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i-think-i-did-it-again · 9 months

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The Tour I

“Stop looking at me like that all the damn time,” you growl. Even his stare now is making your insides tighten.

“Like what?” he quirks his eyebrow in confusion, swirling his thick metal ring around his index finger absentmindedly.

“Like I’m the most important person in the room,” you whisper.

“But you are.”

“I knew I should’ve never agreed to do this.”

You drag yourself off the couch and head for the door but his hand wrapped around your wrist stops you.

“Let you pay me…I feel so dirty,” you sigh and look anywhere but at his crystal blue orbs.

“What the fuck do you mean pay you?!”

Oh fuck…

3 months, 2 week and 1 day earlier

Kells was on a downward spiral and everyone could see it but no one knew what to do. No one knew why though. Any time someone attempted to talk to him, to try and help him, he’d bite their head off and say he was fine. You hadn’t tried to talk to him, though. You knew him well enough to know that trying to talk to him was pointless and you didn’t particularly feel like being yelled at by him. Everyone else was finally starting to get the hint and everyone was avoiding him like the black plague. It was going to be pretty hard for everyone to pretend he didn’t exist when their American tour began in 2 weeks. 3 months, a tour bus and a bunch of hotels meant being in each other’s pockets on a daily basis.

You were thankfully not going because as just a friend in the group, with no part in the band, tour or managerial capacity, you don’t have to go. Sure you miss your friends when they’re all away on tour but you and Colson have an unspoken agreement that while he’s away on tour, you have free reins on his massive house in the Hollywood Hills. Sort of like a house sitter without the pay and you don’t have to spend the night every night if you don’t want to. You usually do though.

Colson always ensures the fridge and pantry are stocked with your favourite snacks and sodas. His big ass flatscreen is connected to all the streaming services and well as the latest gaming consoles. Not to mention the very large heated pool in his backyard that overlooks the city. The guest room, just down the hallway from the master, is about the same size as your apartment. A large king size bed sits in the middle of the room, a small sofa in front of the tv mounted on the wall opposite, a large window bench seat that overlooks the small garden below and a walk-in wardrobe that puts your pocky closet to shame.

Colon ensures your favourite candles are scattered around the room to make you feel more at home. He always teases you about your candle obsession but that doesn’t stop him from feeding into it. You secretly think he loves them too but is too macho to admit it. You always catch him inhaling deeply whenever he steps into your apartment.

Being at Colson’s house is the reset from your life that you need sometimes, you hadn’t realised how much you relied on it until the thought of it not happening becomes a big possibility.

Ashleigh had been nervous about going on tour for months now, ever since Colson’s antics became more extreme, bit by bit. You weren’t overly surprised by her desperate phone call a few weeks before the tour, inviting you over to her house for a chat. She confided in you a lot more than anyone else because she knew anything she said to you would stay between the two of you.

At the beginning, the spiral was pretty on par with Colson’s usual antics. Drinking, way too much weed, partying. After a few weeks though, the group began to get worried. He kept upping the ante. Drinking to the point of a buzz became drinking until he blacked out. Weed turned into trying to buy pills at 3am in downtown Hollywood and getting arrested because the ‘dealer’ was an undercover cop. Luckily the record labels lawyers were able to talk the cops down to a fine. The partying remained pretty much the same, the parties just went for days and days.

Everyone was concerned but it didn’t turn into full blown panic until Colson cancelled plans with Cassie. She was due to come during the summer for a month before the next tour began and Colson just…called it off. Cassie was devastated. You still remember the pain in her voice when she called you in tears to tell you. It was heartbreaking. You got straight in your car to go and see Colson and tear him a new one but he was too hammered to even understand what you were saying. He never blows off his daughter. The one time he truly opened up to you, he told you how guilty he feels about how much of her childhood he’s missing out on. That was the first time you felt that pang of overwhelming fear that something was desperately wrong.

You walk straight through Ashleigh’s front door, dying to get out of the California heat. You hear the sound of muffled voices coming from her kitchen. A deep male voice is the most prominent, mostly because he sounds pissed. You don’t recall Ashleigh mentioning having a meeting today so you assume it’s ok for you to interrupt whatever the discussion that’s happening. When you step into the kitchen, everyone stops talking and there’s 4 pairs of eyes on you. Ashleigh looks sympathetic and borderline mortified but the 2 men and woman look less than pleased.

“Hey, Y/N, thanks for coming on such short notice,” Ashleigh says, giving you a small smile.

When you take in the appearance of her guests, you suddenly feel very underdressed in your short linen sundress. Ashleigh looks nervous when she invites you to sit before turning her attention back to the very red looking man in the crisp, definitely expensive suit. His eyes scrutinise you with a terrifying gaze, so intimidating you have to look away after a few seconds.

“Sorry to interrupt, I didn’t know you were in a…meeting?” it unintentionally comes out as a question because the stare of the man is still on you and it makes you unsure.

“You’re late,” the man grumbles and his voice is as commanding as you’d imagined. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time to beat around the bush so let's cut to the chase.”

“Francis,” the woman says with a warning tone and she frowns softly when he finally looks at her. “None of this is her fault, let's remember that shall we?” she gives you an apologetic smile that immediately puts you at ease and suddenly you’re not as intimidated.

“Fine,” Francis grumbles and you can see him make a strained effort to relax the vein pulsing in his neck. “Colson’s actions lately are making us and frankly our lawyers very nervous. As I’m sure you can understand, normally we’d drop him for not meeting his contractual obligations but with a tour starting in less than 2 weeks that just isn’t a viable option. Many people have spent too much time and money making this happen and we’re not wasting all of that by cancelling.”

“And you wouldn’t want to disappoint the fans, right?” you interject knowing full well that the thought didn’t even cross their money hungry minds.

“Yes, of course,” he gripes at you and Ashleigh begs you to keep your mouth shut with her eyes. “That’s where you come in,” he points a pudgy finger at you and you grimace internally. “We need you to join them on tour and make sure everything runs smoothly.”

You look at Ashleigh with your jaw on the floor and for the first time since you got there, Ashleigh avoids you. Why would they need you to go on tour to keep Colson in line when that’s Ashleigh’s job? Did she get fired? No way would you replace one of your closest friends just to satisfy some lawyers and record execs. Before you can open your mouth to decline, the woman speaks again.

“We understand that this is a lot to take in and obviously you will need time to think about it-”

“We will need your answer within 48 hours, we have a tour to plan after all Kathy,” Francis interjects and Kathy’s jaw flexes with irritation. You get the feeling Francis interrupts a lot.

“And we will of course pay you for your time, pay for any and all expenses associated with your hotels, food and flights. Once we have your answer we can work out all the finer details but we will give you time to talk it over with Ashleigh and your current employer.”

You blanch internally. As of 3 days ago, you’re actually unemployed after your company decided to make some ‘necessary cutbacks’, translation: layoffs. You hadn’t told any of your friends because even though they never make you feel any less, you know you have a hell of a lot less money than them and this will only make money tighter for you.

You never want to feel like a charity case with them so you always make sure to pay your own way, never take advantage. Even when you stay at Colson’s house when he’s on tour, you ensure you keep the house clean, collect his mail, water the few plants he has and keep the pool clean. Last time he was gone, you even reorganised his pantry for him. He spent months calling you to ask where certain things were even though everything was labelled.

The suits didn’t stick around for too much longer after their proposal. Ashleigh walks them out and you hear Francis insist that they have an answer within 48 hours, again. You’re tempted to get up and rip into him about how to speak to people but you decide against it when you hear Ashleigh’s reassurances. You know in a way that Ashleigh deals with Colson’s record label more than he does and you don’t want to make the relationship more strained for her. When she comes back to the dining room, you want to stand and envelop her in a hug. Her face just looks defeated. Has she looked that way for long? You feel guilty that you hadn’t noticed that everything going on with Colson has taken a toll on his oldest friend in the world.

“When was the last time you got a full night’s sleep?” you ask her, concern lacing your tone. You don’t want to tell her but she looks awful.

“Depends, what month is it?” she tried to make a joke but her face was too exhausted to muster a smile.

“Ash…what the fuck is going on?”

“They…they don’t think I can handle him on my own anymore and to be honest, I don’t think they’re wrong. Between trying to keep him from an early grave, keep his bad publicity out of the media and keep the upcoming tour on track and organised, I’m drowning. I had to send Ashton to stay with my mom so I could work around the clock. The record label wanted some PR lady to take over and I just-I couldn’t let them do that. Not only would Colson flip at the idea of a ‘babysitter’, he would just rebel even harder against whoever they sent and that would make everyone’s lives miserable. They demanded I come up with a solution and I just panicked. I blurted out your name and the plan just formed as I spoke. I’m so sorry to drag you into this but I just thought if it was you, Colson would go easier on you and I’m just…I’m exhausted.”

You convinced Ashleigh to go and lie down for a little bit, to try and catch up on some much needed sleep. You take her phone off her to ensure she’s not disturbed by anyone. You assure her, multiple times, that you’re not upset that she talked the record label into asking for your help. You know she was just trying to protect Colson from a stranger who wouldn’t understand him or what he needs.

Still, the thought of going on tour makes your stomach twist into knots and a burning sensation begins in your throat. You can honestly say you’ve never had any desire to go on tour with your friends and it has absolutely nothing to do with you using Kells’ house while he’s gone, although that is a huge perk. The thought of going to all those different cities, different time zones, living out of a suitcase, eating nothing but greasy food and living off potato chips and coffee doesn’t appeal to you in any way. Of course, they always come back with wild stories from their time on the road but they also always look completely exhausted and a little irritated with each other. It’s the one time you get to hang out with each of them one on one because none of them like to see each other for at least a week after the tour is over.

The more you thought about it, the more you’d talked yourself out of going. That was until you spent an hour with Ashleigh’s cell. The thing did not shut up. Text messages, emails, phone calls, media updates. The thing was a notification love bomb. There were things about the tour, messages from Francis pressuring her about Colson’s latest behaviours. Rook had to drag him out of his car last night to stop him from driving while half-baked, half drunk and half belligerent about needing a burger at 3am. You can tell by the messages from Francis that Colson is on his last strike when it comes to the law. The last thing that he can afford is to be arrested again. No lawyer would be able to save him from his second arrest in a month.

You know you came into this group because of your friendship with Rook but everyone feels so important to you now that you feel like it’s your duty to help them in any way possible. Everyone has been trying their best to keep Colson in line and everyone up until this point has been struggling. That kind of made you wonder why Ashleigh thought how you getting involved could end any differently than anyone else so far. You make a mental note to ask her that question while you’re making some dinner for her to eat once she wakes up.

You place the spaghetti in a bowl on her bench and cover it in plastic wrap. You leave a post-it note on top of the food with a love heart and tidy your mess up. Once the dishes are done, you put her phone on Do Not Disturb with an hour timer and sneak it onto her bedside table before leaving. You drive in silence, not bothering to connect your phone to your ancient Bluetooth system, because you need your mind to be completely clear. You run through a list of pros and cons in your mind.

Pros: you’d get to spend time with all your favourite people, you’d get to see new cities, you’d actually be a part of a fun tour story instead of just hearing about it after the fact, you’d get to see Colson live in concert every night and see a whole new side to him, you’d make some money out of it.

Cons: tour hasn’t even started and you’re already exhausted by the thought of it, you don’t want to live out of a suitcase, you’d miss your own bed, you need to find a new job which you can’t do on the road, you have bills to pay, you have no one to look after your apartment or collect your mail, you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle spending so much time around Colson.

That last con has you almost calling Ashleigh to decline on the spot. When you first started hanging with Rook’s best friend you developed a crush, bad. Spending time with him was hard because there were all these things you wanted to do or say but you just had to bite your tongue and sit on your hands. Eventually, after pushing your feelings down hard enough, they began to lessen but it took a lot of effort on your part. Watching Colson parade a different woman around every weekend helped but still, it was hard. You’ve made it a point not to spend a lot of one on one time with him in order to keep your feelings in check but going on this tour for the sole purpose of keeping him out of trouble means spending a lot of time with him.

You think you’ve come to the inevitable conclusion you were pretty sure was always going to be your answer, no, but then Ashleigh’s exhausted face crosses your mind. Your shoulders slump and you take a deep inhale. Pulling your car to a stop out the front of your apartment, you pull your phone out and dial Ashleigh’s number.

“Hey!” she answers on the third ring, sounding much chipper after her nap. “Thank you so much for the spaghetti, it was delicious!”

“Hey, you’re welcome. I wanted to give you my answer so you don’t have to spend the next 48 hours stressing.”

“Oh, please don’t rush on my account. Take your time. Francis gave you 48 hours for a reason, it’s a big decision,” she sounds absolutely terrified.

“I’ll do it.”

“Oh my god! Thank you so much Y/N! I owe you big time. I’ll call Francis straight away so they can organise your contract and pay,” she sounds almost giddy and her enthusiasm begins to rub off onto you.

“I’m just glad I can help alleviate some of your stress. I am worried about how I’m going to tell Kells that I’m coming as his official ‘handler’,” you chuckle but Ashleigh doesn’t laugh along with you.

“I’ll let Kells know you’re coming,” her tone is clipped like she’s annoyed you’d want to let him know yourself but then her voice relaxes a little. “I’m so excited you’re coming hun.”

“Me too,” you agree with a smile.

You say your goodbyes and hang up the phone, suddenly feeling very unsure about your decision. Maybe you were acting a bit rash but you just can’t stand to see your friends struggling like Ashleigh was. You’re not 100% sure how you’re going to make her life any easier because you haven’t exactly been dealing with Colson like everyone else but you’ll have to just wing it and hope it works out.

Well…here goes nothing.

#colson baker #machine gun kelly #mgk #tickets to my downfall #mgk imagine #ttmdf #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #machine gun kelly imagine #mgk x reader #colson baker x reader #mgkxx #est19xx #machine gun kelly x reader #mgk fanfic #mgk angst

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softboyluvr · 2 years

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prompt 25 with peter parker 💕

hihihi!

i didnt know if you meant holland peter or garfield peter for this one. so i just rolled with it and went with tom’s peter, i hope that’s okay. (fear not this prompt was a little popular with the peter parkers so an andrew garfield one is incoming in the near future <3) hope you like it!

It’s two in the Morning?

peter parker x fem!reader

warnings: none, maybe some misspelling

25. “why are you dora the explorer-ing at two am?”

Peter hadn't known what a normal sleep schedule was in a little more than four years, some nights the rising sun caught him off guard and by then getting some shut eye was out of the cards for him. He was always either out patrolling, or catching up on the work that his nightly vigilante activities prevented him from doing. But tonight it seemed like the stars were shining upon him, the night was slow and quiet and for once, he was thankful. School was not yet at the point of the semester where work was a burden so for once he had the night all to himself. And he would've called you, but he knew how much of an early riser you were and to be honest? He just really wanted to sleep. So, for once in what felt like the longest, Peter was lying in bed before the clock had the chance to strike 11. His eyes slowly falling shut while the moon slipped through the curtains he was too lazy to close properly.

His sleep was short lived though, because at 1:56 his phone started buzzing. The nearby objects lying atop of his dresser rattling as the device seemed to taunt him. Who could be calling this late? He groggily picked up his phone and groaned, absentmindedly clicking answer and pressing the speaker to his ear.

"Hello?" His voice was taunting him, laced with the sleep he was now missing out on.

"Peter!" He was suddenly more awake, your voice sounded cheerful. Weren't you supposed to be at home sleeping? Why was there a whooshing sound coming from your end? Were you outside? Were you in danger?

"Y/N? Where are you?" He was trying to keep himself from worrying, but one negative thought and he was already far down the rabbit hole.

"Peter oh my god, MJ and I were going out for a walk right? Because why not, and then we stumbled into this old subway station and we thought fuck it" He could hear MJ telling you to keep it down, and now that he focused on the sound of your voice he could hear a slight echo to it. "And it's so freaky like there is a train a couple feet from us and we are debating on going in and checking it out so I wanted to know if you were in the area to come hang out with us"

"Are you serious? Where are you?"

"Well that's the thing, last I remember we were near 35th? It was 35th right?" MJ agreed with you. "But we have been walking for a while, and don't worry we know our way back" A small pause followed before you added. "Ish"

"Y/N why are you Dora the Explorer-ing at two in the morning?"

"Shit it's two in the morning?" Time keeping was never your best suit when you were out with your friends. He started throwing the covers off of him, locating his shoes in the orderly mess that was his room.

"Hun can you send me your location? I'm picking you up"

When his phone pinged with your location he was already out the window and in the air, keeping you on the line just in case. For most part of his trip all he heard were giggles and the occasional gasp the surprises of an abandoned subway station could bring. When he had gotten to where he assumed the entrance to the station was, he heard a scream.

"Y/N?" Silence followed and then the sound of hurried footsteps echoed on the abandoned subway stairs. MJ and Y/N coming into view with gasping breaths and a couple of coughs. "Was there someone in there?" He said and hurriedly grabbed you, starting the inspection for injuries that normally on a time and day like this would be directed at him from you.

"No, no" You were still out of breath. "As we were getting closer to the little train we saw, I slipped on something and I guess I scared a rat colony. But Peter they were huge"

"We are talking prehistoric rats Parker"

His eyebrows shot up, the dangers of New York at night were not the convincing factor that drug you out of that station but some street rats could.

"Just, next time you go on a discovery adventure trip please let me know. Or do it on a night when I'm patrolling"

Only then did you take notice of his attire, he was already in pijamas. "Peter were you asleep already?"

"Just a little" He started walking you and MJ to your shared appartment. The curly haired girl walking a couple steps ahead of you, texting Brad about her night findings.

"Baby I'm so sorry, if I knew I wouldn't have called you"

"Are you crazy? And let my girlfriend be eaten by some mutant dino rats?" He smiled teasingly at you. You nudging his side as a response. "Seriously though, any time you do that please call me. I'm not fond of the idea of you being in potential danger and not calling me because you think you will disturb me"

"But you never get the chance to sleep, that's important Pete"

He grabbed your hand and squeezed three times. "My girl is more important okay?"

————

as always thanks for reading and thanks for your likes and reblogs. leave a comment if you want they are very fun to read

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spider man no way home #tom holland x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine

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quetzalpapalotl · 9 months

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hey barbie will you tell me about arcee? i only know her from transformers prime and the occasional screencap <3 🌸🦋

Yes!!! I always want to talk about Arcee, and I mean IDW1 Arcee, which I assume is the one you’re talking about. She is great, she is the best character in IDW1. So since you know nothing about her, let me give you the rundown of her character. Keep in one that the stuff with her during phase 1 is, uh, not good, but as of phase 2 when she became a character in John Barber stories she was greatly expanded upon and recontextualized.

Ok so, she is old as dirt, like over 10 million years old. She was forged male in a time where Cybertron was a bunch of scattered tribes and her and her twin brother Galvatron where enslaved gladiators to a Prime (which seemed to just be a title for a tribal leader at this point) who had to play blood sports to eat. This is going to leave one with a lot fucking issues, but she was really good at it. But then Megatronus (later Prime) shows up and frees them and Arcee and Galvatron join the 13 Primes in uniting Cybertron.

Things seem like they’re going to be fine, but Arcee is not so sure. Then the 13 Primes decide to spread the Cybertronian civilization across the universe, which is called colonization, which is a bad thing. When Arcee realizes what she’s part of she feels like shit about it. Then the 13 Primes have drama and break up, some of them die, some of them fuck up, Cybertron falls into chaos in what’s called the First Civil War until Galvatron’s new bestie, Nova, shows up and unites Cybertron again.

While Arcee is trans we don’t know when exactly she started to realize that a male identity wasn’t how she felt on her spark, but we do know that is something she struggled with. I don’t think this is helped by the fact that at some point people Cybertron kinda… forgot about gender, so everyone was just male by default (not in the colonies, but by this point Cybertron had lost contact with them). So not only is she seen as something she isn’t, the thing that she is something people have lost any frame of reference for even though Arcee knew people like her before. This must be extremely alienating. Add to that that Arcee explains that she has always have trouble connecting with people (because Autism), so the poor girl must have felt very, very alone.

Arcee ends up volunteering to have some kind of gender affirming surgery with this mad scientist called Jhiaxus, who then just does malpractice on her, doesn’t provide proper aftercare and is seemingly disappointed that Arcee doesn’t fir his idea of what a female Cybertronian should be. This sort of breaks Arcee and turns the thing that she’s best at (murder) on Jhiaxus. But Jhiaxus leaves with Nova Prime and Galvatron in yet another expansionist mission and disappear, so Arcee is left trying to find traces of Galvatron across the galaxy and getting rid of his creations.

After the Autobot-Decepticon civil war broke out, Arcee seems to be allied with the Autobots (but we are later left to understand she never joined proper), which makes sense as the Decepticon ideology of mechanical superiority is a sore spot for her. But she’s mainly focused on tracking down Jhiaxus. At some point she meets fellow trans woman, Anode, who says she can help her, but Anode disappears before she can get any real support. Which also doesn’t help her mental state, but at least know she’s sure none of the stuff with Jhiaxus was her fault and is more eager than ever to kill him and will kill everyone that gets in her way.

I think that Arcee is justified in everything she’s ever done. But apparently the Autobots don’t agree with me, they see Arcee as some weirdo, blood thirsty murderer that went crazy because of Jhiaxus, so they put her in jail, and later free her because they need their help. She eventually manages to finally catch Jhiaxus and because of plot reasons, he’s in a state of undead where Arce gets to kill him over and over and over again. This was a very therapeutic experience that allowed her to think about stuff and clear her had.

So after the war ends and Bumblebee and co. are having trouble maintaining the harmony between the Autobots, Decepticons and neutrals on Cybertron, Arcee has now come to the conclusion that a better world must be possible, so she tries to work towards that even if the only thing she really understands is violence. Arcee seems to hate herself and her own race for being like this, she thinks that whatever world they create won’t have a place for her, that her fate is to die in a battlefield, but still she tries, because it’s what must be done.

At first she works under Prowl because he makes sense for her, until she realizes he sucks. She also tries to connect with Sideswipe because she thinks they’re similar, but Sideswipe keeps denying any closeness because he wants to consider himself better than her. Arcee has internalized the idea that things like friendship are just nor for her, but the truth is that she does crave connection to people, but she struggles with it because she’s socially awkward, doesn’t really get how socialization works and everyone is stuck with the idea of her as a crazy murder lady and keep denying her any interiority.

The only person that seems to get her is Galvatron, who is causing trouble again after coming back and almost ending the universe twice. Like a good brother who was with you during your formative years he does understand Arcee but that doesn’t mean he sympathizes with her and uses his knowledge to ger under her skin and manipulate her. Imagine only being understood by the worst person alive, that sucks. She will later let Optimus kill him and have conflicted feelings over it.

Optimus, at least, does give Arcee a chance and seems to like her. Arcee is not impressed by him because again, she’s old as fuck, she knew the original Primes, but OP seems to appreciate this. Arcee ends up becoming sort of his right hand woman and seems to stick with him both because she’s still trying to help create a better world and also to keep an eye on him since OP is doing a lot of questionable stuff that rings a bell on her head. Which includes using his Prime clout to get a bunch of wide-eyed colonists (by this point, they have made contact with the old colonies again btw) to join him.

One of those people being Aileron, a very sweet girl who grew up with idealized stories about the Primes and has no context of what war is actually like and will have to face reality. Despite everything Aileron matures a lot and is able to keep her head and see things from a different perspective. She doesn’t see Arcee as a crazy murder lady because to Aileron all the veterans are messed up, and honestly Arcee probably looks better than average since she has been putting a lot of work in changing her ways and her straightforwardness allows her to not get caught up in the same things other people do.

So Aileron and Arcee bond, Aileron shows Arcee a lot of sympathy when Arcee is upset because Sideswipe is in critical condition, and she’s not intimidated by Arcee or the idea that she’s crazy. Eventually Sideswipe dies but before that he does apologize to Arcee and thanks her for being there for him. Arcee is sad but also happy that he could make peace before the end, which allows her to get more at peace with herself. Aileron is there to help her and she will keep insisting she’s there to catch Arcee. When Arcee finally internalizes the idea that she’s not alone, she kisses Aileron and they become a couple.

Then Unicron shows up, who turns out to be a creation of a scientist from the planet in that first colonization expedition Arcee took place in. He’s here to eat all Cybertronian colonies. It seems that maybe is better if he kills them all, after all Cybertronians seems to be stuck on a never-ending cycle of violence and they’re all here because of it. Arcee thinks that she herself does deserve to die.

When it comes to either Optimus or Arcee to sacrifice themselves to activate the thing they need to stop Unicron, Optimus tells Arcee to go, while he’s stuck as a symbol of war, Arcee has managed to move past that and she has someone to return to. Optimus dies to bury the legacy of Primes with him so the Transformers can move on. Arcee, who has been there since the beginning and spent most of her life knowing nothing but violence, proves that change is possible and ends the continuity teaching about new generations about the importance of trying and having hope in the future. She is happy.

I love her, she’s better than everyone else. I would die for her. Do you understand me now, Leo?

#quetzal rambles tf

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brotha-lamp · 5 months

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Me: Makes a statement about leading questions and the never ending need some people out here have to catch people out online to “cancel” them instead of actually trying to support people who are suffering, and including a clear statement that I support the people who are suffering horrific crimes against humanity in Palestine and have been for generations while also condemning other colonizing countries such as the US and reminding people not to fall into antisemitism or anti Muslim bullshit while also making it clear that I do not support innocent people being murdered as a general rule because I thought that was something most people agreed on.

Multiple people online: Good for you for standing your ground on not making a statement! You don’t owe anybody—

Me:

Ah ok. No one can read at all anymore. Cool cool cool.

#personal #just venting #kind of concerned that that’s the take away from what I thought #was a very clear statement

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callmeshakespurr · 3 years

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Hey, if you're requests are open could you do a Rick Flag × Male Villian Reader (fluff) idk something cute where Rick Flag ends up falling in love with Male Reader, and the feeling is mutual. Idk you can fo what you want with it. ❤

Rick Flag x Male Reader

Requested: yes

Category: fluff, just a little bit of angst

Warnings: slight torture (?), i mention a knife like,, once

Note: I haven’t watched Suicide Squad in some time, so this could’ve turned out just the tiniest bit yandere, I hope you don’t mind! Also- I kinda struggled with this cause its my first time writing an actual one shot, but I hope you enjoyed it anyways (:

Tysm for requesting, hope you enjoy it <3

“Where is he?”, Amanda Waller called out as she walked down the hallway, towards the high security room you were currently kept in — Colonal Richard ‘Rick’ Flag not far behind her.

Her call grabbed the attention of the two guards, who stood in front of your cell.

“Is he in there?”, Amanda asked again, approaching the door with fast steps. One of the guards nodded and opened the thick metal door to let the director and the colonel in.

Amanda Waller had tried to get her hands on you for almost five years now, after you first made an apperiance in a club, killing two people. After that, several assassinations followed. Nobody knew who you exactly were, what you looked like, who you worked for; you were like a shadow — what people then came to call you, Shadow.

The major reason of why nobody could get a hold of you even in the slightest bit, was because you always vanished before anybody could even spot you.

After two years of not being able to catch you, the police gave up on further investigation in your cases. Amanda didn’t break so easily though. She wanted you in one of those cells she kept so many freaks in already, and she wasn’t going to give up until she had you sitting behind one of those metal doors, unable to escape her.

After all these years of going after you, she did manage to find out two major things about you. Why you always managed to escape without anyone catching a glimpse of you, and what your weakness was.

All these things led to the present situation.

You sat in a dark room, the only light source being a small lamp, dangling from the ceiling. Your ankles were tightly cuffed to the chair you were sitting on, on your wrists and neck you felt something cold and heavy, which seemed to send small electric shocks through your body every few seconds.

You weren’t sure where you exactly were, since you passed out before they got you. Hell, you didn’t even know who ‘they’ were.

You closed your eyes, trying to concentrate on your thoughts, which was not as easy as you hoped it would be. To say that you were in pain was an understatement. The electricity flowing through your body kept you from thinking straight, and send a wave of pure pain through your limbs with every shock you got.

A female voice ripped you from your trance, and you slowly opened your eyes again, head still hanging low. You knew that voice and you knew that you didn’t stand a chance anymore.

“Your powers won’t work anymore, unless i allow you to use them, so don’t even try.”, that voice belonged to none other than Amanda Waller, probably the only person on this planet you actually feared. You were never scared of what her minions could do to you, no. You were scared of what she could do to you if she ever managed to get you — which almost happened on several occasions.

You clenched your fists, trying to ignore the pain that came over you again, as you frantically tried to somehow sort your thoughts and find a way out of this, but nothing seemed to work. There was no way out of this. There was no escaping this. The feeling of helplessness washed over you, a feeling you didn’t like at all.

“You’re Y/N L/N, you’re a teleporter, thats how you managed to always vanish before the police got to the crime scene”, Amanda spoke, watching you as you sat there on the chair, staring at the ground, unable to move a single muscle. “It took me some time, but i managed to figure out how to block your powers”, she continued, taking slow steps towards you “Teleporters are extremely sensitive to electricity, some mightve even already died due to the constant pain if they were in your place.” She stopped right in front of you, looking down at your slumped figure, the only thing restraining you from falling over being the thick metallic handcuffs that kept your hands tied behind the chair.

Amanda grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at her. Your sight was blurry and it cost you a lot of strength to even keep your eyes open, but you did manage to make out the silhouette of a rather tall person standing at the entrance of the cell, watching the whole scene, before your focus was back on the woman in front of you. “You’re actually a very pretty boy, Y/N, and very smart too, it’s a shame that you decided to end up like this.”, she said, before letting your face go. “Rick, take him to get the injection, then get his things and introduce him to the team. After that, you can take him to his provided cell.”

The man standing at the door — Rick, you assumed — made his way towards you, as Waller left the room, leaving you to the colonel.

Rick helped you out of the cuffs, that kept you strapped to the chair. Looking at you, he almost felt bad, you looked so drained and helpless. He had never exactly agreed with anything Amanda Waller did, but seeing what just a few hours under her control did with you was another level of not agreeing with something she did.

“Can you stand?”, the colonel asked and you nodded, slowly rising from the chair. Your legs wobbled beneath your weight and you instinctively grabbed onto whats next to you, which just so happened to be Ricks Arm.

After making sure you had gathered enough strength, he began to walk with you towards the door.

time skip

It’s been a little over a week now since they’ve brought you here — you think. Every day was the same. Sitting on the cold floor of your cell, staring at the camera in the corner of your ceiling, some guard bringing you food, you not eating it, some guard taking it away again and reporting everything to someone, more staring at the camera, someone bringing you food again, you not eating it again, the guard taking it away again and reporting everything, all over again, everyday.

The only slightest bit good and entertaining thing was the colonel — Rick Flag, as you learned was his name — checking up on you every now and then when he didn’t have anything better to do. You didn’t quite understand why Rick was making efforts to look after you, just for you to not answer his questions anyways, but you appreciated it. It made everything a little more bearable.

Of course, you were one of the bad guys, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t have a life outside of assassinations.

When you weren’t working for other bad guys, you loved to just sit in your apartment and read, you loved to go onto high buildings and watch over the city. You dreamed of leaving everything behind and exploring the world someday. You worked at your favourite coffee shop, hell you even had a cat. The thought of your only friend being probably already dead or suffering made you sad, but what could you do about it?

Sometimes, you wish you hadn’t picked the path you were on, but looking back at the time you chose to work for the bad guys, you didn’t really have a choice.

Your train of thoughts was interrupted, when you heard the door to your cell open. Hoping it would be Rick, you looked up, your eyes only half open from the lack of strength you had. What you did not expect was to see Amanda Waller standing in front of you, Rick Flag behind her.

“Stand up”, the woman demanded. You listened, as it was of no use to resist her orders. You slowly got up on your feet, which didn’t last long, since you almost immediately fell over, landing painfully hard on your knees. To your suprise, Rick immediately rushed to your side, helping you stand up again.

“I don’t need him on missions like this”, Waller spoke as she watched you lean onto Rick for support. “Take him to the base, the council and I will be waiting there in the meeting room for him.” With that, Waller left again.

The way to the car wasn’t long, but with you almost not being able to stand on you own, let alone walk on your own, it took a little longer, which only fueled your anxiety. The ride to the base was even worse though, since nobody talked and you had five guards sitting around you.

Finally arriving at the door of the meeting room, which was located in the base, the two guards standing in front of it immediately opened the door as soon as they saw the colonel.

The room was quiet at an instance, when you stepped a food inside, Rick following very close behind you — just in case something should happen.

Amanda Waller stood in front of a group of suit wearing men who all sat at one big round table, most likely discussing something. She gestured you to come next to her, to which you complied.

“And who is this now, Director Waller? A new addition to your group of- freaks?”, asked one of the men as he looked you up and down, probably doubting that someone like you could be much of an good asset.

“This, Gentlemen,”, she grabbed your arm and moved you a little forward, making you almost tumble “is Y/N L/N or ‘Shadow’, he was an assassin for almost five years now, working for several other bad guys. Nobody got a hold of him till now due to his teleporting ability. He has over a hundred confirmed kills and not once did anyone ever get near him. I’m using these electric cuffs”, she grabbed your arm again and lifted it up to present the metal cuff, which was secured around your arm “to block his powers, which means he cannot teleport, as long as the electric shocks are on full power. As soon as I turn down the power a little, he can use his power, it is more draining and limited to a certain radius, but it works. I have him under full control and I want him on the team.” Murmurs broke out between the people in the room, as soon as she finished.

“I’m sorry, director, but do you really think it’s a good idea to put another- another misfit on that team? They’re bad guys and will always stay bad guys, and their freaky abilities make them even more dangerous.”, one of the men in suits spoke.

“As I said, I have him under full control, gentlemen. Let me demonstrate.”, Amanda spoke, turning to you, as the people sitting at the table sat back.

Waller took out some kind of remote and tapped on something. First your body tensed due to all the stress and pain you were under at the moment, but as soon as Amanda tapped on the remote, the electric shocks suddenly weren’t as intense as they were before, and your whole body relaxed, your eyes almost watering due to the wave of relief washing over you.

Rick was more than tense while watched the whole situation, only realizing in how much pain you actually were when Waller turned down the intensity of the electric shocks emmitting from the metallic cuffs you were wearing.

Waller looked you in the eyes with a serious expression on her face. “You disobey, you die, got that?” And suddenly you remembered the injection they gave you, when they first brought you here.

Seeing you had no other choice than obeying her, you simply gave her a small nod and looked around the room, taking in every detail. You looked at the small table in front of you, spotting a sharp knife, which you figured was put there by Amanda specifically for you in this exact situation.

With fast movements, you grabbed the knife and teleported to the other side of the room, holding the knife to one of the mens throat. Everyone in the room stiffened even more, and you heard at least three guns clicking.

Looking up, your eyes met Rick’s, before you looked over to Waller, who was already fixated on you. You slowly pressed the knife more against the man’s throat, wanting to see what Waller was going to do. The next electric shock came and you almost yelled out in pain, letting the knife fall, teleporting back to Waller and falling to your knees, clutching the metal around your neck.

Rick wanted to rush to help you, but was quickly held back by Amanda, gesturing him to wait.

“As you can see, I can control his powers however i want to, and should he disobey in any way, or should his powers bolt”, she tilted your head with her finger, than pressed onto the spot on your neck where they injected you, “he dies.”

Still staring at the ground, you swallowed harshly. You’ve never wanted to go back in time and undo all the bad things that happened so badly like in this specific moment. Maybe if you’re parents hadn’t ever found about your ability, you would still be at home, with your family, not here, being tortured by some government lady who wanted to use you as a weapon.

“There’s one more thing. I don’t need him on any mission in this shape. He needs to recover, quickly, and while doing so, I want him under Rick Flags complete supervision. It might cost a little more effort, but think about of how much use he will be for us”, Amanda said, a mischievous expression crossing her face for a few seconds, that going unnoticed by you and pretty much everyone else in the room.

time skip

Three whole months had passed. You’ve been staying with Rick ever since Amanda Waller announced that he had to fully supervise you.

The time you spent with Rick made you feel as if everything wasn’t so bad after all. Occasional talking here and there, Rick cooking something for the both of you every now and then, you almost felt normal again — weren’t there the electric cuffs reminding you of what was real every few minutes.

Over the past three months, your sleep only got worse. You got used to the constant pain by now, but the electricity didn’t only affect you physically, it also messed up your thoughts like hell. Sometimes you didn’t know where up and down was anymore, everything was all over the place inside your mind.

That was also the reason, you were up right now, in the middle of the night, sitting at the big window in your bedroom, looking over the city. You hugged your knees tightly to your chest, and rested you chin on them, letting a few tears slip. You hadn’t cried in a long time, but you were just so exhausted. You were never this close to giving up than right now. Nothing seemed to ever be okay again, you couldn’t do anything but accept your fate.

Being to entangled in your own thoughts, you didn’t hear your bedroom door open.

It didn’t take Rick a long time to spot you in your place at the window. He just came home from a mission that Amanda Waller had wanted you on, but Rick insisted on giving you a little more time to deal with everything.

The tall man closed the door as quietly as he could behind him, which seemed to not be quiet enough, since you jumped slightly at the noise, quickly standing up and turning around. Rick gave you an apologetic look, before slowly walking towards you, “I’m sorry, I should’ve knocked, I just wanted to check up on you and see if you’re alright-“ “It’s fine, I’m fine”, you interrupted him, wiping your tears quickly, taking a deep breath.

Rick frowned, he had never seen you cry before. He cared too much for you and he knew it, he just couldn’t help himself. Stopping in front of you, he looked down at you, only for his eyes to meet yours. For a moment, you both got lost in each others eyes, before you ripped your gaze away, looking to the side.

“Do you want anything else from me?”, you asked shakily, getting a little nervous with his burning stare on you.

“I actually do, yes-“, he hesitated for a moment. You looked up at him with a questioning expression. “Close your eyes”, you complied, closing your eyes slightly, one hand moving to hold onto Rick’s shirt so you didn’t lose your balance. You felt him lean down slightly, till you could fell his warm breath on your cheek. You surpressed a shiver, as he carefully tilted your head.

Now, you didn’t really know what to expect; you and Rick had gotten closer but you weren’t sure, if there were actual romantic feelings, or if he just pitied you, so a kiss wasn’t exactly what you expected. But you definitely would’ve expected it more than what happened next.

A small ‘click’ echoed through the dark room, the next thing you knew was, that all the pain suddenly disappeared. Your eyes watered when you felt Rick’s fingers carefully removing the heavy metallic cuffs around your wrists and neco, pure relief washing over you. Your leaned your body onto Rick’s, unable to support your own weight for a few moments.

When you had finally gained control over your own body again, you moved back a few centimetres and looked up to Rick, who met your confused eyes. “I couldn’t bear to see you in so much pain any longer, so I triedmy best to convince her and I’d say I’m lucky that she trusts me with you.”, the colonel smiled a little, raising a hand to softly carress your cheek. Your eyes widened. He quickly removed his hand again and apologized, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

Rick took a step back, still being careful so you didn’t lose balance again, “I should go, and you should sleep, you need to be well rested and-“

You were fast to interrupt him by taking a quick step towards him, getting a little on your tiptoes, before pressing a small kiss to Rick’s lips. You carefully looked him in the eyes again, “I don’t know either, but it just felt like the right thing to do.”

It took the man a few seconds to process what just happened, but when he did, he was quick to kiss you again, his soft lips over yours, moving slowly, as you kissed back. He put his hands on your waist, while you locked yours behind his neck. You kissed for a few moments, before the both of you had to breathe again. “Thank you”, you whispered against Rick’s lips, before receiving another small peck. “Sleep with me tonight?”, he asked quietly, getting lost in your eyes again. You gave him a small nod, allowing him to pick you up and carry you to his room, both of you smiling as you fell onto the mattress.

#suicide squad #rick flag #y/n #rick flag x male reader #male reader

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rogue-durin-16 · 3 years

Text

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part IV/VII)

"wrong name"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @sunshineandshadowss @missmulti @accioweaslcy

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa

Warnings: language, mentions of Fred x Reader, brief mention of death ig (?) Feels

A/N: here's a Christmas fic that has no right to be this angsty lmao, enjoy nonetheless <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

We apparated in the Weasley front yard together at dusk at the same time as Percy did; we greeted him with a hug and entered their old home, only to be met with more hugs.

I had only stayed at the Burrow once, arriving the night we escorted Harry, and leaving shortly after the tragic and abrupt ending of Bill and Fleur's wedding.

I had attended to the wedding as Fred's date. Even if we agreed that there was nothing serious between us, we cared deeply for one another, and I was important enough for him that he asked me to present ourselves together in front of his family.

How odd it was that the second time I was staying at the Burrow, it was because I had been asked to attend this Christmas gathering by none other than George —as friends, of course—; so odd that it made me anxious, but Arthur and Molly were way too welcoming for that anxiety to carry on longer than a minute after I stepped into their home.

"Y/n, dear!" Molly held me back while George went to greet his siblings, who had arrived earlier than us. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

"She didn't want to come." George snitched, coming back to us after hugging his father. "Said she felt like she was trespassing."

"George!" My cheeks burned when he exposed me.

"Oh, darling," Molly pulled me into the house to join the rest. "You're always welcomed here, don't be silly!"

Molly had liked me since day one, even before Fred and I became a thing. I was the one to receive her when the Weasley matriarch first visited the shop, and we immediately got along. Fred had explained to me that it was because I reminded his mother of her younger self.

"You're a snitch." I whispered into George's ear as we both walked behind Molly in the kitchen direction, his only response was to stick out his tongue, which made us both chuckle.

Molly looked over her shoulder and I caught in her eyes the same emotion I saw in Ginny's the first time she came to visit the shop after the reopening.

A profound emotion rooted in hope; a bittersweet feeling coming from the thought that, even though Fred was gone, George seemed to be coming back to us.

I felt it too, whenever he smiled. It was lovely to see him actually happy; I wished I could keep him like that forever, even in the nights, when everything would come down on his shoulders, tearing apart every spark of joy might have had in the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

We weren't finished with food yet when Arthur wiped his mouth with the napkin and, clapping his hands once, exclaimed, "Alright, time for presents!" Teddy, who rested on Bill's lap, squealed, his hair turning pink; that baby was smart. "I'll get them, dear." He stopped his wife from standing up and went to get them himself.

He distributed the gifts, and I was surprised when he handed me one. "Oh! You didn't have to—"

"Nonsense!" Arthur stopped me, resuming his task with a warm smile. Everyone was happy in that moment, and I knew George's mood had a big part on that.

He unwrapped his, which turned out to be a purple and orange scarf and matching mittens. He was putting on the mittens when I tossed the wrap of my present, uncovering a cardigan formed by several tones of my favorite color.

"Put it on!" George requested excited. unbeknownst to me, it had been him who told Molly my favorite color. "Aw you look fantastic." He observed, poorly wrapping his scarf around his neck.

"Of course I do." I agreed, shifting on my chair to face him, my hands traveling to his scarf to relocate it properly.

Though we didn't notice, it wasn't the first time that more than one pair of eyes observed us that night, and it wouldn't be the last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bill and Fleur had offered to take care of Teddy since they were leaving to Shell Cottage, so Harry and Ginny could spend the night at the Burrow without the worry of the baby.

Percy was terribly tired, so he withdrew from the living room to go to sleep.

Thank goodness he did; Percy was probably the second most affected by Fred death, and after that nice evening, he wouldn't have wanted to witness what was about to happen.

Ron, Hermione and I had colonized the settee, while Ginny and George were on their feet near the table, chatting about some nonsense; Molly was cleaning the dishes. Harry had offered to help her, but she refused, so the boy decided to talk with Arthur instead.

Molly pointed with her index finger at the remaining glasses laid on the table and called for George.

The thing is, she didn't really call for George.

"Fred, darling, hand me those."

The room fell silent.

It took a moment for her to realise, but an instant later, Molly was covering her mouth with her hand, her glassy stare fixed on the wrong named twin.

My eyes frantically travelled to every single person in the room, who had gone livid. We all seemed to be holding our breaths, waiting for some kind of explosive reaction.

Then my attention was drawn to George, whose, until that instant amused gaze, had turned blank and expressionless.

"Darling—" Molly's voice shattered with a single word. As Arthur went to console his wife, Ginny led her older brother aside and whispered things only he could hear, attempting to sooth him. "It slipped..." Molly cried.

I stayed sat on the couch with Hermione and Ron, the three of us frozen; I felt like I was an intruder witnessing a very intimate family moment.

"George don't—" we heard Ginny raising her voice before her brother disapparated. "Bloody hell!" She spun around and walked to me. "Y/n, speak to him, he'll listen to you." She practically begged, nodding her head at the window, prompting me to look at George standing alone at the edge of the cornfield, already making his way in.

"I-I..." I didn't need to look around in order to acknowledge all the eyes laid on me. "O-okay." I blinked away my own tears and rushed to the door, only to be stopped by Molly's shaky hand.

"Please- tell him I'm sorry."

"I don't think he'll blame you." I reassured the wrecked mother, offering her a comforting smile before making my way out and jogging into the cornfield myself.

"George?" When I didn't obtain an answer, it dawned on me how dumb it had been to dive into that area without knowing where to go. "George?"

I yelped when something tugged on my sleeve, making my body pivot on my heel. "You know how easy is to get lost in here?" The ginger questioned in a raspy tone, the hand that had been on my sleeve going down to mine, which invited him into my hold.

"She didn't mean— I reckon she just... Saw him in you for a second."

"I know." Though his eyes did look a bit red, he was calm.

"You alright?" I inquired, taking my hand to his cheek, on which he leaned.

"I just..." Sigh. His right hand travelled up to his face to hold mine in it before pulling away. "I need a moment alone."

I nodded. "Don't take too long or you'll catch a cold." He hummed affirmatively, and I half-heartedly left the cornfield and headed to the Burrow.

I excused George, assuring them he would be okay and, though the previous light-hearted environment didn't return, the tension in the air dissipated a bit.

A few minutes later, George came in; his mother welcomed with open arms and he returned the hug, having a small conversation against Molly's shoulder before making a beeline to me, sitting by my side.

I felt my cheeks flushing as he leaned on me, putting his head on my shoulder; suddenly self-conscious at the closeness between us. Somehow it was different being that close the privacy of our flat, than outside of it. Though it felt somehow inappropriate, when his long fingers intertwined with mines, I indulged him, trying hard not to meet neither Hermione's nor Ginny's eyes —they had been staring so much that I had noticed them an hour ago.

I was completely unaware of Molly's gaze laid on us too.

George, whose eyes had been closed, sit up straighter to whisper in my ear, "Can we go back to the flat?" My eyes met his and I realised we were even closer than I had thought in first place.

"I thought we were staying the night?" I murmured, trying in vain to keep his family out of the conversation they were pretending not to hear.

He leaned a bit closer only for me to hear his words. "I don't think I can sleep in my room."

"Do it for your mum." I squeezed his hand and he sighed. "I'm gonna stay in that room with you." Another sigh, but this one was of defeat, letting me know that I had talked some sense into him.

HERMIONE'S P. O. V.

At the beginning of the evening, when George and Y/n had first stepped into the Burrow, Ginny had come to me, urging me to observe them closely.

At first I didn't know why she would say that, but after the wrong name slipped out of Molly's lips, I started to get a hold of the matter, but it seemed so surreal— it just couldn't be.

Though the way Y/n's cheeks lighted up when George took a seat between us did remind me of the way I used to react when Ron got a tad too close to me in our sixth year.

After a while Y/n seemed to forget about our presence and eased besides George, making their bodies get closer.

When we decided to call it a day and the ones left in the living room started to retreat to their rooms for the night, Y/n got up without letting go of George's hold at any moment and, thanking Molly for her hospitality, they made their way upstairs.

Had my eyes not been trained on them, I would have missed the way George's hands went to Y/n's waist as his chin fell on her shoulder.

I left the sofa and walked to Ginny before she and Harry could slither to their dorm. "Are they...?"

"Not sure." Ginny replied with knitted brows. "What'd you think?"

"I... Don't know." I confessed.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

We entered the dark room, illuminated only by the light provided by the night sky and started to discard our clothes in silence without looking at each other.

I was the first one to finish, making my way to my old bed and catching a glimpse of Y/n's silouhette while she threw a tee on.

I was utterly, hopelessly in love with her.

I had known I loved her for quite a while, but the feeling that had made my heart swell and my stomach flutter when she got into the cornfield without giving it a second thought in order to find me, that was something else.

I had also felt it when she had found me lifeless in Fred's room a couple of months ago; that feeling had been the reason why I found the strength in me to come back to life.

I was young, but I just knew what I felt went further from only love.

"What's on your mind?" She was already slipping under the covers by my side, her arms wrapping around me and bringing my back closer to her chest.

You, I wanted to say. "Not much."

"Liar." She tugged on my shirt and I turned on my other side so we would be facing each other. "C'mon, it's just me."

Words blurted out of my mouth, escaping my control. "Do you see him when you look at me?"

And I wasn't making anything up; It was, in fact, on my mind. It had appeared during the walk through the cornfield and it hadn't left, but Y/n's scent, touch and words had backed that thought to a corner of my mind.

She wondered, tucking one of my locks away from my forehead. "Sometimes, but not like you think." She must have sensed my inquiry because she explained further. "There are small gestures, jokes— things like that in you, that remind me of him." Her eyes were roaming all over my face, her hands bringing mines to her heart. "When you're happy, like tonight— I can't quite explain it but... it sorta seems like he's still here. So yeah, you could say I see a little bit of Fred when I look at you." Her eyes finally met mines. "It's not a bad thing— you love him so much that we can still see him through you."

"Loved." I corrected her, my thumb drawing circles on the back of her palm. "He's dead." A tear rolled down my cheek, but Y/n caught it with her fingertips before it could reach the pillow.

"Love never dies, Georgie." Her replied seem to carry more significance that someone would see at first sight, but I was too tired to discern it.

I couldn't tell if she had scooted closer, or if I had unconsciously leaned on, but the tips of our noses were nearly touching.

Initially, she didn't attempt to put more distance between us, and I couldn't help but let my hopes get high. I waited for a sign, something that would let me know I could close the gap between our lips —oh, how I craved to feel her lips—, but the sign didn't come and we stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity before she casted down her eyes, immediately breaking the spell.

"Goodnight, Y/n." I whispered, turning my back to her.

"Goodnight, George." She mumbled back, coming closer to cuddle me.

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cupcakemolotov · 3 years

Text

At Horizon’s Edge

I promised @lalainajanes a space fic sometime before Covid, so that could have been two years ago or three, who can remember anymore, but here it is. I hope you enjoy it!

You can read the story at A03 here if you prefer!

Synopsis: Sometimes when a girl goes on a shopping trip to pick up a new pair of boots at the local, and somewhat hostile, human space station, she accidentally aids and abets a prison break instead. What happens in the black really doesn't stay in the black.

Warnings: Alternate Universe; Alternate Universe - Space; Alternate Universe - Fantasy; Alternate Universe - Soulmates; Alien Cultural Differences; Alien Technology; Werewolves; Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known; Werewolves in Space; Werewolf!Klaus; Alien!Caroline; Mostly Alien at Least; prison break; Accidental Rescue; Some Gore; Non-OTP Charachter Death; Found Family

Caroline slid into her pilot’s chair just as the comm on her dash beeped for an incoming transmission. Glancing over at the seat where her co-pilot sat, Enzo gave her a grim look. He didn’t agree to her plan, and she didn’t blame him. She wasn’t usually given to bouts of insanity but every day in space was a new one, and sometimes life tossed surprises at you with the impact of live grenades.

“Five minutes until gate clearance.” He paused and then sighed, rolling his shoulders with a reluctant acceptance. “I hope you know what you are doing.”

So did she.

Five minutes was an eternity when facing the guns of the space station they had just left. Named after a moon in the humanities home solar system, Titan was one of the few remaining stations that still traded directly with Earth. They were also very proud that they maintained the largest population of pure blooded humans outside of Earth Solar System, even by Earth’s exacting standards of what was considered human these days.

If she’d cared to check, the history logs on her computer would tell her all about the wars that had nearly decimated Earth and its colonized planets, of the laws that banned anyone who carried alien DNA in their veins. The justifications of a world terrified by how humanity could change in the cold void of space and their desperate, grasping fingers trying to avoid change.

Caroline had long since stopped caring about earth’s collective opinions, and the stars cared not all about the blood in your veins. Not all of humanity bent to fear, the far flung colonies that still lingered though they’d been abandoned by their home world. They’d learned to adapt, to change. There were wonders and nightmares in space that Earth could never imagine, but right then, none of that was particularly helpful.

What she cared about was getting out of Titan’s airspace as quickly as possible without getting blown to bits. The conversation she needed to have to do that would require her to be very, very careful. Blowing out a breath, Caroline hit accept.

Half a heart beat later, and the familiar eyes of Marshal Tyler Lockwood popped up on her screen. He looked worn, older than the last time she had seen him. The thick black of his hair had faded to more gray than the salt and pepper she remembered from their last conversation, and the creases in his forehead, and at the corner of his eyes, were a sign of his human heritage more than any of the military patches on his uniform.

Old. He had started to look so old.

“Marshall Lockwood,” Caroline said, tucking away any hint of sorrow. “This is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He grimaced, his face telling her exactly what he thought of either of them enjoying this call. Her ex-lover did not enjoy being reminded of their past, which was why she made a point to do it every time he initiated one of these little catch ups. A little pettiness always did wonders for her mood.

“Forbes. You’re leaving early.” He looked down, the line between his brows deepening as he clearly checked something on his tablet. “We had expected your stay at the station to last for another 48 standard hours.”

Brows arched, Caroline tipped her head to the side and studied him. “I wasn’t aware that you were watching my flight plans so closely.”

A hint of derision entered his eyes. “You are dangerous, Forbes. I keep an eye on dangerous things.”

She was dangerous. But not in ways that Tyler could plan against, and they both knew to target her specifically because of her heritage went against a dozen interstellar laws. His team could enforce station laws while she was standing on it, but here, on her ship, minutes from making a FTL jump, what she did should have been of no concern to them. This wasn’t space owned strictly by humanity, where it could control its population down to its DNA.

Tyler was walking a fine line.

Smiling, she settled a bit more comfortably in her chair. “Awe, that’s so sweet of you. Being so concerned about your people. I think you’d be more relieved to see the back of my ship than making demands to justify why I would leave when we both know you're not entitled to that information.”

His mouth tightened at her jab. “Generally that would be the case but you’re predictable. This breaks your usual pattern, and that gives me cause for suspicion.”

She shook her head in false exasperation, deliberately misunderstanding him. “My personal life is none of your business, remember? You made that choice decades ago, no reason to get sentimental now in your final few years.”

Her words were below the belt, but Caroline had never really been able to help herself where he was concerned. Walking away from her, walking away from the future they had been building together had hurt. Decades had softened the sting, but some scars still bled.

“I wasn’t asking for personal reasons.” His words were clipped, the edges sharp and cutting.

She laughed. “Such lies you tell. But there isn’t anything dramatic about my departure, Tyler. Your collection of goods suck right now. Did someone piss off High Command again? Would it honestly kill you to announce it when you have trade-shortfalls? Manifests exist for a reason, you know, and it’s such a waste that your ‘council’ won’t let anyone bring in additional goods. Seriously, I could have avoided this whole trip and it would have saved me some time and docking fees.”

Absently, she wondered if his jaw got stuck like that these days, clenched down on a brutal line that left the muscle jumping tautly. “You expect me to believe you couldn’t find the correct dress size so you decided to ignore two days of your itinerary? I know you better than that.”

Caroline scoffed. “Actually, you don’t know me, Tyler. It’s been fifty years since we last had a conversation that didn’t involve us insulting each other. Your personal opinions about my love of a well organized schedule are outdated.” The lie slipped easily from her tongue, and next to her Enzo rolled his eyes. She flipped him off, just outside of view of the camera. “My irritation at the lack of proper boot sizes available aside, you’re not usually this pushy. You want to tell me what’s really going on? And why you need a scapegoat?”

Tyler’s jaw turned to stone for a long moment, and she forced herself to appear bored. Every moment he delayed was another that they crept closer to their escape. He finally unlocked it enough to speak, words harsh. “We had a prison break.”

She didn’t have to fake her surprise, brows arching high at both his reluctant admittance and what it meant. Very, very few people knew that Titan had an advanced and secure prison system. Dear Old Earth had always enjoyed making its problems vanish, and Titan was one such place they used to keep their hands clean. Those shipments from Earth of goods and perishables that made Titan so popular as a trade station came with a dirty secret: in the belly of those ships were people. Political prisoners, murders, terrorists, inconvenient witnesses who needed to disappear. Titan housed them all. Some would be kept in the cold bowls of the station and others shipped off to one of the max-prisons deep in the black of space.

None of them ever escaped.

That Titan was a prison was a dirty little secret and not one that could be allowed to get out. But such secrets, buried in metal and technology, were very hard to hide from her. Tyler knew it, though he was bound to keep some of her secrets. As she was bound to keep the worst of his.

“You don’t lose people.” Caroline said slowly. “What happened?”

“He had help.”

Brows coming together at the word ‘he’, she frowned. “And now you want me to find him.”

Tyler’s face could have been carved from stone. “No, Caroline. I want to know if he is aboard your ship.”

Next to her, Enzo lifted three fingers in her peripheral vision. They’d only been talking for two minutes and it’d felt like twenty.

“Tyler, that’s far fetched even for you. I don’t let random people on my ship. You know that.” She didn’t have to fake the bitterness in the curve of her lips. “If I remember correctly, it was a major point of contention in our relationship.”

He ignored her, only the flex of his jawline a sign that her words had hit home. “I want to board your ship.”

“Absolutely not,” Caroline said flatly. “You have no grounds.”

“I have more than enough circumstantial evidence.” He spread his hand in her view, eyes like flint, shoulders square. “We scanned your ship, and while there are only three bodies registering onboard, we both know you have the capability to hide someone.”

She arched a brow. “That’s a violation of at least three treaties, Tyler.”

Marshall Lockwood didn't seem bothered by that. “I also know that there are at least two smuggling compartments on your ship that are capable of housing a human for short periods of time without them suffering from asphyxiation.”

There were now four compartments, and all of them could hide people for up to four hours without risking asphyxiation but were rarely used for such purposes. Smuggling people was difficult, goods were safer. Goods didn’t talk about ships and captains and give people ideas. But there were some things she couldn’t stomach, and sometimes a girl needed to be prepared.

But Tyler didn’t know that.

It’d been fifty years since she’d let him step foot on her ship. And unfortunately for him, she was hardly the only crew member with secrets. Smuggling had brought such interesting bedfellows into her life, and she’d violate more than three treaties to keep them safe. But her ex didn’t need to know that, and none of it would save her, if he opened fire at her. The point blank range of those canons would destroy her and everyone who would be caught in the crossfire.

Right then, Tyler was a problem and she could show no weakness.

“Circumstantial evidence of what exactly? “ she tilted her head and let scorn drip along her words. “That your super secret prison had an escapee and I am conveniently close to blame? That is ridiculous and we both know it.”

“You’re a Tech Witch.”

Next to her, Enzo tensed at the derogatory term and Caroline let her smile sharpen. Her mother’s blood wasn’t an unknown quality of hers, but saying so here, on this channel with who knows how many witnesses, put him perilously close to breaking the agreements that bound them both.

“Marshall, my ship cleared your security systems ten minutes ago. We accepted the standard cargo check before we left the docking bay, and I am told they were very thorough. Other than requiring a scapegoat in the form of my non-human DNA for whatever inside job you're attempting to cover up, you have nothing.” She nodded when he remained silent. “You have nothing.”

Something beeped, and he glanced down. When he glanced up, nothing had shifted on his face. “I could request you return to the docking bay or face the canons, Forbes.”

Caroline shook her head. It was a threat, but here, for now, she had the upper hand. This kind of PR move for humanity would be costly, but Tyler didn’t worry about those decisions. But him, personally, and the blackmail she had?

“We both know why you won’t.”

The skin near his eyes visibly tightened and she let her smile dimple. They both knew her death would act as a trigger for a number of unpleasant consequences for Tyler. What bound them was contractual, but she had never trusted him to do more than keep the letter of the law, and today had proved she’d been correct in her assessment. If he could have violated the spirit of their contract, he would have. Lucky for her, he couldn’t. Tyler’s secrets could destroy everything he had worked to build in his life, and even now, less than a decade or two from his death, he wouldn’t risk her ruining him.

Her previous lover had always been a coward when it counted. Earth had its enemies, and so did Titan, and she knew almost all of them. Today might cost her, but it could cost him far more.

Letting her knowledge show on her face, she showed her teeth. “Do you even want to tell me who it is that you lost that has you so desperate?”

There was a long, long silence as he stared at her and she just waited. Time was on her side now, the clock burning down. In the back of her head, she counted down.

Sixty seconds. Fifty-five. So close.

The gleam behind Tyler’s eyes turned calculating, and he dropped the name as if it was supposed to mean something, as if it was supposed to bring the weight of her guilt crashing down on her shoulders. “Klaus Mikaelson.”

Caroline just stared at him in surprise; she hadn’t expected him to tell her. The ghosts between her and Tyler faded a little more every year. Humanity might have extended their lifespans as far as they could be stretched, but they would never match those whose DNA held the remnants of long lived, non-human races. Soon Tyler would be one of the few living memories left from the single year of her life she had spent planetside.

Klaus Mikaelson was another.

Gathering her thoughts, Caroline shook her head, forcing herself to focus. “If he is alive, he should be nearing a century on a planet with less medical knowledge than your Station. He should be either senile or dead.” She pushed back a loose strand of hair that slid into her face, the pale gold as much as her mother’s blood as her fathers. “Out of all of us, I’m the only one cursed, remember?”

Next to her, Enzo made a grunting noise of disagreement, his disapproval clear. She waved a hand at him. Her hidden clenched fist relaxed as Enzo bared his teeth but started the sequence to activate the first of what was going to be several jumps. Right then, she didn’t care how much he hated Tyler. They’d be harder to trace once they arrived at the major traffic lanes, but first they had to make it. She didn’t dare take her eyes away from her screen.

Tyler sighed, the sound deep and an echo that caught in her chest. His dark eyes creased, and for the first time the Tyler she’d once known peaked at her from behind the Marshall. “You’ve never been gifted at lying, Caroline.”

She laughed at him, the sound bitter. “No, Tyler. You’ve just never believed me when I spoke truly. I was never your enemy.”

His face told her that he didn't believe her. He never had. “I won’t forget this, Caroline. When we prove that you helped, and we will prove it, not even your precious interstellar laws will be able to protect you.”

The call ended just as their clearance to enter the gate came through. Caroline cut the open line, and immediately started backtracking through her systems to make sure that Tyler hadn’t tried to leave her a present. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Earth, and it’s subjects, tended to see laws as flexible when it suited them.

The initial scrub didn’t take long, she’d never skimped on security and her ship did not endure itself to strangers programs, and the surface diagnosis came back clean. Jaw set, she triggered the deeper scrub that would erase the identifiers that they had used to dock at Titan.

She’d known she’d have to burn the remaining dregs of that life soon, but hadn’t expected it today. Better to make a clean cut, erase her existence here in Pure Human Space now than end up in the darkness of its prison, driven mad by the hum of machines she could hear but not touch.

“Ten seconds until FTL.”

Switching to her main screen, Caroline pulled up the screens to monitor their progress. Closing her eyes as the universe started to blur with the faster than light speed jump, she inhaled slowly and didn’t breathe again until the sound of space tearing around them drowned out the anxious rush of her heartbeat.

It took twenty minutes after they passed through the gate to clear enough space to make the first jump. They didn’t quite dare engage their cloaking device until they left the jump points. It took another precious half hour before they finally winked out of existence as far as radars were concerned. But the muscles along her spine didn't relax until Enzo finally gave her a nod.

“We’re clear. No one followed us, which means they didn’t have enough time to scramble a ship. We’ve got a sixty minute window before this airspace becomes too hot for us.”

Caroline laughed. “Good thing we won’t be here that long. Go ahead and start planning our next jump.”

Enzo tipped his head. “Are we sticking to our plan then?”

“For now. I don’t want to risk picking up a tail, and they won’t be able to follow us from here. As long as we stay out of Federation space, we should be okay for the short term.”

For now. If they were going to stay that way was entirely dependent on what exactly she had gotten them into. Grimacing a little, she hit the comm button. “Bonnie? Everything alright down there?”

There was a pause and then the droll voice of her closest friend came back over the mic. “So far everything is holding up. I did a fast scan once we cleared the gate, and I didn’t find any extra tech that might have been dropped in the ship.”

“Thanks, but we’re clean.” She pressed her hand against the panel, listening to the hum of engines and the computers that were as familiar to her as the back of her hands. The curious hum of its voice. “I’ll be down shortly to deal with our pickup.”

“Better you than me.”

Enzo leaned back, watching her with dark eyes as he waited for her to finish her conversation. “You sure this is what you want?”

Caroline snorted and unbuckled herself. “I think it's a little late for second guessing, don’t you?”

A shrug. “We could space him.”

She laughed, this one far more genuine. “If he threatens you or Bonnie, I promise, he’ll find himself ejected. But until then…”

Enzo crossed his arms, gaze dark. “You think he might know something about your mom.”

Eyes sliding shut, Caroline sighed. She wished she could have given him that as the reason, but it hadn’t been. Not then. Now… “I don’t know if anyone knows what happened to my mom.”

“Be careful, Gorgeous.” Enzo’s mouth tightened at the corners. “The past can make you bleed.”

She knew that far better than anyone should, but arguing with Enzo about unnecessary reminders wouldn’t get her anywhere. “Yeah.”

Tipping back into his chair, Enzo studied her. “I’ve still got a friend or two on that station. I could arrange it so Lockwood stops being such a problem.”

She shot him a look and he shrugged unrepentant. “He has no teeth.”

“Gorgeous, we both know that’s hardly the truth. He’s going to do his damndest to make your life difficult. Even if he sticks to your bargain until he dies, you’ve got nothing to protect you after his death.”

Caroline shook her head. “Legacy means everything to Tyler. I don’t think he’ll so easily let me ruin it.”

Enzo snorted but turned back to his computer. “I’ll make the next jump.”

Understanding it for the grumpy acceptance but not an approval that it was, Caroline lifted hand to acknowledge she heard him, and left the bridge. The door closed behind her, leaving her in the quiet corridors, only the sounds of her boots loud over the hum of the ship as she walked.

She wished she could explain her impulsive reaction to Enzo, wished she could find the words that gave her actions any kind of logic. Particularly since she couldn’t explain to herself.

Walking around the corner, she found Bonnie waiting on her. There was grease smeared on one cheek and her mouth was pulled into a frown. Sighing, Caroline rubbed her forehead. “Are you going to yell too?”

Bonnie seemed to consider that, the data pad she held tapping against her thigh before she sighed. “I’d like to. But would it do any good?”

“Probably not.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She held out the data pad with a sigh. “I still have a bottle of that shit you call liquor in my room. When this is over, you’re going to owe me an explanation.”

Caroline’s fingers curled around the peace offering. “It’s a pretty long story.”

“You noticed I said an entire bottle?”

There wasn’t much she could say to that. “Deal.”

Bonnie nodded and tipped her head towards their small medbay. “Good luck.”

Taking a deep breath, she nodded and pressed her palm to the door, unlocking it so she could step inside. He was waiting for her, the familiarity of him the same punch to her system as it had been before. He’d lost the horrible prison uniform, Bonnie must have felt far more charitable than she’d wanted Caroline to know. But then, her friend had spent her own time in the prison uniforms herself and still avoided the color orange.

But that meant he was now shirtless, his bandaged ribs on display, his expression guarded.

Caroline gave herself a moment to absorb that change in perspective, to take him in. The tumble of curls still touched the tops of his ears, but he’d cleaned up his beard so that only a short stubble remained, leaving behind a man’s face, thin from his time beneath Titan but hardly weak. His eyes were gold touched blue, and awareness brushed down her spine. The decades since she had last seen him were stacked behind his eyes, visible in the way he had grown into his skin.

But the impact of him, the jolting rush of recognition from earlier still lingered beneath her skin. The sudden awareness of who he was and the bone deep hello she couldn’t explain. Which made no sense, had made no sense when she was hauling his ass through Titan. If the boy who had once been kind to her was buried beneath lean muscle and a hardness she recognized from her own mirror, she didn’t see him. This man, with his steady gaze and roughened features was a stranger.

She didn’t know what to think of the way he watched her. He brought so many complications with him. Tipping her head, she arched a brow with more casualness than she felt.

“Werewolf, huh?” Caroline kept her voice even, and the edge of his mouth curled. “I’d have remembered that if you’d mentioned that little detail before.”

He took his time responding, gaze dragging down her body in a thorough perusal that left her skin tingling as if he’d touched her. “Caroline Forbes. I must say, you were not who I was expecting.”

She snorted. “Yeah, well, me either. I wasn’t there to rescue you.”

His gaze narrowed. “Then why were you there?”

Caroline kept her voice bland, shifting her weight to tap one boot against the floor. “New boots.”

And Klaus Mikaelson blinked at her as if the words that were coming out of her mouth were in a dialect he had never heard before. She felt a perverse amount of satisfaction from that. The Klaus she had known had been a few years older and nearly unflappable, outside of the mercurial moodiness of his temperament.

“New boots.”

“Yup. And lucky for you that I decided I needed them. There are reasons that Titan has never lost a prisoner before.” She tossed the data pad in front of him. “I don’t know who or what you were expecting when you made it onto the surface level, but if I hadn’t found you and decided to help, you’d have been collared and sent right back into the depths of the station.”

Caroline wasn’t certain she’d ever shake the shock of it: turning the corner, and finding Klaus standing there. Klaus, who she had thought of only in the safety in the dark of space, when she allowed herself to remember that tumultuous year she’d spent with her feet on solid earth. She had hoped for him to have married, to have had a batch of sarcastic moody children, to have grown old having survived the machinations of his mother.

Another quiet piece of her past disappearing before she’d gained even so much as a hint of a wrinkle.

But he hadn’t, and now she didn’t know what to think.

When she’d seen him, his beard had been too long, the shackles from his cell had still been curved around the bones of his wrists. He’d been slightly hunched, the blood on his uniform not just from whoever had gotten between him and his escape, and the way he stood said something had hurt but he was on his feet.

Somehow, she hadn’t gotten any of that blood on her. Right then, she was regretting that a little. A single touch of his skin against her own, and she’d have managed to avoid some of this conversation as she’d been given the answers. For the first time, she cursed the prison uniform for more than its obnoxious color and terrible material.

And now here she was , struggling to understand the certainty she hadn't felt in decades when she’d seen him. Her mother’s blood never forgot an enemy, but it also never forgot a friend, and once, a very, very long time ago, she’d thought of him as such. The punch of that knowledge had been staggering as they’d stared at each other, too much between them, and she’d heard the alarms blaring from beneath the soles of her feet.

She hadn’t been able to turn, to leave him like she should have. Swearing at him, at herself, she’d moved forward and slid her arm beneath his and gritted out an order to stay quiet and to follow her.

And he had. Now here they were. On her ship, trying to outrun the long reach of Titan. His gaze finally left her face and lowered to the datapad before returning to hers in a silent question.

“Bonnie is med-trained,” Caroline lied easily. “She did a data scan before I came in when she was tapping up your ribs. I know earth uses the prisoners below Titan for experimentation, but did you ever hear them mention what they were putting into your blood?”

“Bonnie,” Klaus said softly. “Is a witch.”

She didn’t lower her eyes. Esther had been a witch. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

Not even a flicker of a lash. “No.”

“Because if it is,” Caroline said, “I will toss you into the airlock myself. Werewolves can last for a few minutes in the black, you know. Not long enough to live, but long enough to fight for it.”

The yellow in his gaze spread in a wash of power. “Threats already?”

“Duh,” she replied. “This is my ship, my crew. I might have saved you, but you try to harm them, and you’re going to see what it’s like trying to breathe in a vacuum.”

Klaus laughed, low and rich, and it ran across her senses like a touch. “Your threats have gotten better, love. I approve.”

Caroline snorted. “I’m touched. Really.”

He didn’t move towards her, but the sudden intensity to the way he watched her, the wolf clear in his gaze, left her very aware of the careful distance and one table between them. “I think you’ll find that even here, on this ship you’ve claimed and marked as your own, that I am not so easy to destroy.”

She didn’t doubt he believed that, that he was capable of horrible things, even injured, but she refused to give him an inch. Not here, not now. Not yet. Not when her ship would tear itself apart to protect its heart. “So says the werewolf that had to be rescued from humans.”

Klaus’ gaze narrowed, a flicker of deep seated rage there and gone again. “The result of an unfortunate betrayal, one I plan to deal with as soon as I am off this ship.”

There was something dangerous there, something terrible that kept her from asking the questions that lingered on her tongue. “Are you going to be a danger to my crew, Klaus?”

His head angled to the side, and there was nothing soft about his expression. “Will you believe my answer?”

“You’ve never lied to me before,” Caroline said slowly, feeling her way through the strange sense of knowing she hadn’t been able to shake. The buzzing of her mother’s blood. She wanted to believe him. “I don’t have a reason to think you’d start now, though you were apparently keeping some pretty big secrets.”

Klaus went motionless in front of her, the flex of his jaw unexpected as he stared at her. The wolf slowly faded from his eyes as he clearly weighed her words. “I intend no harm to your people, Caroline. Witches or no. But I cannot say the same for my enemies.”

She shoved her fingers through her bangs. “And just who are they?”

“Why did you rescue me, Caroline?”

She blinked. “Does that matter?”

A hint of a dimple curved along his cheek, and Klaus crossed his arms, leaning against the table. She tried very hard to ignore the shift and flex of muscle, the bare skin still on display. The fascinating movement of his tattoo. “Very much, I’m afraid.”

She mirrored his stance, arms crossing across her chest. “And why is that, exactly?”

“Caroline.”

“Klaus.”

“I’ve answered a number of your questions,” he pointed out in a reasonable tone that made her teeth clench. “It's only fair that you do the same, don’t you think?”

“I wasn’t the one rescued.”

His teeth gleamed in the lighting. “A man has reasons to be concerned when a near stranger offers him his freedom. Particularly in such… serendipitous circumstances, don’t you think? The black is full of terrible things. Slavers. Blood Witches. Those influential human scientists who wish to unlock the immortality of magic without the cost. We knew each other a long time ago, love.”

Her eye roll was automatic. “Oh yes, I’ve risked my reputation and my neck to drag you off to a backwater moon so you can become someone’s wolf bitch. How did you guess?”

The hint of amusement that had tugged at his lips disappeared, and something hard entered his eyes. “The truth, if you please.”

It was a velvet threat said in a voice lined in steel. She hadn’t liked that tone from him when she’d been seventeen, and she liked it even less now, knowing of the wolf that lived under his skin. She forcibly reminded herself that she’d have questions if he’s just up and rescued her too. Locking him in the med bag until he was reminded of his manners wasn’t a smart decision. Yet, at least.

She lifted her chin and held that inhuman gaze, unblinking. “You were something of a friend, once. I hadn’t forgotten that and I have no love for cages. Though I suppose I should worry why humanity decided to bury you in their favorite graveyard. There are some things even I won’t look past. Are we going to be enemies, Klaus?”

Truth and lies, they tangled together and she wondered if he saw them. None of that had been in her mind when she’d seen him, none of that had mattered. Her reaction had been inexplicable and confusing, and it wasn’t something she was willing to discuss. Not now, preferably never.

“You don’t want me as your enemy, love.”

Caroline scoffed. “I’m not sure I want you as my friend. The last werewolf I made an acquaintance of was a real dick, and this conversation isn’t shaping up to prove you’re much different.”

“And would that werewolf happen to be the esteemed Marshall Lockwood?” His words were casual, as if that information actually existed outside her head. As if he knew. But Klaus had known Tyler once, and that made her wonder.

“Marshall Lockwood is not up for discussion .”

Klaus brow arched with intrigue. “So the rumors are true.”

“That would depend on the rumors.” It was a strain, to hold that slightly bored expression. To keep her pulse steady.

“Lockwood should have been promoted past Marshall decades ago.” Klaus dragged his gaze down her face, and for a heartbeat she imagined those eyes lingered on her lips. “The why’s have always generated a great deal of speculation. He passes as human, you see. He is also loyal even when that loyalty is detrimental. The rumors of blackmail, of alien involvement have been rampant for years.”

She’d made a point not to follow those rumors, and it was a struggle not to wince. No wonder Tyler hated her. But she remembered the way he’d spat Tech Witch, the way he’d made it clear to anyone around him, and that wince turned to anger. He’d made his choices.

“You’re pretty knowledgeable for a man who was locked away in the depths of Titan.” Caroline said slowly. “Why exactly did they toss you into their comfy retirement home? Werewolves take resources to hold.”

His smile was slow and sharp. “Humanity considers me a threat.”

“That hardly makes you special.” She waved a hand towards the walls of her ship. “Earth considers everyone not fully human a threat. It’s a long, extensive list.”

“True. Let’s say then, that I have made an effort to be noticed.” His eyes glittered. “They are well aware of who I am.”

“How wonderful for you. How?”

Klaus studied her for a long moment. “When you said you couldn’t return, you meant it, didn’t you?”

Her breath caught in her throat at those softly voiced words, the memories they dragged violently to the surface. The way she could almost smell the smoke, feel the splash of her mother’s blood against her face.

“I never lied to you.” Caroline said. “Even then.”

Especially then.

Not when she had a choice.

He gave a nod, the wolf back in his eyes, as if he had come to some internal decision. “Esther didn’t survive you leaving the planet.”

She blinked, frowned. “Esther was amassing a cult following, how did anyone get through that? And how does this answer my question?”

A sharp slash of a smile. “I killed her.”

Caroline stared at him. Esther had been his mother. “I don’t understand.”

He lowered his arms, shifting his weight carefully. “My mother… Esther was a monster. And so was Mikael.”

“They did try to sacrifice my mom, so no arguments there.” She let the bite of her nails into her palm ground her. “But they were also powerful, which is why we ran.”

And why she’d been willing to barter with Tyler’s mother to get him off that world, the one family with limited permission to leave the planet without the terrible protocols. Not that it’s done her any good, in the long run. Tyler had chosen to bury what he was and to become something he wasn’t. And she...

She’d woken to the cold berth of her ship alone, the only clue the blood that had stained the walls, the floors, of what had been her mother’s room. That ship had been destroyed in the heart of a sun, the blood too potent and the horror of it too binding. The ship sang too mournful song, a song of rage and sadness even as she watched it disappear in an explosion that erased it down to the last molecule.

“Yes,” Klaus agreed. “But by rescuing Liz, you allowed the rest of us to find our freedom.” A lowering of his lashes, charm in every word. “I suppose that means you’ve saved me twice.”

For a long moment their gaze held, and the room felt several degrees too warm. It had been Klaus’ hands who had caught her when she had staggered at the weight of her mother. Klaus who had told her to go, as the screams around them had grown in fever pitch as the fires Kol had set to burn began to consume houses.

Clearing her throat, Caroline shook her head. “If you killed Ester that debt is even. But what does any of this have to do with you escaping that planet and pissing off enough people you got tossed into Titan? Stop avoiding my questions.”

Another flash of teeth, a deliberate god behind his eyes. “And where have you been all these years, Caroline?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

Hand sliding to her hip, Caroline glared. “What do you mean? Space is a big place.”

“You’re not an easy woman to find,” Klaus said casually. “Even when one knows what to look for.”

Unexpectedly, her heart jolted into her throat. “You shouldn’t have been looking for me at all.”

The dip of the crease of his cheeks, the curve of his smile were all predatory. “No?”

“My mother paid her debts,” Caroline said bitterly, chin lifting. “I owe you nothing.”

“No,” he repeated, voice softening. “You do not. I believe if anything, if what you say is true, I owe you.”

Her gaze narrowed, but his eyes didn’t waver from hers. Motioning towards the pad on the table in front of him, she firmed her words. She was done discussing her mom. “I bet Titan’s food sucked. I’ll find you an energy bar while you read that report.”

She turned her back to him, and it itched along her spine. But even a werewolf couldn’t get a clean jump on her in her own ship and to flinch now would be to lose ground. Digging through the supplies they kept for emergencies, she found a shirt that would probably fit with something like regret. Another drawer for one of Bonnie’s stashed meal replacements, and she walked over and set them both in front of him.

For a moment, she imagined she could feel the heat radiating from his skin, even with the table between them. She shook the thought off, ignoring the way she could almost pick out the scent of his skin beneath the sterility of the prison smell. Klaus, for his part, had done as she said and was looking at the data pad, the full line of his mouth pressed into a thin line.

“You’re sure this is accurate?”

“Bonnie doesn’t make mistakes,” Caroline said. “Not about this. And neither do I.”

“Why show this to me?”

She tipped her head and studied him. Considered the words she wanted to say. “Titan is full of the echoes of old ghosts. The kind humans cannot see, even in the black. The kind that skitter along nerves, that flicker with the hum of an engine, that race across a tablet screen in the shape of quick anomalies and distortions. What that station swallows, it keeps.”

There was no judgement in Klaus’ eyes at her reminder of her alien blood, the gifts that left her far more integrated into technology that should be possible. Tech Witch. If only it was so simple.

“So you’ve said.”

“So I did.”

Those brilliant eyes narrowed. “Tell me, love. Your people avoid human space. Yet, here you are. Why?”

Her lips twisted. What few of them were left. “We avoid humanity for good reason. We… the best way to put it is we leave behind our own echoes, and too many… well, this ship would swallow its enemies too. Titan would never allow that sort of integration, but they fear it. What it could become.”

“Titan has no consciousness, no knowing.” Klaus said, as if he’d been prepared for what she would admit. “It’s halls are lined with human nightmares, not the kind your people give shape to.”

“Humanity has never been so simple.” Caroline returned. “The remnants of my people… they litter empty colonies like broken alters. What humanity tries to do with those bits and pieces could never be allowed on earth, could never be allowed to be seen as anything but human invention.”

“Nanotechnology is not new.” He pointed out, referencing the report she’d given him to read, the details Bonnie had included for him. So he could understand. “Humanity has been experimenting with improving vaccinations and healing for more generations than have passed since your people’s first contact. Even in the black, the science of it has trickled out into space. Improved healing, improved health, longer life spans as organs stop failing quite so quickly.”

“What we suspect that they have injected you with is not so simple.” She gave him a brief smile, barely more than the bitter curve of her lips. “Over the last twenty years, we’ve discovered that the scientists on Titan have been less than satisfied with the dozens of prisoners that earth sends them each year as experiments. They’ve turned their eyes towards slavers, towards their own people when it suits them. I can’t imagine how delighted they’d have been, to have found themselves in the position of having a werewolf in their grip. Whatever they injected you with, it’s going to be dangerous.”

Klaus ran his finger thoughtfully down the screen of the pad. “Experiments with what technology survived the fall of your people seems like a bit of an extreme jump in logic. Earth would never sanction such things as the fallout should it be proven would be terrible.”

She’d once thought the same. That had changed. Caroline held out her palm, nudged her chin towards the pad. “There is an easy way to tell. If Bonnie was right. If we’re wrong.”

A simple touch, and she would know just what part her people’s cast off ruins were being used in the torture of those Titan claimed as its own. To see what they had shoved in his veins, this man-made monster who might now carry worse sins in his blood than he knew.

In front of her, the line of his throat went taut, the cords of his throat in sudden, sharp relief. What blue had returned to his eyes disappeared under a wash of gold so potent, she felt it sizzle across her nerves.

“Ah,” he murmured, voice dipping low and deep. “That might be more complicated than you know.”

She frowned. “Why? If they managed to inject you with their bastardized nanonites, touching you will let me confirm. Removing them is the complicated part.”

And would require help. Not something she thought the wolf would enjoy. Not when he was injured.

“Tell me, Caroline, do you know why Earth, why the Federation, put such a strict quarantine on my home world?”

The sudden switch of topics sent warning fingers dragging down her spine. “You mean other than it being infested with witches and apparently the occasional werewolf, the two things they like to pretend don’t exist?” She wrinkled her nose. “I always assumed it was one hell of a prison planet.”

There were a few of those, scattered around the galaxies. Klaus’ homeworld had been unique in that it was beautiful, and it inhabited more than just a prison carved into an otherwise uninhabitable chunk of rock. But it was also full of horrors, and not all of them had been man made.

He laughed softly, but there was no amusement in his eyes. “You’re not entirely wrong. But what they wished to trap there is more complicated than blood and magic.”

“Very few things are more complicated than either of those,” Caroline said carefully. “And all of them are alien in nature.”

The flicker of approval on his face shouldn’t have mattered. “Earth has mostly forsaken its children spread among the stars, but not all survivors consider themselves lost. My mother certainly didn’t.”

“Your mother was a fanatic.”

A tip of his head in casual agreement. “My grandmother called it an artifact, my mother thought it was a map. My father knew it for the danger it was, and it cost him his life.” He gave a careful shrug of his shoulder. “The werewolf homeworlds have long since been thought to be lost, though most people believe their Armadas must disappear to somewhere. Esther sought to change that.”

“The werewolf homeworlds?” Caroline repeated incredulously. “No one even knows if they truly exist, or if they do, how they came to be.”

A thoughtful glance from beneath his lashes. “So you do know the stories.”

“Yes, because they are stories.” She crossed her arms with a scoff. “It’s everyone’s favorite boogeyman bedtime tale. Particularly once their ships started to have more frequent sightings.”

“Enlighten me.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Of what, rumor? Urban legend? Seriously, Klaus. What could you possibly have not heard? The stories that blame witches for your existence, the gift that the black pulled from your blood? The ones that blame earth's scientists who went deep into the heart of a solar system that no longer has a name. Or my personal favorite, the ones that blame my mother’s people, though how they came to those conclusions I don’t know. They left behind experimenting on flesh and blood eons before they were destroyed. There is no fact behind any hint of a rumor that currently exists.”

“The werewolf gene is an interesting one,” Klaus murmured. “It breeds true but not always in strength. Ansel thought it had to do with our longevity, that when born on planets where it was peaceful, we didn’t need that strength.”

“Ansel?”

“My father.”

“Your…” staring at him, she struggled to find a coherent thought. It hadn’t occurred to her that Mikael couldn’t have been Klaus’ father. But perhaps it should have. Esther had been a witch, as were her children. All except one.

“What are you saying?”

“Esther’s ambition knew no bounds,” Klaus said. “She planned to use your mother’s blood to find the werewolf homeworld, to activate the map she suspected your people had left behind. And then she hoped to conquer it. But to conquer, she needed a weapon, one she could bind with the familial bond.” Another careful movement as he rolled his shoulder. “Ansel wanted to know if having a son under the horrors of our moon would grant strength back into his line. For a while, they’re politics aligned. It was short lived, as was with most things my mother touched.”

Caroline swallowed hard at the implications of his words. That he was that weapon. That her mom was a key to finishing worlds long lost. “That’s insane.”

“Perhaps. My mother was certainly many things, and sane was not one of them. But my father.” A slow tilt of his lips, the blunt edge of his teeth barely visible. “My father was not wrong. Though he was not entirely right, based on Tyler’s pathetic existence.”

“This,” Caroline said slowly, straightening her shoulders. “Is not your home world.”

The I am not your prey, hung between them.

His smile widened. “Esther did not expect you or your strength to defend your mother.” His wolf glimmered in jagged shards behind his eyes. “That seems to be a weakness in my family, as twice now, you have surprised me, when I know better. I’m very aware of where I stand, love.”

Strength that had eventually failed her. That had left her with nothing but the smeared remains of her family. “Why tell me this? Why bring up any of this?”

“I looked for you,” Klaus said, voice dipping into a caress that was almost a touch. “All these long years that I’ve spent among the stars. Hunted for a mention of your ship, chased every glance of gold from the corner of my gaze. And yet, when I looked for you naught, when my only thought was survival, there you were.”

Caroline’s stomach flipped at his words and she forced herself to hold his gaze. “I didn’t want to be found.”

“So I’ve gathered.” The dryness in his tone almost wrangled a smile from her. “But finding you has never been about just want, Caroline, but need.”

She bared her teeth. “So I am just an alien to you.”

Klaus moved, a slow deliberate shift of his body to remove the barrier of the table between them. Caroline had to sink her heels into the floor to hold her position, and while he didn’t touch her, he was close enough that when he dipped his head, his breath brushed along her chin.

“If only it was that simple.” He tipped his head, the movement strangely wolffish. “If only. You know what I am.”

Her fingernails dug into her palm as she wondered when she’d started to lose control of this conversation. “Yup. Werewolf, asshole, planet born. Big deal.”

An exhaled noise of amusement. “Alpha.”

She blinked. Blinked again. “Alpha of what? A backwater planet that eats its people regularly as it’s own wonderful world of sacrifice? Sounds awesome. Big congrats.”

A dimple creased his cheek. “You wanted to know who my enemies are, love? They are many, and varied. Earth, certainly. A number of werewolf tribes. The families of those whose son’s I left broken in my path to ruling. My inheritance from my father came with a heavy price, but it did not come without its gifts. Thankfully, the Armada did eventually see my value.”

“Armada,” she rasped. Swallowing, she tried again. “The werewolf armada. You are seriously trying to tell me you escaped your homeworld, and… what. You challenged your way right to the top of leadership? In the werewolf armada. The ships that are nearly impossible to find, that are made up of mercenary bands and other wonderful, loving people and they just let you stroll in and start killing people?”

“Yes.”

He sounded so unbelievably satisfied. “Well, clearly that didn’t stick since you ended up in the bowels of Titan.”

“Careful,” he murmured.

“Or what?” She wiggled her fingers, careful to not touch him. “You’re still on my ship, presumed alpha or not, and I can still space you. I probably should.”

An arch of his brow, though nothing about his body said he was worried about her threat. “Oh?”

Caroline gave him an annoyed look. “Have you not listened to a single thing I’ve said? Nanobites, Klaus. My people’s technology that’s been fucked about by humans into who knows what, swimming around in your bloodstream. Do you know what else they put in those things? Trackers.”

“Ah.”

“Yes, ah.” She lifted her chin. “Which brings us full circle to the original problem. I need to see exactly what they injected into you, and then Enzo and I might have to remove them, which is going to be a bitch for everyone. Otherwise dumping you on a planet to apparently contact your armada to come pick you up will mean absolutely shit. You’ll be cooling your heels on Titan in a matter of hours.”

“Enzo.” His voice turned cool, the line of his shoulders stiffening. “Who is Enzo?”

“My co-pilot,” Caroline said. “And someone I trust.”

Klaus moved, a quick shift of his weight that put his nose and mouth excruciatingly close to the skin beneath her ear. His breath was hot and damp, and she froze as he breathed deeply. “You don’t smell of him. So not lovers. Good.”

Caroline spluttered and took two steps back, cheeks hot. “That is none of your damn business.”

“I think you’ll find that is not entirely the case the moment you put your hands on me, Caroline.” His eyes met hers, and there was nothing human in the expression behind them. “You marked me decades ago.”

She straightened her spine, denial on her tongue, even as beneath her feet, her ship hummed with attention. “I did no such thing.”

His laugh echoed harshly between them and he prowled towards her, the line of his jaw set. “No? I disagree. So does my wolf. You’ve been in my blood so long, what does a mere echo of your people compare? Even the other wolves, the ones who sought my favor, who wished for my benevolence never quite dared ask for more than what I offered. They too, saw the claim you’d etched into me.”

“That’s impossible.”

An amused, indulgent glance that spoke of too many things that left her so very aware of how close he was standing to her. “Is it? You know the stories of your people as well as I do. My kind have a similar belief, though it is rare away from our worlds. Of claiming, of mating.”

Her fingertips tingled with the need to feel that uncompromising edge of his jaw and she swallowed. Tried not to think of the way her blood reacted to him, the impulsive need to help him. Mate. Impossible. “Klaus…”

His head lowered, lips lingering so close to her own. “Why did you save me?”

Caroline gave a tiny shake of her head, terrified that she’d give into the need to lean just a little forward. “I told you.”

“New boots,” Klaus murmured. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.” He straightened, and smiled, dimples on full display, cutting deep. “There is an easy way to tell. If I am right. If I am wrong.”

Her throat ran dry.

Klaus spread his arms slowly, moving to lean back against the table. “Do your worst. Go ahead, tell me what runs beneath my skin. All of it. But, Caroline.”

She took in a deep breath, lifting her chin to meet those moon glow eyes, that daunting smile.

“Don’t say that I didn’t warn you, love.”

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline update #i am braced

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senashenta · 3 years

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"Being Roach" - a The Witcher/Heralds of Valdemar crossover fanfiction

Title: Being Roach

Fandom(s): The Witcher (TV), Heralds of Valdemar

Ship: Geraskier

Notes: Please keep in mind I have only watched The Witcher Netflix series, so this is based on that (and bits I've gleaned from tumblr/the Witcher wiki.) I've got some of the books ordered but they haven't arrived yet. :P I don't think this fic is going to get much attention/traction because it's a crossover but whatever, I had fun writing it either way. Do give it a chance though, I think it turned out rather well. <3 More Witcher fic to come from me for sure, I've fallen into the Geraskier trap there's no hope for me now lol.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32380270

Companions: Are horses in appearance only. Always white with blue eyes unless magic is involved. As intelligent as humans, with the ability to communicate telepathically. Some can use forms of magic ("Gifts") themselves. They Choose a special Gifted person and strongly Bond to that person, guiding and protecting them for life.

Lifebonds: Are physical/mental Bonds between two (or more) people, linking them together for life. Think soulmates only stronger.

Mindspeech: Telepathy, shown :between colons and in italics like this.:

tldr; Read the Valdemar books by Mercedes Lackey, you won't be sorry!

BEING ROACH BY SENASHENTA

She hadn’t always been known as “Roach”. She had started out life with a much more fanciful name, given to her by fate and her mother, and when she had left home On Search at the age of eleven, she had intended to keep it—it was her name, after all. But over time and along the way she would eventually learn the unimportance of such trivial things.

When she left home—Haven, Valdemar—she followed the pull in her mind northeast, spending the next several months making her way to the border, then into Iftel and crossing that entire country before passing into Tolmassar and continuing on from there. The journey was tiring and arduous, only made harder by the formal tack—complete with bells, whose brilliant design idea had they been, anyway?—that she was wearing.

When she reached the end of Tolmassar she found herself at the edge of the Icepack Sea, the farthest that the map of Velgarth reached, and stared out across the endless water knowing that she needed to cross it somehow. That was where the heavy, noisy, impractical saddle and tack finally came in handy.

~*~*~

First, she traipsed herself up and down the coast until she found a shipping port. Then she put out the smallest tendril of thought, searching around until she located an honest ship’s captain (a harder feat than she had anticipated; the search took nearly two days.) Target acquired, she then carefully made her way down to the docks, ignoring the googly-eyed looks she was getting from people who had no idea what a Companion was, and presented herself to said ship’s captain.

Then she broke the Companion’s cardinal rule: she Bespoke him, a stranger, a man who was not and would never be her Chosen. She would probably catch hell for it later, but for then it had to be done.

Explaining her predicament to the rather overwhelmed-looking middle-aged man, she offered her saddle and tack—which were trimmed and plated in high quality silver and decorated with dozens of pure silver bells, all of which could be sold for a good amount of coin—as payment for a place on his ship and food for the journey when he next set out across the sea. (Something in the back of her mind whispered that her Chosen, the one she was trying so hard to reach, wouldn’t appreciate the fancy saddlery, anyway.)

After some humming and hawing the captain agreed, and she was divested of her saddle and tack, which was honestly a relief after wearing it travelling for so many months already. If she’d had a rider she would have had saddle sores. As it was, her hide was sensitive where the saddle had been biting in a bit around the edges.

:Better to have lost it, then, a saddle can be replaced.: Rolan reassured her when she expressed fleeting guilt at bartering away her tack the way she had. As the Grove Born, he was the only Companion with the mental signal strength to still reach her, as far away as she was. He was her last tie to Valdemar.

And so, much lighter and less jingly, she waited around for the next few days until “her” ship was ready to set sail, at which point she boarded along with the crew and supplies for the trip and hoped to the Gods she gained her sea legs sooner rather than later. Considering she had never even seen a boat before arriving there, that was probably a futile wish.

She was shown to the hold where a loose box stall had been readied for her, alongside another containing a handful of sheep—later she would learn that the sheep’s fate were to be dinner along the way, so she shouldn’t get too attached. She wished someone had told her that sooner; the sheep were cute and gave her something to talk to rather than just herself all the time.

Very quickly after they set out, she became glad that she was physically unable to throw up. The icepack sea was rough waters, and while she could lock her knees to keep from falling over, there was nothing she could do to keep the queasiness from setting in almost immediately. It took a couple of days for her to become accustomed to the rocking of the ship and for the nausea to fade.

~*~*~

The next couple months were monotonous and so boring it was mind-numbing at times. She stayed in her box stall, ate when the crew brought her hay and oats (and the occasional apple or sugar cube), and had very one-sided conversations with the slowly dwindling number of sheep next door. The captain did come down to visit with her whenever he had the time, though, which was nice because he was the only one who knew she could “talk”. To everyone else she was just a pretty horse—to the captain she was a person, and she could chat with him for a few minutes here-and-there, at least.

She spent a lot of time dozing, and just as much bothering Rolan back home just for something to do. There were times she thought she might go mad from sheer boredom. When they finally docked at the other side of the sea, she was in a definite hurry to get off the ship and onto dry land.

One final conversation with the ship’s captain and she learned that the land they now resided in was called simply “the Continent”, and contained a number of countries and kingdoms, which the captain rhymed off easily but she couldn’t commit to memory that quickly. She figured she would just have to learn them herself along the way.

And so with a final thanks and a parting farewell, she left the captain and the docks.

~*~*~

The first and most immediate problem with being in a foreign land was that no one had a bloody clue what a Companion was. For all intents and purposes she just looked like a very pretty, white, blue-eyed horse wandering about loose on its own. More than one person tried to tempt her close with carrots or apples and kissy noises, trying to lure her in while all she was trying to do was follow the insistent pull in the back of her brain that was directing her to the person she was supposed to Choose.

Finally, after the sixth Companion-napping attempt, she stole off into the woods for some peace and to Search the area for Nodes she could tap into. She knew they were there—all of her magical energy was dependant on them—it was just a matter of finding the bloody things. So she let her mind wander, following ley-lines until she located a decently-sized Node.

That done, she gently tapped into it, siphoning off a little of its’ energy—just enough to cast a lasting glamour on herself.

It was a simple one, just enough to make her appear to be a normal horse to anyone who saw her, but still quite a feat. Most Companions couldn’t perform arcane magic. But sometimes one was born who could—usually one who had a higher purpose, or for whom the magic could help their Chosen. She had never thought of herself as a “higher purpose” type of Companion, but now, more than halfway across the world… she was starting to wonder if she had been wrong.

~*~*~

Her journey continued on from there, now under the guise of a black-and-white paint horse, and for the first time when someone attempted to catch her, she allowed herself to be snagged.

To her way of thinking, in a land as foreign as she now found herself, it might be better to allow someone to lead her around for a while, rather than just wandering off by herself—even if being lead around meant a bridle with a bit in it. She very quickly learned that she hated bits. (Companions’ tack consisted of a bitless bridle, always, as they didn’t need directing to know which way to go.)

The first person to “catch” her did so by luring her with sugar cubes, which was entirely too simplistic but, hey, she got some sugar cubes out of it. He seemed a nice enough man, if a little dull, and after a couple of days she found herself hitched to a wagon and travelling the roads between markets where he sold his wares, all the while paying very close attention to the niggling pull in the back of her mind.

After three weeks of pulling the wagon, she decided she needed to change it up, so she slipped her tie-out in the middle of the night and shifted her glamour to one of a palomino, then headed off again to look for someone to try to catch her.

This went on for some time. She had many “owners”, most good, but one or two bad; one so terrible he actually attempted to beat her, and did beat his other horses. She had bucked and kicked her way free of that man, then broken his other two horses out as well, sending them running with a little psychic nudge before taking off behind them. It served him right; he didn’t deserve to own livestock if he was going to treat them that way.

She had continued on her way after that without a single glance backwards.

~*~*~

Finally, she found herself in the guise of a plain bay mare with a white mark striping her nose and forehead. The woman who owned her that time had captured her with the intention of selling her, which was fine as far as she was concerned—being traded would still get her around the territory.

That said, it meant a lot of time standing around at markets, tied to a post, waiting for someone to purchase her. It was boring, even when someone showed interest, listening to her owner haggle before always ultimately turning down the other party’s offer was just… well. She spent a lot of time chatting with Rolan over those days, to say the least.

Until he arrived.

She Felt him coming before he came into sight, the pull in the back of her mind intensifying, pulsing demandingly, and if she hadn’t been tied to a post she would have gone to meet him, the one she had come so very, very far for. As it was her head came up and began to swivel, sharp eyes scanning the crowd for—what? She didn’t even know what he looked like. But she would. She would know him when she saw him, she was sure of it.

“How much for the horse?”

She jerked, startling at the voice, and her head whipped around as she tried to figure out how he had managed to sneak up on her like tha—

Oh.

He was tall and muscular, with long white hair and the most astonishing golden eyes. Wearing leather armor and carrying swords on his back. Much older than most Chosen when they meet their Companions, but that was fine. And something about him… wasn’t entirely human. Witcher, her mind supplied when she reached a tentative thought tendril out toward him. Not that she knew what a Witcher was.

Either way, he was definitely the one she was there for. She paid very close attention to his interaction with the woman who was selling her. Surprisingly, he didn’t haggle, just paid the price she was asking, handing over the coins with a wave of his hand before unhitching her from the post and leading her away.

Something told her dropping her disguise and Bespeaking him immediately probably wouldn’t go over so well, so she followed along silently instead.

~*~*~

They headed down the road to the local stables, where he—a bit more gentle mental prodding told her his name was Geralt—set to purchasing her a saddle and the proper tack. She watched his interactions with the stablemaster with interest, ears perked and flicking, gleaning any little bits of information that she could from the conversation.

Geralt was a gruff man. He spoke shortly and to the point, and, she observed, others seemed to be giving him a wide berth. That, she was sure, had something to do with him being a Witcher, even if she was still unclear on what that entailed. The tentative link that she was already establishing between them was still too new and weak for her to simply pluck the information she wanted from his thoughts.

The stablemaster went off to gather the things Geralt had requested, leaving the imposing man to himself—and she was surprised when he began petting her nose, the touch gentle and affectionate. She got the feeling he would be good with animals, herself notwithstanding. “Roach,” He told her after a moment, “we’ll call you Roach. What do you think?”

In that moment, her Valdemarian name was cast aside and she became Roach.

~*~*~

They travelled together for years, and through experience Roach learned just what a Witcher was and what Geralt did. His profession was dangerous, and he was often injured, but he always made sure she was safe. And over time Roach decided not to drop the glamour she had cast on herself; Geralt couldn’t afford to be riding around on a shining white horse. It would make him even more of a target than he already was. No, she would keep her secret and keep him as safe as possible by doing so, just as he did with her.

~*~*~

Geralt was surprisingly protective of her at times, not wanting others to touch her or her tack, and yet at others he was disturbingly crass. “Don’t judge me,” He had said to her once, whilst temporarily bartering her for a room he couldn’t afford. She had wanted to reply :whyever would I judge you, Chosen, when you’re trading me for a bed and a whore?: but she kept her thoughts to herself, as always, and eventually he returned with the coin to pay for her freedom. (He always returned for her, no matter the circumstances.)

~*~*~

He never questioned that she never went into season like a normal mare regularly would have, and Roach, of course, never offered an explanation. Companions didn’t have seasons like horses did, and it wasn’t as if she could—or would—fake it. One time a probably-good-meaning stablemaster offered Geralt the services of his one of his stud horses for Roach. Geralt’s response was to almost grin and inform the man “good luck with that, she’ll dock his tail with her teeth before letting him touch her.” And Roach had thought damn straight! because she would never allow an ordinary horse to breed her like that. But then she also wondered, had she gotten so snippy over the years that Geralt could tell what her reaction would be that easily? Maybe his personality was rubbing off on her down their not-quite-Bond a little.

In any case, Geralt had gone to the tavern that night to chuckle into his ale over the entire mental image while Roach psychically scowled in his general direction.

~*~*~

People said Witchers had no emotions, or so Roach had been hearing, but that wasn’t true—at least not for Geralt. No, Geralt felt things—deeply, truly deeply, perhaps, she thought, even more deeply than the average person did. He was just better at masking his feelings than most, and felt like he always had to, except, sometimes, around just her. Because who was a horse going to tell, anyway?

He liked to talk to her while they travelled from town to town, to fill the silence; telling her tales of battles he’d been in, beasts he’d bested, his brothers—the other Witchers from the school of the wolf—and Kaer Morhen, where he had grown up and trained—the keep he called home, where they spent their winters, out of the biting cold. She had been there, of course, each winter since he had purchased her at the market.

Roach learned a lot about Geralt on the roads between towns, but mostly she learned that, maybe, he craved company more than he was willing to admit or let on.

~*~*~

She liked the bard, when he came into their lives. Jaskier was lively and entertaining, and his songs were often lewd and made her snort-chuckle to herself under her breath, almost making her break her own cover once or twice. He also shared apples with her frequently, which was nice. But mostly, he was bloody lifebonded to Geralt, even if the two of them were too thick-headed to figure out that they were soulmates. (Though, to be fair, from what she could gather, in this part of the world there was no concept of “lifebonds”, so why would either of them think of it? Still, it was frustrating as hell and made Roach want to scream on more than the odd occasion.)

~*~*~

Jaskier was a terrible, horrible flirt and kind of a slut on top of that—Geralt’s term, not Roach’s, something she’d gleaned from the edges of his thoughts on the nights when he sat in the taverns, watching Jaskier flounce around the place with his lute, hitting on anything that moved—and getting hit on in return. Half the time the bard ended up spending the night in someone else’s room, and that irritated Geralt to no end, though he couldn’t articulate why. Roach knew, of course, but couldn’t out and tell him: it was hard to watch your lifebonded with someone other than yourself.

Geralt dealt with that frustration by snapping at Jaskier and going to brothels, sleeping with women who didn’t care he was a Witcher as long as he had enough coin. Jaskier just continued on as he always did, hitting on Geralt as a matter of course and getting nothing in response. Roach wished the two of them would just get their act together already, all the drama was starting to give her a headache.

And that was before the djinn and Yennefer of Vengerberg coming into the picture.

Roach didn’t hate Yennefer, but she didn’t particularly like her, either. Mostly she didn’t trust the sorceress, because every time they met, Yennefer had a habit of looking at her like she was looking through her—and it made Roach check her Shields and double-down on her glamour spells every single time. Yennefer made her feel like the gig was up, and she didn’t like it, not one bit.

She also didn’t like that Geralt had a penchant for fucking Yennefer when he should have been fucking Jaskier instead. Honestly, what kind of a land had magics but didn’t know what lifebonds were? It was still irritating and probably always would be, judging from the way Geralt and Jaskier were avoiding the subject; Geralt more than Jaskier, who, of course, continued to flirt as a matter of course.

~*~*~

Often times, when he went on his hunts, Geralt forced Jaskier to stay behind—in town, or at the campsite, with Roach—somewhere safe. He usually, rather gruffly, informed Jaskier that it was to keep him from getting underfoot, but Roach knew it was more that he didn’t want the bard to get hurt than anything else. Usually Jaskier listened. Sometimes he didn’t. Occasionally he got hurt despite Geralt’s efforts—and Roach could Feel Geralt’s pain when that happened, too, though the Witcher never said anything about it. He treated Jaskier tenderly at those times, even if he wouldn’t admit as much later.

~*~*~

Carrying monster body parts strapped to her back was one of her least favorite parts of the job, especially given that they were usually oozing or dripping something—blood, slime, some other type of gore or bodily fluid—and typically smelled atrocious. Roach’s nose was better than that of an average horse, so the smell part was probably the worst. She couldn’t imagine training a normal horse to do the things she did without having the animal panic at the scent alone, but again, Geralt didn’t seem inclined to question it, and she wasn’t inclined to explain. Some day, though, they were going to have a conversation about how many severed heads she had carried around for him over the course of the years.

Thankfully, Jaskier was of the same opinion re: monster body parts as she was, so Roach felt somewhat validated by that, even though they both knew Geralt only kept them to sell for much-needed coin and no longer than he absolutely had to.

~*~*~

Roach could not for the life of her make sense of the Law of Surprise. She didn’t get it and didn’t think she ever would. Especially when Geralt accompanied Jaskier to a party in Cintra as a bodyguard only for the party to devolve into an outright battle, and for him to come out tied by destiny to a child that didn’t even exist yet. Thankfully—or possibly not thankfully, Roach couldn’t decide because going against destiny was never a good idea in her humble opinion—Geralt, in his infinite wisdom, had refused the idea outright and left the remnants of the party immediately thereafter.

Something told Roach that wasn’t the last she would be hearing about the Child Surprise.

~*~*~

:You know,: Rolan mused conversationally, and Roach knew that tone. :If you would just get on with Choosing him properly, you could talk to him when things like this came up. It’s awfully handy when your Chosen knows you exist, Mi—:

:Roach. It’s Roach.: She interrupted. Rolan knew, of course, he just sometimes forgot and called her by her previous name. She didn’t hold it against him. He’d had a lot of names to remember over the centuries, after all. :And he knows I exist, he just doesn’t know… what I am. He thinks I’m a horse. And I don’t know how he would take the news if I suddenly started Speaking to him out of the blue.:

:Roach,: Rolan sighed, :it’s been years.:

:I am painfully aware of that, Grove Born. But while I would love to be able to complain to him about how he treats Jaskier at times, or prod about the school of the wolf, or even enquire about that whole Child Surprise business—things here aren’t the same as they are in Valdemar. It’s not as if anyone here even knows what a Companion is. It’s complicated.: Roach gave a kind of mental shrug, :it took a while, but I’ve gotten used to it.:

Every now and then Rolan tried to convince Roach to “properly” Choose Geralt, and each time she rebuffed the idea. She didn’t think there was a “proper” way to Choose a Witcher, and besides, doing so would be putting herself on the line. After so long with Geralt, she secretly feared rejection if her secret got out. The idea of not having him in her life was downright terrifying.

Rolan seemed to hesitate before his Mindvoice took on a resigned tone; :do what you think is best, then, and keep taking care of him.:

:I will.: She could do no less.

~*~*~

The events on Dragon Mountain were a colossal fuckup for everyone involved, except maybe the dragons.

Roach didn’t witness them firsthand, she had been left at the foot of the mountain path with the rest of the horses, but she certainly Felt them and Heard them; the explosiveness of Geralt’s temper, directed toward Jaskier, the words he shouted at the bard in absolute fury. Roach wanted to rip her reins from the tree she was tied to and find her way to where they were just to tear a strip out of Geralt for saying such hurtful things to Jaskier—but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t have physically made it up the trail.

A while later when Jaskier came stumbling down the mountain alone, muttering to himself and tears in his eyes, she just watched sadly as he wandered off the way they had come. It was a long, long time before they saw the bard again, and even though he had been so angry to begin with, after a brief period of what Roach would almost have described as respite, Geralt quickly moved on to guilt. It gnawed at him almost constantly for months, leaving Roach to worry over him and Jaskier both.

~*~*~

Time passed at a crawl for what felt like years. Geralt went back to hunting monsters the way he always had, and Roach continued to secretly worry for him—especially when he got hurt and had no one to patch him up afterward.

It was after one of those times that he met Cirilla for the first time; he had been injured protecting a civilian, and that man had loaded Geralt into his wagon, tying Roach to the back of it, to take him back to his home, presumably to be treated for his wounds. Geralt was hallucinating the entire way, and Roach could only try to soothe his whirling mind the best she could—which wasn’t much. She felt helpless and she hated it.

But as soon as they arrived at the farmstead, Geralt stumbled out of the wagon and off into the woods. Roach made an alarmed sound and jerked her head, trying to free herself from where she was tied to the wagon with no luck.

Somewhere out in the sea of trees, Geralt stumbled onto Princess Cirilla.

Roach had known they hadn’t heard the last of the Child Surprise.

Geralt had tried, before, to stake his claim over the Law of Surprise, for the sake of the Princess—only to be imprisoned by Cintra’s Queen. That had been just before Nilfgaard had attacked. Geralt had escaped in the chaos, but had no way of knowing what had befallen Cirilla. For the most part he had put it out of his mind, at least as far as Roach could tell.

Then he came out of the woods with Cirilla tucked into his side and Roach couldn’t help giving a snort of surprise. She hadn’t been expecting that.

Geralt brought her over and stood her next to the wagon, then reached to untie Roach from the wagon, surely intending to get her tacked up and be on their way, despite the fact that he was still injured. Roach glared at him from the corner of her eye while at the same time Sending disapproving feelings down their half-Bond.

He just frowned and continued what he was doing, the stubborn bastard.

~*~*~

Ciri travelled with them, riding double with Geralt or walking alongside him when he decided Roach needed a rest (Roach never actually needed a rest but she didn’t say as much) and learning what he could safely teach her. She was a fast learner, an astute student. She impressed both Roach and Geralt, though he never actually said as much, only offering the occasional good job “hmm” or pat on the back.

When fall began turning to winter, Geralt turned them in the direction of Kaer Morhen, where they always spent winters, along with the other wolf Witchers.

The journey there was long and tiring, and Ciri was ready for a rest when they finally arrived, just as the first snow was beginning to fly. Geralt spoke to Vesemir, got Ciri situated—but then, once Roach had finished a good meal, turned around to leave again, much to the protests of the rest of his pack. No wolf spent the winter out in the cold.

He ignored them and left anyway—and Roach knew why. There was someone he needed to find.

~*~*~

They roamed the bitterly cold Continent for weeks. The longer they were out in the freezing winter weather the darker Geralt’s thoughts turned, despite Roach’s attempts to keep a steady stream of optimism going from herself to him.

Then one day, what felt like years later, they stumbled upon the bard in an inn tavern. Or, Geralt did—Roach was out in the stables, but as soon as she figured out what was going on she tuned in to her connection to Geralt to eavesdrop, eager for the entire debacle to be over with. (She just hoped Geralt didn’t somehow manage to screw things up even more.)

Geralt had paid for a room and the stabling for Roach before going inside to the tavern for food and drink—only to stop in his tracks just inside the door. There was music playing. Familiar music, and a familiar voice, and it all made the guilt he’d been carrying around for the last however-long ache in his chest. Made him want to turn around and leave. Roach Sent soothing feelings along their quasi-Bond, along with wordless urges for him to go inside already.

Finally, after a great deal of procrastinating, Geralt continued inside, skirting the edges of the room to find himself a table in the corner. When a serving girl came over he slid some coins across the table and in short order he had an ale and a bowl of stew in front of himself. He ate while watching the performer at the front of the room; while watching Jaskier.

At some point between songs, Jaskier looked around himself—and nearly dropped his lute when he spotted Geralt in the corner. He fumbled to catch it, set it gently by the edge of his stool, then, with a determined look on his face, stood and marched himself across the room to stand in front of Geralt’s table.

“What do you want, Geralt?”

Out in the stables, Roach could only wince.

“Food. A room.” Geralt told him shortly, jaw ticking lightly.

“In this inn, of all places?” Jaskier sounded dubious.

“Apparently.”

They fell into frustratingly awkward silence.

There was a divide there; Geralt being gruff and curt as always and Jaskier countering with his own brand of wounded defensiveness. They weren’t getting anywhere. Roach finally reached out the smallest tendril of thought to Geralt’s mind when the stalemate had gone on long enough—apologize to him, she urged gently, in feelings more than words—and it seemed to work, because Geralt finally heaved a sigh and offered, “sit down. We should… talk.”

To be fair, Jaskier did most of the talking—well, ranting, really, though he did take a seat, rambling at Geralt and waving his hands in animated gestures to go along with what he was saying. Geralt mostly reciprocated with “hmm”s interspersed here-and-there in the other man’s monologue.

What it basically boiled down to, on Jaskier’s part, anyway, was how could Geralt have been such an absolute ass to him? To him? His dearest friend??

Geralt, maybe surprisingly, didn’t argue those points. Instead he just looked into his ale and muttered an apology.

Jaskier, who had been right in the middle of chastising him further, stopped mid-sentence, blinked—then scooted his chair closer, reached to tilt Geralt’s face up and leaned in to kiss him, only a hint of apprehension in the action. “You’re forgiven.” Just like that. Roach should have expected as much.

Golden eyes blinked and Roach could feel the shock radiating off Geralt. But then he shoved his ale out of the way and yanked Jaskier in for another kiss. And then another. And another. It was like a dam had broken, and after a brief moment of surprise Jaskier responded in kind. The lifebond between them was practically vibrating.

Roach thought she might sing to the heavens because fucking finally. Of course, while she was grateful the pining and procrastinating would (hopefully) be over with, Roach was also glad she was in the stables where she could reinforce her Shields for the night and not have to See everything the two of them were about to do to one another when they stumbled up the back stairs to Geralt’s room. (She was not so lucky on some other occasions later on, when they were camping out or when Geralt’s mind was particularly loud.)

When Rolan next checked in a couple of months later, she was able to rather gleefully inform him that her Chosen and the bard had finally gotten their heads out of their asses and started fucking on a semi-regular basis. Then Rolan asked what she meant by “fucking”—and Roach backpeddled quickly, offering up “bedding” in exchange, which Rolan more easily understood. Sometimes she forgot that she had picked up Geralt’s language over the years, and not all of it translated to Valdemarian. Even if it had, Rolan probably would have told her off for swearing so much. It turned out Geralt was a bad influence, even if he didn’t realize it.

~*~*~

They went back to Kaer Morhen for the rest of the winter, this time heavy one bard. When the other wolves got a whiff of Geralt’s scent all over Jaskier, they all suddenly understood why Geralt had left in the middle of winter the way he had: he was tracking down his mate.

~*~*~

Ciri and Jaskier got along possibly too well. When they got back on the road after winter came to an end the two of them had already bonded and were thick as thieves. This made Geralt’s life… difficult. Especially since he adored the both of them, but of course steadfastly refused to admit that fact. They both knew anyway. Roach found the entire situation hilarious.

Unfortunately, the good times didn’t always last for long. Some people still took poorly to Witchers, regardless of the company they kept.

One minute they were fine, having fun; they had just arrived in a new town and located an inn, and Geralt was tying Roach to the post outside its’ doors, Ciri busy plaiting a braid in Roach’s mane while Jaskier joked about doing the same in Geralt’s—only to be met with a disapproving “hmm” that made him laugh. The entire scene almost—almost—tugged a smile to Geralt’s lips.

But then that minute was over, and the next men were appearing from nowhere, seeming to come out of the woodwork, all of them armed and focused on Geralt. These were villagers, carrying swords to fend off a Witcher. People who believed the darker rumors about Geralt’s kind and wanted him gone from their town. For his part, Geralt didn’t look up from Roach’s rein, but the almost-smile very quickly left his face.

“Oh dear, we’ve only been here a few minutes, this is rather excessive, don’t you think?” Jaskier began, even as he was skirting around to grab hold of Ciri’s arm and tugging her off to the side, out of the way of whatever was about to happen, “honestly, you really don’t want to do this, it’s a terrible idea, you should all rethink your life choices and—oh. Oh, well, you’re ignoring me completely, aren’t you? That’s unfortunate.”

“He’s going to kill them all, isn’t he?” Ciri asked conversationally.

Jaskier hummed a contemplative noise. “Not necessarily. Try not to get in the way, just in case.”

Roach watched the scene unfolding around her uneasily, ears flicking back and forth. It always made her uncomfortable when Geralt was in danger, even something as relatively minor as this. He would, of course, survive this encounter—these were only humans, after all—but it could still get ugly before all was said and done. And there was Jaskier and Ciri to consider, as well. She worried about them just as much.

Still, as much as Companions were known to be excellent fighters, she was tied to a bloody post so there wasn’t much she could do to help.

Finished with Roach’s reins, Geralt straightened up with a heavy sigh, looking around himself for a moment before finally drawing his sword. There was a brief pause then, just a tick of time during which no one moved—then Geralt made a little ‘are we doing this or what?’ kind of gesture with his free hand and all hell broke loose.

Three men were on him within the space of a breath, but they were shoved back easily. The fourth came at him from behind—a mistake. Geralt spun his sword in his hand and jammed it backward into the man’s chest, the first kill of the fight, then ripped it out again and turned back to the oncoming mass of men.

Slashing and hacking his way through the crowd, Geralt managed to cripple or maim but not kill most of them. Most because a few had the terribly bad judgement to turn their attention on Jaskier and Ciri, something that Geralt would not tolerate. Those men died quick and painful deaths as Geralt waded through the groaning casualties of the afternoon.

He was standing there, facing Jaskier and Ciri, chest heaving only slightly from the exertion, when Roach spotted one last danger approaching from behind; an already-wounded man who got up and stumbled forward, sword at the ready, toward Geralt’s turned back. Roach’s ears went back and she judged the distance for a breath before bucking abruptly, kicking out harshly. The blow landed at the man’s lower back and pitched him forward onto the ground. He didn’t get up again. Roach gave a satisfied little whuff and went back to chewing at her bit absently.

Jaskier peered around Geralt and waved one hand lightly. “Thanks, Roach. Good girl.”

Geralt turned around to survey the damage. After a minute he moved to untie Roach from the post. “Let’s go. Looks like we’re camping out tonight.”

~*~*~

Jaskier was over by the fire thrumming quietly on his lute, Ciri was whittling a little figure out of a piece of wood with a knife Geralt had given her back at Kaer Morhen, and Roach had been divested of all but her bridle and rein while Geralt groomed her out, the long, firm strokes of the brush leaving her feeling sleepy and a touch muddled. “That kick,” Geralt muttered after a while, making her flick an ear toward him, “it was unnecessary. I had the situation handled.”

Roach wanted to roll her eyes because honestly. Instead she flattened her ears back and groused, :~‘thanks for the help, Roach, I appreciate it, Roach,’ ‘oh, you’re welcome, Chosen, it was really no problem at all!’~: —the words all but dripping sarcasm. It wasn’t until the brushing abruptly stopped and she tilted her head to find Geralt’s intense gaze pinned to hers that Roach realized that, in her sleepy-minded stupor, she had said that out loud, effectively outing herself after years of keeping everything secret. Her head and ears came up sharply and she floundered for what to do before finally deflating and managing simply,

:Fuck.:

Geralt looked smug, the bastard. “Indeed.” And then he just started grooming her again, as if nothing had happened.

That was when she realized: :You knew! You’ve known all this time!:

“Hmm.” He agreed in a low hum, “you think I can’t feel a glamour when I’m around one? My medallion started singing like a minstrel as soon as I got near you. I knew you weren’t a normal horse. Why do you suppose I chose you at the market that day?”

Roach gave a rather indignant snort, stomping one front hoof in the dirt. :You chose me?? I Chose you!: (…technically not yet, but it was the principle of the matter!)

“That’s not the way I remember it. I paid good coin for you.”

:Well I was worth more.: She grumped.

“Geralt,” Jaskier called over, still absently strumming away at his lute. He tilted his head to glance in their direction, amusement all across his face. “Are you talking to your horse again? Honestly, darling, some day she’ll surprise you and talk back.”

Roach and Geralt both snorted at that.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, even as he started taking Roach’s bridle off (and thank the Gods the bloody bit was out of her mouth, even if it was only temporary), “come here.”

Jaskier gave him a puzzled look, but still stood, set his lute on the ground, and meandered over to stand next to him. He reached absently to pet Roach’s mane. “What is it, love?”

“Say hello to Roach.”

The bard offered a dry look. “Yes, very funny Geralt. Roach and I are already well acquainted, you know that.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Roach?”

Roach perked up, turning to look directly at Jaskier. :Hello, Jaskier!:

And then, when Jaskier stopped petting her mane and blinked at her blankly, she let her glamours drop.

Rather than the brown horse they were accustomed to, they were confronted with the Companion she was—white as snow with piercing blue eyes, deep with human intelligence. Over by the fire, Ciri gasped and dropped what she was doing to scramble to her feet and hurry over. That was the usual reaction of children to Companions. Roach lowered her head to let Ciri stroke her nose, even while she spoke to Geralt and Jaskier:

:Geralt and I have a few things to talk over,: she told the two of them cheerfully, :and then the three of us are going to have a discussion about lifebonds.:

END

Both versions of Roach. <3

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #heralds of valdemar #heralds of valdemar fanfiction #shut up sena #being roach by senashenta #sena writes

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trojc-rewrite · 3 years

Text

The Rise of Jimmy Casket Rewrite, Chapter Four

——————————————————————————

Toast blinked, his body not moving for a few seconds. His heart and lungs were lurching in his chest, he felt hot and cold at the same time. He let a shaky smile across his face, laughing a bit.

Ghost fixed his hair, cold lake water dripped slowly from his hair tips. His gray sweater was almost black from the lake water, and a strand of seaweed was strapped to his shoulder.

“Ghost,” Toast said solemnly. A million emotions were exploding in his chest, like tiny fireworks popping. Relief, joy, confusion. He wanted to wrap his arms around his friend, and never let him go. He wanted to hold him there in a warm hug, and sit there solemnly forever.

“Ghost I, where have you- thank you- but where have you been? I-I was so worried. Sir I’ve missed you so much,” he spilled out. Ghost looked at him, a mixed emotion glazing his good eye. But to Toast’s relief he smiled, showing an emotion not often seen in his best friend.

“There's so much. It’s too much to really explain right now.” Ghost said, picking the string of seaweed off his shoulder. He flicked it off of his fingers, and it hit Spooker in the leg. The ginger made a disgusted face, peeling it off of his jeans.

Ghost shook out his sleeve, staying quiet for a few minutes. “I was on my way back home believe it or not, and then I saw you and Gavin- just, holy shit. You absolute dumbass,” He breathed out a sigh. “I mean, I love how brave you are but Jesus, you can’t be dying on me.”

Toast chuckled, sitting upwards gently. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time I almost died on this trip, that’s for sure.”. Ghost smiled a tiny bit, before turning his attention to Toast's leg.

“We should get somewhere warm, and get that wound looked at. It could be infected.” Ghost said, leaning over his friend's leg. The wound was pulsing with cold, dull pain.

The four of them were quiet, not speaking. A question hung in the air, “but where?”. Toast's wallet was soaked, so no cash. Ghost more than likely couldn’t afford to get a hotel room for four people, with Spooker and Colon in the same boat.

The river water lapped at the beach, making soft sounds against the sandy grass. Wind howled over him, pointing out how cold he was getting. It laughed at him, taunting him with inevitable hypothermia if he stayed out here. “Maybe my credit cards survived my fall.” Toast said, grabbing his sodden wallet.

Luckily, they did. He had only one really old card, but it would do for tonight.

Toast looked up from his wallet, and made eye contact with Colon. His eyes were staring at him, and he nodded to him. Toast knew what that meant, that was Colon’s silent way of asking “may we talk, specifically without Ghost.”

“Ghost, there’s a motel across the bridge. I hate to be that person, would you mind booking us a room for the night? I might take a few minutes to get up.” He said, blinking some water droplets from his eyes.

Ghost was quiet, unreadable emotions filling his face. “Okay, just don’t be too late.” He said, and Toast smiled at him.

“Thank you Sir. We’ll be there soon.” Toast said. His friend got up, wringing out his hoodie sleeve. He shook his hair out one last time, spraying Spooker and Colon with water droplets.

Ghost rolled his eye slightly, which Toast laughed at. “Still being grumpy, I see?”. His friend snorted.

“Yeah, I guess.” He said, smiling slightly. He grabbed his satchel from the shore.

Ghost disappeared over the bridge, the night consuming him until he was nothing more than a ringing thought in Toast’s head.

Spooker and Colon turned to him, eyes hard. “We hope that you know that we have several questions.”

Toast rubbed the wedding ring on his neck, feeling anxiety beginning to blossom in his belly. “Of course you do.” He joked.

Colon sat down on a mossy rock, “I’m just thinking. Aren’t you angry with him?” He asked, looking at him with foggy eyes.

Toast gave him a confused look. “Why would I be?”

Colon held out his arms in a matter-of-fact way. “He left us Toast! He left you to hold P.I.E together, he left me and Spooker with barely any knowledge on anything. Hell, Spooker is STILL a trainee!”

Spooker hesitantly nodded.

“He just left us. We barely got an explanation. He just said ‘Hey I gotta go, dunno when I’ll be back.’ You aren’t upset over that? Not even in the slightest? He left you with scraps!”

Colon looked upset, but not in an angry way. He looked sad, as if he had actually been hurt when Ghost left. In which, Toast didn’t get 100%, sure they had their moments of clarity, and sometimes they worked together brilliantly, but he didn’t think they were that close.

‘He holds a grudge with Ghost for leaving.’ Toast thought, ‘Which I can’t even blame him for. If I wasn’t so close to Ghost I would be too.’

He studied his inner emotions more, taking a few minutes to breathe before answering. ‘Maybe I am mad at him for leaving.’ He thought. Toast could feel a kernel of anger settled in the knot of other emotions, weaved in there like a root. It was small, it wasn’t enough to make him be this upset, but it was there. And Toast was sure that Colon probably felt it more.

‘Maybe he looked up to him, in a weird way.’ He thought finally.

He took a deep breath. “I am upset with him.” He answered truthfully. “But I feel like anger won’t solve anything here.”

He played with the gold ring around his neck, watching it catch the moonlight with a glint. The ring brought back memories. Memories of him and Mary dancing on their wedding night, proposing to her. And then came the unpleasant memories, muddled in, unfortunately intertwined. And then came the memories of Ghost, him coming to visit him every day, taking care of him, helping him with his alcohol addiction. Telling him it would work out in the end, that he’d be happy again. Some of the rare moments of Ghost’s optimism, some that he knew he might not ever see again.

“But, even though him leaving wasn’t right, and I agree that he shouldn’t have left on such short notice, I forgive him for it too. There’s so much to Ghost, he’s a complicated person, as cliche as that sounds.

“He didn’t mean to hurt us. I know that for a fact. Ghost cares about us, he refuses to say it, he hates showing vulnerability, but he loves both you and Spooker. He has his moments, but they’re easy to miss.

“But, I don’t blame you for being upset with him. Him leaving us for those few weeks, it wasn’t the best thought out decision. But confronting him about it, I feel like it’ll cause more issues.”

Colon took in what he said for a few minutes, his expression softening. Spooker shuffled beside him, looking lost in thought. His eyebrows were knitted in soft confusion.

“I understand that he respects us, I guess I was just hurt when he left. He left us with more questions than answers. He left me thinking, ‘what did I do wrong?’, those things are just so hard to get over. I just hope he tells us. We’re a team right? We’re supposed to trust each other. Why didn’t he want to tell us?”

Toast brought his legs closer to his body, straining as his leg pulsed with numb pain again.

“Ghost has his secrets, and we should respect that. Plus, he always tells us inevitably, one way or another.”

He got up, limping a bit. Spooker helped him stand, getting to his side. The ginger still looked lost in thought, his eyes somewhere not in the conversation.

Colon nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”

He stood up, dusting off his pants. Moss stuck to his legs, staining his jeans green.

“Now let's go, I can’t wait to sleep on something that isn’t dirt.” Colon said.

Spooker chuckled slightly to himself. Toast blinked at him, and Spookers eyes focused. “Sorry! I was just thinkin, ya know how it is.”

Toast smiled, “I understand.”

He slowly closed his hand around his ring necklace, staring up at the stars. They glowed so bright, Toast felt calmed by them. It reminded him of his wedding after party, after most people had gone home. That night was a blast, but Toast's favorite memory was that one.

He, Mary and Ghost all staring at the stars, pointing out constellations and telling quiet stories of their youth. Ghost told stories of Toast, as all of them shared drinks under moonlight.

He smiled slightly to himself.

“Mary, my love, I’m keeping them safe as you asked.”

——————————————————————————-

A calm chapter for the soul, these poor boys needed a break.

New chapter should be up soon! So sorry for the wait!

#p.i.e #paranormal investigators extraordinaire #venturiantale #johnny ghost #jimmy casket #johnny toast #venturiantale pie #fred spooker #colon ghostie

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omgkalyppso · 3 years

Note

11. barefoot for Etoile!

I'm going to try and write something short and sensical as a warm up to other projects. Fingers crossed!

Are warm up's supposed to last 3.5 hours? Oh well.

The Underdark was more beautiful and terrifying than Étoile had ever imagined. Stories had invoked thoughts of darkness, gloom, and this was sometimes true, but the number of glowing mushrooms and bioluminescent creatures was staggering. 'So much variety of life in the dark.'

It was their second night below ground, and campfires burned low in triplets on dusted stone.

Despite Étoile's prior assurance that the stone where they made camp was dry, Astarion had layered their bedrolls, to sit atop a thicker boundary between them and the moist environment. The Underdark was far more humid than any of them had been expecting, which had been nearly horrific when Gale had made a show about drying his footwear by the fire, to keep his feet from contracting rot. Luckily Halsin had talked him out of it this night.

Étoile slipped on the corner of their bedrolls when they returned from checking in on the others, catching themselves only barely. Astarion chuckled quietly.

With a sigh, they took their place next to him, and asked aloud, "Why do you think vampires haven't colonized the Underdark?"

"Lack of organization," Lae'zel said with conviction.

"How do you know they haven't?" Wyll countered. "Perhaps there are several covens in the drow capitals."

"Covens are witches," Astarion said, a spot of annoyance in his tone.

"Clans then," Wyll amended, friendly.

"Orgies," Astarion teased, just to watch the way Wyll and Étoile shrunk into their shoulders, more interested than scandalized by the implication.

Lae'zel clicked her tongue against her teeth and poked at the crackling tinder with a pike. "As if you have not spoken at length about the solitary nature of your kin."

Astarion bristled as he tried to find an argument in her choice of words. To think of kinship with so many he wished never to see again felt ... insulting.

"It just feels like it a wasted stereotype," Étoile went on. "Safe from the sun, and with eternity to carve out spiraling cities and private histories..."

"Vampires don't build," Astarion said with a grim finality. "They are leeches, who observe the world as it changes around them. When elves think of vampires are being immortal it is different than a human perspective. Elves take the time to record and remember, but vampires who live thrice their lifetimes need to forget, lest history and the present lose distinction. They live — or don't, as the case may be — to be swept up by the cultures around them, not to contribute."

"And this is your ambition?" Wyll asked, with some malice, but mostly curiosity ... and perhaps concern, if that was what friendship had called from him. "To be a vampire?"

"If the alternatives are death or to remain a vampire spawn..." Astarion agreed with a tilt of his head.

"And before that?" asked Étoile. "Or after?"

Astarion kept eye contact for a long time, hoping Étoile could feel how their questions, and even Wyll's, were more private than he wished to discuss openly like this. He looked back to the fire.

"One day at a time," he declared, before making eye contact with Wyll across the flames. "What use are ambitions when the hour grows late, and we might wake as mindflayers?"

Lae'zel hissed and stabbed at the fire again.

"Mine help me rest," Étoile confessed, leaning back on their wrists so that the curve of their thigh and the scant space between them hid where they rested their hand up against Astarion's in a warm, lonely gesture.

"Then your ambitions must be lazy," Lae'zel grumbled. "Astarion's right. Goals are for wakefulness, for strength, and for fighting." She paused for a long time, and her companions simply thought to sit in silence with her, contemplating her words. "I do not like being so far from the stars."

"Almost through," Étoile said, with no point of reference or logic. They just needed to keep everyone's spirits up, as much as they could. To assure them their enemies were distant or fallible, until such a time as these challenges were before them.

"The fresh air will be sweet," Wyll agreed, "but with or without you, I will delay my return if there are more signs of Mizora."

"Let us hope we're not shocked that I can't face the sun by the time we find it again," Astarion contributed. "Or else you may yet hear of a vampire living in the Underdark."

"You would be a ghaik by then," Lae'zel observed, smiling mirthlessly.

"And there's no reason to speculate about leaving people behind," Étoile said with a groan in their tone, scolding each Wyll and Astarion. "I won't leave you to die like this."

"My dear," Astarion teased, "you're far too late to save me from death."

He kissed them, not a sultry thing, but a mark of intimacy that lasted long enough to silence Étoile's argument, and to scandalize their companions as they looked back to the fire, forced to contemplate death and the faces of it. Unless they were thinking of them, an elf living and an elf unliving, but with no regard for anything but the affection.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #astarion #oc tag: étoile #long post #my writing #i made this #the fanfiction i mean

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twilitty · 3 years

Text

Waiting pt.3

Waiting

@twilitty

part 3/?

word count: 2.2k

warnings: none

read this first! Edward explores what is causing his wife to act so detached.

Edward was paralyzed with fear. It was a similar feeling to when he watched himself nearly drain Bella of her blood after James had bitten her. The feeling when Jasper nearly attacked and killed her. It was the feeling of a broken man who has now broken another person. He was a porcelain doll with cracks along his figure, and the beautiful, fragile doll next to him gets knocked over by some force that he’s caused.

Bella has been acting differently, more than should be expected after beginning her new life. She’s been unusually distant, taking her vehicle to Port Angeles and not telling him why. She chooses to hunt on her own in the mornings, but Edward knows that she is not only hunting. He can smell her trail when he goes out later in the afternoon, she takes a long route and ends up by the stream bed. No blood along the trail at any point, no scent of an animal she’s killed.

When Nessie is asleep she hands her off to Edward or Rose. When Nessie wakes up she’ll play momentarily before claiming to have forgotten to do something. It’s as if she shows no interest in her daughter, and why? She had chosen to have this child, chosen the child's life over her own. And now she seems disinterested in every aspect of her life.

This burning, paralyzing fear is what pulled Edward out of his home that evening. Entrusting his daughter to her more than willing aunt and uncle, he went to the treaty line.

Standing at the edge now his thoughts run circles around his feelings, taunting him and scaring him. Telling him he’s an awful father and husband, that he made a mistake when he chose to pursue a future with Bella. But what about my daughter? Regardless of his feelings towards his wife, he has to agree that his daughter was the best possible outcome.

All he had wanted was a future with his love, a future where him and Bella could live in peace. And they were given a beautiful daughter, warm brown eyes and red unruly hair. If he had to choose to go back in time and remain away, could he? I can’t imagine a life without her, he thinks mourningly. His daughter is his whole life, he spends every moment he can with her, he enjoys nothing more than being a part of her life.

When she smiles at something he’s done it’s as though his heart will simply burst. He cannot abandon his daughter, there is no reality where he can imagine ever doing so. His wife may be unhappy now, she may be secretive and reclusive, but that is a worthy price for bringing him his beautiful daughter.

“What do you want, old man?” It’s Jacob Black, standing on the other side of the treaty line. He’s in what likely used to be jeans but are now sliced along the thighs unevenly creating an unflattering pair of shorts. His chest is bare, as it always seems to be, and his hair is braided in two strips that fall over his shoulders. He had gotten Edwards' text.

After the birth of Nessie, Bella had appointed Jacob as the godfather, which very few found endearing. This sentiment had brought Jacob closer to the Cullens, often he would be found running perimeter around the family home or bringing new toys and clothing to the little girl. He wears a necklace around his neck that she had assisted in making for him.

It’s a pink shoelace with orange, yellow, and red beads laced through it. It was part of an arts and crafts project Jacob had brought over. He wears it constantly. It’s long and hangs down over his stomach so that when he shifts he can still wear it as a wolf.

Now, Jacob plays with it absently as Edward regards him with pressed lips. “Alright, bloodsucker, let’s spit out your words,” Jacob thinks with little sympathy. It’s a major blow to the vampire's pride to even broach the topic with this man, and knowing that the entire pack will soon hear about it does little to ease his conflicting emotions.

“I would like to discuss Bella with you,” Edward says formally. Jacobs eyes trail over him lazily, as if looking to pick out his flaws and toss them back in his face. “She better not be pregnant again.” Edward chooses not to respond to this. Of course she isn’t, it isn’t possible.

Finally Jacob responds out loud, “You already married her, what more do you want?” A smirk spreads over his lips, “If you’re looking for a second wife I’ll happily offer up Leah.”

“I don’t want anything-”

“Right, right, you’re so selfless and holy and better-than-thou,” Jacob snorts which only adds to Edwards mounting anger. “Let’s get this over with, colonizer.” Edwards eyes roll back in his head, arms crossing over his chest.

“Please, try and take what I am telling you seriously,” he says a little too forcefully. He doesn’t want to argue with Jacob right now, he’s trying to have a civil discussion and instead Jacob is taunting him. Can this boy not take anything seriously?

“Fine.”

Edward gives him a curt nod, “Thank you.” With an awkward glance around the forest, Edward begins his speech. “I was not present when Bella was going through her troubling… phase,” he says the last word gingerly as if not wanting to awaken it from it’s sleep.

“Depression,” Jacob corrects mentally. Edward cringes at the word but continues as if nothing was thought.

“But I have seen its worst parts through the minds of others. I am worried she may not be as happy as she once was. I’m concerned.” The statement doesn’t phase Jacob physically or mentally, instead his thoughts remain strangely silent and he merely shifts his weight to the other foot. “I’m not sure what to do, she is away today and I thought about following her-”

“Are you an idiot? Did you spend the last three hundred years working towards your doctorate in the school of dumbasses?” Jacobs' tone is cruel, his facts incorrect, and his demeanor more than a little concerning. He’s on the defence, as if something Edwards said has offended him. “Sometimes I wish kicking your ass wouldn’t force your daughter into therapy.”

If anything his poor daughter will need therapy from the infinite amount of insults her godfather trades with her father.

“So I’m going to assume you don’t think following her to an unknown location is not a good idea?” It’s a rhetorical question and the century old vampire quickly continues on, “Need I remind you that the second she thought her mother was in trouble she offered herself up on a silver platter?”

What was supposed to be a civil conversation has instead turned into a nasty argument, and Edward isn’t sure what caused the change. “Need I remind you that if there weren’t any vampires that wouldn’t be a problem?” Jacob’s words hit too close to home and he notices this when Edward winces at the statement. “What? You feel guilty now?”

“Yes, yes, I feel guilty because she very clearly is not happy!” Now Edward is yelling, matching Jacobs energy and escalating the situation even more than need be. “Do you not think I wish I could intervene? I have been trying to discuss this with her, bring up speaking to psychologist-”

“She doesn’t need a psychologist, she needs a friend.” Edward wasn’t meant to hear the thought and quickly Jacobs' mind focuses on the necklace between his fingers, trying to avoid that line of thought. “This wood is so smooth…”

“She has Rose,” Edward sputters uselessly, pale hands coming up as if to grasp his wife’s mentally well-being out of the air. “She has Alice, she has Esme. Her and Emmett get along quite well-”

“And she has me,” Jacob says aloud. His tone is quiet, stating a fact and nothing more. He isn’t looking to antagonize Edward and is no longer defensive. “And I’m the only one her age. The only one who isn’t a vampire. The only one who isn’t part of the family she married into.” It’s like running into a brick wall, the reality of the situation hits Edward in the face and it’s all he can do to not falter backwards a step to try and right himself.

His fingers begin to twitch at his sides, eyes eerily still as his brain processes the plausibility of what Jacob Black just told him. “She’s lonely?” He says at last, the word breaking as it escapes his lips and crashing to the floor like a porcelain doll. His wife, the woman who told him she wanted to be a vampire, wanted to spend eternity with him, is lonely?

“She’s-” Jacobs cut off as a howl rings through the forest. The noise echoes off the trees around them, Edward reads it through the other man's mind. It’s his turn to run perimeter around the reservation. “I’ve gotta go.” He turns around and sprints off into the shadows of the forest. His steps quicken and then are replaced by the heavy thudding of four paws. The sound of the wolf running quickly escapes Edwards hearing distance and the forest remains silent.

The vampire stands alone in the forest, the canopy of trees above him cutting off the filtered sunlight of the dreary day. How could his wife be lonely? Didn’t she choose this life?

He feels some piece of information stuck in the back of his mind, just out of reach and he growls in frustration. This was his family, his life, his wife. And of course he didn’t have a clue on how to fix any of it.

How could he have allowed this to happen?

It’s a split second decision that sends him through the woods, angling towards the nearest city. He’s the fastest of his family, matching miles in seconds and never needing to slow down or catch his breath. He doesn’t even need to breathe. It’s a wondrous escape from the bindings of human life, being able to exercise his supernatural body to the full extent of its abilities. His strides quicken as he pushes them to go faster, his muscles pull and release in perfect harmony and work upon their own accord.

Bella had experienced this as a human, clutching onto his shoulders as he tore through the forest with her on his back. It was everything he had wanted. Showing the girl he loved most the side of him that no other human got to see. And she had loved him back. Had. Where are her feelings now?

He slows as he reaches the edge of the highway, it’s lanes converging into slower moving traffic as the city opens before him. Brick buildings stand at attention along main street, the exteriors primed for maximum tourist appeal. Old signs hang from stoops over the doorways, restaurants and gift shops alike. Edward already knows the exact route he had taken when Bella had come here as a human, when she was trapped in that alleyway- “But where would she be now?” He asks himself aloud.

She had driven here, not run as he had. He supposes he could look for her vehicle and then trace her scent to her current whereabouts, but then what? He finds her and approaches her, tells her that he’s been searching her down to confirm that she does in fact still love him? No, he can’t do that, he knows that. Jacob had told him specifically not to do what he is currently doing. Not to follow Bella, don’t act like an idiot.

Yet, here he is. Acting against his and Jacobs better judgement.

He had purposely not spoken to his wife about her trips to Port Angeles because he didn’t want her to feel like she had to ask permission to leave. He wanted her to develop a sense of self as a vampire, not rely on him to sustain her only. He had wanted her to explore her new senses and abilities. He thought everything was going so well. Perhaps Rosalie was right, Bella was better off as a human.

He steps out of the forest, grateful for the dim sky which clouded his skin. He walked aimlessly towards the main street, allowing his senses to take in all that is around him. He smells the fresh bread of the bakery across the road, the sickly sweet scent of melted ice cream sitting somewhere in a trashcan. He smells everything, but comes up without his wife. He hears the cars and the chattering of people as they go about their mindless, petty tasks, but his wife is not anywhere on this street.

He eventually finds her vehicle, a black suv with tinted windows. She had parked at the opposite end of the city, under the shade of a large pine and beside a public park. He sniffs the air experimentally, her scent is travelling in every direction, but the north trail into the park is more potent. She’s been here recently. He looks through her passenger side window, a box of tissues sits on the seat alongside an open glasses case. None of them wear glasses, and this discovery startles him a little.

He follows the trail north.

- let me know if you want to be tagged when i upload!-

@edwardsmate4ever

#twilight #new moon #eclipse #fanfic #twilight 2008 #twilight saga #twilight renassiance #edward cullen #bella cullen #bella swan #fanfiction #headcanon #head canon #hc

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aricazorel · 3 years

Text

"How ticklish are you?" suggested by @ljandersen

pairing: Kaidan Alenko x Kori Reese (my OC); set during ME1; 2115 words

The Normandy was once again docked at a port for resupply. Only this time it wasn't some backwater planet. This time it was a popular tourist spot established by human private investors. With a limited Alliance presence, Avalon was the perfect haven for some less than reputable people. But at the moment it was a location for the SR1 crew’s shore leave.

Shore leave that Doctor Chakwas insisted the crew needed to take. A 24 hour layover at Avalon fit the bill with little to no argument from Shepard much to Kaidan’s surprise. Of course that left 24 hours of free time for the crew to get into mischief. He had a feeling Kori might be one of those who ended up on report if she wasn't properly entertained. But she wouldn't appreciate a keeper. Maybe she'd be okay with someone who was more than friends.

There wasn't exactly a label for what they were. Their relationship wasn't something they wanted to advertise. It wasn't even something that should have occurred. Fraternization regs. His own personal rules. Reese’s tendencies to be exceedingly private because of her past. All of that was supposed to work against them. Somehow it hadn't.

After something finagling the two lieutenants had managed to sneak off to enjoy a day of shore leave without any other crew members present. Applying his habit of being thorough in his duties to researching the Avalon colony, Kaidan had discovered a little used beach some ways from the spaceport. Convincing Reece to trust him, they rented a skycar and headed to the beach. Slightly cooler temperature wise than the more popular beaches near the spaceport, it reminded him of the ones he visited near Vancouver on Earth in his youth.

Of course the first thing Reese had commented on was the temperature. How much cooler it was then at the spaceport, and he knew she hated being cold. He grinned at her as he casually took off his blue Alliance hoodie.

“Want to borrow this?” He offered nonchalantly. He'd worn it over his T-shirt having been prepared for the temperature. He suggested she take one as well, but Reese did as she wanted.

The younger Lieutenant glared at him as she snatched the hoodie from his hand and put it on. “You did this on purpose.”

“Me?” He said innocently, pointing at himself. “I suggested that you should bring one.”

“You didn't tell me why,” she accused as she pulled the too-long sleeves of the borrowed hoodie up to her elbows.

“You're a smart person. I thought you could figure it out,” Kaidan replied with a smirk as he began walking down the beach away from the skycar.

“Ass,” Reese grumbled as he stopped to glance back at her

Extending a hand behind him he said, “Don't be that way, Kori. I thought this could be …something just for us.”

“Just for us?” She echoed as she walked up to him, staring at his offered hand.

“Well yeah,” Alenko replied shyly. “I mean with everything else we've …done, I thought some time together off the ship would be nice …kind of like a date.”

“A date?” She repeated uncertainly.

Kaden nodded. “Maybe we aren't there yet but –“

“We shagged like rabbits in the back of the Mako, Kaidan,” Reese pointed out smugly.

Alenko arched an eyebrow as a satisfied grin spread across his face. “We did, didn't we?”

“Really? You are going to be smug –“

She was cut off when he took her hand and pulled her to his side. “Can we please just take a walk along this beach which reminds me at home and pretend we …could be a normal couple?”

His whiskey-colored eyes pleaded with her to indulge him this one time. He was well aware Reese thought he was a romantic at heart, a sentiment shared by Ashley. He had already gone way over the line concerning keeping things strictly professional with Reese anyhow. Walking down a remote beach acting as if they weren't on a life-or-death mission for a few hours wouldn’t do much more damage if anyone found out. At least it was more explainable than the Mako.

“I --we can do that,” Reese agreed as she slowly slid an arm around his waist.

Kaidan grinned as he mimicked her action with his arm around her shoulders. They walked in silence for a few minutes, listening to the waves gently crash against the shore. The sun shone brightly overhead as a cloud or two moved in front of it occasionally. It was comforting to just spend time with someone he cared about without any expectations. It was nice to be somewhere that reminded him of home. It was just nice to be with Reese.

“This beach reminds you of home?” The younger tech’s voice called up to him. Alenko glanced down to see grey eyes looking back at him with a curious expression.

“Well yeah. Even the temperature. Vancouver is along the coast, remember? My parents have some land in the countryside,” he explained. “We used to go whenever we could, not just in the to swim. Sometimes just to take a walk.”

“A beach is supposed to be warm,” Reese insisted.

“And how would you know?”

“Just 'cause I was a colony kid doesn't mean I've never been to a beach,” she answered indignantly. “Moirae was like Georgia. One of the reasons my parents chose it for colonization and terraforming …Georgia has beaches too.”

“That doesn't mean you've been to a beach. That's just show that you know what one is,” Kaidan observed with a teasing grin.

“Alenko –“

He kissed her quickly. “I'm teasing, Kori.”

She huffed as she said, “My grandma used to talk take us swimming during the summer. Trying to help me feel normal while learning how to cope with my biotics.”

“That's cool,” Alenko commented, using 20th century slang that both annoyed and endeared him to her more.

“Actually it was hot,” Reese said with a wink.

Kaidan chuckled as he hugged her to his side. “And that is why you hate being cold and why you have a stash of blankets in your bunk I suppose.”

“Do not mock the stash of blankets,” Reese said seriously. “They have kept me from climbing into your bunk. You're warm.”

Alenko shook his head. “I should thank the blanket stash for keeping us out of trouble then. As nice as it might be to go to sleep with you in my arms. “

“Are you getting all mushy on me, Alenko?”

“Maybe just a little. No one else is around so …”

Reese shook her head as they continued to walk down the deserted beach. “I haven't walked a beach in quite a while.”

Kaidan grinned, glad that his idea had been a good one. “Did you ever just take walks along the beach on Moirae?”

The Lieutenant regretted the question as soon as the words left his mouth. He stopped in his tracks and looked at her. “Kori, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to –“

“You probably don't know but colony kids have dances in high school. Just like you Earthborn kids do,” Reese interjected, ignoring his attempt to apologize. She went on as she gazed out at the ocean. “Granted my high school wasn't that big but we managed to still have dances. Our junior prom was supposed to be on the beach. Everyone was excited. It was going to be my first formal. I even had a dress picked out. No date of course but a few of us girls were just gonna go together in a group.

Kaidan watched as she paused, a wistful look on her face. She rarely talked about Moirae. She was more apt to talk about her time in Georgia but to be truthful she didn't often talk about her past at all. He probably knew more than anyone else on the SR-1 but even that was a smattering of whatever she let slip when her guard was down.

“The short version is that it didn't happen, and I never got to attend a formal dance,” the tech concluded with a shrug of the shoulders.

She began to walk again but was stopped by Kaidan’s hand on her arm. “You don't have to act like it isn't a big deal.”

“But that's just it. Missing a prom isn't a big deal. It was just a stupid dance.”

“Maybe but it was more to you. It was something you were looking forward to, something I think you were actually excited about,” Kaidan said as he brought her back to him. “I know the destruction of your colony took away your family and your home, but it also took away experiences that you could have had. Things you should have had. You can't get the exact experience back but maybe when this mission is over we can try to make up for that in some small way.”

“You mean arrange for me to go to prom?”

“Well no, not exactly, but definitely something requiring formal attire. A dress.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Now you just want to see me in a dress.”

“I’ve seen you in less,” he pointed out as he placed his hands on her hips.

As he absentmindedly made lazy circles with his thumbs, she huffed. “So that is where your mind is, techboy.”

“I think I’m allowed,” he replied as he noticed her beginning to fidget. Frowning he asked, “Something wrong?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

Not convinced he stopped his ministrations and watched her fidgeting cease. An idea began to form as a wicked grin spread across his face. He lightly caressed her hips again but this time working his way up the side of her ribcage. She wiggled and began giggling.

“Alenko! Stop!”

As she backed away, he stared at hie wide eyed. “Kori, how ticklish are you?”

“That is need to know information and you, Lt. Alenko, don’t need to know,” she replied holding her hands up in front of her as a makeshift barrier.

“Oh, but I think I do need to know, Lt. Reese,” he countered as he began walking towards her with purpose.

“Aw, hell no!” she yelled as she began running from him.

He laughed as the tech began sprinting back towards the skycar. He gave pursuit, sorely tempted to use his biotics to halt her retreat. But that would be cheating, and Reese would definitely not like that. In the end he settled for catching up with her and tackling her.

She let out a shriek as they fell unceremoniously to the sandy ground. Kaidan gave a roar of laughter as he declared, “Got ‘cha!”

With Reese already struggling to escape, he immediately began to tickle her again, determined to discover just how ticklish she was. Her laughter was music to his ears as they rolled along the beach. He’d only rarely heard her giggle let alone laugh as if nothing could stop her. As she twisted and turned underneath him, he discovered to his delight she was very ticklish nearly everywhere.

The wheels in Alenko’s head began turning as he stopped tickling her. That weakness was definitely something he could exploit later. Grey eyes looked at him as tears of laughter slide down her cheeks. He leaned down and kissed her sweetly.

As she hummed her contentment Kaidan murmured against her lips. “Take shore leave with me after this mission.”

Reese pulled back just a bit as she said, “You’re serious?”

Kaidan nodded even though he was surprised as she was that he had uttered the words to begin with. She blinked and cupped his cheek. “You’re serious enough about us you’d want to see more of me after this mission…oryou just want to tickle me some more?”

Alenko grinned. “Maybe it’s both. And maybe I can find more places where you are ticklish…Ones I need to remove certain articles of clothing to discover…”

“Are you coming onto me, Alenko?”

Kaidan smirked. “I thought I was already on you, Reese.”

The tech rolled her eyes as he leaned down and kissed her again. “Will you?”

Reese made an amused sound before asking, “If I say yes, are you going to stop kissing me?”

“No.”

“Then yes.”

Kaidan grinned as he kept his word and continued kissing the Lt. Happy to have something to look forward to and happy that thing involved Reese. Happy to know she looked forward to it as well. As the waves crashed around them, he was once again reminded of home and how Kori now felt like that to him. And that he would never regret it. Ever.

#trilogyappreciationweek #mass effect #kaidan alenko #kori reese #kaidan x female original character #broken road

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thotful-writing · 4 years

Text

Invasion Ch. 7

You can find previous chapters in this link: Ch.6 or you can read it on AO3

Description: A planet conquering race of Saiyans invaded Earth and deemed it worthy of habitation. After bringing the humans to their heels, they set up a new society where humans had one role, to serve. You found yourself in the unlucky faction of being bought and sold as a human pet. With absolutely no interest in owning a human but no way out of having one, Kakarot made a bid on you at the urging of his brother. It was only a matter of time before you were either killed or forced into obedience.

Warnings: NSFW, smut, tail porn technically

Author’s Note: I decided to post this chapter early because I can. There is some explicit content in this chapter including tail porn. :)

_______________________________

Kakarot couldn’t deny the tension he felt at the table with his parents. It had been years since he’d last seen them and he honestly didn’t have plans on visiting with them anytime soon. Saiyans didn’t often focus on family outside of their mates.

“I’m surprised the King allowed you the time off.” Kakarot said, glancing over at his father.

“He knew the urgency.” Bardock answered simply without looking up.

“Did he mention anything about the trial?”

“No. We’re not discussing that. Find a new subject.” Gine interjected before Bardock could even open his mouth.

They continued to eat in silence but there was a nagging feeling within Kakarot that told him they knew more than they were saying. It wasn’t like his father to leave his post for something like this, not so early anyways. His mother seemed off as well, her usual cheerful disposition was shadowed by something else. He knew he couldn’t ask, not with her near, he’d have to wait.

“We should go see your brother before it gets too late.” Gine said, breaking the short silence after the meal.

Kakarot wasn’t exactly ecstatic about seeing Raditz again, especially not after their last encounter and he had no intention of taking you with him. He felt torn before his obligation to his family and his connection with you. The last few days had been blissful for him and you were the main cause. The distraction you provided was more than helpful.

“I’m sure he’ll enjoy the surprise of seeing you both.” Kakarot pushed his chair out and stacked the bowls on the table in his hand.

“Oh no, you’re coming with us. We haven’t spent time together as a family in a long time and you don’t know when-“ Gine paused, a realization hitting her mid-sentence, “just come with us.” She offered a slight smile but it was lacking.

Kakarot glanced over to his father who only offered a nod of his head, encouraging him to do what Gine asked. He sat the bowls down and agreed to go, even though he wanted to stay and talk with you about what was happening. As he followed them down the hallway towards the door, he glanced back to see you peeking out from your room. His eyes met yours at the last second before he took off.

Once they were gone and the door was closed, you stepped out into the empty house. You’d just met his parents and barely spoke to them. Bardock seemed to stare a hole through you and Gine seemed overly excited by your mere presence. Nothing about it made sense, it was all too weird. Bulma. That’s who you needed to find for some saiyan trivia and guidance.

You headed straight to the palace with haste, running as fast as you could and hoping she wasn’t busy. When you finally found her she was face deep in a computer in her lab, working on something so diligently she didn’t even notice you come in.

“Bulma…” You wheezed as you fought to catch your breath.

She turned around immediately, “what are you doing here?!”

“Need… information…” You leaned on one of the tables, trying to take deep steady breaths.

“Just sit down before you pass out.” She grabbed a chair and pushed it towards you.

After taking a minute to stop wheezing like an asthmatic, you were finally able to speak normally.

“Kakarot’s parents showed up two weeks early. Pretty sure Bardock hates every breath I take and Gine seemed way too happy that I existed.”

“Weird, but not surprising. I’ve heard Bardock was against colonizing Earth and Gine probably thinks you’re his mate now.” She said bluntly.

“None of that makes me feel better.” You sighed.

“None of it matters. You have more important things to do.” She turned away from her computer and scooted her chair closer to you.

“I do?”

“Yes, you need to ask Vegeta to buy you from Kakarot.”

The urge to laugh and scream at the same time was overwhelming, “are you crazy? He probably hates me more than Bardock.”

“Not necessarily. I’ve been planting the idea subtly to him about it already.” She admitted with a smile.

Bulma always seemed to be ten steps ahead of everyone else and it was astonishing to see how her mind worked.

“Do you think he would?” You really couldn’t believe it was something you were even considering.

“You’ll have to do a lot of groveling and begging, but yeah, he’ll do it. You need to talk to him soon, before the trial.”

“About that, what do you know about the trial?” You wondered if Vegeta’s pillow talk included saiyan politics.

Her mood immediately shifted, “I- we shouldn’t be talking about it.”

“If you know something you have to tell me. Please?” You’d never seen Bulma shutdown about something, she was the last person you expected not to gossip.

She moved closer and kept her voice low, “the trial isn’t just to make a judgement on Kakarot, it’s being used to set an example. There’s something going on that Vegeta won’t tell me about, he’s even more guarded when it comes to Kakarot and his mission. The King coming here is a huge deal and it even has Vegeta on edge.”

“What is he even on trial for? The mission went bad, they were ambushed and-“ You immediately closed your hand over your mouth, realizing you shouldn’t have said a word to her about it.

She glanced around before leaning close to your ear, “I didn’t hear that and you didn’t hear this,” she paused again as if she was hesitant to say another word, “he’s not on trial for failing the mission, he’s on trial for killing the other Elite Warriors.”

What?! You sat back and stared at her in shock, all the breath from your lungs disappeared like you’d been punched in the gut. Your heart dropped in your chest and it became overwhelmingly clear that Kakarot wasn’t who you thought he was. Kakarot made it seem like it was because of the mission, not the other Elite Warriors. It felt too overwhelming to even process, that he would eliminate an entire group of saiyans, and then there was the question of why? Why would he ever kill another saiyan?

“Ask Vegeta to buy you. Sooner rather than later.” She placed her hand on your shoulder.

The walk back home was heavy, the air felt different, a tension sat in your chest that wouldn’t leave. Your mind was racing and it was getting harder to try and defend him. You knew the other saiyans had died, but was he really the one to take their lives? Bulma seemed convinced that you needed to get away from him soon and the only way to do that was to be bought, but your options were slim. Even Kakarot thought you should go to Vegeta. Questions ran rampant through your head, making you feel dizzy and completely confused.

Gine wrapped Raditz in another quick hug before they set off towards Kakarot’s house again. Kakarot was ready to leave, even more than his father seemed to be. The second they stepped foot into Raditz’s house and saw his human, they knew, they all knew, and Bardock wasn’t exactly secretive with how he felt about it.

“Gine, let the boy go.” Bardock snapped, clearly irritated.

She reluctantly pulled away from him and joined Bardock and Kakarot as they headed back.

“A grandchild, can you believe it, Bardock? We’re going to be grandparents.” She almost squealed.

“An abomination is what that is.” He sneered.

Gine caught up with him and narrowed her eyes at him, “don’t say that. Humans are very close to us biologically, they just lack the strength and the tails.”

“He’s disgraced this family with that… that thing he created. Saiyan’s mate with saiyans.”

Kakarot listened to his parents bicker back and forth about Raditz’s situation. He never understood the obsession with mating with humans, but he didn’t see a problem with it. As far as he was concerned, it was a way to further the saiyan race.

They finally made it back to Kakarot’s house and Gine stormed inside, mumbling something Kakarot could only make out as cursing and insulting Bardock.

Bardock stopped Kakarot before he could follow his mother, “that human, she cooks and cleans for you?”

“Yeah.” Kakarot looked at him confused, wondering where he was going with this.

“Have you mated with her?” He asked bluntly, making Kakarot wish he was anywhere but there.

“That’s not- I-“

Bardock almost stared a hole through him, “tell me you haven’t, tell me I only have to be disappointed in one of my sons.”

“I haven’t.” He admitted but felt bad for the way Bardock spoke about his brother.

“Don’t. The King should have had this planet destroyed along with every human on it.”

“What about the legend? The half-saiyan hybrids?” Kakarot hadn’t always bought into it, but there had to be something to it.

“A legend. Same as the Super Saiyan legend. Just pointless myths saiyans have created as a goal to achieve so we keep fighting.”

Flashes of his missions flooded Kakarot’s mind, images of his aura glowing and his hair changing color. The immense power he felt, he knew what it was, deep down, he knew. The anger and rage that surged through his body, the only things that could power such an immense transformation. Each time he powered up into the form he could feel an untapped ability waiting within him that he strived to grasp. But he kept this secret to himself, well, to himself and one other person. His father seemed convinced it was a legend and he decided to go along with it instead of revealing his accomplishment.

“Legends.” He nodded his head, agreeing with his father though he knew the truth.

Kakarot let his parent’s have your room upon finding you weren’t in it when they returned. He planned on letting you stay in his bed while he took the couch, but you hadn’t come back yet. He considered the possibility you might not return, not while his parents were there, but he waited anyways. When the front door opened slowly and he heard light footsteps on the hardwood floor, he knew it was you.

You passed by the living room and froze when you saw a dark figure standing there. The urge to scream was overwhelming. He was in front of you with his hand clamped down over your mouth quickly before you could let out any kind of sound.

“Shhh, it’s just me.” He said in a whisper, his eyes visible only by the light from the moon that peered through the window.

You nodded your head, letting him know you understood and had no intention of screaming, even though you were still questioning your own safety with him at this point. He released your mouth and pulled you into the living room with him.

“They’re in your room, I didn’t want you going in there to find out on your own.” He explained.

“Thanks for letting me know. Guess it’s back to the couch for a while.”

“You could stay in my room, I don’t mind taking the couch.” He offered.

“It’s fine, I’ve slept here before.” You smiled slightly, hesitant to take any kind of generosity from him.

The couch seemed like a better option than waking up in his bed with his parents right across the hall. Kakarot remained in the living room while you grabbed a small blanket and spread it out over one of the couches.

“Something else you needed?” You glanced over your shoulder at him.

“Did you- were you asking Vegeta to purchase you?” He stammered.

You turned to face him, feeling odd having this conversation since Bulma basically told you to do that exact thing moments before, “no, but I probably will. Soon.”

“I’m sure that’ll be a much better situation than this one. I never meant to drag you into any of this.” He admitted, his gaze dropping from yours.

Every fiber of your being was setting off alarms in your head. Run, leave, but as he stood in front of you, basically apologizing for ever bringing you into his life, you felt conflicted. You wanted to be cold towards him, push him away and just be done with the entire situation, but it wasn’t that easy.

“I know.” Was all you could manage without straight up asking him if he murdered the other saiyans.

As you turned back towards the couch you felt the familiar, furry appendage wrap around your hand. Glancing at it curling around your hand and then to Kakarot, you felt a pull to him again. Something innate. Suddenly you were being tugged closer, this time it was him who was controlling his tail, bringing you flush against him as his fingertips grazed the side of your cheek. You stared up at him, wanting more than anything to believe he was a murderer, but something in the pit of your stomach kept you from falling prey to the rumor.

“I can’t mate with you.” His lips ghosted against yours.

“I- we don’t have to mate to feel a little less alone.” You repeated as you’d done before, feeling that you both needed to just feel close for a little while.

His hand caressed your cheek while his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, “just for a few minutes.”

He moved his thumb and crashed his lips into yours, his tail tightening around your wrist again. You melted into him, into his arms as he held you close, wanting to go back to the day before, the small moments of bliss where things weren’t so complex. Kakarot lifted you with ease, carrying you over to the couch and laying you down gently while he settled next to you, your mouths never breaking away from one another. You let your hands roam and explore him, running up his muscular chest, travelling along his neck up to cup his face. His tail wrapped around your thigh and pulled your leg to drape over him so he could be closer to you. You felt his hips grind against you, his cock already hardening and touching your inner thigh. Every touch of his lips felt almost euphoric, his body pressed against yours, his hands and tail working to memorize your every curve, it was perfect. Everything else on your mind seemed to fall to the side in these moments and it was so peaceful and addicting.

Kakarot’s tail moved between your thighs, rubbing against your core perfectly enough to force a small moan from your lips. He wrapped his arms around you tighter and repeated the action. The furry appendage was the perfect amount of pressure to your clothed cunt, rubbing in just the right place that made you buck your hips and whimper for more. You felt the heat pooling between your thighs at his actions, your panties getting wetter by the second.

He finally broke the kiss and sniffed the air, “that scent again,” he inhaled sharply, and his tail pressed against you a little more firmly.

“Kakarot, that’s- you can’t do that.” You were already panting.

“But you like it?” He said curiously.

“Well, yeah, but-“ he repeated the action with his tail and your breath got caught in your throat.

You weren’t sure what came over you, but you reached down between your thighs and rubbed your hand over the tip of his tail lightly, making him freeze immediately and let out a small growl at your touch.

“Don’t.” He warned with a breathy groan.

“But you like it, right?” You mimicked his question.

You held your gaze on his as he rubbed his tail against you and you kept your hand on the tip of it, lightly stimulating him with each brush of your fingertips. Your short, breathy moans filled the space between you as you both chased a release you were reluctant to have but needed. It turned into a game, a challenge for both of you. Your hand moved a little fast over his tail which in turn made his tail rub a little harder against you. You could feel his cock straining even more in his pants, grinding against your thigh. Your lips touched, trading grunts and whimpers back and forth between each heated breath.

“Let go.” He said through gritted teeth, hanging on by a thread.

“You first.” You smirked, moving your freehand down to rub his cock over his pants.

In that moment you thought you won, outsmarting him with free access to him, but he turned the tables on you. He shoved his hand down the front of your pants, his thick fingers sliding between the slick folds of your cunt, forcing a harsh moan from your lips. He silenced the rest of your mewling with his lips, nipping at biting at you between each desperate plea for more. You played into his game and slipped your hand beneath the waistband of his pants, your fingers grazing the patch of hair leading down to his cock. You wrapped your hand around him and stroked him, feeling his hot, thick cock in the palm of your hand was almost enough to make you come on his fingers immediately.

“Kakarot… don’t stop.” You knew you were close and there was no use in denying that you wanted it, you wanted him to make you come.

“Didn’t plan on it.” He said with a smirk before groaning against your lips when your hand tightened around him.

Breathless, incoherent muttering was all you could manage into his mouth as your orgasm hit you hard. Your thighs tensed as his fingers pressed against your clit just right, your hips bucking into his hand as your come coated his fingers. You bit down on his lip as he’d done to you moments before and it was just the right action to make him come undone for you. He rutted his cock into the palm of your hand as he came, his cock twitching and pulsing, and his cum spilling onto your fingers.

You fell into a blissful haze with soft touches of your lips, not enough to be considered a kiss, but enough to keep the two of you close. You remained like that, entangled in one another on the couch, sleep threatening you both.

“You should go to your room.” You nuzzled into his chest as you pulled your hand from his pants.

He yawned and eased his fingers out of you, “just another minute.”

#lynn #kakarot #kakarot x reader #bulma #vegeta #bardock #gine #Invasion fic #dragon ball #dragon ball z #dragon ball super #dragon ball fanfiction

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tlbodine · 3 years

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Literary vs Genre Fiction

The divide between literary and genre fiction is one of those topics that gets endlessly debated in writer circles. You’ll see it making the rounds on social media every time a book gets some buzz for busting out of its category. You’ll hear it in MFA programs across the country. But what even is literary fiction? How is it actually different from genre fiction? Is one better than the other? Why does anybody care?

A lot of smart people before me have thrown their hat in this particular ring, but I’m going to try tackling this one anyway.

First Off: What Do We Mean When We Say “Literary Fiction”?

Defining the thing is almost the hardest part of this whole discussion, and that may be part of the reason why people argue so endlessly about the literary vs genre divide -- if you don’t have a clear definition of the categories, that divide can be drawn up just about anywhere.

So before we dig into characteristics of literary fiction, let’s look at some clear examples. The Booker Prize is a literary award specifically given to works of literary fiction, so it stands to reason that winners of that award would be the best examples of the category, right? Here are some recent Booker Prize winners (as pulled from Powell’s bookstore):

Margaret Atwood - The Testaments The sequel to A Handmaid's Tale, told as testaments from three female narrators in Gilead, a dystopian setting where women have been stripped of their rights.

Bernardine Evaristo - Girl, Woman, Other Twelve central characters, mostly black British women, lead intersecting lives with struggles of identity, race, sexuality, class, etc.

Anna Burns - Milkman A girl identified as "middle sister" catches the unwanted attention of "the milkman," a local paramilitary, and has to deal with the threat of violence and spread of rumors.

George Saunders - Lincoln in the Bardo A father-and-son story about Abraham Lincoln and the 11-year-old son who died of illness in the midst of the civil war, leading to them both struggling in a type of purgatory.

Paul Beatty - The Sellout A satire about an isolated young man who ends up at a Supreme Court race trial after trying to reinstate slavery and segregate the local high school in an attempt to put his town back on the map.

One thing becomes immediately clear about literary fiction when skimming through the titles and summaries of these award-winning books: These novels are well-nigh impossible to summarize in a way that actually sounds enticing.

So okay. What are some genre fiction books, for comparison? There are genre fiction awards, like for example the Hugo award for Sci-Fi/Fantasy:

Mary Robinette Kowal - The Calculating Stars A cataclysmic meteor collision in 1952 causes an accelerated effort to colonize space, leading to a woman fighting to join the astronaut team in this alternate-history book.

N. K. Jemisin - The Stone Sky The third in a trilogy of post-apocalyptic novels about two women with the power to avert destruction of mankind.

Cixin Liu - The Three-Body Problem Against the backdrop of China's Cultural Revolution, a secret military project makes contact with aliens whose civilization is on the brink of destruction, leading them to plan a takeover of earth.

There’s also the Edgar Award, which is given to mystery fiction (it’s named after Edgar Allan Poe):

James A McLaughlin - Bearskin A man on the run takes a job as a park ranger, but runs the risk of being found by the men he's hiding from when he tries to expose some poachers.

Walter Mosley - Down the River Unto the Sea After spending a decade in prison for a crime he was framed for, former-detective King works as a private investigator whose investigation of his own frame-up leads him to cross paths of a journalist with a similar story.

Sujata Massey - Widows of Malabar Hill In 1920s India, Bombay's only female lawyer investigates a suspicious will on behalf of three Muslim widows, a case that takes a murderous turn.

These aren’t the best summaries in the world, but there does seem to be a stronger sense of both plot and character in the story concepts. At least, when someone asks, “What’s that book you’re reading about?” the genre fiction ones will have a somewhat easier time explaining it.

So What REALLY Separates Literary From Genre Fiction?

There are a lot of battle lines drawn between genre and literary fiction. I’ve heard it argued that literary is about character while genre is about plot; that literary is about the quality of the prose while genre is about the story; that literary is about experimenting while genre is about adhering to formulas. That literary is about expanding horizons while genre is about escapism and comfort. That literary is about realism and genre fiction is about fabulism.

I think there’s a nugget of truth in all of these, but I’m not really happy with any of them.

So I’m going to toss out my own hypothesis: I think the difference between literary and genre fiction is the way tropes are employed.

“Okay, great, but what are tropes?”

I’m so glad you asked. Fiction tropes are a type of shorthand. They are things that we the audience have seen before, so we know immediately what they mean. Tropes exist in characters, plot points, settings, concepts -- you name it. Here’s a sampling of tropes you might be familiar with:

The tough lady-cop whose dad was a police officer

Thanks to a mix-up, two people with hidden romantic feelings book the last available room at a hotel but there’s only one bed

A man goes on a quest for vengeance but destroys himself in the process

The wise old man who teaches the young hero valuable lessons but then dies before the pivotal battle

And so on, and so forth. Every genre has its own tropes -- a formula, if you will. In that sense, genre fiction is formulaic, but that doesn’t make it easier to write; actually, a big part of the challenge is in giving fresh twists to familiar tropes. Readers of genre stories demand certain tropes; the author has to deliver on those demands in a fresh way.

By comparison, I would argue that literary fiction does not rely upon tropes. There certainly are tropes and conventions that emerge in literary fiction -- a middle-aged academic struggling through divorce, for example -- but these tropes are more often than not met with irritation, not delight. Readers of literary fiction are looking for fresh insights and innovations, not familiarity.

Tropes are powerful tools. They are the mythic seed of storytelling. They are the archetypes that pass down through generations. They are a sacred backbone of mythology and folklore. Genre fiction, at the end of the day, carries the torch for storytelling in a long and (ha, ha) storied tradition from our prehistoric days huddled around a campfire.

Literary fiction, on the other hand, eschews tropes -- with their agreed-upon meanings -- in favor of assigning fresh meanings to things. Literary fiction is chock full of metaphors, but it’s the author, not convention, that determines what those metaphors mean and how they’re employed. Literary fiction reinvents the wheel. When it succeeds, it hits on depth and emotional resonance that can be life-changing for the reader. When it fails, it comes off like so much navel-gazing nonsense. So it goes.

Fiction Wars and Gatekeeping

The problem with the literary vs genre fiction divide is that it never stops with “This is how these categories are defined.” The problem is that people will insist on ascribing moral significance and hierarchy to them.

Literary fiction is viewed as being smarter, deeper, more meaningful or more valuable than genre fiction. If a genre fiction story manages to break out and gain wider appeal, suddenly people will start ascribing to it literary attributes (whether or not the book and many others in the genre had them all along). And that is all a bunch of nonsense.

It’s the exact same thing that happens in horror fiction -- when a horror story goes mainstream, suddenly it becomes a “psychological thriller” or a “dark drama” or anything other than horror, because “horror” is an inferior genre.

The fact of the matter is that literary fiction gets elevated over genre fiction for systemic reasons:

Most MFA programs focus on writing literary fiction, which means that a lot of lit-fic authors come out of those programs, which means that literary fiction is often the domain of upper-middle-class, frequently white, people who can afford to graduate from those programs

A focus on dense prose and “difficult” writing means lit-fic books must be analyzed and interpreted; it’s hard to read, making it exclusionist to people who lack formal education

Lit-fic dominates awards, gets pushed heavily onto book clubs, is talked about more often on daytime TV and so forth (because it is perceived as being better/more important, thus creating the ongoing cycle)

Basically, lit-fic gets held up as an example of Fine Culture. And any time something is designated as Fine Culture and High Art, it is subject to a completely arbitrary classist distinction meant primarily to keep out an undesirable element (women, BIPOC, poor people, you name it).

That’s not a problem endemic to lit-fic itself. It’s really a problem of the culture surrounding it, and attempts to hold it to a higher esteem than genre work.

Cross-Pollination Is Inevitable and Desirable

How do tropes get made?

Someone comes up with a new metaphor, concept, character, or idea that resonates so deeply that others who follow borrow that same thing and its meaning, and it gets repeated enough times that it becomes a stock trope.

In other words, every single piece of genre fiction exists because someone writing in some other established tradition decided to experiment and go off on a tangent to create something really fresh and new -- and knocked it so far out of the park that people were compelled to follow.

People like to pretend that the overlap and blurred lines between genre and literary fiction are somehow a new trend, but the fact is that this has been the trajectory of fiction-writing for the whole history of storytelling.

Literary agents have a term for this: Upmarket fiction. Books that “transcend” genre definitions to appeal to readers on either side of the aisle. And those are highly sought-after books, because they have the potential of bringing in double the readers.

So, snobby gatekeeping aside, is there any real reason to argue about the definition of literary vs genre fiction?

I’d say...no. Not even a little bit. I’ve got a mix of both on my shelves. I incorporate a mix of both in my writing. And I don’t see that changing any time soon.

A Final Note

I mentioned above that lit-fic tends to be written by people in MFA programs, and I wanted to touch on that again as an MFA drop-out and someone who was once warned by a teacher not to bring “any more of that genre nonsense” into the classroom.

I can understand, from a teaching perspective, why writer’s workshops would want to focus on lit-fic. From the perspective of learning how to write, forcing writers to derive stories from their experiences, to dig deep into themselves and ascribe unique meaning to things, to develop their own metaphors and hone their craft at the sentence level -- all of that makes a lot of sense. Banning genre tropes is a way to force writers to hone their craft without leaning on the work of generations of storytellers before them, and as a teaching tool I think that’s actually really valuable.

But I think it’s pretty important that we keep that in context. The lit-fic focus in writing classes should be a teaching tool first and foremost. It should not be the end-all and be-all of writing classes.

This post topic was voted on by my Patreon subscribers. If you would like to vote for future posts and get early access to posts before they go live on tumblr, you can become a patron here: https://www.patreon.com/tlbodine

#writing #literary fiction #genre fiction #on writing #long post

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