the strangest dream the other night, really, truly bizarre, and obviously I had to tell Lan Zhan all about it, except it turned out he had a strange dream too.”

Nie Huaisang’s jaw dropped. “But –”

“I felt da-ge’s qi woven into the labyrinth,” Lan Xichen said quietly. “I thought it’d have long ago dissipated or been locked away, but – it was there, in every stone, in every turn. Every obstacle that didn’t really hurt you, every goblin that was more silly than scary…he was there. It was unmistakable.”

Nie Huaisang swallowed. The story of the labyrinth, baby-stealing wish-granting goblin king and all, had been one that Nie Mingjue had told him as a bedtime story, when he'd been a child in need of comfort; he hadn’t thought of it in years before last night. “But…why…?”

“Because Chifeng-zun has a demented sense of humor?” Jiang Cheng suggested, looking irritated.

“Jiujiu means that he hasn’t had that much fun in years, and also that you should throw a party,” Jin Ling said. “You are hosting all three of the sect leaders of all the other Great Sects. Also, why were we rocks?”

“Uh, no idea,” Nie Huaisang said. “Da-ge’s weird sense of humor, no doubt! Anyway, did you say party? I can do a party!”

He rushed out of the room, calling for his servants, calling for them to bring food and wine and tea, and as he did, he looked out of the window – a golden bird was flying away, looking hunted as if something was chasing it, and even as he watched, it crossed the borders of the Unclean Realm and suddenly dissolved into a fizzle of golden dust.

Nie Huaisang put his hand on the stone wall, and felt a familiar echo.

A very familiar echo.

“Oh,” he said, to his servants, feeling somehow simultaneously sheepish and filled with joy. “And while you’re at it, can you bring me my saber? I seem to have – misplaced it…”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #lan xichen #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #lan wangji #su she #sect leader yao #sect leader ouyang #xiao xingchen #xue yang #my fic #my fics #labyrinth

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perthshirecottage · 3 years

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I keep thinking about how differently T’challa and Peter grew up despite both being taken in by the Ravagers and the people they became. A lot of people are using this as an excuse to point out that this shows that Peter is a horrible person because look, all they did is change it to T’challa and suddenly all these people had wonderful lives! Yondu was a better father and Thanos learned the error of his ways and was also a better father! T’challa was space Robin Hood and helped people! The thing is that it’s not just one factor, one moment that literally changed the how everything changed. Yes, one moment was a springboard to change, but there were so many factors, so many little moments after that really and truly changed the course of history. It’s not a matter of who is the better person but it comes down to how each kid was brought into the Ravagers. It also makes a difference how they were raised before they were even abducted. And how they were raised after. All of these factors effect how the story unfolds. But the biggest factor is Yondu himself and how he, as the adult, chose to treat each of these kids. Some of this is speculation but it’s all based on evidence from the source material. I’m going to go through how each kid was raised so we can get to the bottom of how things turned out so differently.

Let’s start with T’challa.

T’challa was a kid who grew up with everything. He was a prince and therefore lacked for nothing. He was safe and had never had anything personally bad happen to him. He grew up in a palace with both of his parents and has not experienced loss. It’s good that he has never had to deal with these things but it means that he has felt more safe and comfortable in the world than Peter and T’challa has the confidence that kids brought up with all those comforts and safeties has.

T’challa is also specifically a prince. This means that T’challa is growing up with the absolute best tutors that money can buy. He has Wakandan tutors who are teaching about technology that is more advanced than other places in the world. He is taught about peaceful negotiating skills. T’challa grew up on diplomacy and learning what it meant to one day have to take responsibility for an entire country. And being a prince, the crown prince, it means that in the hierarchy of things the only people with more power than him are his parents. His parents have taught him to be humble and that he doesn’t have the right to lord that power over others That he is meant to serve his people and to take care of and love them. So he is kind and not a spoiled brat but it doesn’t change the fact that that kind of environment means that people treat T’challa with a certain amount of respect that is due to one in his position. T’challa expects people to listen to him. He expects people to respect him and to not push him to the side because this is how he was raised. Up until this point T’challa has not known loss and this will affect his initial encounter with the Ravagers.

And then comes the abduction. T’challa has just had an argument with his father. T’challa wants to go out and explore, to see the world. And suddenly T’challa is on space craft with real live aliens! This is so cool! He isn’t scared of all these strange looking aliens. In fact he thinks the whole thing is awesome. They haven’t hurt him or shown themselves to be a threat so he hasn’t had a reason to be scared. T’challa is looking around in wonder and awe and not the slightest bit intimidated. Yondu is upset that they got the wrong kid but he also sees a kid who was just abducted who isn’t scared, who is eloquent and talking about adventure. He is impressed by this kid and his fearlessness. So Yondu figures, hey, might as well give this kid a fun little adventure before I take him home, you know, to make up for this little mistake. And T’challa may be eloquent and have learned how talk to unreasonable people (I think it’s a natural skill T’challa has, but he was also taught to talk to people and that skill was nurtured in him) but he is still a kid who wants to go have some fun and not be burdened by his duties and responsibilities for awhile. So of course T’challa isn’t thinking about how his parents will be feeling when they wake up and see him gone. All T’challa wants is a good time and is thinking like the child he is. He will be home soon enough anyway.

And if Yondu gets attached and decides that he doesn’t want to return T’challa well, a little white lie might hurt for a bit but Yondu has always been a little selfish. And to make up for the lie, Yondu will treat T’challa really well, as if the boy were his own son. Yondu is caring and comforting when he tells T’challa that his whole family is dead and while it makes him uncomfortable to openly show his own caring side, it also eases Yondu’s guilt considerably as he hugs a sobbing T’challa. And to top it off he just found out what Ego was doing, and, well there’s no point in uprooting Peter Quill from his life cause Yondu isn’t working for that stupid planet anymore. He has T’challa and he doesn’t want any other kid. So T’challa is given a place of honor among the Ravagers as Yondu’s son. T’challa is listened to and given respect. T’challa is kind and calm and respectful and he keeps worming his way into Yondu’s heart. T’challa is well behaved and Yondu doesn’t even have to resort to threats to keep him in line. And T’challa trusts Yondu and talks to his father figure and works out any problems they have. They form a bond built from love, trust and respect. And Yondu protects T’challa from the rough crew. No one dares to offer up a harsh word towards T’challa because they all remember Yondu’s wrath the last time someone tried. T’challa was taught to fight on earth and Yondu is still impressed by how much T’challa knows and man that kid sure knows how to throw a punch. Yondu has so much respect early on and he has guilt about lying about T’challa’s family and all these factors affect their relationship as T’challa grows.

T’challa is raised by thieves so of course he becomes one himself. He was still young when he was taken (and it never feels like he was abducted. He was brought on an adventure and then offered a home when he lost his. The Ravagers are his family and the ship his home and there is nothing for him on earth but painful memories) so T’challa learns from the people who are raising him but he never loses the morals that were instilled in him from birth. So when T’challa gets a little older he starts to speak of the right thing to do and Yondu is touched by the words in a way he wouldn’t if he didn’t have to make up for so much red in his ledger. Which makes Yondu not want to listen. Yondu tries to ignore those thoughts of what he has done and he wants to continue going around stealing and living his life for himself and his crew as he has always done. He doesn’t want to change that much, not even for T’challa. But T’challa will not let up about the noble things they could be doing. And Yondu knows that it was a mistake to start out letting T’challa know he thought of him as a son so early in their relationship because when Yondu threatens to let the crew eat T’challa if he keeps going on about this nobility, T’challa simply laughs in his face. As if after all these years T’challa would actually believe that threat. As T’challa keeps talking about how they should be helping people, it upsets some of the crew. They don’t want T’challa and his morals in their ship and they don’t care if T’challa is Yondu’s son, the boy is trying to mutiny against their captain and they won’t stand for it! Yondu doesn’t take it well when Taser Face tries to throw T’challa out of an airlock. Yondu feels obligated to truly listen to T’challa after the whole fiasco. In the end Yondu tries to resist, but T’challa doesn’t let up and those words strike a nerve and Yondu dedicates his life to making up for those kids who were killed. He never does tell T’challa why his crew accidentally kidnapped him. Yondu knows he couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on T’challa’s face. Yondu is determined to be the best father he can be and he’s so glad he didn’t wait until it was too late.

And because T’challa and Yondu are on a crusade to help people, they specifically search out Thanos to have a talk about how crazy the man is starting to become. And it’s well over a decade before The Infinity War so Thanos isn’t quite as crazy as he will become and can still be reasoned with because someone got to him so early. (I still think this is a stretch cause the man was insane and you can’t reason with insane people but this is the only explanation I can come up with for why T’challa stopped Thanos with one conversation).

T’challa becomes such a big part of the Ravagers. He in fact becomes their leader in a way. Yondu is still the captain but the crew looks to T’challa as their moral compass. He helps to plan the heists. He figures out who is corrupt and that’s who they steal from. He figures out who needs money and he gives it them. When people ask for a name he remembers his noble birth and how he now lives among the heavens. And while he is not a king, or a prince, he is nobility and he answers Starlord. And so people spread tales of their savior and soon everyone in the galaxy has heard of Starlord.

And so T’challa grows up surrounded by love and support. He knows how to talk so people listen and this changes his dynamic with so many people and the galaxy’s destiny is changed.

Now to Peter. Peter is a kid from Missouri who lives in a small house and goes to public school and has absolutely nothing about him that makes him special. His mom works hard to provide for him but it’s just her because no one knows where Peter’s dad is. They don’t have much money but Meredith loves her son and he loves her. It doesn’t take the sting out when Peter sees other kids with their dads but Peter is grateful to have someone who cares. And then the person that Peter loves most, the person that his whole world revolves around is dying. Slowly and painfully. He has to watch her suffer for months, maybe years. Peter has to see his mom go from happy and healthy to withering away in a hospital bed. To see her mentally deteriorating and be completely helpless to stop it. Peter is suffering but he is still going to stick up for those who can’t fight back, like the poor frog those mean boys squished with a stick. His mom taught him to be kind and a good person, he just doesn’t know how to get people to listen to him. Peter has never been taught diplomacy and no one is going to listen to some skinny little kid who is vulnerable and a prime target for bullies.

And then Peter has to watch his mom die. Peter didn’t want to take his mom’s hand because he is scared and irrationally thought that if he didn’t take her hand, if he didn’t give her that permission to die, then she wouldn’t. He regretted it the moment her heart stopped and he would regret it until years later when he found a new family that helped him learn how to heal. Then Peter is shoved out of the room and everyone forgets about him and the grief and the fear and the guilt, it’s just too much and so Peter runs. He runs until he can’t and he falls to the ground sobbing.

And then comes the abduction. One moment Peter was on the ground and then suddenly he is on a spaceship, hurtling away from his home and his mom. Peter only needed to get away from that hospital room! He didn’t mean to truly leave! Everything feels too big and it’s completely overwhelming! And he is surrounded by large monsters who are scary looking and one of them is talking to him and he has blue skin and sharp teeth and everything is too much, too much and Peter screams! He screams and he sobs and he scrambles away from these terrifying creatures and he just wants his mom! He wants to go home! Where is his grandpa?! What is going on?! And then the creature threatens to let his crew eat him if he doesn’t stop making such a racket and Peter’s gaze catches those sharp teeth, gleaming, ready to tear a little boy’s flesh from his bones and he stops screaming, completely paralyzed by fear.

Yondu looks at this sniveling, snotty creature before him and he feels his ire rise. Stupid kid has only been on his ship a few minutes and he is already on Yondu’s nerves. So Yondu barks at the kid to shut up or the crew will eat him. The kid doesn’t stop crying but the screaming does stop so that’s a win in Yondu’s book. And there is a twinge of satisfaction when the men laugh at the whole scene. As if any of them would actually eat a child but it got the reaction Yondu wanted. The sooner this job is over the better. And then Yondu finds out that Ego has been killing his own children and while Yondu isn’t particularly fond of Quill, he is still a child and Yondu won’t be a part of killing another kid. There’s enough red in his ledger as it is. Anyway, Quill is small, he can fit in places adults can’t, is good for thieving. Yondu will make more money keeping the kid in the long run.

Peter is taught how to steal, how to fly, how to shoot. Peter is a rambunctious child who has a plethora of issues and loss and has to navigate the waters of grief by himself. No one holds him as he cries for the loss of his mother, his grandpa, his planet. There are no hugs or words of comfort. Just glares and sneers for a weak kid who is terrified of all the scary aliens he is now stuck with. Yondu has offered a few pats on the shoulder when Peter is feeling especially low, and sometimes Yondu will sit in companionable silence when no one else is around. Yondu keeps the crew from eating him (and Peter never grows out of this fear, not really) but Yondu doesn’t do a thing about the harsh looks and the harsher words. And whenever a Ravager takes a swing at Peter, Yondu allows it since it will toughen him up. And Peter’s whole world has crashed down around his ears and he has no support and whenever he plucks up the courage, Peter does what he can to cause some chaos for these aliens that have taken him from his home. While there is a part of Peter that doesn’t want to return to a home that no longer has his mom, Peter can’t forget that the Ravagers forced him into this life, and he is their prisoner. When he is old enough to escape Peter has been gone for so long that he doesn’t see any point in going back. All that’s left for him on earth are painful memories. So Peter learns to get good at stealing so that he can earn his keep and not end up as dinner. He learns how to protect his belongings so no one takes it. He learns how to be wily and to use his wits to fight and escape from those who are bigger and stronger than he is. He learns to look out for himself first and foremost, because no one else is going to. Peter sticks with the Ravagers because he has no where else to go. No one recognizes him besides a Nova Corp officer. No one knows his name because Peter has been lost in the shuffle as another Ravager. One day the Ravagers are hired for a huge score and Peter decides that this is the one that’s big enough that he can finally strike out on his own. People will know his name and his mom’s legacy of her Starlord will live on. And if Peter’s betraying the Ravagers, oh well, it’s not like they have ever given him a reason to be loyal to them anyway. And this does turn out to be the big score Peter was looking for, but it didn’t come in the form of money. Peter found the family he had been so desperately longing for since his mom died.

Yondu teaches the kid the basics. How to steal, and shoot, and fly. Yondu also teaches the kid how to fight because it’s rough out there and he needs to be able to defend himself. The kid has no idea how to throw a punch or block one, so Yondu lets the crew take some swings at the kid because man, if that kid doesn’t learn to fight then he’s as good as dead. And Yondu reminds the kid that he is protecting him from a crew that wants to eat him. At first it’s a way to keep Quill in line when the kid does something stupid (Peter does a lot of stupid stuff and why can’t the kid just behave?) but it eventually stops being a threat and becomes an inside joke between the two of them. As Peter gets faster and stronger and more skilled and less weepy and fearful, Yondu starts taking a liking to him. He doesn’t really let on because why should Yondu make himself uncomfortable by talking about feelings, he doesn’t owe Peter anything since Yondu already saved the kid’s life by not giving him to Ego. If anything, Peter is indebted to him whether he knows it or not. Yondu knows, deep down that he isn’t talking care of Quill the way the kid deserves but Yondu can’t just give the kid up (Yondu’s always been a little selfish). And nothing forces Yondu to confront his own feelings and own up to his mistakes until they’re about to blow up a planet and Peter’s about to die and this is Yondu’s last chance to make up for the way he treated Peter and what he did to those other poor kids that Ego killed. So Yondu finally steps up and becomes the father he should have been all along. He just wishes he hadn’t waited until it was too late.

In conclusion, the changes that were made were not simply from it being T’challa instead of Peter. It was so many factors. It was the initial introduction to the Ravagers, where T’challa wanted an adventure and got one. He wanted to go with the Ravagers and so it was fun and it was kind of his friends to let him stay after his family died. For Peter he had just watched his mom died and was emotionally vulnerable and the entire abduction actually felt like an abduction. It was traumatizing and nothing about it was fun. Yondu actively chose T’challa because the boy actually had a home to go back to. Yondu got stuck with Peter so the boy wouldn’t be murdered. Yondu had guilt about lying to T’challa and something to cause him to repent and treat T’challa better. Yondu could keep himself emotionally distant since he could reassure himself that he saved Peter’s life and didn’t owe the kid anything. T’challa was never given a reason to fear the Ravagers and so felt he could speak freely about his beliefs and change Yondu’s and the other’s minds. Peter spent his whole life worrying that he would mess up too big and be eaten so he tried no to bring too much ire on himself. T’challa was calm and had an extensive education and impressed Yondu from their first meeting. T’challa was respected and so therefore respected those who were raising him. Peter was brought in during the worst day of his life and already emotionally charged and a grieving kid was not something the Ravagers wanted to deal with. And Peter wasn’t equipped in anyway for the Ravager lifestyle and had to sink or float and I doubt anyone was that understanding when he floundered. Peter was a terrified and confused kid who sometimes acted up with his abductors.

Peter and T’challa were raised by the same person but they were also raised in completely different environments. It’s not fair to place of the weight of how either child turned out on their shoulders. They were children who had to deal with the world they were literally abducted into. And you can see that Yondu specifically treated T’challa differently than he ever did Peter. And it’s not fair to say it’s because T’challa was simply a better person because Yondu was the adult in the situation. They were children and they had no say in how they were raised. Yondu was the one who decided to keep them both. He was also the one who decided treat T’challa better. In gotg vol 2, Yondu was correct when he said he ‘didn’t do any of it right’. Yondu may have come to love Peter, but at the end of the day, Yondu was abusive towards Peter. Yondu wasn’t given an incentive to change his ways until the very end when he had to choose between Peter’s life and his own. It doesn’t mean that Yondu and Peter didn’t love each other in their own way. Yondu still raised Peter and took care of him, but it is canon that Yondu beat Peter and spent Peter’s whole life hanging the threat of being eaten over his head. Yondu wasn’t obvious in the ways he looked out for Peter. Yondu kept the Ravagers from killing him on several occasions, but Yondu never let Peter know he was protecting him until the last possible minute. In What If…there is not a single implication that Yondu ever threatened T’challa’s life or beat him or any of the other crap that happened to Peter. And gotg happened 26 years after Peter was abducted while the events of What If happened only 20 years later. So in far less time T’challa was able to accomplish more because he was better adjusted not because he was a better person. The whole conversation about Peter getting into a fight with some boys because he was protecting a frog shows his kindness and how he wants to defend those who can’t defend themselves. But Peter was raised in a place where he had to take care of himself because even in his 30s he was being threatened by Yondu (remember after Yondu pulled Peter and Gamora out of space and beat Peter up and pointed his arrow at Peter’s neck? Yeah that’s a pretty big threat and Peter isn’t surprised by it. Like this kind of treatment is normal). No one was looking out for Peter so he had to learn to survive his abuse and look after himself because he couldn’t count on anyone else until he met the rest of the Guardians. And T’challa was treated with worry and care. He was given support and understanding. T’challa has had a family since the moment that Ravager ship picked him up. The differences between these two stories has nothing to do with who was abducted, but with the how and why.

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marvels-agents100 · 4 years

Text

in the hands of tyche

“for those who believe, no proof is necessary. for those who don’t believe, no proof is possible.” stuart chase

pairing: aaron hotchner x gender neutral ! reader

warnings: slight swearing

word count: 4,603

author’s note: thank you for your patience with this request! it is such a cool concept and it was so, so fun to write. also, im putting together a lil ~thing~ in celebration of hitting 100 followers, so stay tuned :)

“Some psychic this guy is,” Rossi muttered, “this place is as far from a rocky shoreline as you can get.”

Hotch pulled back the blue plastic tarp that was draped in front of the window, revealing a view of lighthouse perched upon a rocky shoreline. Of course, it was a mural painted onto the brick wall of the neighboring building, but it was still a rocky shoreline, nonetheless.

“Dave,” Hotch said, the amusement not lost in his voice. The ghost of a smile danced on his lips as he turned back to his friend, more entertained by the legendary David Rossi being wrong than a psychic being right.

Meanwhile, at the local police department, you were placing Aaron’s files into his briefcase, hoping to have the station cleaned up for him and Dave before they returned. You set the files before you, biting onto your cheek as you tried to picture how Hotch would order them himself. Pensive thoughts brought about your fidgeting with the silver band that wound around your third finger. It was something you did whenever you got lost in your mind, playing with the engraved ring Jack had insisted Aaron purchase for you when they visited Disneyland the autumn before. Small sparkles and fireworks were etched into the metal, a small reminder of happiness when the days seemed dark.

You remember the day you received it, waiting at the airport terminal for the Hotchner boys. The moment you locked eyes with Jack, his smile had lit up the room and he began to sprint towards you, arms open and insistent. You knelt to catch him, his small body colliding with yours, your laugh filling the air.

It was short lived, the hug he gave you, because he quickly ripped himself away and ran back towards his dad. Jack’s tiny hand grabbed into his father’s first two fingers (his small palms were unable to fully grasp Aaron’s hand), desperately pulling the two of them towards you.

“Dad! We have to give them the present!” His little feet were skidding on the tile in excitement, sneakers jumping erratically against the linoleum. A giggle accompanied Aaron’s wide smile, his own feet moving at a purposefully slow pace, just to savor the unbridled excitement his son displayed.

“Present?” You questioned as the boys finally reached you, your eyebrow raising in Aaron’s direction.

“I picked it out all by myself!” Jack exclaimed, pointing a finger at his chest. The small lisp on his tongue only made his pride more endearing.

“He did,” Aaron agreed, his usually serious tone abandoned, “he refused to let me have any involvement in the choosing of presents.”

When you did finally receive the ring- back at Aaron’s apartment, where he could comfortably dig through his luggage- Jack also had to show you the other presents he had chosen for the rest of the team. The line-up included a Stitch bobble head for Auntie Penny and a Genie stuffie for Uncle Dave, to name a few.

Ever since that day, that ring was permanently placed on your finger- the sweet, innocent smile of Jack Hotchner calming your mind whenever you saw it. It had become a grounding mechanism during particularly difficult cases.

You decided to order the files by date, starting with the earliest murders. However, before you could even begin, your instincts froze your movements. The hairs along the base of your neck straightened, a slight shiver circling around your spine. Your eyes scanned the room subtly, meeting the gaze of none other than Stanley Usher, a resident psychic that was involved on the case, who was standing beside an officer across the room.

Abandoning your organizational pursuits, you walked the length of the room towards him.

“I have a feeling you haven’t heard this,” you began, “but thank you for helping on this case.” You decided to start politely, rather than confronting him for his obvious staring problem.

You held your hand in front of you, offering him a handshake.

“You believe I helped?” He questioned, smile never faltering as his palm shook yours briefly.

“I think it doesn’t matter what I believe,” you shrugged, “you gave someone hope when all was lost, and contributed to helping find a missing woman. I thank you for you intentions, whether your predictions came true or not.”

His eyes narrowed at you slightly, but that might have just been from his widening smile.

“I appreciate that,” his voice had a gentleness to it- you could see how he was so successful in his line of work. Anyone with a comforting timbre to their words would be easy to believe.

You nodded curtly, spinning on your heel to return to your work.

“And, Agent?”

You looked over your shoulder, pausing your stride momentarily.

“Chase him,” his lifted his hand, his thumb pointing to the base of his middle finger. Your eyes flickered to the silver ring on your own.

“When the summer rain falls, you’ll know he’s chasing you, too.”

You stared back at him for a moment longer, eyebrow raised in question. Then, wordlessly, you turned forward and moved to the aforementioned table, shaking away the completely ridiculous thoughts Stanley Usher had placed into your mind.

‘Chase him’?

Yes, it was vague, and your skeptical mind told you that there was absolutely no logic behind it, but the certain Supervisory Special Agent that immediately popped into your thoughts was far from vague. Aaron Hotchner had occupied your conscious (and subconscious) mind rent-free, and his tenancy was a fact you did your best to ignore. But, despite your best effort, his deep, honey eyes and velvet voice never left you alone, even when you tried so hard to escape them.

There wasn’t a single soul who knew of your infatuation with your Unit Chief, and there was no way in hell Stanley Usher would know.

***

The jet was quiet on the trip home. You were sat beside Hotch- as per usual- while he read a book, his chin resting in his palm, elbow perched on the armrest of his seat. Mind somewhere between conscious and asleep, you lulled your head towards him.

“Hey, Hotch,” you spoke lowly, in order to not disturb everyone else on the plane, “guess what?”

A chuckle slipped past his lips, your obviously sleepy demeanor amusing him, “What?”

“Usher, the psychic guy, gave me a prediction.” You bit back a smile on your bottom lip, your slightly delirious state missing the way Aaron’s eyes flickered to your lips momentarily.

“Really?” A small grin- a shit-eating grin- settled on his features, (he always smiled so damn much when it came to you), “Alright, I’ll bite. What did he say?”

“He basically told me that we’re gonna fall in love- something about summer rain?” you chuckled, lifting your hand, “And he got all of that from this ring.”

The falter in Hotch’s smile lasted only a millisecond, but the way his pulse raced was something he was sure would last for a few hours.

“I think that just confirms my theory,” Hotch relaxed further into his chair, eyes moving back to the novel in his lap, “that guy is a complete fraud.”

The back of your hand met his shoulder in a playful smack, “You’re an ass,” you settled into your own seat as well, closing your eyes as you began your first attempt at sleeping, “It would be a privilege to love me.”

And you were far into your own dreamland before he could even think about replying, but even if you were awake and alert, his honest reply would’ve died on his tongue before he even spoke the words.

Yes, he thought, it would.

***

There were no more discussions of a potential love, or Stanley Usher, following that late-night jet conversation. Life was nothing short of normal and wonderful, with the days spent in the BAU full of cases and paperwork, and the days off spent with Jack and Aaron, (since Hailey let Aaron take Jack on his days off), or in the comfort of your own home. That’s not to say your feelings had disappeared, but rather you had never broken your routine of completely burying them.

Little did you know, the words you shared with Aaron that night had yet to leave his mind. It was a terrible and abrupt realization, how much he truly cared for you. It was a subject he had never fully confronted within himself- whether it was out of fear or avoidance, he didn’t know. But, since your sleep-induced thoughts spilled from your lips, they had wormed their way into the forefront of his memory and had given little respite to the anxious worry they brought with them. It was entirely stressful, trying to figure out his own emotions.

There was only one thing he was certain of: he had wondered how your lips would taste on far too many occasions to call it normal daydreaming.

He found himself struggling with his self control when you were around Jack. There was something about the way his son smiled at you, that made him want to hold you for an eternity. The swell in his chest brought a warm fullness that he hadn’t known he was missing, but the feeling of it’s presence became addicting. He found himself yearning for you, missing your company, wishing to hear your voice.

“Watch out!” You had yelled to him, running from the giggling Jack Hotchner, “It’s the baby monster!”

Jack squealed in delight, hands held in front of him like an adorable, undead zombie, feet pattering on the hardwood flooring as he chased you.

Ah, there it is.

Like a breath of fresh air, the feeling returned. The weightlessness it brought made Aaron float.

***

The sun shone brightly as you entered the BAU, and while the bright weather is something you usually praised, the lingering pain of the previous night’s bad decisions was keeping you from basking in the light. Damn Emily and her affinity for whiskey.

The travel mug of coffee in your hand made a satisfying clink against the wood of your desk, your half lidded eyes reaching a file that hadn’t been there when you left yesterday. In fact, it was a file you had turned in a few days prior. On top of the manilla was an orange sticky note, the unmistakably messy writing of none other than Aaron Hotchner scrawled on it.

MISSING ME’S TOXICOLOGY SCREEN- SECOND VICTIM

AH.

You sighed as you settled into your seat, picking up the landline to call in for the report.

He subtly watched you from his office, almost chuckling at the slump in your shoulders. You were never able to say no to Emily, regardless of how many shots she brought to you. A smile tilted at his lips, but was quickly gone as a knock sounded from the door.

“Come in,” he called. JJ’s head poked in, a sizable stack of files in her arm.

“Good morning,” she greeted, “I just wanted to let you know, they’re postponing maintenance repairs on the jet until tomorrow.”

He shuffled papers around, eyes following his work’s movement, “Are there any cases you’re considering? Should we start looking at commercial?”

“Thankfully, no,” there was hint of a laugh in her words, “which is good. I’ve never liked flying in the rain.”

His actions stopped momentarily, gaze snapping up to the woman in his doorway. Desperately, he tried to keep his features from displaying how his heart had dropped from his chest.

“That is good,” he agreed, his voice surprisingly strong, “keep me updated.”

“Yes, sir,” she smiled, the door clicking shut as she retreated back to her office.

He let out a long, drawn out breath as soon as she left, suddenly feeling dizzy and very, very warm. The intensity of his pulse was something that echoed in his ears, which became red at the very ends to match his cheeks. He had put his best efforts into keeping the words of Stanley Usher from his mind, but it was a lost cause as soon as JJ had mentioned the rain.

Eyes moving back to you, he felt the nerves begin to eat away at his gut. You were obviously miserable, but somehow, someway, the slight frown on your features and the (mildly) disheveled state of your hair was enough to lift the very corner of his lips into a minuscule smile. Even on one of your worst days- which is beyond understandable, from your choice of a drinking partner- you were, in Hotch’s eyes, the most beautiful being he had ever seen.

***

It took a little over an hour to get the toxicology screening faxed to the unit, machine sputtering as it printed. You slipped the paper into the file, the soles of your shoes clicking against the floor as you made your way to Aaron’s office. Knuckles tapping lightly on the wooden door, you poked your head in.

“I have that file completed,” you smiled, holding up said file in the doorway.

“Come in,” he didn’t look up from the papers below his pen.

You didn’t think much of his focus, moving into the office and putting your revised work on top of the tower of manila that sat on his desk.

“Anything you need?” You offered, fingers twisting the ring on your finger, “Coffee? Food? A break?”

He finally looked up at you, eyes flickering to your fidgeting hands.

“No,” his voice was soft, “but thank you.”

You nodded shortly, a polite smile on your lips before you turned and left, suppressing a shiver that ran down your spine. There was something that was bothering him, you knew. His whole demeanor was slightly shifted, slightly wrong. Even if you didn’t know the reason, you sure as hell didn’t want to deal with an oddly behaved Hotch for the remainder of your day.

You popped two Advil into your mouth at your desk, willing your headache to leave you as you began plotting.

***

Your final decision was that of the edible route. If there was anything in the world that could create a smile on Aaron Hotchner’s face, it was a blueberry scone from the hole-in-the-wall cafe three blocks north of the BAU. Your lunch break was spent walking to, and dining at said cafe, enjoying a scone and coffee yourself, the second round of caffeine helping to ease the remnants of your hangover.

Emily hadn’t stopped teasing you since the moment you had clocked in that morning. She was as chipper as ever, acting as if she had gotten a full eight hours of sleep and didn’t touch a single drop of alcohol the night before. The way she seemed invincible to the source of your destruction only further proved your point that God is a woman, and her name is Emily Prentiss.

But, despite the jokes and jabs from your close friend, the BAU had been oddly quiet. Any day spent without a case was something to be marveled at in and of itself, but the tense atmosphere extended further than that. Specifically, into the Unit Chief’s office. Derek had talked to you about it briefly, the way Hotch was acting.

“I know that office is his home, but the closed door is a bit concerning.”

You agreed, but neither of you knew how to go about a solution. Eventually, you had retreated back to your desk and subsequent mountain of paperwork. It was while you were finishing a file on the cop-killer in Phoenix, Arizona, that the famous blueberry scone made an appearance in your mind.

It was quickly followed with a mental image of Aaron Hotchner’s smile, but you elected to ignore that. (You also ignored the way your heart was beating because of it).

You were one block away from the Quantico Headquarters when the sunny sky split, unleashing a rain that was just heavy enough to soak you thoroughly.

Water dripping off your clothes, you stepped into a nearby clothing shop, heading straight to the clerk.

“Do you sell umbrellas?” You asked, arms crossed and fist still gripping onto the scone-filled plastic bag.

“Back corner over there,” he said politely as he pointed, obvious sympathy in his eyes.

Nodding, you turned and followed his direction, tugging a new shirt and slacks from their hangers as you walked. A bucket of umbrellas sat exactly where he said they would be, all patterned differently.

Naturally, you took the plain, black one, moving towards the front of the store once again.

“Is it okay if I change into these clothes after?” You questioned, placing your items on the counter.

“Of course,” he replied with a smile, “dressing rooms are just around that corner.”

Paying him quickly, you grinned, “thank you.”

You sent the polite retail worker one last smile as you exited the store, wet clothes in the plastic bag the scone was previously in, the treat protected only by the paper pastry bag the baker had placed it in. Everything was better- since you were armed with an umbrella and fresh clothes- until you glanced down to your watch. You were, without a doubt, late.

The sprint you took off into was that of complete panic, knowing the team was sure to be questioning your absence. You were always so punctual- any deviation longer than five minutes (which was tripled, at the time), was noticed immediately.

Shoes splashing in the pavement’s puddles, the FBI building finally came into view. You huffed as you walked up to the secured, employee-entrance door, reaching for the ID card that always sat at the hem of your shirt.

The dread that filled you when you grasped air was nothing short of terrible.

Your eyes moved to your hip, and there was empty space where that card, adorned with that terrible ID photo, should have been. Frantically, your hand patted at your pockets, only to find them empty. Your other hand was occupied with the umbrella, bag of clothes, and blueberry scone.

As your self-pat down turned up fruitless, your frustration took over, causing you to close and abandon the umbrella for the sake of using both of your hands. The rain soaked you quickly, which only added to the tension. And, as if you hadn’t suffered enough, the stress had begun your alcohol induced headache once again.

It wasn’t until your smiling face, next to the title ‘Supervisory Special Agent’, shone through the plastic bag that your erratic search stopped.

Of course, you thought, a wave of relief rushing over you, of course it’s still on my other shirt.

In reality, opening that plastic bag should’ve been an easy enough task, but the shakiness of your post-drunken fingers and the slickness that came with the rain proved it to be the complete opposite.

To say you could cry from the pure frustration with the entirety of your situation was an understatement.

“Damn it!” You exclaimed, letting the bag drop to the concrete. It landed next to the now soaked scone- the entire reason you had left the building in the first place.

You had half the mind to call Emily and beg her to let you in quietly before the entrance’s door swung open.

“Good God,” you groaned, “this day just keeps getting better.”

Hotch stood in the doorway, eyebrows furrowed as the took in your outfit change, your dripping hair, and the umbrella, plastic bag, and paper bag at your feet. Honestly, it was a lot to process.

“Should I ask?” He questioned, one eyebrow lifting. It took everything in him to fight off his smile.

“I mean it with complete sincerity when I say: I will kill you if you do,” you threatened.

“Noted,” he chuckled, stepping into the rain and picking up the previously discarded umbrella. He opened it swiftly, holding over his and your head. “Are you okay?”

And his voice was so soft and so damn tender, you almost lost it then. It didn’t help that he was entirely too close to you.

“I went to get you a scone,” your eyes peeled from his and landed on the pastry bag, sure to be containing the soggy remnants of said scone at that point, “It started raining, and it all went downhill from there.”

He followed the trail of your eyes, looking at the sad, saturated brown bag, “Why did you do that, sweetheart?”

Ignoring the feeling the pet name gave you, you met his gaze once again, “You’ve been in a funk today. Thought I’d try to cheer you up.”

He sighed, eyes jumping between yours, “I appreciate it, even if it didn’t survive the trip here.”

“Yeah,” you cracked a smile, “what a short, sad life.”

“Very sad,” he agreed, his own smile widening with yours.

You stared at him for a moment, before realizing your stupor and quickly saying, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“You’re alright,” he shook his head with his words, denying your need for an apology.

“I figured someone would notice I was gone,” you chuckled, “I left my ID on my first pair of clothes, then had a disagreement with the bag.”

“I definitely saw all of it,” he smirked.

“Dick,” you nudged him, still trying to calm your pulse.

“I know,” only a couple steps closer and you would be pressed against him, “but yes, I noticed you were gone.”

What he didn’t say was how hesitant he had been to retrieve you. It was summer, rain was falling from the sky, and the predictions of some small-town psychic were weighting heavily on his mind. Despite his skeptic nature, the mere thought of standing with you in the rain was enough to bundle his stomach into a nervous knot. There were very little things he couldn’t control about himself, and his ability to restrain his feelings while standing beside you in a soft rain was something he was absolutely sure he couldn’t control.

And you know, sometimes he was so annoyed with how right he was.

Because, as he stood before you- small water droplet stains on his charcoal grey shoulders and little drips falling from the ends of his hair- he could feel every ounce of self control slip from his grasp. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure if he was holding on very tightly to begin with.

It was completely your fault, he had decided. It was your fault because you had walked in the rain, almost got into an altercation with a plastic bag, were still fighting off a whiskey hangover- and yet, you managed to be just as radiant and beautiful as you had always been. It was your fault because you made him feel warm as he stood in a chilled rain. It was your fault because he was standing so close to you and wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold you.

If you weren’t so damn perfect, he wouldn’t be at war with himself.

“Hotch?” You asked, your eyebrows creased together, “You okay?”

He broke from his thoughts, blinking at you. There was a moment before he spoke, words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them.

“Stanley Usher.”

“Stanley Usher?” You repeated.

“What did he say?” He questioned, “About the summer rain?”

“You can’t be serious-“

“Please.”

“Why?” You interrogated, “What does he have to do with- oh.”

You met his eyes with your own, allowing yourself to read him- which was usually off limits. He looked desperate, almost yearning, for an answer. It was almost laughable, the thought of him believing the words of Stanley Usher. You hadn’t forgotten them, but you were far more spiritual than Aaron. He was the one who was supposed to be completely level headed and realistic.

“Aaron, be honest with me,” you began, “are you asking me because you want to justify your feelings?”

Maybe it was too bold, but you needed the answer, and were far too frustrated with the day to dance around the subject.

The way he immediately looked to the ground was answer enough. You sighed, saddened by the fact that he felt ashamed. It was expected, his embarrassment with himself. Anyone who had feelings for a subordinate would act the same.

You sighed before speaking.

“It reminds me of you, the rain,” you said softly. His eyes flickered up to you, looking through his lashes.

“It’s a little cold, but it’s soft and refreshing,” you continued, reaching up and tracing your fingertips on his temple, “I would dance in it all day, if I could.”

He knew what you were saying, and it took his breath away.

Your hand dropped to your side, your head tilting slightly to get a better look at him, “Would you?”

And all at once, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. The umbrella clattered onto the pavement, his large hands holding your face instead, pulling you to him and connecting your lips to his. You let out a surprised squeak, but quickly relaxed into his touch, winding your arms around his neck.

He kissed you desperately, like the rain would wash you away as soon as he let go. You let yourself get lost in him, throwing every reservation and hesitation to the wolves. He seemed to do the same, hands finding your waist and pulling you closer. He wanted no empty space between you. Happily obliging, you tightened your grip around him.

You wanted desperately to learn every detail of him, to feel his breath with yours, to match the beating of his heart. You wanted to know every flaw, every weakness- every portion of him, no matter how small. He had become your everything, and you were content with that first kiss being your last first kiss.

Even as the rain relentlessly fell upon the two of you, no complaints were heard. The raindrops were simply an audience to the resolution of an unspoken love.

You were the first to break away, unable to ignore your empty lungs. Neither of you moved to untangle from each other.

“Aaron,” you breathed, your words brushing against his lips, “we’re gonna have a lot of explaining to do,” your eyes flickered to the cameras lining the federal building before you.

He rolled his eyes, chuckling, “Forgive me if I don’t care.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” you pressed a chaste peck to his lips.

“Mm,” he hummed as you pulled away, “I have been waiting to do that for a while.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that for a while.”

Your teasing tone was not lost on him as he bumped your nose with his, “We are both going to get sick from this rain.”

“Worth it,” you sighed, connecting his lips with your own once again.

And he couldn’t agree more. Even when you both caught a nasty cold, even when Strauss confronted you about your ‘romantic endeavors’, even when the team teased the living hell out of both of you- it was all worth it.

You were worth it.

***

Stanley Usher sat in his living room, flipping through channels before landing on the news, the local weather man flashing on the screen.

“-and, as the weekends come, we expect precipitation on the west coast-“

And he felt it, the phantom metal around his middle finger, the overwhelming warmth in his chest. He looked to the ceiling, almost able to hear the soft patter of rain on pavement. His thumb brushed the coolness away from his finger, and he settled into his couch cushions, a smile never leaving his face.

taglist:

@quillvine @winterscaptain @agenthotchner @davidrossi-ismydad @misskirkstark @good-heavens-chris-evans @vintagecaptainspidey

#aaron hotchner imagines #hotch x you #criminal minds #aaron hotchner

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radiosandrecordings · 4 years

Text

So @pitviperofdoom wrote a beautiful piece I have not stopped thinking about a while ago with QPPs Jon and Gerry that you should go and read here. They kindly allowed to let me go off on a tangent inspired by it, so here’s a conversation from the night before that fic where I just get emotional over these two and let myself indulge in their dynamic.

Background GerryOliver and JonMartin. Warnings for alcohol consumption and general drunkenness.

“Who’re you gonna bring, eh?”

It was rounding on eleven o’clock, and they were both sprawled about the room, letting the dull buzz of alcohol set in. Jon was slumped on the couch, and Gerry had, at some point, collapsed into the IKEA chair with the weird curved bar holding it up that Jon had never quite trusted the stability of. He’d kicked off his boots after they’d finished eating, his socked feet now resting on the coffee table, nestled between discarded takeaway boxes and bottles of drink. The scotch still stood there uncapped, and minus three glasses. Jon had taken one when Gerry had poured it for him, and Gerry a second after that, while Jon switched to some dark, fruity cider Gerry had found for him at the back of the fridge.

Jon jolted slightly. “What?” He was on his second bottle and the only thing stopping him from nodding off then and there was the fact that suddenly, the fridge was humming incredibly loudly and it was a great distraction. That’s what he gets for getting hammered on a friday straight from work. Was he hammered? A bottle and a half of cider and one glass of scotch didn’t seem like enough to do that but the way that persistent buzzing was pounding at his skull suggested maybe that was enough for the evening.

“Well you get a plus one. Two, if you want, best man privileges and all that.”

Jon’s mouth was dry. He should really get some water. But also, he didn’t really like the thought of having to stand up. “I… Don’t know. I usually bring you.” He pulled a face. “I’m not sure I know anyone that you wouldn’t be inviting anyway.”

“No one from team spooky you’d want to bring to cry on after you walk me down the isle?”

Gerry let out an overdramatic ‘Oof’ as Jon half heartedly attempted to reach over and slap him on the leg. “Stop! Calling us! That!”

“I’ll stop calling you it when the shoe stops fitting. You’re a spooky little team that investigates spooky spooky things. You’re gonna have to accept that one day.”

“Says the man in the process of opening an exclusively horror-based bookshop with his- Well I suppose he’s going to be your husband now. Huh. God, I feel old.”

“I will not hear the good name of ‘Spine Chilling’ slandered in my household Jonathan! And- Well fuck, yeah, you’ve got a point there don’t you. Shit, when did I become ‘Bookshop Husband #2’. We used to be cool. Now we pay taxes and shit. Ripe old age of thirty.”

Jon laughed, and it only hurt his head a little bit. Small mercies. “I would argue you’re still rather cool. In my books at least.” He paused for a moment, letting the air settle into a more sombre tone. “Do you… Do you regret any of it?”

“Not for a second,” Gerry said, running his fingers along the ring that rested on his left hand. He shifted in his seat, and began to tug his hair out of the plait that had been draped over one shoulder. “You never answered the question though. What’ll it be, are we going to have to drunk find you a date? I’m sure there’s an app for fake wedding dates now. Bloody app for everything.”

“Do I need one?” Jon replied, and it came out dangerously close to a whine.

“Well no, but I can’t pay attention to you all day because apparently I’ll have a husband to stare in wonder at or some shit, and Georgie might snap if you spend more than an hour crying on her. And don’t give me that look, you’ll cry! You always say you won’t but you teared up earlier when I told you so I am doing my duty and trying to get you a cuddle buddy.”

“That’s-” Jon started, sounding almost tetchy, before deflating slightly. With Gerry, at least, he knew when to admit defeat. “Okay, so you might have a point… Has Oliver picked anyone out already?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Oh, christ.”

“Yup. Well what did you expect? Jane is his best friend, I’m sorry I know you don’t get on but I can’t exactly tell him no, you can tolerate each other for a day!”

“Worms! All over my archive! How she got them past Rosie still boggles the mind, and really-”

Gerry waved a hand as he tried to cut him off, “Okay, okay, yes I’ve heard the story more than once, I get it, I won’t even put you at the same table. If it makes it better I’ll see what whatever venue we choose’s policy on animals is. Admiral seems like he’d make a good emotional support cat. Get him a little tux or something.”

“As much as I like the idea, I’m not quite sure he’d appreciate it. Unless you’re getting wed in somewhere with copious amounts of radiators, I think he’d be better off at home.”

“You don’t know!” Gerry said, pointing wildly, some of his energy seeming to kick back in after managing to maintain a conscious conversation, “Could be getting hitched in a radiator factory. That’d be something.”

And Jon was glad Gerry was starting to feel more lively, but by the way laughter made his head pound he certainly was not. He smiled through the grimace. “Maybe so.” He had apparently, in a stroke of genius earlier, left himself a glass of water on the table. He’d take that about now, thanks.

“What about Martin?”

And now there was water spilled down his front. Great. “I’m sorry?” He sputtered.

“Don’t apologise, it’ll dry.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jon growled, setting the water back down.

Gerry gave him a faux sweet smile. There was a lapse in the conversation while Jon tugged his jumper off and tossed it onto the sofa next to him. Once he was done wrestling with the wool, Gerry spoke up again. “Seriously though, what about him? I haven’t seen you act like that with anyone since Georgie.”

“I act like that with you!” Jon cried.

“Yes, but I’m special,” Gerry said, pressing his fingers to his lips and blowing a kiss across the room. “And also, you did just admit you act a specific way with him, so. Check and mate.”

“I hate drunk Jon,” he muttered. “Okay, so, we go out for lunch sometimes, and that means I have more anecdotes to tell about him than Tim or Sasha, so I end up talking about him more. And I notice more things about him, like how he has more freckles in the summer than the rest of the year, but that’s just because he spends more time in my office because he seems determined to win the record for most tea made in a workplace environment in a year. So what?”

Gerry looked intolerably smug. “Oh, no, you keep going with your list there, really proving your point.”

Jon groaned. “Shut up.”

“Okay, I will, I will, I just.. You do clearly like him Jon. And I won’t pressure you into anything, obviously, but just give yourself a chance, huh? You’re discarding the thought out of hand.”

Jon made a ‘humph’ of petulance. “Right. Fine. Okay. When’s the wedding?”

“Will you refuse to come if I say Halloween?”

“I will get around to mocking it later, but no. That’s what…” And admittedly, the alcohol was enough that he had to count on his fingers for this one, “Nine? Nine months away?”

“You got it in the end.”

“Once again, Mr Delano-Banks, shut your mouth-”

“Hey-”

“I will update you in eight months time. Until then you are not to bring it up. Deal?”

Gerry stuck out a bottom lip, “Not sure I was expecting that to be how I heard that name for the first time, but wow, okay. And yes, that’s a deal.”

“Good. Now if you excuse me, I am promptly about to pass out on your sofa.”

Gerry got up and stretched, the sound of his knuckles popping making Jon cringe. He glanced up at the clock, before moving the offending jumper away and letting himself drop down on the sofa next to Jon. “Not even midnight yet. What’d I say. Old men, the both of us.”

“Shush. Pillows can’t talk,” Jon muttered, gently manoeuvring his partner so they were both lying horizontal on the sofa, before burying his face in Gerry’s shoulder.

“G’night” he muttered into the sofa fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Gerry said, pressing a quick kiss to Jon’s hair. “I am too.”

#My Post #god I struggle to write for SO LONG. and then these two have me writing 1.5K in one sitting. huh #Jongerry #The Magnus Archives #Jonathan Sims #Gerard Keay #Gerry Delano #the professional tag and the better tag #... okay so it has it referenced so I can get away with tagging it #Jonmartin #My Writing

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ladyideal · 4 years

Text

Ficmas~ Day 5

Pairing: Jim Kirk x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word Count: 1421

Warnings: Canon death, all fluff

Requested by: @mournthewicked

Summary: Jim asks you to be his fake s/o, then you both end up falling in love.

A/n: 😍😍😍😍 went a little different then I intended but here we go.

"Captain," You greeted after ringing the bell. "Care to share some whiskey?"

You held up a bottle and 2 glasses.

"Sure, come in come in."

Shore leave was announced a month ago, and the ship buzzed to life. Crewmembers swapped plans, friends made stops together, vacations were researched and booked. Everyone focused hard on their reports, sending them up to their immediate commanding officers when finished and relayed to Command.

"Made any plans yet, Y/N?" Jim popped the cork off, pouring a generous glug into each glass and handing one to you.

You shrugged, swirling the alcohol around the glass. "Not sure. Definitely visit my dad and then maybe go on a plane to Europe probably. Have you?"

"Of course I have! See my mom, see how it's going with Bones and Joanna," He answered, taking a sip. "Get called Uncle Jim and how I owe a blanket fort. Can't wait. What kind of plans do you call yours?!"

"Impulsive plans."

He snorted, but before he could reply a call came in from his PADD.

"Shoo. Go take the call," You took a sip, taking out yours so you didn't eavesdrop.

"Oh it's mom. I'll be right back," He looked apologetic before answering the call and taking the PADD into his bedroom.

You made yourself at home as you waited. Jim was one of your close friends ever since you stumbled across him during one of his nightly ship rounds. It was one of the rare nights you took on Gamma shift when you found him strolling through the corridors near your lab.

"Uh Jim?" You called, drinking the last of your glass. "I think I'll leave first, and stop by another time."

"James?" Winona spoke, loud enough you could hear. "Who is that in your room?"

"Mom, it's Y/N. I've talked about them before. They're one of my-."

"Oh my lord, are you seeing them?" His mom squealed in delight, covering her mouth with both hands. "Why didn't you tell me you were dating, Jim? Your father would've been delighted to meet them."

As Jim rounded the corner, you could see the confusion, desperation, and the anxiety flipped through his face before turning his attention to you. "Go with it for me, please?" He mouthed over the PADD as his mom continued gushing over him.

You furrowed your brows at him before realization dawned. He didn't want to disappoint his mother. After so long on being on his own, no wonder Winona was excited.

"Hi Mrs Kirk," You answered loudly.

"James Tiberious Kirk, you turn the screen over to them right this minute," He did so, cringing at being called his full name. "Oh my god, I'm so happy that you make my son so happy. It's so wonderful to finally meet you. Here I was thinking that my James would be in love with anyone. How long has it been?"

"Around three months," You made up an amount of time, scooching over the sofa so that the blonde could sit next to you. Your knees touched briefly, and nearly everything within shriveled up.

"Only three months! All my son talks is about you and only you. You make him so happy. Oh, I'm so happy he found you. Stop by soon and see me, will you? I can't wait to see you in person, Y/N."

You and Jim shared a look.

And that was exactly how you found yourself getting out of the airport taxi and thanking the driver.

"So here we are," Jim spoke, taking out the duffel bags. "Iowa, home."

"Home," You echoed, listening to how odd the sound tasted. The ship was your home now, since your immediate family stopped communications when you enrolled into Starfleet years ago.

He attempted a smile. "Thank you for this, Y/N. I just don't want to see my momma sad. I'll make this up to you."

"James, Y/N! You're both here!" Winona danced out the front door, hugged her son, and then you. "Oh it is so wonderful to see you in person, Y/N. I couldn't believe my ears when James said he was dating."

"Mom," Jim mumbled, looking embarrassed. "Could we head in first? It's been a long ride."

"Of course, come in, come in. Let this be your home too, Y/N," She led you in, peppering your supposed to be boyfriend with questions. You didn't have the heart to correct her. Even after 3 years of graduating from the Academy, not even a message was sent your way. "I have the guest room all ready for you."

"Here, let me show you around the house," Jim offered, and gratefully you accepted. Two story houses was definitely going to be confusing.

"So uh this is my room," He spoke, opening the door and letting you go in first. There were photos of his family hung on the walls along with some band posters, medals, certificates, his Starfleet Academy diploma, and various other items. The wooden desk was on the far right corner, complete with a desk light and some extra stylus. To the immediate right was the closet, a bookshelf on the left, and a freshly made bed tucked into the far left corner.

"You have a brother?" You asked, beelining for the photo frame first.

"Sam, but he's named after dad," The blonde spoke, placing both duffel bags on the bed. "He's on Deneva, working as a research biologist for Starfleet too."

"You've never mentioned him before," You pulled your attention away from the frame and other parts of his room.

"Never came up."

That was true. He'd talk about his mom more often than not, but no one else. You weren't nosy either. But that was how you started your first few days at Jim's and getting to know him and his mom a little better. After a week, things were more comfortable and routine.

Some days he would take you on a trip with his dad's motorcycle and show you around Riverside. Some days he would take you out on dates, catch up with old friends, and enjoy being back home.

For the first time, you even wondered if this was even be called fake dating anymore. The man himself could easily drop the act when his mom wasn't around,

Unless…

"Hey, Y/N. Mom wants to head to Dad's cemetery, said we should go say hi and clean his place. Do you want to come?" Jim spoke from the other sofa, feet still on the arms and watching you.

Meet the famous First Officer George Kirk of the USS Kelvin?

"Yeah, I'll come," You spoke, getting to your feet.

The memorial was open when the car pulled through. Rows of names could be found etched on stones in front of a small lot of flowers or a tree, while some only had just the headstones. The trees gently rocked alongside the cool breeze, as birds chirped under the sunlight. Snow flurries drifted down, floating along the wind that carried it far and wide.

"Here we are," Winona spoke, finally stopping at a name. "Not a day goes by that I don't have him in my mind. I'm sure he would have loved to have met you, Y/N. It takes someone special James after all he's gone through."

You eyed Jim as he knelt down, dusted the dirt and the fresh snow off the memorial, and placed fresh flowers to the side.

"Come, Y/N. Let me introduce you to my dad." He spoke, patting the patch of green grass beside him.

"If you say so, Cap," You shuffled closer, despite feeling that you shouldn't intrude on the family's privacy.

And so Jim introduced you to his father, how he knew you, became friends, and then started dating not very long ago. That he was happy and excited that someone made him happy. While he spoke, your thoughts wandered off to your previous ones.

Was this all a ruse or was he really actually wanting this? Of course, like many others, he was once the source of your romantic interests, but never got the courage to speak to him till that night.

On the ride back home with his mom driving and singing along to a song on the radio, you confronted him.

"I don't think we're playing pretend anymore, are we?"

He took your hand in his, gently squeezed it, and smiled his usual beautiful blinding smile. "Welcome to the Kirk family, Y/N."

"Love you too."

Eats Everything: @mournthewicked @asraime @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @aspiring-ginger @groovyfluxie @also-fangirlinsweden @keijibum @bluesclues-1234 @mysoulshideaway @fandom-imagination-ss @mayday1284 @sayanythingcreations @charlielotte @supergeekfangirl @your-sparklywinnercollection

Trekkies: @marvelouslytrekking @lykxzandlove @april-showers-and-flowers @mrs-l-mccoy @piccolaromana @strange-old-worlds @scraftskhu35 @worm-cant-read @fandomismymiddlename @childofthecornflakes @yueci @lgbtqcontinuum @dartheldur @goddess-of-many-fandoms @crackheadcastdirector @writerdee1701

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heliosthegriffin · 4 years

Text

Prodigy AU, Part II

AN: I’ll think of a proper name soon enough.

Part I

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

The young Jaune Arc had a affinity for the woods, to him, it was his special place. The were no rules in the woods, there were no older siblings to boss him around, and there were no parents to ignore him. It was just him and the woods.

He could run around till he was out of breathe, he could scream till his throat hurt, say all kinds of nasty mean words and names that would get him the spanking of his short life, and best of all there was no one out here to judge him, he was by himself, and he liked it that way.

He had found out early in his life if he wanted to be alone, and to not snap at anybody, the best place to go was the woods. If he tried to go to his room there would either be someone waiting for him wanting him to do something for them, or they’d show up after he decided he wanted to be left alone. He loved his family, he didn’t really like them all the time though.

So like uncounted times before when he got frustrated at his family he returned to the woods, were he could feel like he belonged for a little while, where he didn’t have to feel bad about being different from his sisters.

Jaune never really had a direct path in the woods, but he often had a destination he’d find his way to, one way or after retracing his steps that way.

It was a large clearing maybe thirty feet across and letting more than fifteen feet wide. It was also covered in leaves, tree branches, and small trees and other brush. Occasionally a small animal or bird landed here, but by and large, this was Jaune’s hiding spot, this is where he laid lowed when he was mad or sad or anything in between.

Jaune looked over his clearing let out a small sigh of happiness, and then took off his shirt, revealing his bony, and surprising pale visage to the world. He then got looked around for his stick, there were many like it, but this was the one that was his.

His was a simple gnarled branch, thick as his wrist and longer than his leg, that had also had the bark shaved off and was shaped into a sword. He had done all the work himself, with a knife he borrowed from his dad’s toolshed... That he borrowed without asking.

Jaune didn’t have a name for his wooden sword, it was just his training sword till he could use Crocea Mors, the sword of his ancestor.

Jaune briefly dreamed of using Crocea Mors, of drawing it’s steel into the air and slaying entire hordes of Grimm, of using it’s shield to block canonfire and toss back Goliaths!

But, the feeling of rough wood in his hands brought him back to earth. He gripped it with both hands and did a simple overhand cut, creating a pleasant whistling sound to his ears.

It still felt a little heavy, but he liked it that way, and if it got too light, he’d replace it again like with the others.

Nodding to himself, Jaune got to work with his daily routine. He put aside his sword and went to work with the strengthening excersies he looked up. Starting with Jumping jacks, squats, lunges, and ending with some exercises to limber up before he did his sword practice.

Jaune felt a pleasent burn throughout his body, and took some deep breaths, his face red with excertion, but he powered through, and grabbed his wooden sword.

He gripped his sword and then began his training, raising his wood to the air he started with one hundred overhead strikes.

“One ... Two... Three...” Continuing till he reached his set. Then began his work at going through sideways strikes, diagonal cuts, and then working his way through various thrusts, doing a hundred of each, counting out each one and restarting if he slipped up.

Jaune let his practice sword fall to the ground, his arms shaky with fatigue and very sore. He took a seat against a mossy tree, and let his body do it’s magic, before he did his final set.

Jaune wasn’t sure why he did this everyday, he didn’t particularly like it, it was kinda boring, he wasn’t impressing anyone, and he was always so sore!

He leaned harder into the moss, and wasn’t like anyone was going to see him and be like ‘Oh, look at him he’s so awesome!’ He let out a sigh, his sweat soaked bangs falling over his face.

He was unable to quit though, even now with his body sore and aching, he could feel the call of the wild through him granting him energy again, something about being out in the woods just seemed to refresh him, his legs were shaking in place both from working out and from wanting to get moving again. Somedays, it just felt like he never ran out of energy till his head hit the pillow.

Jaune looked at the dense woods around him, and wondered if it as just park of playing in the woods so much? That maybe spending so much time around around the wilderness it stained himself with it.

Tossing his head around, getting rib of cricks in his neck, looking up at the grey-toned autumn sky, he had to be honesty that it was just as much mental as physical. He enjoyed becoming stronger, even if nobody notice, just a couple of months ago he struggled picking up a twenty-five pound weight with two arms, and now he could pick it up with one arm, even if he struggled to do so.

There was also that worming sensation in the back of his head too, that idea of trying out one more new move, or doing one more set, the idea that he could just push himself that little bit further and break his limits.

He rose on shake knees, and took a couple deep breaths, the cool air touching his hot lungs, burning nose and sore throat.

It burned in a good way though, soon the shaking settle, and smile came across his young face. He could get back too it now.

He picked up his wooden blade, ready to do another set, but his would be a different set. He set his eye on a tree, one with marred back, the one he had been practicing on.

‘Thwack-

Thwack-

Thwack-,’

Jaune began his assault on the tree practicing all the strikes he could thinks of, doing full sets of each before switching the next.

“Ouch!” Jaune said dropping the sword, his hands and wrists throbbing. The vibrations being sent down the wood, left his hands a little numb and sore.

He waved his hands in the airs, waiting to regain some feeling before he could continue.

Feeling fortunately came back soon, and he grabbed his weapon. Finishing his sets. Taking a break to catch his breath once he was done.

Now that he was done with that part came his favorite.

It wasn’t doing another set really, it was just him switching between different strikes and chaining them together different way.

His freestyling went on till he felt a fat raindrop hit his head, the cold water startling him.

He looked up, seeing darker clouds moving in with sheets of rain falling behind if.

Jaune grimaced, he’d have to leave.

He huffed a sigh, and then struck one last powerful blow against the tree, a loud cracking echoing out.

His wooden sword had a large crack darting down it’s center, Jaune looked at and did what his juvenile mind thought was the funnest. He slammed the sword again and again against the bark till it broke in two.

Jaune felt a degree of pride in breaking his wooden sword. But, then felt annoyance that he’d have to make another one.

The rain then started coming down as Jaune swiped his shirt back on, soaking it near instantly.

He was already soaked, so Jaune decided to just meander his way home and instead of trying to beat the storm home.

---------

Jaune ran through the rain towards his back door, tossing open the door and slamming it closed as he got in.

“Jaune Arc! What have I told you about slamming the door!”

Jaune jumped as his mother yelled at him.

Jaune looked into the kitchen where his mother sat next to his father, and the rest of his family around the table.

His mother did not look pleased.

‘Uh-oh.’

“Um, you said not to do it?” Jaune said carefully.

His mother looked at him sharply, “I believe I said, I’d take a switch to your behind, if you did it again.”

Jaune looked at his mother and then at the door, weighing his options. One, take his mother anger, or two, go without dinner.

His stomach growled, making the decision for him.

‘Traitor,’ He thought at himself.

Juniper Arc looked at her messy, dirty, and wet son.

Then sighed, “Go get cleaned up and then come down here for supper.”

Jaune looked somewhat surprised. His mother had never been one to shy away from punishment.

Juniper called out as Jaune walked up stares to the bathroom. “But, remember if you slam that damn door again, I will take a switch to your behind, understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

He thought he could hear his sisters laughing at him as he walked up stairs.

The shower was unsurprisingly cold, his sister took frequent showers and that had left him without hot water in the past, and he wasn’t allowed to use the master shower in his parents bedroom, as that was full of adult stuff.

By the time he got back to the table, his mother was doing dishes and his sisters were nowhere in sight, not even Joan, but she had become more and more out of sight over the last couple of months. Sometimes it felt like he was only one who realized he was still here.

Jaune ate his dinner silently, eating a large portion of roast beef, mash potatoes, greens, a couple rolls, and a couple pieces of blueberry cobbler.

He heard laughing.

He looked up to his mother.

“Boy, if you keep eating so much, I might have to charge ya.”

Jaune didn’t think it was that funny, but he faked a laugh. “If you don’t want me to eat so much, you shouldn’t cook so much!” Jaune said trying to play along.

“Heh, alright then,” His mother than looked over the table at the much emptier table. “Well, with you around at least the dishes are easier to clean, now are you ready to help your mom clean up?”

Jaune wanted to roll his eyes, as though it was ever a question on whether he’d help or not, it was an unwritten Arc family rule, that the last to the table helped clean it up.

Not that he mind spending time with his mother.

Helping his mother do the dishes didn’t take long, the CCT connection was spotty on a good day, with a storm about it was near zero and what was left was being hogged by his sisters. So, Jaune busied himself with videos he had downloaded on his scroll, watching Hunters fight Grimm or Criminal.

He wanted to be like that one day.

AN: Most of these beginning chapter will be about training, how Jaune changes his training, and how he increases his training, but, it’ll also feature frequent time-skips, as I doubt anybody wants to read a hundred chapters of expostion on training and conditioning. I’ll try to do some stuff with the Arc family, but that kinda hard considering only Saphron really exists, and the other have no set personality. So I’ll either keep them to a minimum or make some OC’s.

#Prodigy AU #Jaune Arc

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amerrierworld · 4 years

Text

Three Times Over (pt 3)

Ocean’s 8 - fan fiction

Pt 1 | 2

Summary: You, Lou, Debbie. A road trip.

Characters: Lou x fem!reader x Debbie

Word Count: 2,461

Warnings: the end to a trilogy folks. Super Fluff and NSFW. Hope you enjoy!

“You’re lost, aren’t you?”

“I’m not lost, Ocean. Shut up.”

“Lou. Admit it. You’re fucking lost.”

Lou huffed, looking up from the map to glare at Debbie as you wandered by the road edge, overlooking hills and a far-away shoreline. You kicked some stones from the gravel on the ground, turning your head to bask in the setting sun heat.

The three of you decided to take an impromptu road trip on Lou’s new motor cycle, loaded with money from the last heist. You’d been squished between the blonde and brunette on the bike, holding on for dear life for the whole trip so far. Somewhere along the way, Lou had pulled over -something about watching the view or enjoying the outdoors?- to glare at the map.

She was so lost.

“Look, I might have taken a wrong turn somewhere, fine. But that doesn’t mean we’re lost.”

“Lou, that is literally the definition of lost,” you giggled, hands shoved deep in your pockets. She shot you a look but you blew her a kiss and her eyes softened a bit.

You hurried over to her, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind. “It’s okay we’re lost, baby,” you said. “Cause look at this view we got to catch because of it.”

“We’re not lost,” Lou mumbled defensively. You and Debbie shared a look.

“How about I just look up where we are?” she said, waving her phone in Lou’s face, who groaned.

“But that ruins the adventure,” she whined, and you hugged her tighter. “Ugh, fine. I’m trying to find the same motel from the last time I went down these roads.”

Within minutes, you figured out where you were and you were back on the road after Lou had analyzed and remembered the directions. Cool summer air whipped past your face and you felt an occasional kiss against the back of your head from Debbie.

The sky was darkening by the time you arrived at the motel, at the centre of a small rural town with a gas station and a shop or two. A motorcycle trip with three people didn’t leave room for too much luggage but you and Debbie had managed to sufficiently pack small backpacks to bring along. Food you could buy easily, that wasn’t an issue.

Lou checked the three of you in, greeting the motel owners with a familiar hug and sliding them extra tips for letting the three of you share one room meant for two. They didn’t question it with the sight of more green bills being passed their way.

“It’s surprisingly cozy,” you said as you walked in. Dim yellow lights lit up the room with a nice view of the forest behind the motel.

“Oh, the owners owed me a favour from the last time I was here. Helped them out of a scam. I might have conned them in the process but they’re none the wiser,” Lou shrugged as she flopped down on the bed. “The one reason why I always come back here is cause they actually clean their rooms.”

“Hey!” Debbie scolded. “Boots, missy. We all have to share that bed.”

Lou grumbled again and tugged her black boots off her feet, tossing them on the floor before shuffling up further on the bed, falling asleep almost instantly. Debbie grabbed your hand and the two of you wandered the town, buying some food and drinks from the convenience shops and chatting with the locals. It was quiet and peaceful; streetlights brightening the roads and the weather cozy enough for you to wander around without any burdening layers.

Lastly you bought ice creams from the gas station and a pack of cigarettes for Lou before heading back to the room, where you found said blonde snoring into the pillows. You gently shook her awake to ask if she wanted food and soon the three of you were sitting on the bed in a pile, eating junk food as the rickety ceiling fan spun above you.

“Where are we going after this?” you asked as you popped open a bag of chips.

“It’s a surprise,” Debbie said.

“Ugh, no fair,” you said, puffing your cheeks indignantly. “Why do I always get left out of the planning?”

“We just want to spoil you baby,” Lou said, nuzzling your cheek. “You’re the only one who hasn’t seen the place yet, so we wanted to make it special.”

You pouted at Debbie insistently, who sighed in response. “Fine, you brat. It’s a cottage.”

“What! No way, how on earth do you own a cottage?”

“It’s a family property; well, technically it was Dannie’s, and now it’s mine, since he’s dead,” she said.

“If he’s dead,” Lou chuckled. “But,” she continued, holding you tighter, “it does mean we gotta get up early tomorrow to get there. It’s a few hours away. I don’t want to drive over those bumpy roads in the dark.”

“Mkay,” you agreed. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Of course,” Debbie said, a loving look in her eyes as she watched the two of you. “Now pass me the gummies before Lou eats them all.”

You turned on the tv where the only channel that worked was a crappy crime show. Lou and Debbie kept pointing out rookie mistakes by the criminals and cons of the show and you found yourself falling asleep with your head in Lou’s lap and your legs on top of Debbie’s.

The next morning you awoke at the crack of dawn, three sets of limbs tangled with each other as the rickety fan kept spinning. After a meagre and quick breakfast you were back on the bike and speeding along the countryside while the sun came up.

The cottage was close to the edge of a beautiful forest with dirt roads leading to it. Debbie led you inside while Lou put her bike away.

It was basically just a regular house plopped in the middle of the forest. The Ocean siblings clearly spared no expense for this place. Debbie gave you a quick tour and you marvelled at the beautiful home.

“..and this is the guest room, though we most likely won’t be using that,” Debbie said with a wink. You giggled and pinched her side, leading her to gasp in mock offence and chase you through the hallways.

After digging through the kitchen with Lou to look for preservatives, cans and frozen food that were still good to use and eat, Debbie walked by the two of you, her hair up in a knot and a large towel wrapped around her body.

“I dunno about you two, but I’m knackered. I’m gonna go take a bath,” she announced. Both you and Lou stopped and couldn’t help but watch as she hurried up the stairs. Just before she disappeared around the corner to the master bathroom she gave a flick of her hair and tugged the towel off with one hand to sling it over her shoulder, leaving her stark naked.

“Care to join me?” she chuckled at the top of the stairs. Neither of you needed to be asked twice.

Clothes lay strewn about the floor leading into the bathroom. The tub, thank God, was enormous.

“Jesus, it’s like a fucking pool,” you exclaimed, dipping one foot in. Debbie sat at the other end, submerged in the water to her shoulders with a glass of champagne, looking every bit a luxurious home-owner who definitely didn’t do anything illegal for a living.

The warm, floral scented water enveloped your body and all the aches in your body from riding calmed down. You sighed contently and twisted your body to watch Lou undressing.

“Down, girl,” she scolded you after catching your hungry gaze while she unbuttoned her shirt.

“Hm. Make me,” you grinned back. She nearly lunged at you, barely able to finish undressing as you scurried back before she could grab you. You were met with Debbie’s arms around your middle pulling you flush against her, her lips nibbling at the shell of your ear.

One of her hands trailed down to rub teasingly along the inside of your thighs and you shuddered at the feeling. Lou stepped into the bath opposite you, dipping low into the water and coming closer. Her own hands pulled your ankles apart and she moved in between them, kissing you softly as Debbie began circling your clit.

“Hm, this is a much better surprise than the cottage itself,” you commented as Lou moved down your neck, hands fondling your breasts and Debbie starting to rub your clit diligently.

“Yeah? You like it here?” she asked with a smirk against your hair. You nodded, limbs trembling as Lou sucked a bruise into your damp skin. “We can stay as long as you want, baby.”

“Well, uh, until the food runs out,” Lou remarked. Your chest began heaving as Debbie worked up your arousal under the water. Lou moved away to give you more space but you grabbed her waist and pulled her closer. She let out a groan of surprise as her own centre came in touch with yours and Debbie’s persistent fingers. You pulled her even closer, legs entwining so that you could feel her against her and you bit and sucked at her jawline as she rubbed herself against the two of you.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Debbie whispered in your ear as she felt the two of you against her fingers under the water.

Lou’s fingertips dug into your thighs and she shuddered as her orgasm took over, the sight of your face and Debbie looking just as aroused sending her over the edge. She growled into your shoulder as she came, hips jerking. Debbie kept moving her hand, making Lou tremble with aftershocks from her persistent fingers.

“F-fuck,” you stammered, your breath ragged as Debbie kept pushing you further and further. “W-wait, I wanna.. do something else..”

Debbie halted her movements and Lou watched you patiently. You turned around, pulling Debbie to sit up on the sturdy edge of the tub right by the wall and moving in between her legs. She got the hint and smirked deviously as she opened her legs for you and you wasted no time in licking a long stripe up one leg to her cunt. She tasted salty- no doubt from the bath salts she used in the water, but her skin was warm, wet and glowing, and you dug in hungrily.

As you worked on sucking on Debbie’s clit and teasing her entrance with your tongue, Lou’s slick body moved up against you and a hand wormed its way back under the water to press against your clit, spiking your arousal tenfold again. There was a yank that lifted Lou’s body slightly off of you and looking up, you saw Debbie focusing on Lou behind you, no doubt with a hand pulling at her hair.

You moaned as Lou’s fingers twisted and pressed your clit and folds, sending waves of pleasure through Debbie who slumped against the wall, eyes shutting.

“Curl your fingers inside her, Y/N,” Lou whispered in your ear. “She likes that.”

You made a noise of understanding just as Lou lifted your ass out of the water for a better angle. “Just like this, baby girl, I’ll show you.”

You gasped as Lou pressed two fingers inside you from behind, the other hand holding you up to show you exactly what she meant. Despite your trembling body, you mimicked Lou’s movements on Debbie, fucking her with your fingers. She was right, Debbie was soon writhing and begging to cum.

Focusing extra hard and pushing your own arousal down for just a little longer, you curled your fingers inside her just as your lips sucked hard on her clit. Debbie’s hips stiffened and she bit down on her own hand as she came. You were looking up at her lovely, flushed face and nearly came undone by the sight alone, but Lou stopped her motions just there, leaving you teetering on the edge.

“Wha- n-no, I was so close,” you whined at the loss. Lou turned you around, gazing at you with a playful look in her eyes. Her hands guided you to sit against the edge of the tub, between Debbie’s legs, and moved you up with ease in the water until you found yourself straddling Lou’s thighs. Your mouth opened wide in shock.

Debbie’s hands ran through the wet locks of your hair first, cooing at you as you began rocking back and forth, your earlier denial making you extra horny for release. Lou held you tightly as you moved up and down against her thigh, helping you out with motions of both her leg and arms, making sure that you were grinding deep against her.

Hands reached down to pinch your nipples and Debbie licked a hot stripe up your neck from behind. As Lou’s nails dug into your ass and Debbie’s hands gripped your breasts, you came with a desperate cry.

“Good girl,” Debbie murmured in your ear, kneading your breasts softly as you rocked against Lou, shaking uncontrollably. “God, you’re so perfect. You both are.”

“N-no, you guys are more perfect,” you breathed out, your head falling back against Debbie’s middle. Lou took the opportunity to lean down and suck your aching nipples.

“We can do this all day, Y/N. You’re perfect for us,” she said as she eased your body down from her thigh, letting you submerge a little further into the water.

“I don’t ever wanna leave,” you murmured as Debbie’s hands raked through your hair again.

“Good,” the brunette responded. “Cause we don’t want to either.”

Lou grabbed a bar of soap and began rubbing your sore legs with it. “Good thing about bath sex is that you can get as dirty as you want while still being clean,” she commented. You giggled as Lou ran the bar up your thighs, working it deep in the sore muscles and you almost dozed off again.

“Alright gals, move over, let me back in, it’s getting cold up here,” Debbie said. You pushed yourself up off of her and she came off the edge to settle into the warm water. You turned around to kiss her on the mouth, arms wrapping tightly around her neck and she returned the kiss eagerly.

You took the bar of soap from Lou and moved behind Debbie to rub and wash her back, admiring the smooth skin with your hands. As you did, Debbie and Lou shared a heated, passionate kiss that made you beam. Not an ounce of jealously filled you and you hugged Debbie tightly from behind, moving the soap from her back to her abdomen and pressing a soft kiss against her hair.

A/N: Aaahh! Here u go! We can never have too much smut and fluff with these ladies honestly. Though I’m gonna say this is officially the final instalment of Three Times Over, it doesn’t mean it’s the last piece I’ll write for Debbie x Lou x you ;) You never know what can happen! Love u all

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cross-d-a · 4 years

Text

fic tag game

aaahhh @vishcount thank you for tagging me!!! These are so fun and I adored reading about your fic journey~! ೖ(⑅σ̑ᴗσ̑)ೖ ❤

OH as a note!! For the ppl I tag at the end I don’t expect you to read all of this bc it’s A Lot!!! but I figured you might want to do this game yourself? haha :)

Name: cross-d-a shortened version of my first ever username. unfortunately stuck with it now haha but i’m fond of it :p wish it was cuter tho!!

Posting the rest of this under the cut so it doesn’t eat up people’s dashes!!

(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Fandoms:

oKAY YIKES there are....honestly too many too name. I’ve got a short and obsessive attention span so it’s either all or nothing with me usually. When I can stay in a fandom for a long period of time it’s a miracle. I’ll name the bigger ones that I’ve all written fic for! Even if I’ve never posted them haha

Right now I’m very firmly into Daomu Biji (dmbj). It feels like it’s both got a crap ton of content and yet barely anything at all haha. Maybe because the English fandom is so small. But at least there are a bunch of dramas and books!!! I really, really, really adore dmbj so much!! And a large part of that is the fandom!!! It's been a really cool and unique experience! Everyone in it is truly so kind and wonderful, and I’ve made some really incredible friends because of it (looking at you vish!! ❤). I’ve got a bunch of wips, but I’ve only posted two fics for dmbj!

Before this I was very into Guardian and mdzs. MDZS was my first foray into cdramas and Guardian’s Zhu Yilong really suckered me into watching more haha I also have fics for both these fandoms!

My very first fandoms were Fullmetal Alchemist, D. Gray-Man and Naruto. My very old ffnet account has fics for these and I’ve got a bunch of newer wips on my tablet. Then Star Trek, Twilight, BBC Merlin, Sherlock, Death Note, Harry Potter, How to Train Your Dragon, Battlestar Galactica, Avatar the Last Airbender and Marvel were a few of my main ones in high school. Plus a bunch of anime (like Fruits Basket! and Kuroshitsuji and Natsume Yuujinchou).

Then college hit and I renewed my childhood love of Tolkien (mainly lotr and the Hobbit), and Star Wars. I also found Teen Wolf! Then after college it was Stranger Things.

I find myself in a cycle of mild fondness and complete obsession with these fandoms haha I go back to Star Wars at least once a year!! Then I’m in the gffa hole for a few months. Marvel also reoccurs, depending on how interested I am in new content! Star Trek I always always always go back to. TOS is my comfort show and it will never fade from my heart ❤

But for now I’m stuck in cdrama hell and I love it

Tropes:

Time travel, found family, whump+hurt/comfort, fairytale-like elements, resurrective immortality (thanks to a “Nine Lives” Hobbit fic), CROSSOVERS

I’m a slut for all these things so they often worm their way into my plots haha

I also just- love weird premises. I think that’s the anime influencing me haha

Fic I spent most time on:

My series he leaves sand and stardust in my wake (main fic is hurricane on the edge of oblivion), I have...spent five years on now. I have done so much research for this fic it’s insane.

The premise is force ghost!Obi-Wan getting shunted back into his tiny 10 year old self. I incorporate a shit ton of legends and I try to stay as canon as possible. I basically want this au to feel like it’s 1000% plausible while still getting all my gay shit. It’s chock full of whump, redemption, found family, minor characters turning into major characters, and I’ve got slavery uprising on the mind, too. It’s just- everything I could ever want to explore in the Star Wars universe basically.

It’s my first big project. I started doodling and scribbling ideas in the margins of my notebook in my Scottish History class. I adore it so so so much. But, because of my hyperfixation and fleeting intense obsession with things it makes it- really difficult to consistently update. I leave it for months at a time and I am constantly guilt-ridden about it. Because it’s my baby and I have a lot of wonderful readers. I fear I’ll never be able to finish it. Especially since I’ve written so much and I’m still only in the beginning of it. ( ; A ; )

Also, I’ve spent so much time with Xanatos, Feemor and Bruck that they just feel like mine now. I can’t read any fics that involve them, it’s too strange. Which is a damn shame because I love them so much haha OH ALSO!! I think it’s the first really big fic to include those three?? So I’m very proud about that haha (I’ve had so many ppl comment about how they actually Give A Shit about these three and are Invested bc of me haha)

Favorite fic(s) you’ve written:

hurricane on the edge of oblivion (with nowhere to go) (Star Wars)

My long-term passion project. My love-letter to Star Wars, I suppose. Reading it now I feel like a lot of it is clunky or long-winded, but I think it really shows the foundation of my writing today :) Main characters are Obi-Wan, Xanatos Du Crion, Qui-Gon Jinn, Bruck Chun and Feemor. Eventually we’ll get to Maul, Savage, Feral, Shmi Skywalker, (more!) Ahsoka, Anakin and a shit ton of clones ❤

things we hunger for (Guardian)

My Ye Zun self-indulgent fic. It’s a time travel amnesia Weilanzun! Honestly has some of my fav writing I’ve ever done. It’s so soft and really indulges in the hurt/comfort. It gives Ye Zun the friends and family I think he deserves. Also, he gets to grow into a (mostly!) functional person and I adore him.

the beast that slumbers within your soul (mdzs)

Jiang Cheng centric fic!! I feel like all my favourite fics I’ve written are love letters haha. This is one def my love letter to Jiang Cheng. This fic possessed me for two whole days. I wrote 16k in almost one sitting. I went to sleep at 6 in the morning bc I couldn’t stop writing. And when I drifted off I kept thinking of new ideas so I’d whip out my phone and write down lines and notes. I- have never ever ever felt that way about anything. It was- insane. It felt insane. It was so amazing. I’m still riding the memory of that high.

Basically Jiang Cheng actually finds Baoshan Sanren and it turns out she’s a fox demon and Jiang Cheng is descended from wolves. It’s- okay I said the fic above this had my favourite writing?? That was a lie. This has my favourite writing I’ve ever done. It’s unfinished bc I am in dmbj hell but I am still excited about the next chapter which features Wei Wuxian’s pov!!

the whispers of spirits (dmbj)

My current passion project. In a way it kinda feels similar to hurricane? Bc multiple povs, incorporating different aspects of canon (we’ll get there!! I promise!), shit ton of research, etc. etc. I really really really love it for so many reasons. I’m basically taking all the things I was unsatisfied with in Reboot and Sha Hai and running with it. Found family and whump galore! It’s also a love letter to the women of dmbj who really deserve so so so much better.

Honourable mention to:

One Day (you’ll have given more of yourself than is meant to be taken) (Marvel)

This fic also kinda possessed me. I just- couldn’t get rid of the idea of a trans!Thor. And I mean a mtf Thor! It’s just? So many people look at Thor and go “that’s a Real Man.” Full stop. They never think there could be anything more, and it really really really bothered me. So I wrote out my feelings. I’m not trans. I don’t have that experience at all. I’ve had issues and confusion about my gender but nothing like this. I just wanted to do justice to this idea of Thor in my head. And I still feel a bit nervous having posted it. But I've gotten so many comments from people who really connected with what I’ve written? So I’m very very thankful I wrote it and it has a very special place in my heart. It’s a very cathartic fic.

Fic I spent least time on:

Probably we rise (Star Wars) and I think it shows haha. I wrote it in response to Dave Filoni posting a drawing of Ahsoka and Gandalf telling her “People thought I was dead, too, and look how that turned out...” So I incorporated Ahsoka (and Din and Grogu and Ezra!!!) into the ending of Rise of Skywalker, kinda explaining how I think they could all still be alive. :)

Longest fic:

hurricane is my longest fic (159k) but I’m kinda worried whispers will eclipse that.....

Shortest fic:

Of my posted ones it’s The Five Moments it Took Tony and Scott to Admit They Were Best Friends (and the first time they ever did), currently clocks at 1.6k. It’s unfinished tho so maybe that doesn’t count.... otherwise it’s we rise which is completed and 2k.

Most hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks:

hurricane overall has the most of all these. Though I don’t think hits counts as much bc it’s multi-chapter. If you discount multi-chapter stuff, most hits goes to my obikin smutfic Homecoming, bc people are horny af haha

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on:

If I had energy I’d like to rewrite the beginning of hurricane bc it feels so so wordy. I’d want to expand on One Day bc I really would like to write a whole series with trans!Thor. And like- I’d really like the focus to finish any of my WIPs.

Share a bit of a WIP: I really wanna share my Guardian/dmbj crossover that I started back in August. Bc I adore the idea of wu xie&shen wei&ye zun triplets! Plus time travel!!! I dunno if I’ll ever finish it tho ( ; A ; ) It just feels like a lot to deal with right now.

This scene takes place during the Mountain Awl arc. Guardian crew and desperado fam run across each other at the village! Wu Xie has recently found out that he’s adopted and he’s searching for answers in the area Sanshu originally found amnesiac!toddler!Wu Xie in :) Gonna pull two snippets bc I’m v excited and this might be the only time anyone else sees this fic haha:

“Oh?” Pangzi focuses on Yunlan now, lips twisting. “You think I’ve ‘got the wrong guy,’ huh?” He laughs, but it’s not a nice sound. “That’s rich! Are you that cocky or are you just stupid?”

Bristling, Yunlan drops his hands and scowls. “Excuse me?”

“Sir,” Shen Wei tries. “I think—”

Pangzi’s eyes snap back to Shen Wei, sharp and blazing. “How dare you fucking steal his face!”

What?

Automatically, Zhao Yunlan turns to Shen Wei, but the professor looks just as shell-shocked as Zhao Yunlan feels which- is seriously something. Since everything about Shen Wei is so carefully controlled, kept to the minimum. Except for those delightful little smiles that bloom across his lovely face, or the startled little bursts of laughter that fall from his lips. Or even when anger and frustration spark across his features, cracking his calm veneer open enough that he can see a glimmer of what lies beneath, the fire in those eyes. Zhao Yunlan delights in those moments, makes a game of making Shen Wei’s control slip.

He tells himself it’s nothing more than a game. Nothing more than trying to find out what makes Shen Wei tick.

Zhao Yunlan’s always been very bad at lying to himself. Or very good. Depending on who you’re asking.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Yunlan splutters.

But before anyone can say anything else, a very familiar voice calls:

“Pangzi? What’s wrong?”

Yunlan can feel Shen Wei stiffen, and Yunlan himself is pulled to that voice like a planet in orbit, like the inevitable plummet to the ground.

Another shadow wavers in the doorway before it steps out onto the dirt. Light illuminates shaggy hair, limning it gold, sharply casting everything else in shadow. But as the figure nears, the contrast softens until Yunlan can see the newcomer’s face properly and- and—

“Wu Xie!” Pangzi growls. “We’ve got ourselves an impostor!”

The man wearing Shen Wei’s face steps up to them, brows furrowed and mouth pulled down into a sharp frown. He glances between them, eyes landing on Shen Wei. His scowl deepens. He opens his mouth, but then—

“Wu Xie?” Shen Wei breathes, all trembly and lost and hopeless.

Heart in his throat, Yunlan turns to Shen Wei again. Turns and flinches at that stricken look upon Shen Wei’s pale pinched face.

“A-Xie?” Shen Wei chokes. “Didi?”

and

Pangzi snorts. “Professor?”

“I-it’s true!”

Startled Yunlan swings his attention over to Jiajia who clenches her backpack to her chest, face screwed up in admirable determination. “P-professor Shen took me and Xiao Quan on a field trip to investigate an archeological site around here!”

“Oh?” Wu Xie drawls all slow and amused. “Well, what a coincidence. We’re archeologists, too.”

“With guns?” Yunlan bites out.

Wu Xie raises a brow, grin full of teeth. “Well, you can never be too prepared.”

“Right,” Yunlan drawls right back. “Are you a professor, too, then? You come here with your students?”

Wu Xie outright grins. “You could say that, I suppose.”

Out of the corner of his eye, one of the men rolls his eyes. He’s the one with sharp features, glasses and looped earbuds. Does he think it’s appropriate to listen to music at a time like this? Yunlan admires the man’s gall.

aahhhh vish thanks so much again for tagging me!! This was so fun to relive my fic memories!! I’m gonna tag @alwaysaslutforshakespeare @jockvillagersonly @tehfanglyfish @lichelleme @undyingsunshine @humanlighthouse @thewindsofsong I’m curious about your guys’ writing and fandom journey!! As always, no pressure to actually complete this!! I just thought it was fun ❤

Wow if you read all of this I am very humbled and impressed, thank you!!

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

#cross talks #my fic #fanfiction #uhhh what else do i tag this as i dunno #about me #cross posts #wip fic

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bubbyleh · 4 years

Text

Do I Know You? - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: We’ve Met Before

A strong silence falls over the two of them. Bubby’s initial electric panic has long since faded into a dull feeling worming around in their chest. Coomer has a hand on their back and leans against them, mostly in an attempt to stop Bubby from pacing around their dorm. They’re anxious, sure, but adding a little bit of movement won’t do anything but annoy their neighbors.

“What are you going to do?” Coomer finally asks, breaking the silence.

Bubby shifts slightly, resting their chin on top of Coomer’s head. “I don’t know,” he admits, clutching onto the back of his partner’s shirt.

Coomer hums lightly. “You know, he’s mentioned you before.”

“Really?” Bubby pulls back. “Like… baby me?”

Coomer nods. “He has a picture of the two of you in his locker. I asked him about it!”

Suddenly, Bubby grabs onto Coomer’s arms, eye slightly twitching. “Are you serious? What did he say?”

“Well,” Coomer thinks back, placing a finger on his chin. “It sounded to me like he loves you, and that he misses you terribly.”

Bubby’s shoulders slump, and they pretty much collapse onto Coomer’s chest. “Okay. I’m going to think about it,” he states, then lets out a long sigh. “I kinda want to keep reading. We could figure out my first surgery?”

“If you want to, darling,” Coomer smiles.

- ○ -

It takes a while, but eventually, Bubby decides how he’s going to break the news to Kleiner. Or rather, he comes up with half a plan that he’s honestly still working out the details for when he makes it to Kleiner’s dorm.

Something propels them forward, something that they don’t quite understand. Bubby wants Kleiner to know, more than they expected they would. It’s all very… foreign, the idea that he was someone. Could be someone.

There’s a moment of hesitation at the door, with their arm raised, where Bubby realizes that retreat is still an option. But they ignore it and proceed to knock as obnoxiously as they can manage.

Kleiner is, at first, confused when he opens his door, brows furrowed. But the second he sees that it’s Bubby who came to visit, though, his demeanor changes.

“Oh, Bubby!” Kleiner beams, clasping his hands together. “What a nice surprise! Would you like to come inside?”

Oh no.

Oh fuck no.

He’s being welcoming.

It hits Bubby, all at once. That’s his brother in front of him, smiling, happy to see him. Somehow, despite all the precautions Black Mesa took, they found their family again. Right here, Bubby can reclaim the life that this damned research facility stole from them! Be real! Be human!

And he panics.

Just in case, Bubby had brought a few of the papers from his file, in the off chance he felt the need to provide some proof to Kleiner. Instead, though, he just ends up shoving the first document—the one at the beginning of the file—into Kleiner’s hands.

“Uh, I-” Bubby struggles. Then, fight or flight kicks in, and he shouts, “Bye!” before running down the hall and back towards the trams.

Total success. It isn’t until he’s halfway back home that Bubby finally facepalms.

- ○ -

The next day is completely about damage control. Chemical Engineering is way closer to the couple’s dorms than Anomalous Materials is, so Bubby has a little less than an hour of a head start before Coomer gets back. Besides, if they’re lucky, they’ll be able to make sure Coomer forgets

anything

Kleiner may have told him.

Bubby hears the keys turn in the lock right on time. “Bubby-” Coomer calls out the second he’s in their dorm, but his partner is already a step ahead of him.

“Harold! Look!” Bubby gestures to the plate on the counter in front of them. “I made cookies!”

Coomer’s head tilts, finally noticing the warm, steaming pile of chocolate chip cookies. “Oh, they smell wonderful!” he exclaims. “Did you make them for a special occasion?”

Bubby shakes his head. “Have a few, if you want.”

Quickly, Coomer reaches out to snag a cookie, but just before he can grab one, he hesitates. He squints up at Bubby, who begins to nervously fidget with their hands.

“Bubby,” Coomer says slowly, “are these distraction cookies?”

“What? I-” Bubby stammers, squirming under the scrutiny of Coomer’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What would I even need to distract you from?” He leans a hand on the counter, tapping his foot.

“Really? There’s nothing you want to tell me?” Coomer asks, and Bubby avoids meeting his eyes. “Because Kleiner seemed awfully distraught today.”

Bubby crosses his arms, pointedly looking away.

“Darling,” Coomer sighs. He cups their cheek with his hand, brushing it with his thumb once again. Instantly, Bubby’s shoulders lose their tension, and their eyes drift back towards Coomer’s, saddened. “What happened?” he asked.

“I gave him one of the papers and ran away.” Bubby mopes. “I got scared.”

“Oh Bubby,” Coomer frowns. “You didn’t have to say anything. It’s your file.”

“But I wanted to!” Bubby insists, taking a step back. “I really want to tell him. I…” Their eyes widen in realization. “I want a brother.”

Coomer’s hand drifts down to hold their own, which Bubby grips onto as though their life depends on it.

They take a deep breath. “I thought I didn’t have any relatives for my whole life,” he explains, running his free hand through his hair. “They told me I was the only one. And finding out that they lied to me, and I have a brother, and I know him. It’s…” they sigh. “A lot.”

“Let’s take a moment,” Coomer says. “We can make use of these wonderful cookies you made-” he gestures to the plate. “-and ruin our appetites for the night!”

And just like that, Bubby smiles. “You’re the perfect man. Has anyone ever told you that?”

- ○ -

The cookies don’t last very long. Coomer’s stomach can be accurately described as a black hole, and in the time it takes Bubby to eat a single cookie, he’s practically eaten the rest. Which is fine, all things considered, they can always make more.

But there’s something that remains, still.

For the second time, Bubby knocks on the door of Kleiner’s dorm room. In the silence that follows, they’re once again tempted by a desire to flee.

Then, Kleiner answers, looking relieved to see Bubby, and their resolve hardens. Whatever thoughts they had left about abandoning the whole reveal and hiding in a vent disappear in an instant.

“Hey, Isaac-” Bubby starts, trying and failing to sound cool, but he’s quickly cut off.

“Bubby!” Kleiner shouts, and surprisingly, he doesn’t sound at all angry. He’s almost… worried? “What happened?! You ran off!”

Bubby winces. “I, uh. Panicked.” They wring their hands together. “The papers I had were… kind of heavy. I didn’t want to mess up, so I…” they drift off.

Kleiner sighs. “Well, I will say, you’re right about the heaviness.” He glances back into his apartment for a second. “I read over the one you gave me, and I have a few questions. Do you want to come inside?”

And, finally severing his last chance at escape, Bubby agrees.

- ○ -

Black Mesa’s singles’ dorms, especially for more recent hires, are only slightly better than Bubby expected. Which doesn’t say a lot, to be perfectly fair, but the couch is at least somewhat tolerable, and with a few touches of home, Kleiner seems to have turned his into a fully habitable space. Except for the disorganized messes, research notes and books left out to be cleaned later. Seriously, the whole place makes Bubby itch to do some tidying up.

When Kleiner sits down at the other end of the couch, facing them, Bubby can hear the springs squeak.

Well. This is it.

“Okay,” Kleiner says, and Bubby notices that he has the paper he gave him in his hands. “First. This document is… real?”

Bubby nods. “I got it straight from the department.”

“Alright, then I suppose my next question is… what happened after?”

In a rush, Bubby feels both warm and cold at the same time. He grits his teeth together as he thinks.

Kleiner swallows. “I just- I need to know what happened to her. We just went into her room one morning, and she was gone,” he starts to ramble. “And the window was open, and-”

“Them.”

Kleiner pauses. “Huh?”

“Sometimes they go by him, too,” Bubby offers. “But mostly them.”

“Oh…” Kleiner tilts his head. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. It’s just-” Kleiner struggles. “Strange. To think they grew up enough to figure that out.” He laughs, but not in a happy way. “I thought all these years that they were dead.”

Bubby glances down at the paper, and then back up at Kleiner. He’s still reeling from the shock of finding out his long-lost sibling is alive after almost four decades, flicking the edges of the paperclipped photos. Shit, Bubby stared at those pictures for hours, it feels like, and they kind of want another look now too.

“Where are they?” Kleiner is very obviously fighting back some tears. “I mean, would I be able to see them? Or-”

“Isaac.” Bubby says simply.

Kleiner grows silent, and their gazes meet.

“I’m B-K55.” Tears start to well up in their eyes. “I didn’t know any of this until last week, I swear, or I would’ve told you sooner. But then they shut down the project, that’s when they gave me the file. I’m sorry if I-”

And just like that, Kleiner’s on them. He wraps them in a hug so tight that Bubby wouldn’t be able to escape if they wanted to. They’re so caught off guard that for a moment, they’re unable to react.

“You’re alive,” Kleiner whispers, but his joy is still evident. “You’re okay!”

Bubby hugs Kleiner back, holding onto him as though he might disappear. For the first time they can recall, they have their brother.

“Yeah,” they smile. “I’m okay.”

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #isaac kleiner #dr bubby #bubby #dr coomer #hlvrai boomer #boomer #my writing #do i know you

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jengajives · 3 years

Text

Did a collection of defining moments for my Tolkien OCs a while ago and finally decided to post it. Got eight or nine different characters here depending on how you count.

When Agzil gasped, it brought nothing but a cold ash into his lungs. His limbs trembled. Even on all fours, they nearly didn’t have the strength to support him. An elbow buckled and he fell to a forearm instead, forehead hitting the dusty ground, flooding his eyes, nose, and mouth, with the same thick, grey soot that covered everything here. “You talk back again, maggot, and the Lieutenant won’t be so friendly!” The orc captain had a strong Lugburz accent. She was from here- the land of endless burning and choking and death. Made Agzil’s head spin. He obviously had done something wrong in his non-reaction, though, because the whip cracked across his back again with a blinding white-hot agony that dropped him flat to the earth. “Enough!” he heard Mirci crying, so distant he almost didn’t comprehend the words. “You’ve taught him your lesson, now leave him!” “You keep out of this, tinkerer!” Agzil breathed a lungful of soot so foul it made his lungs spasm. He coughed into the ground, and slowly raised himself to his forearms again. He could go no further. “You keep sticking out your neck for Gundabad trash, one day it’s going to get sliced!” the captain roared in the background. “Master may like your big metal beasts, but they done us no good! Done disrupted our ranks, made us look like fools- don’t you know we’re at war?!” When a voice spoke out from behind them all, somehow Agzil instantly knew it was not the voice of an orc. The Dark Master had Men in his armies, too, but as far as Agzil knew, Men didn’t speak the Black Tongue, and this newcomer used it with a natural and melodic lilt. Agzil wished he knew Black Speech. The captain barked something back in the same tongue, then Mirci spoke up in Common. “It wasn’t his fault, sir. It was my machine what went wild. Drive gears broke and the whole thing-“ She stopped abruptly. Agzil imagined this newcomer raising a hand in the way he’d never known a real general to do, and the fear that shot through him was icy and cold at the idea that this might be the Lieutenant of the Tower himself. Something sharp and cold tucked beneath his chin. Agzil felt a trickle of blood down his throat, and he worked to raise his head with the only strength he had left. His eyes met the empty, blank pits in a mask of iron, regarding him expressionless and still. He’d never seen Garavdúr before, but he knew what the War Wolf was meant to look like, and so of course he knew what he was faced with now. His entire body trembled, waiting, staring. Garavdúr did not speak for a long moment. Finally he lifted his sword away from Agzil’s throat and let his head fall, muttering softly as he did. “Pathetic creatures...” The heavy metal footfalls moved away. Agzil laid in the dust for a while before he raised his face again. Mirci’s head was there, coated now in black blood and ash, a few feet from where her body lay crumpled and lifeless. Agzil put his forehead in the dust again. The captain gave him another taste of lashing when he did not try to get up.

Thet wished her mother would loosen up on her hand so she could get closer to the extremely hot molten metal, but unfortunately, it seemed her parents were somewhat responsible. They were traders and always had been, and Thet had seen so many different types of places- dwarf-keeps and hobbit villages and little towns of Men- but never before had she seen metal being worked. It was stunning. “What is it going to be?” she asked eagerly, reaching out a hand as if she could touch the white-hot goop. The smith paused and flipped back the heavy iron mask to reveal fair golden hair and a beard done into neatly capped braids. Her face was smeared with soot. “Going to be a knife someday, little one,” she said in a kind and rumbling voice. “Maybe you’ll use it to cut up your dinner.” “Could you make it a necklace?” Thet asked instead, very eager. They had one necklace in the family; her father wore it at all times and she would recognize the dull reddish gold anywhere. There was a garnet set into the middle. She really liked the chain- how delicate and yet sturdy every individual link was. It was fascinating every time her father let her play with it. The smith looked at her and gave a friendly smile, then reached down with a pair of heavy clamps and broke one small section of the metal off. She twisted it into a crude spiral, bent a thin loop over the top, and then plunged it into her bucket of water. There was a hiss and a rush of steam went up from the boiling liquid. Quick as could be, the smith pulled the spiral out with another clamp and laid it on her table. She produced a length of thin leather from a pile nearby and slipped its end through the loop, and tied it off to create a loose circle. She held the trinket out in a gloved hand. “You be careful now. It’s hot.” Thet squirmed free of her mother’s grip and scurried forward on her crutch. She wrapped her hand in a length of her cloak so she could accept the gift. It was tarnished and none too shiny; just a simple lump of steel crudely wrought into a pendant of sorts, but to Thet’s young eyes it was the most astonishing gift she had ever received. Something made just for her, only for her. Never had she had anything like it. She gripped it tight, pulled it close and looked up eagerly at the tall smith turning back to her work. “I’m going to be just like you someday!” The smith smiled and rustled a hand through the young dwarf’s hair. “You’ll need a good bit of beard before that, little one. Take good care of your necklace.” And Thet never let that shoddy piece of metalwork leave her side.

There was no silence after battle. Corien could only hear the groans of the dying. Flames crackling cruelly in the grass. Huff of beasts and screams carried far away from the walls of the burning city. Orcs that were not quite dead gurgled when he vaulted past. Men that weren’t quite dead begged and choked and sang in shaking, weepy voices. All of it was blurry. Smeared. Nothing real, no sound registering to his battle-worn ears. The only things he heard were the cries of bowstrings, and a clash of steel on steel and wood on stone and metal creaking and screaming and tearing apart. “Halbarad!” he screamed into the settling night. It was lost amidst the identical calls coming up from other places on the field. Other brothers and sisters found hewn, children lifeless, friend and lover ripped apart. Everyone was out to collect their dead. The ribbon tied to the haft of his spear fluttered lightly in the breeze that swept up from the river. It had been blue this morning. It was splattered now with black and scarlet, bruised and sickly beyond repair. He threw the spear aside when he at last saw the gleam of silver against a cloak of bloodstained grey. It took both hands to roll his brother face-up. The silver star Halbarad had always worn on his cloak was shiny and clean, but it was about the only thing left recognizable. Corien’s fingers trembled uncontrollably as he pushed the earth brown hair out of his brother’s face. Blood caught on his fingers and colored his palm scarlet, so he left red smears on the eyelids when he closed those familiar ice-grey eyes. “Halbarad,” he said. His voice sounded so steady it would have surprised him, had he actually believed it was he himself speaking. There was no way it could be. No way he could form the words. “Don’t.. Don’t be dead. You can’t be dead, I- I need you. Please don’t be-“ His eyes travelled slowly to the gashes that tore his brother from jaw to belly and the words broke on a sob. He thought he might have screamed, but so many others were doing the same thing that he couldn’t pick his own voice out from the roar.

Mosco sat listening to the bees. His back rested against the thick grey bark, and his legs were up on a bough, and around his head bees danced from flower to flower in an endless choreographed routine. They were right smart, bees. His ma always said so. They talked back and forth, spoke in their own special language of waltz. Ma used to say that the Greenhands were honey farmers because they had dancing in their blood, and that they and the bees were one and the same. He’d fallen asleep tucked into the branches of his peach tree. The sun was growing low, and at this rate he’d miss his own nineteenth birthday party, but the woods of the Southfarthing were beautiful at sunset in the summer, and he thought he might go for a walk. The grass felt good on his bare feet, if a little cool. His hair hadn’t grown in all proper yet, so sometimes his toes got chilly and he had to embarrass himself wearing socks, but he just chalked that up to his being a “late bloomer,” as Ma put it. He was just out of season. He’d ripen up someday. The birches that made up the part of the forest closest to the farm soon gave way to wrinkly old pines with boughs hanging heavy and dark over their beds of needles. Mosco hummed a walking song, not at all caring for a track to follow, but wandering aimlessly and contemplating his own infinite nineteen-year-old wisdom. The smell of rot stopped him just before he put his foot into it. Beneath the overhanging crypt of the pines, a deer lay dead. Its skin was drawn thin over bones that poked halfway through, and underneath he could see a red-yellow ooze that leaked out into the forest floor. This, he guessed, was what smelled so foul and attracted the bugs. Beetles crawled in and out of the dead animal’s empty eye sockets and nostrils. Worms pitted the parts of its muscle still intact. Mosco saw eggs peppering the ragged hide like white trees in a minuscule forest. His family didn’t eat much meat. They never slaughtered it themselves if they did. He couldn’t think of a time he’d seen a real dead thing. When he got home, he declined the offer of birthday cake and went right to bed, and dreamt of squirming things that burrowed down to lay their eggs in pits beneath his flesh.

Cypress knelt next to the crime scene and tried very hard not to cry. Stuff like this didn’t happen in the Shire. It wasn’t meant to happen. A whole crowd of people looked at her with big, terrified eyes, expecting her to lead them. To tell them what to do in this moment because she was the mayor and she was meant to know. Blood had never been spilled like this. Woodhall’s history was a peaceful one and nothing like this had ever happened before. She looked at the assembled group. It was hard to seem like she wasn’t completely out of her depth, because her voice squeaked rather loudly. “We... We should bury them, yes?” At once the hobbits broke into cries and murmurs that all laid over each other into a horrific cacophony. “They took half the year’s stock!” “How did they get past the borders?” “Why didn’t we know they were coming?” “Are we going to get my honey back?” The last voice was that of Mosco Greenhand, who looked as devastated as the rest, but with an air of determination in his eyes. Cypress raised her hands to quiet the townspeople. “Look, I know this is a lot to process and we can’t understand it yet. But the first thing we ought to do is give these three brave souls who gave their lives for the good of Woodhall a proper burial, yes?” A general murmur of agreement. Cypress looked down at the fair faces she had known, the throats and bellies split by goblin blades, and it made her feel desperately ill. This horror could not be left unpunished.

Sometimes, when Astorrel went to sleep, she had a nightmare. It was always the same one, and it always came on when she decided to rest like other creatures did and actually close her eyes for hours. So, naturally, she avoided doing so. Rested on her feet and never let her guard down while she did it. She never had liked sleeping anyway. Never had any reason to do so for the better part of an age. Lina changed things, though. Lina liked it when Astorrel was there to share her night and her dawn, sleeping and waking, both together as equals. And of course, Astorrel liked to be there when Lina wanted her, and she liked to be close to her beloved, so of course whenever she could she shared Lina’s bed. Made the nightmares come back though. In the deepest hours of the night, when Lina was still and the moonlight slanted in through the window to paint her brown skin silver, Astorrel would lie stiff with her eyes open and nonseeing, and she’d tremble. She knew that in the dream- at least, in parts of it- she was her father. She carried Mirlach, but the blade was younger and the gem hadn’t yet fallen from its hilt. The whole sword always seemed darkened and scarlet-stained to her, and sometimes it dripped. She would hold the fire of the Silmaril and scream and scream as the agony of it withered her flesh away and the stench of rotting burn rose hotly to meet her nostrils, and she would see everything that Maedhros had done to hold the heirloom of his house in his hand, and how in the end, the reward of the quest became its doom. She would feel the irrepressible heat of smoldering, burning rock, and taste the earth as it pressed in, swallowed, took her and her cursed Silmaril into its throat and entombed them there forever. And the dream let her lie, suspended there in agony, the unseen gem scorching her hand to withered bone and the rock pressing in on her, for the entirety of the rest of the world. When she woke up with her hunting knife in her hand, dangerously close to Lina’s back, she decided abruptly she would not be doing this again. She left the cottage that morning before dawn. The next occasion she saw her Lina was on the day she died.

“You’re doing it again,” Léothain said, pulling Wulfrun’s focus away from the herders leading in a group of freshly adult horses to settle in the city. “You don’t really think she’s going to be there, right?” Wulfrun flushed and went back to sharpening her sword. Behind her, Léo plucked the last piece of laundry from the line and waltzed over with his basket against his hip. He stood next to Wulfrun, who sat silent on the stone step and watched young horses and rough herders pass the house by. They didn’t come into the city much; spent most of their time in the downs and the fields tending to their herds. Wulfrun had heard they were capital horsemen, and they guided the herds well enough through the winding lane of Edoras, riding without saddle on their sturdy, gleaming mounts. The horses they were leading in were meant to be ridden in battle. She could tell from the way they moved; so confident with strength and quiet grace, heads set proudly. She’d have one someday. Her fa made enough as a carpenter, but wasn’t much for travel, and they only had one horse for the three of them. The fat little thing was functional enough, but far from the mighty steed Wulfrun dreamed of. “You’re going to be really lucky if you see her again,” said Léo in an irritating sort of singsong voice. Wulfrun scowled at him. The sharpening stone swept over her worn blade again. Again. When most of the herd had passed, she finally found what she’d been seeking. At the rear of the group, riding a tall, shimmering palomino, came the girl. She looked just a little older than Wulfrun’s proud fifteen. Her face gleamed sunshine golden, and the dark hair that should have been dyed probably yellow was grown out and black down to the ears. She wore sturdy, battered clothes like the rest of the herders, but her eyes shone a brilliant black from her regal face. She saw Wulfrun looking and waved. Wulfrun wished she knew her name. She waved back.

Riston wasn’t his proper name. He didn’t know what it was. Could be Jett. Pierson. Randy. Likely he had a family name, too, though he had no guesses as to what it could be and all the Bree names he’d ever heard seemed bizarre and strangely food-centric. He didn’t want to have a real name. He just wanted to be Riston of the elves. Riston of the Havens. That was who he was. He sat on the big smooth rock on the west side of the harbor and plucked absently at his lute strings. Nothing sounded right. Nothing fit how it was supposed it. He was meant to leave in the morning. Head east and find who he actually was. He didn’t want to go. What’s a name matter? he thought as he crossed his legs and tried to let the waves paint a tempo into his mind. Anything he tried to make manifest withered away. I know who I am. This is my home. A discordant note. He tried to retune, very aggressively. Even if I find my family somehow, it’s not like my Westron is good enough to communicate with them. His fingers clenched. It’s not fair. They can’t just ask me to leave like I’m some guest who’s worn out his- One of lute strings snapped against his fingers and on a deep-gut impulse he slammed his fist into the instrument’s wooden body. A crunch, and he’d broken his most prized possession. Riston sat for a moment, slowing his breathing, taking stock of the fist-shaped hole splintering his delicate elf-made lute, the most beautiful thing he’d ever owned. Then he put his face in his hands and started to cry.

#jenga makes junk #fic #tolkien oc #agzil #garavdur #thet #corien #halbarad #mosco #cypress #astorrel #wulfrun #riston #tw gore #tw death #tw rot #i have so many ocs it is not fair

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summonerscenarios · 4 years

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Okay so this may not make sense unless you seen BNA, But How would Guilds of your choice react to the fact that MC is a beastmen, but can switch between their beast form and human form(Going off on that they thought MC was fully human), and maybe a little on Shino would react 😖(cause well..you know when it comes to his past love and the whole-thing) Sorry if this seems like a lot and if you don't want to do it, you can just delete this. Have a good day or night.

Yessss I just started watching it actually and it’s SO GOOD!!! I do hope that these hcs are what you were looking for! Also I’m doing this under the assumption that MC knew they were a Beastman! Enjoy hun~

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Summoners

With how close you and the Summoners are on a daily basis this was bound to come out eventually, so when they all learn that you’re not entirely human like they had all first assumed needless to say there’s a whole lot of questions. Shiro at first goes off on a tangent, speculating that your sudden shifting ability could maybe be some undiscovered ability of your sacred artifact since all the other transients you guys have met with similar abilities have all been because of their sacred artifact. He lays off when you assure him that you’re pretty sure you were a beastman long before you came to Tokyo but that just brings about a whole bunch of other questions about beastmen types and abilities. He’s honestly so intrigued that for a moment some of his questions probably push the boundaries of what he’s usually like so just be sure to give him a lil nudge to think before he asks.

Kengo doesn’t really see what the big deal is - to him it’s just one more cool thing about you! However even he thinks it’s pretty neat that you can switch between two different forms at will. He’ll ask the obvious questions about the differences between your human and beastman form - does it make you stronger? Give you special powers? Make you look more intimidating? Though he has to remind himself that you can change forms whenever you want because you’ve shocked him more than once when he turns away for a moment and then turns back to find you’ve changed in that momentary time span.

Ryota can’t stop himself from fawning over your new appearance, asking you why you never told them about this before because you look so cute! If you’re okay with it he really wants to feel the new changes that come with your beastman form; he’ll compare his hand to yours and cuddle up to you as he admires your new appearance, the whole time asking if everything’s okay at different intervals. Plus if you have fur fully expect him to give you plenty of fuss because it’s just so soft!

Hanuman is super psyched when he finds out! He’s constantly asking you to switch back and forth to see how quickly you can shift and if you humor him with it he’ll be grinning like a dork the whole time because it is so entertaining. Agyo swiftly jumps in eventually to scold Hanuman into letting up and giving you a break, even as you laugh it off and say that it’s fine. Agyo doesn’t have nearly as much of a reaction as you thought he would, but if you’re some kind of beastman though he makes an offhand comment to himself that you look like you’d make a pretty good guardian dog partner now!

Moritaka, similar to the others, is taken aback when you first tell the Summoners, but doesn’t truly believe it until he sees you shift back and forth with his own eyes - somehow seeing it happen right in front of him suddenly makes you beastman abilities more real than just simple words. He’s equally entertained watching Ryota fawning over your new appearance and Hanuman egging you on with the switching, but acts as a voice of reason if they get a bit too much. To him it’s almost like you’re just like any other therian when in your beastman form, but he goes out of his way to remind his rambunctious friends that even while not being entirely human like they all first though you’re still you. A part of him also ponders how Yatsufusa would react upon learning that the one who holds the soul of his beloved is a beastman, but that’s a question to wonder for another time.

At this point there’s been enough surprises and sudden revelations about you that Toji thinks he’s seen them all. But then you switch from your human form to your beastman form and suddenly he’s right back to being absolutely mystified about just how many surprises you’ve got up your sleeve. Most of the questions he’s asking are about how many people know and if the teachers have been notified and things along those lines but you can tell that he’s looking over your new form pretty damn intensely. You jokingly ask him if he wants to join Ryota in the impromptu petting, and though he refuses the fact he keeps looking back at you from the corner of his eye is obvious he’s considering it. If you’ve only told the Summoners about being a beastman then Toji makes a comment about how this could be useful if you ever need to go into hiding - just about every big player in Tokyo has their eye on you so being able to shift into another species than what they all know you as could play into your favor if you need it.

Berserkers

It doesn’t occur to you that you probably should have given the Berserkers guild a bit of a heads up about being a beastman until you walked right into the Colosseum in your beastman form. You don’t even make it past the door before Garmr all but barrels you over, the joy of seeing you back melting away to alarm and confusion seeing that you aren’t in your human form. The poor therian is conflicted because you definitely smell like you, but you don’t look like you, and he spends so long sniffing and running circles around you trying to determine whether this is some kind of trick to make him think you’re his master that his head is spinning by the time that Bathym peeks his head out to see what the commotion is, dragging an unwilling Andvari out with him.

Neither of them buy your assurances that it’s really you at first, because obviously you were a full human, right? But then you turn back into your human form and all of a sudden you’re being swarmed by all three at once. Garmr is absolutely ecstatic knowing that it’s definitely you and won’t let go of your arm, Bathym is trying to pry for all kinds of details wanting to get a good ol look at all the changes your beastman form causes, and Andvari is already rattling off the possible marketing schemes this new development could bring in like it’s some kind of neat parlor trick - honestly not the reaction you were expecting.

By the time you actually manage to worm your way inside the commotion has brought some of the other fighters out from the locker rooms, and any hope of keeping that little secret to yourself goes out of the window because of course Bathym’s gonna spill the gossip to them. Ikutoshi’s nonchalant about it really and just assumes that it must be some kind of thing to do with your sacred artifact similar to his own, but he does have a couple questions of his own when he sees you shift into your beastman form.

Nomad nearly has a damn heart attack when he sees you in your beast form, and almost fools himself into thinking that someone must have done something to you to cause the transformation. Do the guy a favor and let him know that you’re a beastman before he convinces himself that he’s got to add someone else to his revenge list; Once you do explain to him Nomad calms down significantly and mostly just makes a comment about how he gets why you didn’t go out of you way to tell the other berserkers since most would probably wanna put your skills to the test in a fight the moment they found out.

SPEAKING OF FIGHTING. Macan takes the whole beastman thing in stride, but he gets super excited if you’re some kind of lion/tiger/cat beastman because. If anything he’s insistent about taking you on in the ring in your beastman form, which when coming from Macan is probably an offer you’re going to want to turn down unless today’s the day you’ve decided who’s gonna eat who. It doesn’t help that Claude is also eager to see your beastman prowess in combat, having been notified by Snow of your presence and the situation during your encounter with Garmr. He desires to see what you’re capable of in this new form especially if you’re one of the bigger kinds of beastmen, and if you agree you’ll probably end up earning yourself a couple more brownie points in his favor, but if you’re firm he’ll relent and leave the matter be for now.

Genociders

You bring the fact that you’re a beastman up to the Genociders so casually, but honestly out of all of the guild’s their response is arguably the calmest. I mean Arc already had some suspicion that there was something about you that wasn’t entirely human, so when you first confide in them that you’re in fact a beastman it only confirms their suspicions. If you’re worried about their reactions about keeping it from them you really don’t need to be because they take it all in stride.

It takes a little bit of helpful coaxing from the guild master before they’re able to convince you to show off your beastman form around them, and they remind you constantly that no matter what form you take you’re still the same person in their eyes. Arc spends some time talking to you about different kinds of beastmen as well as if you only have the one form (depending on if you retain this information since coming to Tokyo is another matter entirely but Arc still appreciates that you go out of your way to answer their questions in a bid to get to know you better.

Of course it doesn’t take long for Azathoth to butt in too to get a good look at you, giggling to himself as he asks all about how you ‘unlocked a new skin’ and when you were gonna tell them you unlocked that achievement. Though from the way that he grins and laughs to himself the whole time, you have a feeling that he knew long before anybody else thanks to the previous loops. It still doesn’t stop him from trying to poke and prod at your beastman form, having plenty of fun messing around with your new fur, feathers or scales depending on the kind of beastman you are.

Of course to Babalon and Surtr you will still be their darling child. Upon seeing your beastman form Babalon is quick to dote on you, cupping your face in her hands before smoothing a comforting hand along your ears and cheeks. The way she coos over you is just as motherly as before, but you can tell that she finds amusement in the way you relax into her touch when she finds the spots that ease the tension right off of your shoulders. This is only further amplified when Surtr brings a hand to rub fondly atop of your head, going off on some long winded speech about how you should never be afraid - that you’ll always be his beloved child regardless of if you have feathers/fur/scales etc. Honestly you’re pretty sure that he gets off topic about the whole thing but at least you know that he’s being genuinely kind about it.

Bonus! Shino

Shino is absolutely stunned by the revelation that you’re a beastman. To know that you, the one who carries the soul of his beloved can take on the form of a beastman within these Tokyo walls leaves him feeling conflicted. There is some naive part of him that thinks this could be some twisted fate, that his inability to be with you in your past life no longer barred by his status as a beast, that the version of you here and now is no longer held back by the concerns of the past world. This is also conflicted by his torn feelings about the whole thing however, where he feels as though he still doesn’t deserve his relationship with you regardless of whether you’re a human or beastman. While he doesn’t really make any movements when you change his eyes are trained upon your beastman form, intently watching the way you shift between forms. So intently that it’s easy to feel a little intimidated under his gaze, but he snaps out of his stupor upon hearing your voice calling out to him, bringing him back to the present moment.

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desertdollranch · 4 years

Text

Happy 11th Birthday, Sierra!

Sierra celebrated her 11th birthday yesterday with a Aliens, Ghosts, and Cryptids themed party! If you know Sierra, you’ll know that she’s passionate about the paranormal. So she invited her closest friends to celebrate this special occasion with her by playing games, making crafts, hunting for ghosts, and eating cake.

Plenty of pictures were taken of the birthday girl having a blast with her best buddies. It’s all behind the cut!

Invitations were sent out two weeks ago.

Sierra designed these herself.

Her sisters couldn’t make it to the party, since one is at a friend’s birthday party and the other two are booked to play a gig with their bluegrass band. But Sierra celebrated her actual birthday on Friday with her family, so she doesn’t mind that her sisters won’t be here.

For the occasion, she has a very special outfit put together.

She’s got a sparkly night sky skirt, a raglan sleeve Roswell shirt, Beetlejuice stockings, and her alien antennae.

In addition to her clothes, she also put a lot of work into decorating.

Aliens, ghosts, and cryptids adorn the walls.

And she has some party favors for her guests as they arrive!

They’ll be going home with their very own alien antennae headbands, alien eye sunglasses, and Area 51 personnel badges.

Sierra used pictures of her friends to make the badges.

But everyone’s favorite part of the goody bag is the EMF meter! This handheld device is often used on a ghost hunt, since it detects electromagnetic fields. It beeps and flashes a red light when it detects something that may indicate a nearby ghost.

The first party game is Find the Ghost! Sierra hides somewhere in the house and the others have to use their meters to track her down.

It’s not as easy as it sounds...

But Sariah found the ghost when her EMF meter flashed and beeped!

Sierra brought everyone to the table, where she had assembled materials for a craft project.

They’ll be making alien specimen jars, and smuggling them out of Area 51 (meaning, they get to take these home).

Sierra put these biohazard labels on some glass jars. Then they’ll use clay, paint, and various other small objects to make something weird and strange to put in the specimen jar.

This newly hatched alien baby is attached to the underside of the jar with a skewer and hot glue.

In addition to the baby, there’s a green and red alien egg pod, a brain, and a slimy gray worm.

The jars are filled with water that’s been colored with highlighter ink. Sierra carefully broke open four highlighters and mixed the ink with water to make an eerie green fluid.

Sierra’s got impatient and added her liquid before the paint was dry, so her eyeballs and eyestalks are in a darker green liquid.

Their next game was a variation on a party favorite.

Pin the alien on the spaceship!

Rajani is trying to pin the alien into the top of its flying saucer.

But there’s more to this game! Luciana is exploring the surface of Mars, and doesn’t want to go with the aliens. So she must be pinned anywhere BUT the spaceship’s tractor beam!

That was close! Luciana escaped the saucer and is free to party on Mars as long as she likes.

By now, everyone is feeling impatient to see what gifts Sierra got. They all bring theirs to the table and declare that now is the time for her to open them.

She opened the big blue cylinder first.

These two plants are a gift from Rajani. One is a baby cactus, and the other is a Venus fly trap.

Rajani knows Sierra likes plants and also anything weird or unusual, and the Venus fly trap will be especially fun to care for. The cactus can be planted outside once it’s a little older.

There’s a red American Girl bag from Antonia. But Antonia says, “it’s not really from the AG Place store, I just thought the bag was cool.”

Inside there’s a little blue box.

It’s a smart watch! This one is geared towards kids and is science-focused, so it’s got lots of interesting features like a compass, an altimeter, and a barometer.

Antonia remembers seeing Sierra admiring her smart watch while the two of them were at summer camp, so she knew Sierra would love this. She loves the glittery gold wristband.

Hana has three things to give Sierra, all separately wrapped. The green-wrapped packages are soft, and the tube is something rolled up.

Hana gave her a pretty poster from the magic shop, plus a pair of Bigfoot slippers and a sweet-scented heart sachet that Hana made for Sierra. She stuffed it with dried rose petals, basil, cloves, cinnamon, and sagebrush.

The Bigfoot slippers look funny on Sierra’s feet.

This one is from Sariah, a large rectangular box.

It’s the Calico Critters Hazelnut Chipmunk family! Sierra loves Calico Critters, but could never decide which ones to start her collection with. These are especially thoughtful because she and Sariah have an inside joke about chipmunks. (You wouldn’t get it. You just had to be there.)

There’s a bonus critter in here, too. It’s the Persian kitty from the baby camping blind bag series; the kitten is the rare and elusive secret critter! Sariah was flabbergasted to find it in her blind bag, and wanted to give it to Sierra. It came with a little plastic sleeping bag. It’s tiny and soft, like a real kitty.

The last package is a gift from Sierra’s sisters. It’s got quite an interesting shape.... a long rectangle.... where has she seen a shape like this before?

It’s 2018 American Girl of the Year, Luciana Vega! Sierra has wanted a Luciana doll since she was released two years ago, and she had no idea her sisters knew about that.

Luciana probably isn’t too interested in what might be out there in outer space, but she’s also interested in what definitely is out there.

After opening all these wonderful gifts, what comes next? What’s the best way to show your gratitude to your friends who have been so generous?

Birthday cake, of course!

Sierra originally was going to ask for a Mothman chocolate cake, but when she saw this elegant raspberry layer cake with rose gold vanilla frosting and edible golden glitter sprinkled on it, she knew her friends would like this much more.

Make a wish, Sierra!

She wished that being 11 years old will be very different from being 10, and that more adventures would be in store for her and her friends!

#sierra #truly me 55 #doll parties #doll birthdays

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