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paper-n-ashes · 3 years

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sparks and embers - chapter 13

Characters: Kylo Ren x Original Female Character, Poe Dameron x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 13 - Exposure

Words: 5.5k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Descriptions medical procedures

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

“Alex! You’re okay!”

“So are you!” I burst, eyes already wet with tears of relief. My gaze darted over the holoprojection of Poe’s face, his brilliant smile beaming through from lightyears away.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” he grinned, leaning closer into the holo. “We’ve been trying to make this contact for weeks.”

A dazzling joy surged in my chest, so happy that my assumptions of being forgotten were baseless. “Did you complete your mission?”

“You’re talking to the best pilot in the galaxy here.” He shot me a charming wink, maintaining his smile. “Actually made it back a few days ahead of schedule.”

Tears continued to dribble out, attempting to calm myself with a shaky exhale. “I’ve been so worried.”

Poe’s expression turned earnest. “I was going to say the same thing.” His expression fell, looking down. “I didn’t want to leave you there. I’m… I’m so sorry Alex. We’re all sorry.”

“It’s alright,” I soothed. “It was the right thing to do at the time. Did you all safely make it back to the base?”

“Left just in time to avoid their tracking systems. So your sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.”

“Indeed it wasn’t,” a woman’s voice agreed, her instantly recognisable image appearing in front of me moments later.

Leia Organa.

“I’m so glad to finally put a face to the person who saved my best fighters.”

I was awestruck at the sight of the entrancing older woman, with kind yet determined eyes looking right at me. “Well… uh… They were the ones who protected me against the Death troopers. I really didn’t do anything.”

She shook her head, smiling warmly. “We all know what you did, what you’ve endured because of your selflessness.”

“What I’ve endured?”

“We have recently gained a Resistance spy within the First Order, the one who directed you to this holoprojector,” Poe started explaining. “They’ve been keeping an eye on you. Sending us intel about your condition.”

I thought of the blonde, curled hair I glimpsed a few minutes ago, not recalling ever seeing it before. Whoever it was had obviously done his reconnaissance at a distance. “The cell stay wasn’t exactly easy,” I conceded, looking sincerely to Poe. “But I’m managing better now.”

A glaring lie.

“One thing they couldn’t tell us Alex,” Leia started, her expression now troubled. “Is why exactly they’re keeping you on the Finalizer. Our spy hasn’t been able to collect any information about the subject. To me, it seems a little... bizarre you’re being forced to work for them.”

I was stuck on how to begin to formulate an answer when a commotion from behind the two figures made them turn around.

“I heard you finally made contact!” Rey’s voice excitedly cheered from somewhere in the room, her image quickly arriving into view, displaying an enthusiastic grin as she huddled in next to Leia. “Alex! I’m so glad to see you!”

I returned a warming smile, her sunny disposition difficult not to mirror.

“Oh thank the maker,” Finn heaved, sliding alongside Rey, the four figures now pressed closely into the outline of the holo, Poe seeming faintly annoyed at the intrusion. “If I had to live through one more day of Poe ranting about this stealth signal not getting through, I was gonna go insane.”

Poe was already looking to me when I glanced at his face, an unspoken understanding exchanging between us. “Well now since apparently we’re all here,” he huffed, “Can we actually get back to the issue at hand? We’ve only got a limited amount of time before this signal becomes compromised, and the hard-lock on Alex’s comm-room door overrides.”

Leia nodded in agreement and looked at me again. “Do you know why they’re holding you there Alex?”

I was weighted with a heavy dose of terror in giving my answer, my stare shooting immediately to Rey. Her smile had faded, instead she wore an expression of reassurance.

She hadn’t told them.

“I… I… uh…” I stammered, a flurry of emotions spinning in my brain. I was so sure she would have exposed me.

“It’s okay Alex,” Rey insisted, her tone calming. “I know why you’re scared. I completely understand why you kept it a secret. But we won’t harm you because of it. I promise.”

All eyes darted to Rey, each face breaking into confusion.

Poe was the only one to say what they were all thinking. “What are you talking about?”

I felt my chest begin to tighten, oxygen becoming a little harder to grasp onto. “I’m not ready,” I whispered.

Rey’s appearance was comforting, yet serious. “It’s time. You may not be ready, but sometimes we don’t get the choice.”

I inhaled deeply, scrunching my lids closed, trying to build some sort of confidence to reject the instincts and rules I had been abiding by all these years. A lifetime of keeping my gift undisclosed, hiding it away, never getting too close to anyone, had left me more attached to my secret than anything else in the galaxy. Fear had always kept it’s hold, guiding my actions, and it was pulling at me again now, trying to warn me of the danger once more. But if I didn’t tell them, Rey would be forced to.

And above anything else, I wanted Poe to hear it from me.

“I can… use the Force,” I said slowly, most likely out loud for the first time in my life. “I taught myself… how to heal others with it, when they were close to death.” There was an excruciating silence as Poe, Leia and Finn comprehended my answer, each wearing a different expression of realisation. My stare was only focused on Poe, trying to properly gauge his reaction to my admittance of lying. “I didn’t want anyone to find out, so I’d also learnt how to hide it - to prevent other force-sensitive people from feeling my energy, from hearing my thoughts.”

“Why?” Leia asked gently. “Why were you so afraid?”

“My parents were distrustful of those who were attuned to the Force after living through a time where Darth Vader wreaked havoc on the galaxy. They told me old stories of little children being taken away from their families to be trained as Jedi, only to have all of them massacred, even the younglings. They made it seem like the most dangerous thing in the world was being someone with that gift. So even as a child, when I felt the power growing within, I pushed it down, hid it away. I didn’t want to fight in any wars, and I didn’t want to be killed. I just… wanted a normal life.”

Both Rey and Leia were nodding with me as I spoke, seeming to understand my decision.

“That’s why you were on Raxus. So isolated,” Poe murmured, not looking at me.

“Yes. I kept it a secret for as long as I could, all through my training, only using this power sporadically through the years. But I was too close to being caught whilst working in a medical camp on the Inner Rim, during a skirmish the First Order instigated on a planet because of their resources. A Stormtrooper noticed me healing one of the planet’s inhabitants, one whom he was sure he’d rendered on the brink of death. He wanted to take me to his leader, claiming he would have good use for someone with my abilities. I managed to escape him and ran, giving up my job, my home, all without telling anyone where I was going. I settled on Raxus, built my clinic, rarely having to use my power, never really worrying about being caught again. Until... Poe crashed on my doorstep.”

“And you had to use it then, didn’t you?” Rey assumed, obviously a question she had been waiting to ask. I nodded.

Finn’s eyes sparkled. “I knew it! I knew there was a reason he healed so quickly.”

The death stare Rey shot to him was severe in intensity, and under any other circumstance I would have thought it was funny. But my focus was centred completely on Poe’s expression as he remained engrossed in deliberation, his eyes still not reaching back to me.

“Is this why they’re keeping you held on the Finalizer? They wish to utilize your power to heal?” Leia guessed.

“They don’t know about it.”

Each of their expressions turned to disbelief.

“How? Surely Kylo Ren would have rummaged through your mind the minute you got on that ship,” Finn burst, turning to Rey. “That’s what he did to you right?” She nodded in agreement, still looking to me for my answer.

“I was able to keep him out, like I did to you Rey,” I replied.

Rey seemed impressed, and a realisation clicked behind her eyes. “That’s why he won’t let you leave. He hasn’t figured out why."

I became uneasy, suddenly worrying about the blame I’d been placing on her. “He thinks it’s because of you, that you’ve somehow placed a block around my mind. And I... didn’t exactly correct him.”

Rey let a sly smile form on her lips. “Well that would be a valuable thing to make use of, if only it were true.”

Finn appeared dubious. “I still don’t understand why you agreed to work for them.”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” I subtly scowled. “It was that or rot in a cell until Kylo Ren managed to infiltrate my thoughts, learning of my sensitivity to the Force, leaving me in a lot worse situation.”

Finn appeared understanding of that answer. It had been Rey’s own powers that made the man obsessed with capturing her. Leia, who had seemed more troubled while we conversed of the Supreme Leader, finally spoke up again. “How long do you think you can hold yourself against… him?”

“I don’t know.” My heart thumped with anxiety, reminded of his last attempt to penetrate my barrier. Thinking about it, with Poe’s image right in front of me, made a familiar sickness bubble in my stomach. He still refused to meet my gaze, his face pained, making an ache begin to surge in my chest.

“Well we have to make some kind of plan right? To rescue her before that happens? Poe?” Finn insisted, somehow rustling Poe out from his inner turmoil.

“Right. Sure. Of course,” he agreed, only the slightest glance in my direction. I had to clench my teeth to hold back the tears wanting to form in my eyes, his indifferent response causing a wave of guilt to wash through.

Leia could sense the tense energy exchanging between us, even through the holo. “Finn, Rey, let’s start discussing our next move. Away from the holoprojector.” She looked firmly at the two, an unspoken communication. Rey shot me a look of both support and sympathy, understanding exactly why Leia was leading them away.

“Hang in there,” Finn added before standing to leave. “We’ll get you out real soon.”

I tried my best to reply with a grateful smile, but it was hard to form through the nervousness I felt at being alone with Poe after my revelation.

One by one their figures receded from the flickering blue picture, leaving Poe alone once again. I couldn’t bring myself to speak first, unsure of what to say. He felt further away than ever, his touch a memory that continued to fade.

Time was running out, the seconds ticking away as we both waited in stillness for the other to break the strained silence. When his eyes finally drifted to me again, I was wounded by the hurt in them, still acutely obvious in the artificial image.

“Why couldn’t you tell me?” he whispered. “You had all that time.”

I dipped my head, conceding. “I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” he shot with unrestrained exasperation. “Scared that I would continue to be grateful for you saving my life?”

I looked back up, stunned by his angered tone. “I didn’t want anyone to find out, let alone someone who had ties with the Resistance.”

“What did you think I would do, what the Resistance would make you do?”

“Pull me into a war I didn’t want to fight! Lead me into a life I didn’t want to lead!”

I could see his jaw tighten, an attempt in calming himself. “The fact you assume I’m the type of person that would force you into anything, let alone war, even after everything I told you, is insulting.”

“That’s so unfair,” I retaliated, my bottom lip on the edge of trembling. “I didn’t even know who you were when I decided to heal you. I chose to risk everything to keep you alive. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Poe exhaled hard, the sound crackling in the holo. “I will always be in your debt for what you did. But you still lied to me Alex. To my face. You assumed the worst of me, of all of us. You hid the truth because you thought we would take advantage of your power, not caring about what you wanted, what you could choose.”

“You haven’t lived my life Poe,” I argued, a ferocity beginning to rise. “You haven’t lived with the same fear I have all your life.”

He stared at me through the staticky blue light, silence once again taking over. We were locked in each other’s eyes, even through all the distance separating us.

“You pushed me away because of it, didn’t you?” he asked, the sting of his tone now gone.

I didn’t have to respond for him to know my answer. Suddenly there was a loud click of the door behind me, the hard-lock releasing.

Our time was up.

“I’m sorry,” I implored, only a moment before Poe’s face was snatched from my view, the holoprojector powering down into darkness.

My throat felt tight, a new kind of shame gripping tightly. I’d always been so afraid of sharing my secret, but not for this reason. Not because it would make me a liar in the eyes of the one I longed to be reunited with so badly.

I stayed in the darkened comm-room long after the hard-lock was disengaged. No one came to open it. Even if they had, they would have only found my figure sitting against one of the large data configurators, stuck in a motionless trance.

I wasn’t entirely sure what kept me from crying, because there was certainly a hollow sadness sitting on my chest, yet the emotion never seemed to manifest into anything. It was possibly due to the stark realisation that my power, my use of the Force, wasn’t a secret anymore.

And nothing bad happened.

They hadn’t been afraid, judgemental, desperate to use it for their own benefit. They had wanted nothing. Rey even kept it to herself, waiting for me to expose the circumstance in my own time, supporting the decision I’d made long ago to hold the power deep within.

Alongside the sadness, there was an intense shame thumping with my heartbeat. Poe had been right, once again highlighting my selfish and distrustful nature, even to those who didn’t deserve it. He’d always been unconditionally honest, and I had given him lies in return. He was right to be offended, to feel slighted by my deceit, our whole encounter now coloured with my dishonesty.

The only comforting part of the holoprojector discussion, apart from knowing for sure Poe with how we parted, was there was a plan being formed for my rescue. There was still a chance I might make it off this ship, escaping before Kylo Ren saw through my weakening façade. He had gotten closer than ever before in the preceding morning, and it couldn’t be long until he figured out another way to tug at my emotions hard enough to unravel me completely.

My only hope was that it wasn’t my attraction to him, the way he undeniably ignited the fire inside that he continued to toy with in his endeavour to push past the veil over my mind.

When I slipped back through the doors of the Prestige ward I was bombarded with questions from Risha and the other staff concerning the incidents of the night, most of them somewhat impressed with my boldness. While the others thought nothing of my return, assuming that for once justice had prevailed and I’d been seen to act in self-defence, Risha was obviously astonished I wasn’t still sitting in my cell. She followed me to the isolation room, where my intubated patient still lay in critical condition, but fortunately alive.

“How did you manage to convince them to let you out?” she questioned. “I thought I’d be visiting you in that cell.”

I read over the observations, the patient’s vitals seemingly stable during my absence.

I would need to thank Irwin later.

“I didn’t have to convince them of anything. My retaliation was considered appropriate by the Supreme Leader, so he allowed my release.”

Risha physically recoiled in disbelief. “There are like, 20 things wrong with what you just said.”

“It was a surprise to me too,” I agreed, continuing to perform my own assessment of the ill man in front of me.

“Alex, I don’t think you comprehend how unusual it is for the Supreme Leader to involve himself with matters like this.”

“I think we can both agree nothing about my situation is usual.”

“I mean, that’s true.” She folded her arms, still doubtful. “But for him to punish the Colonel instead of you. That’s just…bizarre. Snoke would never have been called to make a decision like that, let alone given any care for your wellbeing.”

I stopped, giving Risha’s answer more than a few seconds of thought. “Maybe he wants to be a different type of leader.”

She snorted. “We all know Snoke was the one who seduced him to the dark side, who turned him into what he is today. You think he would cast away his teachings, suddenly show compassion?”

“You’ve obviously given this a lot of thought,” I murmured.

“Well there’s not a lot else to talk about working on this ship. All we debated in the days after Snoke’s death, and Kylo Ren’s appointment as Supreme Leader, was whether his rule would be the same or significantly worse. No one even had the slightest notion he would be… like this.”

I shrugged, walking back to the progress notes and typing my assessment out. “Maybe he thinks if I owe him one I’ll be less likely to cause anymore issues. Maybe he hopes for me to like it here so I won’t attempt an escape.”

Risha tugged at my arm, making me look to her. “Is that something you were considering?” she whispered.

I didn’t want to give any kind of verbal confirmation to that intention, knowing now the ears always listening into our conversations. I also refused to implicate this sweet person in any of my future plans, knowing it was safer to give an overly dismissive answer. “Of course not. I wouldn’t even know how if I wanted to. I’ll just keep waiting it out. I’m sure they’ll grow bored with me eventually.”

Risha certainly wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t dictate that stance. “So how are you feeling? After… you know.”

“I’m alright,” I reassured, which was a blazing lie. “Better now knowing the Colonel won’t be back on this ward again.”

“Me too,” Risha breathed, showing me a small smile. Mild irritation sizzled knowing what it took to finally have someone to act on a predator like Colonel Wynver, still wishing his punishment would have been more severe. But I had to be appreciative that Risha, and the other women who worked here, could have some comfort due to his hopefully permanent absence from their life.

I farewelled Risha after making sure Irwin had given her an adequate handover of the nights new admits, noticing that more beds were now filled with those who had contracted the heavily contagious illness. There was a part of me that worried about the situation I would return to at the start of my shift this evening, but I was too exhausted to fret for too long.

I made sure to pick up a meal from the mess hall before returning to my quarters, horrendously starving from a whole shift without a chance to eat. The shower I had after ravenously devouring my food was just soothing enough to put me in a better state of mind before settling under the bed sheets to sleep, even with the ache beating slowly in the background of my mind at how Poe and I had parted from our transmission.

My only hope was Rey could make him see sense in the way I had kept my power hidden, maybe make him understand how harsh the fear was that drove me to lie.

Sleep arrived effortlessly this time, only minutes passing with my eyes closed before I was pulled into slumber.

When I felt my eyes open again, it was obvious I was dreaming, standing on a deserted beach, the horizon a flat line against the evening sky, a lone sun close to sinking past the ocean. It felt peaceful, a melting glow spreading through my body, relishing the sunset scene. But soon I realised I’d never been to a place like this before. I’d never even stepped close to a beach in my short life.

It was then I sensed the presence with me, the strange energy hovering far behind my figure. I went to turn, to face the mystery aura, but I was chained to where I stood, my eyes still viewing the yellowed skyline, the faint sound of small waves lapping against the shore. The energy shifted, my focus trained on its movement as it edged closer, finally taking a position just beyond my right shoulder.

“You’ve been doing spectacularly well,” a familiar voice mused.

I sighed. “I wondered when you were finally going to disturb me again. You’ve been unusually quiet.”

I felt a smile cross the figures lips, although I was unsure exactly what its face would appear as.

“You seem to be managing perfectly fine without my assistance. I didn’t feel the need to intrude.”

“As opposed to back on Raxus, when I couldn’t avoid your constant warnings?” I grumbled, recalling the many interruptions the voice had made concerning my growing attachment to Poe.

The energy moved again, my eyes darting to the space beside me, still unable to turn my head to that direction. I was only able to capture the image of a hooded figure stepping into my periphery, its face almost completely hidden by darkened brown fabric. I could just make out the shape of their lips. Human. And feminine, matching the tone I had heard in my mind for almost my whole life.

“You were making poor decisions,” the hooded woman stated. “Decisions that would bring about damaging consequences.”

“Maybe if I knew the consequences you seem to be so concerned with, I would make the right choices.”

She laughed, a low breathy chuckle that was oddly musical. “That’s not how this works. I can’t interfere with your free will.”

“Can you at least tell me what ‘this’ is? Why you’re inside my head?”

I could see her lips purse, a deliberate silence between us. “It’s not time yet. You’re not ready.”

An unwelcome shiver pulsed, irritation swelling once again. “I would ask what exactly I need to be ready for, but I can assume you won’t tell me that either.”

The woman smiled again, white teeth peeking through her lips on the edge of my vision. “I’m glad you’ve come to that understanding quickly.”

I exhaled hard, growing impatient with the interference of my much-needed sleep. “Is there a reason why you’re here now, deciding to show yourself for the first time?”

“I wanted to ensure you knew you were playing your part well, in the hopes it would encourage you to stay on this path.”

I creased my eyebrows, contemplating how any of my actions in the last few weeks would have been appropriate on this journey I was apparently walking. “And I’m assuming you’ll let me know when I might divert from this destination you’ve got in mind?”

“Indeed,” she nodded, her head lifting in time to watch the sun finally fade completely past the horizon, plunging both of us into darkness. “But I have faith you won’t require my help for the foreseeable future.”

I could only hope such a notion was true, this woman’s voice always having been a horrible strain on my thoughts. But without knowing exactly what I was doing so well, I was unsure if I could keep her intrusions from appearing again. I watched with the woman as stars began to glitter through the sky, reflecting on the stilled ocean, making an even bigger vision of night envelop the landscape. A delicate breeze of wind then brushed against my skin, and she was gone, her energy fading instantly, leaving me alone on the beach once again.

The soothing power of the twinkling scene soon made an overwhelming fatigue encircle my brain, and I was unable to prevent my eyelids from drooping closed.

It was obvious I’d been rustling in my sleep when I awoke again hours later, sheets twisted haphazardly over my limbs. I’d finally managed a full 8 hours, feeling the most rested I’d been in days. Although waking to an impossibly long list of questions I couldn’t get answers to didn’t exactly make me feel relaxed.

I laid on my back, wishing I could will the woman’s voice back into existence, only wanting to know why and how she housed her spirit inside my mind. The spoken warnings and guidance had always been there, pestering me with advice, sometimes threatening. But I always assumed it was a form of my own conscience, born from an unknown area of my brain that battled its morals against my decision making. Knowing now it was something more than that, that it was something or someone keeping a close watch over my actions, was oddly comforting.

Maybe I hadn’t been alone all of these years.

My last overnight duty before returning to the day shift was chaotic to say the least. Almost all beds of the Prestige ward became filled with viral patients, a large portion of the Finalizer Command leaders now in my company. A dark humour would have mentioned to the Resistance yesterday that this sickness was probably more incapacitating than their assaults had ever been, but I honestly didn’t want to place the idea of biological warfare inside their heads.

While my intubated patient had already improved from my last visit, I was now dealing with three more who’s health was extremely critical. I had never been so appreciative for the medical droids who worked here, their ability to recognise deteriorations in vitals being much quicker than my own.

I’d been given a status report from the rest of the ship earlier in the night, which implied the other wards were in much the same position. Although, it was interesting to note the slowing occurrence between Stormtrooper personnel, their armour and helmets seeming to provide an amount of protection that the Command leaders didn’t utilise.

The Bio-med lab had assured they would have a cure and subsequent vaccine within the next couple of days, pressing us to keep as many patients alive in the meantime. Which was easier said than done. Bacta didn’t help in eradicating the virus or it’s symptoms.

Fortunately for my own health I had already been afflicted with a strain similar during an assignment to Lothal in my training days, the illness sweeping through most of our workers, spread by one of the wounded soldiers. Luckily, none of us had been struck down too harshly, and it had left most of us somewhat immune. In knowing this however, I began to feel a looming dread for the medical staff of this ship who most likely had never been exposed before. It couldn’t be long before they themselves would need to be treated, and I prayed it wouldn’t leave me as the sole doctor still well enough to keep working in the time before a cure was found.

In the morning I handed over the night’s events to the day shift, giving strict instructions for the care of the four intubated patients, offering to return if I was required to at any time. I’d been afforded a full day cycle before returning to normal working hours, a day off of sorts, but with little freedoms being afforded to me on this ship to utilise my free time, I was quite comfortable in being called back to ease the load on the Prestige staff.

No such request had been made by the time I’d taken care of my daily routine, sleeping soundly through another 8 hours, this time without the interruption of vivid dreaming. It was early evening, which was only ever evident by the chronometer in my quarters, and I’d found myself too anxious about how the ward was coping to focus on the literature I was attempting to read.

The unease eventually caused me to change into the mundane set of informal clothes the First Order had allowed, wanting to pay a visit to the ward to ease my worry. A pair of black pants hemmed tight against the outline of my legs and a grey sweater which wrapped around my torso, leaving a bow at the back. I hadn’t pulled my hair up, assuming my visit wouldn’t actually require me to do any work. I wanted to appear as casual as possible, hopefully not implying they would be desperate for my assistance.

I was about to slip around the corner of the small lobby outside my quarters, pondering over the fact I’d never seen anyone enter or exit the two other doors, when I was disrupted by the sight of General Hux making his way down the corridor. He was alone, without his usual entourage of Stormtroopers My eyes narrowed, watching him suspiciously as he closed the space between us, noting the stressed expression he wore, his porcelain cheeks slightly red.

“What have I done this time?” I prodded as he stopped in front of me.

“I’m afraid I’m not in the mood for your juvenile mockery Miss Jago,” he snapped. “Come with me, I have a task you are required for.”

I folded my arms. “This is meant to be my day off.”

“You’ll find that I don’t particularly care,” Hux grumbled. It occurred to me how unwilling he seemed to be here, most likely a stern order behind his reason for being in my presence. “You don’t have a choice in this matter. Now follow me.”

“Could you at least tell me what you’re hauling me away to do?”

He didn’t stop his exit. “You’ll find out soon enough. I’m not going to ask you again. Follow me.”

It was curiosity that made me obey his demand, beginning to step behind the irritating man as he led me to an unspecified objective. When we started veering towards a familiar turbo-lift, noting him pressing the floor I’d memorised from the previous day, my whole body pulsed with anger.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I seethed, looking to Hux with a burning contempt.

“It was an order,” he replied sharply.

“It always is,” I fumed, leaning into the durasteel wall of the turbo-lift.

What did he want with me now?

Hux stormed ahead when the doors opened, my shorter strides barely able to keep up as we walked through the darkened hallway. With a simple wave of his hand on the security panel the blast doors opened to the room I had previously been forced into, the huge open view of endless space still taking my breath away.

Hux didn’t stop in the lounge area, instead swerving to the door at the far left, pressing a code quickly into the lock, waiting for me to enter first once it opened. I looked at Hux quizzically before moving past, taking a moment to register the scene I’d been made privy to.

My eyes scanned over Kylo Ren’s figure, now hunched into a ball underneath the sheets of his bed, a sheen of sweat noticeable on his forehead even from the doorway. He was asleep, however it didn’t appear even close to restful, his breaths loud and heaving.

“The Supreme Leader appears to be afflicted with the virus,” Hux stated in a hushed tone, still emotionless as ever. “He requires the care of a medical professional until his health returns to normal. I think you can understand the confidential nature of the task I’m giving to you.”

I nodded slowly, still stunned at what I’d walked into. “But why me? Surely there are other doctors who could do this. Ones who aren’t his hostage.”

“That is most definitely true,” Hux agreed. “But he asked for you.”

Next Chapter

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bi-naesala · 2 years

Text

Come and kill me

Fandom: LOL Rating: E Warnings: / Relationships: Jayce/Viktor Characters: Jayce, Viktor Additional Tags: Original Lore, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Love/Hate, Rimming, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Begging, Inspired by Fanart Summary:

It all begins with one of Jayce’s umpteenth ultimatums to Viktor.

(Inspire by this fanart)

(AO3 link)

It all begins with one of Jayce’s umpteenth ultimatums to Viktor - because as much as he should, he can’t bring himself to just crush him with his hammer and be done with him - and with the latter’s reply to just come kill him if he’s so pressed about what he’s doing.

If they were supposed to fight, though, why is Jayce sitting on Viktor’s face, pants discarded who remembers where, like his hammer - and isn’t it dumb of him to leave himself defenseless like this? - while he gets eaten out?

This surely won’t be part of the list of Jayce’s smartest decisions, but damn if he can’t bring himself to care, not when Viktor moves his tongue oh so right and makes him almost forget his own name.

And since when he’s so good at this anyway? Jayce doesn’t remember him like this, and he doubts Viktor’s had any kind of experience outside of that little thing they shared - so little that it always manages to stop them from actually killing each other - because nobody else but Jayce could ever keep up with him-- yeah, yeah, he’s being egocentric blah blah blah, but what can he say? It’s not egocentrism if it’s true.

Viktor swirls his tongue around his rim and Jayce moans, rubbing himself against his face in search for more.

There was a time in which he wouldn’t have dreamed to do something like this, and not because he had any particular qualms about hurting Viktor, but because in the unfortunate eventuality he would’ve snapped his neck, he would’ve never heard the end of it - that and he also would’ve had to find an excuse for what happened, because like hell he was going to let the fact that he and Viktor fucked become public knowledge.

As much as he doesn’t agree with Viktor’s philosophy, he can’t deny that the augmentations have made him stronger. It would be foolish to dispute that, though Jayce always makes a point to remind him that, despite everything, there’s still a human part inside him that he’ll never be able to get rid of.

Apparently, however, Viktor doesn’t like that he’s taking the lead - when does he ever? - and after just a couple of seconds of letting Jayce do as he pleases, he grabs his thighs with a steel hold, keeping him in place as he lavishes his entrance the way he sees fit.

Jayce can’t help but to groan, and he almost mutters a “please”, before thinking better of it - like hell he’s going to humiliate himself like this.

He grits his teeth and tries to take what he can get, despite his limited mobility, but Viktor must’ve understood what’s going on, because the fucker decides that now it’s a great moment to slow down.

“Viktor…” Jayce warns him. If he doesn’t go back at it like he was doing before… well, he’ll come up with something. That gives Viktor pause - unfortunate - and makes him pull away - even more unfortunate - to look at him and damn, it’s still so creepy how similar he looks to the old version of himself despite the augments.

“Say please,” he says, looking way too serious for someone who just uttered those words. Fuck, why does he look so sexy?

“Or what?” Jayce challenges him, because he always picks the worst choice every time he has the occasion for it.

He’s lucky Viktor knows him well enough to expect it, and thus he isn’t perturbed at all by his words.

“Or else you won’t come,” he replies, then, now with a hint of amusement in his voice, as if Jayce couldn’t crush his head between his thighs. He should do it, he really should, but despite the temptation, there’s something about this entire situation that… that gets to him, and despite the fact that just a minute ago he was against it, he finds himself considering Viktor’s words carefully.

“… Fine. Pretty please, Viktor?”

What he gets for his effort is an unimpressed glare.

“Why don’t you ever take anything seriously?”

“What?” Jayce reels back. “I am taking this seriously!”

Viktor looks between indignant and baffled, but at least after shaking his head and muttering something in his native language that Jayce doesn’t understand, he gets back to business.

“O-Oh! Right there!” Jayce can’t help but to moan, relieved that this moment of pause is over.

He needs it so bad he’s going to explode, so Viktor better give it to him.

Turns out Viktor’s a little shit of a madman - which isn’t anything new, truly - but only now Jayce can see that his evilness truly has no limit, because the asshole always slows down right when Jayce’s near the apex, sometimes even pulling away under the guise of catching his breath - as if they both know he doesn’t need it anymore.

The more this torture continues, the more Jayce feels weak, and the more he keeps going back to his previous ideas to crush Viktor’s head.

“Viktor… C’mon, man… I don’t have all day,” he tries to reason with him, hoping that it’ll manage to make him see the error of his ways, but Viktor continues, relentless.

Sure, Jayce could turn things around and get want he wants with force, but… despite everything, he’s still hard as a rock, which is something that he’ll probably have to think about later, but not now because doing introspection while fucking doesn’t seem that great of an idea even for him.

“Viktor…” he tries again, but it accomplishes nothing as Viktor lazily drags his tongue around his entrance, pressing it inside just barely before retracting it immediately.

Jayce has no idea how long he’s going to last before he goes crazy. He’s come to a point in which his mind feels dizzy between the pleasure Viktor’s bringing him and the frustration about it not being enough for him to come.

At first he thought he might be able to pull through, but he understands now that it’s not the case. He has to relent.

“Viktor… Please.”

Viktor stops for just a moment - probably surprised to hear Jayce say something like that so earnestly - but then he continues, this time pressing his tongue further inside Jayce, going harder and faster, but it’s still not enough!

“I’m beggin’… Please! Pleasepleasepleaseplease!!”

He stops talking only because Viktor moves a hand to grab his cock, jerking him off while he continues pushing his tongue inside. It’s warm and wet and all Jayce can do is moaning Viktor’s name, grateful for what he’s been finally granted - and when has he ever felt like this?

It’s humiliating to say the least, and yet it also feels so good, truly incredible, and the fact that it’s Viktor of all people the one who’s making him feel like this only adds fuel to the fire: he’s not going to last long.

In a rare moment of kindness, he tries to warn Viktor, he truly does, but no words come out of his mouth, or at least no words that would make sense. All he can do is lose himself to the pleasure.

His vision turns white as he comes, and for a moment, Jayce thinks he’s going to pass out right there right now, still sitting on Viktor’s face, but he manages to remain conscious throughout his entire orgasm.

Then Viktor stops holding him down and lets Jayce go, though the other doesn’t really move much - he can’t right now - but he sits on Viktor’s chest instead that on his face, giving him a moment of respite.

The hilarity of the fact that he’s gotten a bit of cum on his hair - that’s surely going to be a bitch to wash out later - is immediately cut by another wave of arousal as Viktor brings his dirty, mechanical fingers closer to his mouth and then parts his lips, licking out the cum staining them, all without moving his gaze from Jayce, who shudders at the view under him.

Damn him! Just as he was about to make a snarky remark about his hair too! Spotlight hogger!

What’s even worse is Viktor’s condescending tone as he speaks again, which makes Jayce’s knees feel even weaker than they already were - he will have to do a lot of introspection once he’s alone.

“See? It wasn’t that hard, now… Wasn’t it?”

#jayvik #jayce #viktor #jayce giopara #viktor lol #league of legends #my fics #mine #spicy

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katcadecascade · 4 years

Text

On Lucky Stars

Fair Game Week 2020: Soulmates

Ao3

Summary:

When Clover receives his Soulmate Words, he’s heard all of the stories.

These Words marring his skin represent the best qualities of his soulmate, little insight to their personality or way of life or just a hint of what their bond can be.

"You better wish on your lucky stars that you're right."

Chapter One: will your mouth read this truth

When Clover receives his Soulmate Words, he’s heard all of the stories.

From the gentle tones of his mother to his friends’ excited flurry in the academy, Words just mysteriously appears on people’s skin. They represent more than just the moment you realize ‘hey this person is my soulmate!’

These Words marring his skin represent the best qualities of his soulmate, little insight to their personality or way of life or just a hint of what their bond can be.

You better wish on your lucky stars you’re right

Clover is absolutely thrilled when it first appeared on his arm.

He can’t wait to do so many puns with his soulmate.

But all of that joy and wonder has to be tamed because there is no time limit, no known clock that chimes when soulmates meet for the first time or for the nth time either.

He would know, his parents don’t have each other’s Words but they still love each other as such. His mom found her soulmate in an old crewmate, reunited after separate sea adventures from opposite ends of the world.

So Clover has patience, has a clear head full of hope when he first saw the maroon words appear on his left bicep.

“You got your Words! You got your Words!” Elm sang loudly as they exited the training field.

“No need to scream it to the world, the academy no less,” Clover laughed, rubbing the script tenderly. He barely just noticed it, too much in a daze after sparring with his team partner as they wait for graduation day.

In the meanwhile, he just wants to train and study with Elm even if she’s not the most scholarly person there is. When they were first paired together he instantly knew that Elm would become his best friend, simply because of her hugs.

They both shared this light atmosphere of positively and now that is all on her face as she marvels at the newly etched Words.

Elm is bouncing on her feet, “This is awesome! Oh I bet they’re going to swept you off your feet, Cloves.”

He took another minute admiring the Words, “From the sounds of it, I think we might end up in an argument. Still, nothing to worry about, I’m sure everything will be okay.”

“Ah yes, the words of wisdom from Clover Ebi,” a slow clap grabs the two cadet’s attention.

“Morning Robyn,” Clover waves at the top student.

Robyn Hill has to be the most unconventional valor Victorian of this year’s graduating class due to her massive sarcasm and sheer determination against the usual Atlas elitist. Honestly it’s a breath of fresh air to have her on the student board and get actual work done and not contribute to some elitist priorities on the dance budget.

“Look, look!” Elm waved using Clover’s left arm.

Clover sheepishly pulls his limb back as Robyn polity takes in the enthusiasm that’s being thrown at her, “Congratulates Fish Sticks.”

He laughs at the nickname, still new to him as supposed to anything luck related. The only reason Robyn bestowed this moniker on him is because she saw dozen photos of him winning the yearly fishing tournament.

Apparently that is much more nickname worthy than event with his semblance or not.

“Thanks Robyn, now all that’s left is to one day finding them.”

“Aren’t we all,” she shrugs, “but may I recommend something?”

“Sure.”

“Keep it on the down low,” Robyn taps his Words. It’s a friendly matter but her tone is serious, “You’ll get more than a headache if people press their luck.”

Clover and Elm blinked at each other, not even considering this.

It’s not taboo to hide Words and that was once a tradition in olden days and maybe still practiced around some old bluebloods too.

For Clover he grew up seeing the Words on his parents, learned how they didn’t say each other’s Words but that didn’t stop their own love. They kept it out in the open to remember their soulmates.

While his mom has found her soulmate, his dad still hasn’t found his other mate.

“Do you really think people would do that?” Elm asks and she taps her left foot, where her Words are found. It’s definitely an unexposed space since the academy requires her wear shoes unlike him whose wearing a standard sleeveless shirt.

Clover looks at his own Words, thinking deeply, “I’ve heard stories about that kind of stuff.”

“I’m not telling you this to scare you or make you doubt people,” Robyn said, crossing her arms. “You’re too trusting for that. I’m asking you to be smart, Clover.”

He nods, “You’re always doing what you think is right.”

A thin smile is pressed in her lips, “More like I’m protecting the truth.”

Clover remembers this moment, more often than out of every other moment of Robyn when she doesn’t show up at their graduation ceremony.

The rest of the academy is confused or furious or yelling how they’re right about Robyn’s character, how she’s just another Mantle kid worming their way into the upper crust. Despite all that noise, Robyn pursues her own path.

Protect the truth.

That’s admirable Clover believes as he ties a red bandana around his Words. Robyn’s advice proved its worth a few times in his officer days. A few people probed and tried to peek at it, either for curiosity or wanting to test fate.

He knew he was popular but he didn’t think people would go that far to claim him as their soulmate. Sure there were a few dates and serious relationships that just didn’t work out but the whole ‘saying his Words just to make him feel entitled to a liar’ was a huge blow to Clover’s love life.

It feels cheap and shitty and a mockery to his real soulmate. Whoever that person is, Clover wants to find them because he believes all the waiting will be worth it and they can have a life together. His soulmate is someone out there in the world, waiting or existing or doing whatever mundane thing they can do as monster attack villages.

You better wish on your lucky stars you’re right

What will he have to be desperately right about?

Elm tossed him a few ideas, some about debating if hot dogs are sandwiches. Harriet immediately demanded the conversation to end unless they want her to sock them into next week.

Becoming the Captain of the Ace Operatives certainly brought together a team Clover didn’t think he’d be leading.

He’s super happy to have Elm at his side. She’s reliable, stable and a joy and his best friend. Nothing would ever knock her down.

Then there’s Vine, reclusive but not shy. He just likes to speak when he feels it is the right time. Clover pairs him off with Elm immediately to see how they work together. Turns out, they get along rather well as they get closer.

Harriet is like fireworks, loud and big and fast to explode. Getting her to follow his orders was a bit of a challenge for the both of them. Either she gets impatient or he gets too passive for her liking. It takes months for them to settling into some stalemate and agree to keep things professional for the sake of the job.

Marrow is another breath of fresh air, boundless potential and skill and goodness. Clover is so happy to recruit him into the Ops before any other officer could displace the faunus to some job that would do nothing but damper Marrow’s career.

As for the Captain himself, things are going swell.

Clover is an all-around optimistic, hard-working, skillful student with a bonus of good luck. Sure with the name and the clover pin, that can be all what people see from him at a first glance. Impressions like those only make the guy strive for more, to prove that nothing about him is simple chalked up to luck.

The fruits of those labors end up being the trust of one General James Ironwood.

It happened after the Fall of Beacon

General Ironwood arrives to Atlas with a newly steeled and hardened determination in him, just a hair away from something that scares Clover.

He trusts his general, believe him on that but there is just something concerning to see how mere days after his arrival, Ironwood locks himself in his office. Only he or Specialist Schnee enters his office.

His worry overcomes any disciplines when he enters the office to see Ironwood slumped over paper work and a glass of whiskey.

“When’s the last time you checked in with Doctor Grey?”

A ragged noise exhales from the man, his usual towering stature completely gone as he curls over the desk and paperwork, “Too long. She knows I’m avoiding her.”

“With all due respect sure, that’s a death sentence.”

Another heavy sound, an echo of a sharp laugh as Iron unfolds himself, pressing his whole back to the chair, “I don’t suppose you’re here to report about yesterday’s Grimm raids.”

“I’m actually here to report about Hill.” Ironwood’s whole body tenses. “No, good news, I promise,” he waits for his general to beckon him over. Clover sets his scroll on the table, displaying the news feed, “She’s running for the council seat.”

It doesn’t change the stiffness in Ironwood, not the reaction Clover was hoping for.

Ironwood sighs, muttering to himself, “She’s better than Jacques at least.”

Without missing a beat, Clover notes, “Sir, everyone is better than him. Captain Grif would be better.”

A real laugh rumbles from the man. He passes a hand through the rough scruff growing at his jaw. Clover has no doubt that a full beard will be in their future if the general stays on this path.

Blue eyes watch the Captain closely as he fixes his posture, “I wouldn’t think you’d be the one to make crack jokes with your superiors, Ebi.”

“Only if I like them,” he nods, a slight smile brightening the mood.

That certainly pulls Ironwood out of whatever darkness is inside of his head, his eyes a little softer, “Thank you, I appreciate it.” With that his thinking face is back on, he’s been giving Clover this look often now and apparently now is the time. “Call your team here. I want to tell you all a story.”

Thus the Ace Ops, Winter, and Penny learn a terrifying story of a witch, a wizard, and four relics.

It is a lot to take in.

Winter is the one asking questions, as if prepared for this moment, “Who else knows this?”

“The other two headmasters and two of Ozpin’s companions,” Ironwood answered, “Glynda Goodwitch and Qrow Branwen.”

She spits, “That drunk?”

At the same time Clover blinks, “Of STRQ?”

Of course Clover knows about Vale’s top graduating team, they were amazing in their tournament debut. They were also a bit of a mystery as well since there has been less news about them in the coming years.

Not all huntsman teams have time for the limelight once they do mission after mission. It’s just that news from teams of other kingdoms don’t reach Solitas that much since its civilians prefer to debate about dust or politics.

But Clover remembers the highlight reel from STRQ’s battles, especially Qrow’s skill with that scythe. That man is a thing of beauty.

So it feels a little jarring to learn that his old celebrity crush is in the know of this secret war.

“Qrow is an experienced fighter and has done years of espionage for this very purpose,” Ironwood continues, “He’s the one who had the closet calls against Salem’s main forces and came out on top of it each and every time.”

Clover may be mistaken but it looks like the General is smiling.

“And these people are responsible for Beacon,” Penny said with her voice tense.

No one in this room has an idea on how to comfort the artificial warrior. She just learned her death was orchestrated by an unknown being with unthinkable powers.

He tries though, “Are you alright?”

The young girl blinks robotically, an accurate phrase but there are so much flickering emotions underneath her optics. She admits quietly, “I am not sure.”

Ironwood gains the room’s attention once more, “I know all of this shakes the foundation of our entire world history but I shared this you all because I trust you.” He gives everyone a meaningful look, “Now all I ask of you right now is to trust me on this plan I’m developing.”

Amity Tower project is certainly another thing to add to the long list of secrets.

Processing it all in one night is a major headache for Clover as he thinks of all of it. The satellite has an important purpose. It truly can reunite the world and its communication. On the other hand, Ironwood’s real intentions on revealing Salem are a big turning point.

Still, this is his General, Clover is loyal to him, trusts him with his life.

In the back of his head, a voice tells him to wish on his lucky stars that he’s right.

This small figment of doubt is uncomfortable but not unfamiliar.

Robyn embodied that feeling of seeking out truth not for the sake of doubt but for justice. She continues to do so as Clover, Elm, and Marrow are assigned to check up on her when Atlas elitist gets too prickly at her open speeches.

“Fish Sticks,” she greets, “you’re not here arrest me for eating one of your kind are you?”

They find the politician and her partner Fiona in the market district where one aisle is dedicated to grill stands and frying stalls.

Robyn continues munching on her fried fish on a sewer as Clover ignores Elm purchasing her own meat stick.

“We’re just here on patrol,” he answered, side glancing at his operative.

“Yep,” Elm nods and licks off the sauce stuck on her fingers.

“Sure you are,” Fiona rolls her eyes, bumping hips with Robyn as the taller woman casually wraps an arm around her, resting a hand on her hip.

This is not a new development but there’s something a tad sweeter in Robyn’s face as she pecks Fiona’s forehead.

Mindlessly, Clover wonders if he’ll get something like this with his soulmate.

“We just wanted to say hi to an old classmate,” he excused.

The Captain does another sweep of the area and near the entrance he spies the rookie operative in a subtle but heated conversation with one of Robyn’s huntresses.

Marrow has been volunteering for more patrols in Mantle ever since encountering May Marigold. Clover can only speculate what’s going on since Marrow once confided to his captain about having two sets of Words.

“Really?” Robyn held out her hand.

He rolls his eyes, “Really, Robyn.” Clover snapped his fingers, as if remembering at that moment, “Oh wait, I should probably tell you that someone did get arrested for throwing rocks at an airship.”

“I can’t possibly think of why someone would do that,” Fiona’s sighed dripped with sarcasm as her smile was sweet as wine.

“Speaking of airships, Captain,” Elm had her scroll out, titling the screen to Clover.

An emergency alert is sent to the Ace Ops, news about rouge hunters with no authorization or licenses for advance combat weapons. With their political climate Clover would assume it is one of the locals preaching about Robyn but this timed too well with the earlier notification of a stolen airship.

That is definitely a big issue since Atlas announced their embargo. Along with their knowledge of a certain Grimm witch it is better safe than sorry for the special operative team follows this up.

“Duty calls,” Clover salutes to the politician.

“Don’t go overboard Cloves,” she hollers back, only a hint of concern in her tone.

It’s nice to know she still cares for them, in her own little way but there’s nothing to worry about. This is the Ace Ops, they can handle anything, and nothing will catch them off guard.

So imagine their surprise when it is children, not at all dressed for the cold weather, wielding academy grade weaponry and a mystical looking lamp.

Once they’re all on the ground, the apprehended group in bolo cuffs, Clover slowly recognizes them.

Weiss Schnee is an obvious one but Yang Xiao Long’s solo battle at Vytal was the lead up to Penny’s dooming fight. It hurt to see these girls get manipulating into such tragic events, all of it rising to the fight for Beacon.

Speaking of that, the teammates of the late Pyrrha Nikkos has been once a hot gossip since the three of them were mostly unknowns or armatures to the world of professional grade swordsmanship.

There’s another boy with them, smaller than the rest and instead of any extravagant weapon he wields a cane.

Clover has heard the name of Ruby Rose in Penny’s reports from months ago and honestly it was adorable to hear her gush about this red hooded girl as her very first friend. An additional report went in depth for rest of team RWBY, leading to Clover’s knowledge of Blake Belladonna outside of her family of Menagerie’s power.

Somewhere it slips the Captain’s mind to remember the connection between Rose and Xiao Long and their uncle, Qrow Branwen.

What he does want to push out of his mind is the fact that Qrow is currently belly down with his arms cuffed behind and Clover shouldn’t be thinking at how attractive he is when he’s staring straight up at Clover from down there.

Yep, that’s not professional at all.

This is not at all the meeting Clover had in mind when presented with the possibility of meeting Huntsman Branwen. He’d imagine something a little classier in the academy or even dramatic where had to fight side by side in the nick of danger or something simple like accidently bumping into each other in a coffee shop.

Any of those scenarios lack the tension that comes from arresting someone.

The huntsman in question defiantly raises his head up, his red eyes glinting beautifully, “Hey pal, I’m a licensed huntsman. We just helped have everyone?”

If this wasn’t Solitas Clover would agree with him out loud but that doesn’t change how the rules work here. Between protocols and the political tensions, law and order is barely constraining the rising chaos that Clover and the General has been working on.

Mantle just needs to hold out a little longer as construction continues on the Amity Project.

Qrow’s concern for the kids are justified, a few even trembling in their cuffs as they’re herded into a transport.

“This is all a misunderstanding,” the huntsman gets to his feet and Clover has a closer look on the legend.

He looks so tired from everything Clover’s heard about his experience as a spy. That and it also could be jetlagged. None of that exhaustion affects how handsome the man is, his scruffy hair looks so soft.

Recalling the other illegal alert, Clover bluffs, “I take it a stolen airship is also a misunderstanding?”

Qrow takes the bait, guilty in his silence and scowl. His eyes dart over to the kids Vine is leading away.

“Huh, if that’s that,” Clover continues, places a hand at the small of Qrow’s back and is about to escort him too until he practically growls at Clover’s face.

“If you stupid arrest hurts my kids in any way, I swear-“

“They’ll be okay,” he squeezes Qrow’s shoulder, needing to assure him, “I see that they’re young and I promise nothing cruel would be placed on their heads.”

He doesn’t like the idea of arresting good intentioned civilians, children no less but that’s has been a pattern in Mantle. Robyn has putting a lot of her efforts in helping the youth get off the streets but in her recent reports there hasn’t been enough resources sent to Mantle to cover all her bases.

Qrow backs away from him, like nothing the Atlesian says will matter or is the truth. The look of fear and protective anger sent Clover’s way really gets him defensive. He wants to prove to Qrow that everything Clover is saying is worth trusting.

All of those thoughts are on the tip of his tongue until Qrow turns his back on Clover and calls out, “You better wish on your lucky stars you’re right.”

He walks into the transport without another care, doesn’t look back at Clover who is standing shell shocked as the rest of the world turns.

“Captain?” Someone calls but he’s too stuck in his own head with only one voice in mind.

You better wish on your lucky stars you’re right

Too many dreams are passing through his head, faceless and touchless needs of a person who could spend a minute or forever in Clover’s arms. It was only an idea, a concept, a possibility of ever hearing those Words and feeling this heavy feeling tugging at his heart and Clover can do nothing against this tsunami of joy and energy swirling through his skin.

All of his hopes and wishes in the physical embodiment of one Qrow Branwen.

Clover found him.

A harsh punch lands on his shoulder, waking Clover from his stupor as he yells, “Oh shit! Shit, oh my god, shit!”

“What is going on?” Vine questions carefully.

“He lost his marbles,” Harriet said in almost a song tone, touched with a dash of horror.

Elm, the one who punched him, punches him again, “Clover, what happened?”

“Elm,” he shakes her shoulders, “It happened!”

She lights up instantly, “No way, it happened, Clover it happened you found him!”

The three operatives stare at their captain and teammate busy rattling each other’s bones.

“Wait, you found your soulmate,” Marrow said and points at the departing prison transport, “the one you just arrested?”

Clover pauses, “Oh no.”

“Oh yes you did,” Harriet chuckled. It progressed into full blown laughter as Clover groans.

“I arrested my soulmate, shit.”

“Very smooth of you sir,” Marrow sticks out his tongue. He barely supports Harriet, still dying of laughter, who keeps leaning onto him.

Vine assures him with the most logical assurance, “Captain, he and the children did commit a crime. You did your job and that was arresting your soulmate.”

“I didn’t know he was my soulmate,” Clover massages his forehead, reliving the past few minutes. Then again, if he didn’t arrest Qrow then he wouldn’t have been prompted to be angry and defensive at Clover. That’s an upside that Clover can be okay with. “I have to make it up to him.”

It’s a little too late now as the streets have cleared and the Ace Ops’ own transport is ready for departure. Thankfully Marrow informed the officers to take Qrow’s group to the headmaster so now all the ops can do is sit in their airship.

“Yes but what if this happens again?” Vine asked as their ship took to the air.

“What do you mean?” Elm countered. She’s been doing that more often, confronting nearly everything Vine says. Something happened between them after their last two person mission a few weeks ago.

Harriet finally has air back in her lungs to remind them, “You heard the Ice Queen’s beef with the guy. He causes trouble everywhere he goes. Who knows, our dear captain may have to arrest him again.”

“And not for the bedroom,” Marrow unnecessarily adds.

“Do you want to repeat that again, Operative Amin?” Clover asks in his commanding officer voice.

“No sir.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Okay, all kinky jokes aside Clover is determined to not screw this up. He’ll have to make it up to him, Clover promises. He gets that chance a little earlier than expected when Ironwood messages him to meet with him after properly apologizing to Teams RWBY and JNPR.

As one of their hosts, Clover had walked the Vale students to the official school side of the academy before Penny took the reins with gusto.

Back tracking to the lobby before the headmaster’s office, Clover walks in to see the General hugging Qrow.

Despite of the scenario of seeing someone intimately holding his soulmate, Clover’s not jealousy or envious, not one bit.

He trusts James Ironwood more than just a general or a headmaster. In the years as his Ace Captain, Ironwood slowly warmed up to having the fisherman and his optimistic nature around the office.

Hell, it took a while for Clover to accept the General giving him permission to use his first name. Calling his boss James is just a whole other side of the coin, it really made Clover see pass the white coat and metal to see how human James is.

Still that doesn’t help that Clover, caught off guard at the sheer sight that is James’ vulnerability, accidentally calls out, “General?”

James slowly pulls away from the other man. A fleeting emotion leaves his eyes as he stands straighter, a hand on Qrow’s shoulder, “Good timing Clover.”

“It is?” blinked Qrow.

Clover darts his eyes from his soulmate to his friend, not too sure about their history. He knows they worked together in the field for Ozpin so that must guarantee a solid foundation between them, something importance that Clover will probably never comprehend.

Again there is no major jealousy (maybe a smidge?) in Clover, just mere curiosity. He grew up knowing people can fall in love with someone other than their soulmate, as he mom explained.

While soul bonds are strong, actual years and experience of knowing a person can be just as incredible.

Clover wants to learn more about Qrow, he may now have his soulmate in his life but Clover still has to find him, like in a getting to know him kind of way.

“You asked for me, sir?”

The general nods and introduces, “Qrow, this is Clover Ebi, Captain of the Ace Operatives.”

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Qrow replies with his gravelly voice, “He arrested me.” Clover, reasonably, gulps as Qrow crocks a teasing eyebrow at the general, “Under your orders, Jimmy.”

“Right,” Clover needs to desperately fix this before he becomes too awkward, “I am so sorry about that.”

“Qrow,” James demands but not in his usual harsh tone, “how was I supposed to know it was you that committed a serious felony on my own military?”

“Jimmy, I do that all the time.”

James pinches the bridge of his nose, a characteristic that means he’s really annoyed, “Yes, I realized as I said it out loud.”

Clover struggles not to smile at this. It’s very cute to watch how teasing Qrow is and can get under James’ armor so easily.

This is the Qrow Branwen that wowed a young Clover, this charismatic and dry wit and cheeky smile that fits into this person who just so happens to be a fierce fighter and a loving mentor to eight kids.

Clover can’t wait to get to know his soulmate.

That dazzling smile is aimed at Clover, disarming every little thing from him as Qrow smirks, “See this is the problem with following orders.” He jabs a playful thumb at James, currently rolling his eyes, “Sometimes they aren’t the best or right thing to do.”

“I trust the general with my life,” he said, “but I see your perspective.”

It’s not just Qrow, Robyn used to constantly make jabs at him for staying in the military. Only after a real talk with her about their political opinions did they admit that they missed simply hanging out like when they were just teenagers.

“Whew!” The huntsman sighs dramatically, “For a second, I thought you’d be another Ice Queen.”

“I assure you I’m not as frosty as she.”

“You sure?” He eyes immediately go to Clover’s arms and for a hot second, he thinks Qrow can see pass the red bandana. “I could have sworn I caught you shivering back in Mantle.”

You better wish on your lucky stars you’re right

It’s right there on the muscles Clover has worked out for years not to impress people, know that, but because he just likes to stay in shape. But with the way Qrow is appreciating Clover’s assets, well, he’ll admit he has selfish needs.

Too many thoughts are demanding Clover’s focus, like flirting or bantering with Qrow or to simply rip off the bandana and scream out, ‘hey they’re soulmate!’

Instead he nearly chokes on his own spit, very lucky of him.

James saves him the effort of picking up his tongue, “As pleasant as it is to see you two getting along, it’s late. Besides, you both have plenty of time to get to know each other.”

That is exactly what Clover wants, a bit suspicious if James is reading his mind, he prompts, “Sir?”

“I’m assigning you both as partners for future missions.”

“Really?” They both asked in different tones.

Clover suppresses the urge to bounce up and down in front of his soulmate and general. That would be a little overboard.

Nonetheless he grins at Qrow, “In that case, I look forward to being your partner.”

And your soulmate, his heart screams.

Qrow hesitantly turns to James, “Are you sure about this?”

There’s a strong sense of caution radiating from him, no wait, there’s a flash of misery too. Clover can’t understand why.

“Absolutely.”

A defeated type of acceptance sighs out of Qrow, he halfheartedly shrugs, “Alright, I guess we’re partners.”

Clover has never been so happy. Well he would be even more so but the confused frown on his soulmate is really bothering Clover.

Is he doing something wrong?

Or is Qrow still mad about the whole arrest?

What if after everything Clover longed for, wished for, waited for, Clover isn’t enough to deserve his soulmate?

When people see Clover, they don’t believe a high ranking military office succumbs to insecurities. It just gets so exhausting to be believed to be absolutely perfect when Clover knows he’s far from that.

He played the game of life and people think he’s too lucky or cheating and no amount of battle experience or pains or nightmares will add into his favor. Now he found his soulmate and Clover wants nothing but to just say it out loud but the fear of what if lingers in his head.

It’s not that Clover is scared of revealing they’re soulmates, it’s just that he doesn’t want to mess this up or scare Qrow off. Or maybe Clover is also scared too. He doesn’t quite know how to describe it yet.

This is all too new and too fast to process in one night, especially with the embarrassment of arresting Qrow and then suddenly having him as a mission partner.

The days leading up to their first field mission are still not enough time for Clover to mentally prepare himself.

They all meet at the airship docks for departure where all of the kids are vibrating with a new energy.

Everything they’re doing is new, a mission with an expert team and they get the chance to try out new equipment in the field. Clover remembers that excitement, that endless surge of adrenaline combined with nervous jitters.

After years of experience, Clover has a better handle on his composure as a trained soldier, ready for surprises and such.

Then he sees Qrow in his new outfit and Clover almost walks into Marrow.

The grinning operative takes one look at Clover’s blushing face asks, “Do you think you can handle being in ship alone with him, Captain?”

“Yes I can. Also Marrow, one last thing,” he gives the rookie a stern look, “if you make one more comment, there will be a lot of paper work in your future.”

“You wound me sir.”

“Get to your Manta, Operative.”

“Yes Captain.”

Right as Marrow walks off, Clover’s soulmate approaches, “Man, I can’t remember the last time I was in a Manta,” he shrugs, “like legally.”

That is mildly concerning but also kind of hot. Combine that with how the wind brushes Qrow’s hair and most of the weariness is slept off, Qrow walks with a new confidence.

Qrow narrows his eyes at him, “What are you staring at?”

“Appreciating the view,” he winked.

Oh gods why can’t Clover just be chill for one second, please.

The mission starts as well as it can be, a little tense or wary for the Grimm target as they travel down the abandoned mines.

Clover makes small talk with Qrow, probing for some lore of the great team STRQ. James never implied if the other three teammates were in Ozpin’s circle and Qrow doesn’t mention anything either. Instead he trails off about his isolation, a feat that must be heavy after growing up with such a close team that equaled to a family status.

It’s with a heavy heart as Clover imagines how his soulmate must have felt all of these years. It sounded lonely but Qrow eventually ended up with eight kids so that kind of shift in his life is a big one. Add in the fact that they’re soulmates and Qrow’s life will literally be a rollercoaster.

Clover only hopes that it’ll be a good change in Qrow’s perspective, he has to make sure of it. But first let’s see how they handle this mission together.

The Geist is found in their path, wrenching the small area to the point where Clover would’ve been crushed unless Qrow didn’t yell at him to stop.

“Thanks for the callout,” he said, kicking some rubble down the hole their target escaped through, “That could’ve been bad.”

“I wouldn’t thank me.” There’s a haunting in his deep voice, laced with resentment and shame, “My semblance brings misfortune. I can’t control it.”

He had that same troubled and miserable face Clover once wore years ago, back when he couldn’t figure out his semblance. It became an identity Clover didn’t want, moniker glued to his forehead because that is what people wanted from him.

Elm was one of the first people who didn’t give a damn about luck. She was blunt in the nicest way possible while and trained with him to make sure he knew that luck didn’t equal his worth.

“That so?” Clover took reference to the advice Elm once gave him, “Well hey, don’t beat yourself up about it.” With a cast of his hook, he threw a supporting beam down to create a new tunnel way.

Qrow is watching him carefully and for that Clover does his best smile, “My semblance is good fortune.” Because Clover is a weak man, he winks, “Lucky you, huh?”

The huntsman just stares, unblinking. Not the reaction Clover was expecting.

A beep from team Charlie forces Clover to walk ahead, missing the utter chaos inside of Qrow.

Meanwhile in his own head, Clover admits that maybe his phrasing could’ve been better. After all, bad luck has a different result than good luck.

Whatever Qrow’s upbringing is, something of a twisted light compared to Clover’s, is the reason there is a weight of self-accountability is on his shoulders.

That’s not good, soulmate or not, no one should blame their selves for each disaster or accident.

Clover notices how much distance Qrow is putting between them, a glazed look in his red eyes.

“Is there a reason you’re so far away from me?”

Qrow snaps out of his thoughts, almost like a flinch and that sight makes Clover’s heart ache.

“I uh, I just don’t want my semblance to…” He trails off, his mind a million miles away, “To interfere with the mission.”

“I highly doubt that,” he assures immediately.

“It already has,” Qrow seethes, grinding his teeth, “you almost got hurt.”

It hits Clover like a bullet. While he has his own fears and self-consciousness Qrow has his own dark clouds. Misfortune and bad luck must have been his identity, either self-proclaimed or given by others.

From the way self-loathing just waves off of Qrow, Clover decides to forget the pressures or expectations of them being soulmates.

Qrow feels alone in this and he needs to know that he’s not, he has eight kids and now he needs to know that he has Clover.

He can confess about them being soulmates another time when they both have a better headspace. Pushing Qrow too early in their partnership is probably not a good idea. They still need to get familiar with each other first.

An alert pulls them out of the tense air, the target is attacking.

The duo makes it to the heart of the dust mine where teams Charlie and Bravo are as the Ace Ops are engaging in battle. It’s little chaotic than usual as dust shards are being flung around.

Clover catches a stray one, “What will you do without me?”

In a totally professional manner, Clover tosses the dust to Qrow and dives off their platform with a salute.

Yeah he’s showing off, can he be blamed?

Everything goes smoothly as Harriet sucker punches the Geist. It gets even better when he sees Ruby out speed the speedster to catch the last dust shard. Now that is impressive.

“Lucky catch,” Qrow nods at him, his cape fluttering from the drop.

“No, I chalk that up to talent.”

He’s so used to hearing people dismiss his or his team’s success to luck that Clover almost automatically corrects them. Yet with Qrow, he knows it’s just banter, that it is not a real criticism or devaluation.

It’s just Clover and Qrow and their shared association with luck.

Clover has never felt so relaxed when joking about it.

The luck puns and such were just a habit Clover picked up, do the joke before someone meaner or ignorant says it first.

As sad as that sounds, Clover had Elm to cheer him back up. And look at her now, lifting Ruby on her shoulders like she used to do to Clover.

Well no, she still does that to this day, saying that he only weights like grapes.

It’s a compliment really, people like grapes.

(Don’t say the thing about dogs not liking grapes, only Marrow’s allowed to say that)

With a mission accomplished, they all excite the mine, striding confidently to the afternoon sun.

Speaking of sunniness, the knight, Jaune Arc has wide eyed and gushing over the Ace Ops. It’s like another Marrow is here. As everyone kind of walks in their own group, Clover heads to the General.

In the corner of his eyes, he notices that Jaune had dragged Marrow to a reclusive spot considering the site is beginning to be swarmed by military officers. He has half the mind to be concerned for the operative but his tail is wagging way too much to display any unease.

Clover marches over to the General and the head engineer of the Amity Project.

“Are you sure the limited resources won’t be an issue?” Ironwood presses. He’s been less paranoid and more worried since deciding to split supply resources between Mantle and the world saving project.

Whatever the Vale kids said to the General really changed his tune. Clover didn’t vocally approve of the plans neglecting Mantel, believing in James’ resolve about putting everything into the satellite, but now he feels pretty relieved.

Robyn and the rest of the civilians would be happy about their barriers finally getting reinforced.

“Si,” nodded Head Engineer Lopez, his tone can be labeled as robotic but right now it is bored as he checks a scroll of his supplies.

James opens his mouth to double check but shuts it promptly when Lopez tilts his brown helmet in a disapproving and annoyed manner.

The general bristle at that, standing a little straighter, “Good, I’ll leave everything to you and Doctor Grey.”

The engineer salutes and marches off.

Approaching, Clover stands with his hands folded behind his back, “Everything is a success sir, Lopez and Grey have the sharpest minds.”

“Agreed,” General Ironwood this eyes trailed up to stare at the to-be satellite. It’s only muted hope in him, more nerves than actual belief, never a good look on the exhausted man.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

He raises a brow at that, “Go ahead.”

“You’d put Grey on the project to avoid her, didn’t you.”

A twitch under that bread of his is the only indication that the general smiled. “Am I that obvious?”

“Using work as an excuse or distraction is a preferred tactic of yours.”

“I wasn’t aware you took notice of that, Captain.”

“I served you for years,” Clover nodded his head in Qrow’s direction, “I’m willing to bet he’s going to figure that out in a matter of days.”

Fondness softens the tension in James’ shoulders, “He already has by now.” His shoulders sink a little lower, “How is he?”

“Based off first impressions and one mission?” Clover mulls over a summery, “Qrow has been through a lot, either alone or taking responsibility over the others.” Darken eyes and bad luck flashes through his head. “I think partnering with him will be good for the both of us.”

Newfound alertness makes the general stiffen, “That so?”

Caught in that personal implication, Clover swallows up his nerves, “Just a thought, sir, the Ace Ops are an odd number.”

James eyes him carefully, “I did give you permission to speak freely Clover.”

True, Clover set himself up in this, and now to actually say it out loud, “I think we have things in common, more than I realized.”

For all the lucky comments and nicknames, it cuts a little deeper when people learned his parents aren’t soulmates and by that extension, people assumed that Clover is lucky to be born under such pretenses.

It’s an outdated and hypocritical way of thinking.

Not all soulmates get together, in the coming years it is less of a tradition to wait for a soulmate to find love and start a family. Yet that didn’t stop those people from talking and judging.

It certainly didn’t help that his father’s blueblood family disapproved of him marrying a Mantle girl who’s never said his Words.

Gods it was so awkward to meet his cousins in the academy. Clover’s so happy that Elm and Robyn were with him.

A cold hand is on his shoulder, it’s a gentle weight and temperature eases the old memories out of Clover’s head. It’s rare for James to show physical affection, especially outside of his office.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he takes a breath, “just got lost for a bit.” Once the hand is off of him, Clover stands back into attention, subtly asking for a change in subject, “Is there anything else sir?”

James gives him a slight frown before returning to his generalness. He reports about a series of murders, active supporters of Robyn Hill. The people are reasonably in dismay and are not happy that only now is the military starting to help them, right when the damage has already been dealt.

No one likes the news of this and Clover almost wants to disagree with the General when he calls over Jaune and Ruby to tell them as well.

They’re so young, he proclaims, they haven’t even gotten their license and that’s planned for later in the day.

It’s a bit of a shame that Clover couldn’t attend the small graduation, already sent to Mantle with orders to speak with Robyn. Harriet joins him because she doesn’t want to deal with cake fueled graduates.

The Happy Huntress’ home base isn’t really a base. It’s a night club whose owner happens to be a friend.

Blood Gulch isn’t the most popular club but it must get by if the old building is still standing. Dark walls and metallic structure gives off old military base vibes, likely the intention to mock Atlas as there a bright neon name sign is plastered on top.

They knock at the door and a busty, dark skinned woman with curly yellow hair huffs at them like they’re the health inspector, “You’re cops right? You gotta tell me if you are! That’s like a law or something!”

“We are literally wearing our uniforms,” Harriet states dully.

“Yeah and I think you’d both be hotter if you took it off,” she winks.

From inside the club, someone shouts out, “Bow chicka bow wow!”

“Tucker?” Clover splutters while Harriet hisses the name, “Tucker!”

“Okay Kai, just let them in,” Robyn’s sigh is heard.

Kai rolls her eyes but complies. Not wanting to get between cops and hunters (she’d prefer that situation in the bedroom, she winks), the owner tends to her bar.

The interior of the club is themed in typical sleek black bar tops and a large dance floor with electronic panels. It’s not often Clover goes to a club in their off hours as regular lights are on and not the usual raving colors.

Over at a table in the corner are the Happy Huntresses and an Atlas captain assigned to training cadets and lieutenants.

“Hey Ebi,” Tucker waves, his greeting hand accidentally showing off his cards, and shoots a wink at Harriet, “Hello Bree.”

“Speak to me again and your kid will be missing a father.”

“You would do that to poor innocent Junior?” Fiona gasp, a mouth covering her mouth.

Leaning on the wall, May shrugs, “Eh, I think the kid would be just fine.”

“Hey!” The father whines.

“Enough,” Robyn calls, setting down her cards. She glares at Clover, “If you’re the barer of bad news then you’re too late.”

The two operative glanced at Tucker, shuffling his cards. “Another murder,” his tone serious and stern for once, “I used to take Junior sightseeing in town. I can’t do that anymore.”

“So imagine how the rest of us feel,” May snaps, her eyes dart to Clover, “We’re safe from the Grimm but that’s not enough isn’t it?”

“The General has initiated more supply carriers and maintenance upgrades,” Harriet reported, “It’ll just need some time to get it all done.”

“And we will do everything in our power to catch the person responsible for all of these deaths,” finished Clover.

Robyn stands up, her hands flat on the table but everything in her posture screams anger, “Why now? Why did it take so many deaths to finally change things?”

Frowning, the Ace Captain can’t think of a way to respond to that. Maybe no real answer can justify the damage done. “I’m sorry it took this long to get Mantle the help it needs but things will change now.”

“And what makes you so sure?” The politician demands, “Ironwood may have a sudden change of heart but what does that make you? You defended him with he didn’t help Mantle before.” His former classmate regards him with a look a betrayal, “You just followed your orders, didn’t you.”

Harriet buts in curtly, “Hey we’re not some mindless drones.”

“Wanna bet?” Joanna smirked, her tall stature grandeur compared to the speedster even if she’s sitting down.

“Yeah, I wanna bet,” Harriet laughs hotly.

He quickly grabs his operative’s shoulder and warns, “Don’t.”

She huffs quietly, a tad ruefully as she takes a step back.

Returning his attention to Robyn, Clover says, “You have your reasons to distrust the General and I have my own to do the opposite.” Qrow’s snarky comments echo as he quotes, “But yes, sometimes his orders aren’t the best or right thing to do.”

That makes everyone in the room stare at him with wide eyes. At the bar, Kai fumbles with a glass she was whipping.

“Whoa,” Tucker awed and blinked owlishly, “Did you get laid by a rebel?”

“Is everything about sex with you?” Harriet complains.

“I’m a one trick pony and I won’t mind people riding me.”

“By the Brothers why are you even here?”

“It’s Uno night,” he gestured to the color cards, “Wash is away and so is my impulse control.”

It’s true. Captain Tucker is better behaved when Agent Washington is around. He and Agent Carolina are the only ones capable of getting their Reds and Blues in line.

“Yeah, I’m with Tucker,” Robyn agrees. She walks over to personally inspect Clover, her arms crossed and her eyes sharp, “Something’s different about you, Fish Sticks.”

Feeling a bit apprehensive of all the staring, Clover shrugged awkwardly, “It can’t be so hard to think I can think of my own and disagree with the General.”

So maybe it took listening to Qrow to even dare doubt James, Clover will admit that but that’s how conversation works. People can change other people.

“Wait,” Harriet’s voice was strained with dread, “You didn’t actually bone Branwen this fast right?”

“Harriet!” His voice nearly shrilled.

“Oh my gods you did.”

“I absolutely did not! We just met and we literally came from a mission.”

“You mean you haven’t had sex during a mission?” Tucker provoked with a smirk.

Robyn nods, “We all have done that at least once.”

The other huntresses nodded. From the behind the bar, the establishment’s owner asks to be invited.

“So,” Robyn begins teasingly, “Who is this Branwen?”

He absolutely has to be careful with his words, beginning with, “One of the Vale hunters who’ve come to help.”

“Didn’t we close our boarders?” May points out.

Not liking the calculating look from Robyn, Clover complies, “This was an exception.” He doesn’t elaborate on that no matter how hard she stares him down.

While her hands and semblance is a weapon, Robyn’s eyes are just as deadly. It was only after graduation did Clover find himself hurt by them.

“We’ll just have to wait and see, now won’t we Captain?”

That’s the best response he can get, better than the heated arguments the two would find their selves in when they were younger and dumber and pained to be against each other.

Time didn’t exactly heal their wounds, just gave them space to know that despite their conflicting views, they still look out for each other. Either though game nights like these or warning the other about it being kids pranking the supply trunks, don’t go after them or the route of robotic knights are taking is not passing this building known for hiding people breaking curfew.

He and Robyn used to train together, practice their individual styles. Now Clover dreads the day he’d given the orders to detain Robyn and her Huntresses.

Would he be able to do that?

Clover already unknowingly arrested his soulmate, how much more will he mess up the people he wants to be close to?

No he shouldn’t fall into those thoughts, they never did him any favors before and it won’t now.

It’s best to keep moving forward.

#fair game #fairgameweek2020 #fair game week #qrow branwen #clover ebi #my fic #rwby #rwby fic

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ibijau · 4 years

Text

Burn it down AU // on AO3

Nie Huaisang gets worrying news from Qinghe

As months passed after that confrontation about A-Yuan’s education, it was decided that Lan Wangji was now well enough to once more participate in the sect’s life. Since his back still wasn’t fully healed and his character had proven untrustworthy, the options were limited. He couldn’t have gone on Night Hunts as he used to, couldn't bend over a desk for hours doing paperwork, couldn’t hand out punishments for the juniors when he had so recently proven he understood their rules even less than a child.

Lan Qiren was the one to suggest something that would both remind his nephew how he was supposed to live his life and make him useful. From then on, every morning he would be reading aloud the rules of Gusu Lan to different groups of juniors, to help them memorise the laws of their sect. His argument was that Lan Wangji, having now taken such a keen interest in the way children ought to be raised, should be given a chance for some practical experience. Lan Qiren plainly stated that after a month or two of this, he expected his nephew to have changed his mind about certain matters.

It was transparently intended as a punishment, and initially Lan Wangji took it as such. The children seemed as little interested in hearing the rules as he was in reading them.

But sometimes one of them, daringly, would question a rule. Lan Wangji always felt proud of those who did, though he did not know at first what to do with that emotion.

Nie Huaisang had said that when teaching, he found explanations a better tool than fear. Maybe that was why he had been friends with Wei Wuxian, who had wanted to understand things and make up his own mind before accepting a rule. Or perhaps it had been Wei Wuxian’s example that had led Nie Huaisang to try and teach that way.

Either way, Lan Wangji decided to incorporate some of that in his punishment. Hearing and learning the rules of Gusu Lan did not mean understanding them. Every so often, he would pause in his reading and ask the children and teenagers what they thought it all meant. Usually the older juniors already knew the right answer to that question, the examples and situations that Lan Wangji too had been told as a youth. But on occasion, one of them would make a more insightful remark. On a very good day, a cautious conversation might happen, until the actual teacher arrived and silence quickly fell back.

The little ones, on the other hand, always had interesting ideas about why certain rules existed. Asking them one question opened the way for them to ask dozens of their own, not all of which Lan Wangji knew how to answer. Why were they only allowed three bowls of rice and not two or four? Why wake up early? How to know which path was crooked and which was right? Why the need to always control their emotions, and how to know what was too much or too little?

Lan Qiren appeared very satisfied when he was told that his youngest nephew had taken it upon himself to read more about their sect's rules and their origins in his spare time. It must have seemed a victory to him, a proof that Lan Wangji was back on that elusive straight path. Lan Wangji saw no reason to object to that impression. It was not deception, not exactly. His uncle was free to have whatever delusion pleased him. And it was... not entirely unpleasant whenever Lan Qiren found him in the library and recommended certain reading materials to him or commented on the scroll he was studying at that moment.

Whatever else had passed between them, Lan Wangji had spent most of his life working to earn his uncle's approval. It was not a habit easily shaken.

The last thing Lan Wangji would have expected was to come home one afternoon to find his brother there. Although things were not quite as tense as they had been right after the siege of the Burial Mounds and the demand that Lan Wangji marry Nie Huaisang, there was still a rift between the brothers. Lan Xichen, on the whole, seemed to understand his brother's feelings and kept at a distance. Yet there he was, sitting before a Go board, looking deeply invested in the game even though it could not have been a very serious one, since Nie Huaisang had A-Yuan on his knees and the child was too young for such a game.

“It’s our turn now, A-Yuan,” Nie Huaisang said. “Where should we put our stone?”

“Here,” the child replied quickly, tapping a spot on the board with enough force that some of the stones moved around a bit.

“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed with almost perfectly genuine admiration. “A-Yuan is so clever. What will uncle Xichen do now? He’ll have to be very smart if he doesn’t want to lose against us!”

A-Yuan giggled and clapped his hands, while Lan Xichen smiled indulgently.

“I’ll have to do my best but two against one is very unfair, especially when you're both so clever.”

Nie Huaisang smiled back at the other man, as soft and warm as when he looked at A-Yuan. Lan Xichen quickly looked away and thus spotted his brother at the door.

“Are you already done for the day?” he asked, sounding a little startled. “It must be later than I thought… I should be going.”

“You may stay,” Lan Wangji allowed, if only because A-Yuan and Nie Huaisang seemed to be having great fun with the game.

His brother shook his head and rose from his seat, which appeared to sadden both his nephew and his brother-in-law.

“I had just come here to talk with your husband about something, but…” Lan Xichen gestured at the board. “Nie Huaisang was trying to teach A-Yuan, and I was roped in without even realising.”

It was unusual for Lan Xichen to get distracted when he was working, least of all by a game. Lan Wangji shot a look at his husband, only to find him looking very smug.

“I’ll take the blame,” Nie Huaisang chirped happily. “I’ve always been very good at making others misbehave. If I can have that effect even on Zewu-Jun, I’m very proud of myself.”

Lan Xichen pinched his lips, and pretended he had not heard that comment. He did not linger much longer after that, which seemed to greatly amuse Nie Huaisang.

“We play?” A-Yuan asked with a slight pout, bouncing impatiently on his step-father’s knees and looking at Lan Wangji with pleading eyes.

Lan Wangji agreed of course, and A-Yuan quickly deserted Nie Huaisang to play on his father’s side instead. The little boy had more enthusiasm than understanding of the game, but Lan Wangji let him choose their moves since it made him happy, only stopping him if he tried to do something that went against the rules. The fact that A-Yuan was able to win the game by a landslide was a testament to Nie Huaisang’s skill as a player. It should have counted as cheating, but A-Yuan was so happy to have bested an adult on his first game that little else mattered.

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly, as it usually did when all three of them were at home. Lan Wangji was starting to finally recover from his lashes, but he still needed to lay down often. A-Yuan kept him company a little while, then went to watch Nie Huaisang working on calligraphy, which soon turned into a writing lesson that lasted until dinner.

Only when A-Yuan had gone to bed did Lan Wangji think of inquiring about the reason for his brother’s earlier visit.

“Apparently, my brother’s moods have been a little difficult lately,” Nie Huaisang explained in a light voice. “He’s such a bother, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that anymore!”

Lan Wangji’s only answer was to nod. He used to like Nie Mingjue well enough when he was younger and Lan Xichen had just befriended him, but his temper had always been a little unpredictable. It had gotten worse since the Sunshot Campaign, but these days, Lan Wangji had no good feelings to spare for one of the men who had led the charge against Wei Wuxian.

“Actually, it’s more than that,” Nie Huaisang confessed, a little more hesitantly. “My family is… I’m not supposed to know about that, and it’s not something strangers are supposed to say, but… People from the Nie sect are at higher risk for Qi deviation than normal cultivators. People from the main clan, even more so. And sect leaders… "

He grimaced. Lan Wangji knew his husband's father had died in odd circumstances, and his grandfather had famously had a Qi deviation during a Night Hunt.

"It is frequent?"

"Unavoidable," Nie Huaisang huffed. "The only Nie sect leaders who haven't died of a Qi deviation died a violent death at the hand of an enemy. There isn't a single exception. So to hear that Da-Ge is having trouble…"

“Hm.”

Even though Nie Mingjue had forced his brother into a political marriage that he was unhappy with, it was obvious that Nie Huaisang adored him. And Lan Wangji, although resenting his own brother for his role in Wei Wuxian’s death, would have still been worried if it had been their family bearing such a curse, his brother destined to die a violent death and showing early signs of it.

“A visit might do him good,” Lan Wangji offered.

“Not an option. You hate him, and he already feels like he’s surrounded by enemies. That thing with Jin Guangshan and the little creep he’s taken in is getting out of hand. Besides, you’re in no state to be travelling. Your back still isn’t fully healed, right?”

“You could go alone,” Lan Wangji clarified. Even if both he and Nie Mingjue had been in good health, he would not have wished to go to Qinghe. His son was never getting anywhere near Chifeng-Zun who took such pride in the Wens he had butchered, and travelling without him was not an option.

Nie Huaisang laughed lightly, in that particular way he did when he was trying to seem more flighty than he really was.

"I don't need to, it's fine. Jin Guangyao is helping him apparently! They're trying to mend their friendship. Not sure how well that’ll work when Jin Guangshan is still an atrocious little bitch, but Da-ge doesn't need me, and…"

"You're worried. Go."

“If I go alone, people will talk,” Nie Huaisang said, sounding earnest enough that it might have been the real reason behind his reluctance. “We’ve been married barely a year, and it is an odd marriage already. If I go to Qinghe, I’ll stay there a few weeks at least or else it’s barely worth making the trip. Most people don’t know about Da-Ge’s health, so they’ll think we must have had a dispute of some sort, you and me. Everyone knows it’s a political match anyway, so if we’re already growing apart it bodes badly for the alliance between Gusu Lan and Qinghe Nie. Now that would make the Jins happy for sure, especially since Jin Guangshan and Da-Ge are not on the best of terms at the moment. I mean, that’s the whole reason we’re married, isn’t it?”

“You’re worried,” Lan Wangji repeated. “Let people talk. Go to your brother.”

“You make it sound easy!” Nie Huaisang exploded. “But I’ve got to be sure it’s the right thing to do at the moment, I don’t want to create more problems for everyone. Everything is tense enough already! Do you have any idea of what the Jins have been doing? I can’t do anything that might undermine Qinghe Nie or Lan Gusu, or else I’d have left Cloud Recesses the instant Xichen told me that my brother is unwell!”

After such a bout of anger, a loud silence fell around them, as if they were both equally shocked by that outburst. Lan Wangji feared that A-Yuan might awake, but thankfully he did not stir.

Nie Huaisang recovered first and tried to laugh meekly.

"Sorry, I'm a little worried I guess," he chuckled weakly. “I shouldn’t have been angry like that of course. Maybe I’m a little tired? It’s been a long day. Thank you, husband, for worrying about my brother, but…”

“What are the Jins doing?” Lan Wangji cut him.

“As if you care,” Nie Huaisang retorted, more bitterly than his husband expected. “The mighty Hanguang-Jun doesn’t have to worry about politics, he has his uncle to handle these things for him and make sure Gusu Lan is never on the wrong side of any fight. Hanguang-Jun can even publicly side with a criminal and still have a great enough reputation that he is worth using in a political match! We’re not all so lucky. Some of us have to pay attention to what’s around us and act accordingly.”

“So you never defended Wei Wuxian.”

Nie Huaisang glared and started pacing the room, nervously playing with a fan that Lan Wangji could have sworn he did not have just moments earlier.

“We’ve had that conversation already, haven’t we? I couldn’t have. Nobody listens to me. But I’ve seen what they’ve done to him, and I’m not going to let people do the same to my brother! He’s starting off better than Wei Wuxian because he’s not some servant’s son practicing dark magic, but Jin Guangshan is good at that game, and he has Jin Guangyao who is… I like A-Yao, I really do, and I’m so glad that he’s helping, but if he’s going to Qinghe so often then he must have told his father why he does it, and… do you not see what a mess this situation is?”

“No,” Lan Wangji admitted. He had stopped paying attention to these things after Wei Wuxian’s death. Even before, he had only cared if it concerned Wei Wuxian, or in a lesser measure Gusu Lan. He had known that his brother and uncle could protect their sect’s interest, but nobody would defend Wei Wuxian’s interest, not even old friends or relatives. “Explain.”

Pausing his pacing, Nie Huaisang shrugged and fanned himself impatiently.

“Explain,” Lan Wangji repeated. “You say nobody listens to you. I’m listening.”

Nie Huaisang’s fan stilled. He stared at his husband with wide eyes.

“You asked for it,” he warned, before resuming his pacing launching himself in a lengthy explanation about the political situation.

It all seemed more complicated and petty than it needed to be. The main conflict, at the moment, was between Qinghe Nie and Lanling Jin, ostensibly because of the actions of a certain Xue Yang who had been recruited by the Jins and had caused minor trouble here and there, before recently being suspected of more serious crimes. Last Nie Huaisang had heard, Xue Yang was on the run.

"I know what you're thinking, and I'm thinking it too: it feels a little similar to what happened with Wei Wuxian. I don't think it is. I've met Xue Yang in Lanling, a little before our marriage. He's… It's hard to explain. He should be likeable, but he looks at people like a cat looks at mice. Not that it matters, but what's going on has nothing to do with Xue Yang, and everything to do about who will replace the Wens. Everything else, even Wei Wuxian, that was just an excuse."

Lan Wangji stared numbly as his husband explained how he believed the cruel ostracisation of Wei Wuxian had little to do with his actual practices of demonic cultivation, and stemmed more from of fear of what might have happened if he had stayed at Jiang Cheng’s side in Yunmeng. Nie Huaisang was rambling at that point, as if desperate to make the best of finally having someone willing to listen to him, and Lan Wangji half wished he would stop.

It had been hard enough to live through this and find it unfair that everyone else was so willing to judge Wei Wuxian without ever questioning the motives behind his eccentric behaviour. To be told that all the suffering and judgment his beloved suffered was because of politics rather than ethics was… upsetting.

“So now the Jiangs are taken care of,” Nie Huaisang concluded at last. “Jiang Cheng won't be a threat for the next few years at least, and that's enough time for Jin Guangshan to assert his dominance if he can just find a way to deal with my brother. And normally that wouldn't be a problem, but Mingjue is unwell, and that could lead him to make some risky decision, and that could so easily lead to a war, and Jin Guangshan is good at turning people against old allies. If he turns the other sects against my brother...”

The perspective of another war, so soon after the horrors of the Sunshot Campaign and the massacre at Nightless City, had Lan Wangji shivering. Gusu Lan had lost many people, to send the survivors back into that sort of horror would be...

“Brother would not go against Chifeng-Zun,” he firmly said.

Nie Huaisang laughed bitterly and paced faster, fanning himself anxiously.

"I love your brother, but he has the willpower of wet paper. If your uncle tells him that the rules of Gusu Lan demand he stabs Mingjue, his only question will be 'how deep?'. And Lan Qiren knows what Gusu Lan owes to Lanling Jin, there's hardly a building in Cloud Recesses that hasn't been paid at least partly with Jin gold. That's why our wedding was so important, it makes sure that you lot can't just side with the Jin. If it comes to open conflict, your uncle will push for Gusu Lan to be neutral. I won't blame him for it, it's the only option he'll have."

It sounded like an unfair assessment of both Lan Wangji's uncle and brother. No matter what resentment he still held against them for what had happened to Wei Wuxian, he did not think they would let an ally as close as Nie Mingjue be attacked without reacting.

“Does your brother know...”

“He's aware, I think. But he's directing all of his resentment at A-Yao, as if he's the one with any power in this situation. Though I guess it's maybe better that way? If he started getting angry directly at Jin Guangshan, then it'd be... bad. At least A-Yao understands the situation and tries to ease the tensions, as much as he can.”

“Hm.”

In truth, Lan Wangji had never known what to think of Jin Guangyao.

Lan Xichen adored him, so of course he could not be a bad person. His hard-working personality and willingness to help those around him were also to his credit. He had helped Lan Xichen hide during the early days of the war, he had given crucial information while pretending to work for Wen Ruohan, and when everything had been over, he and Jin Zixuan had worked together to convince their father to land a hand to the sects most affected by the conflict.

But for all the good Jin Guangyao did, there were less savoury sides to him. Lan Wangji remembered how he had lied about Wei Wuxian's actions and words, more than once, how he had helped rally the sects against him.

“So you will not go to your brother's side.”

“I cannot. I will stay here,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “I cannot do anything that might give the impression our marriage and the alliance between our sects isn't strong. I just hope that A-Yao and Xi... and Er-Ge can stop my brother from playing into Jin Guangshan's plans. Hopefully, there will be no Qiongqi path for him.”

He sounded as if he had little hope for that and Lan Wangji, who knew too well the pain of seeing someone suffer unfair attacks without being able to help, ached for the husband he was starting to think of as a friend.

“We will go,” he offered.

Nie Huaisang's pacing stopped again and he stared.

“Go where?”

“See you brother. If his health does not improve.”

“You hate him!”

“You love him. You cannot go to him alone. If this continues, when I am better healed, we go see him together.” Lan Wangji paused, allowing himself a moment of reflection. “A-Yuan will not come,” he announced, the words painful but necessary. His son, Wei Wuxian's son, would not ever be anywhere near the man who had butchered so many Wens.

Fidgeting with his fan, Nie Huaisang could only nod. There was something a little pitiful about his expression, as if just getting that promise was already more than he had expected.

“We'll find someone... if it gets bad enough, your brother will probably come with us, so... maybe Jingyi's mother? I've chatted with her a few times, she's a nice woman, and she's not a Lan by birth so she's... someone that can be trusted to handle A-Yuan, I think.”

“Hm.”

Lan Wangji too had met her, and he felt a certain sympathy for her. She had entered Gusu Lan to be with her husband, who had since died during a Night Hunt. It was obvious she had her qualms with Gusu Lan's way of existing, but needed to stay within it so she wouldn't raise her son alone. Lan Wangji could relate to that, and he could tolerate to see such a woman care for A-Yuan a little while if needed.

He hoped it would not be needed.

For his own sake and Nie Huaisang's, it would be best if Nie Mingjue's state improved and they did not need to visit him any time soon.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan wangji #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #I'm still unsure how i feel about this chapter but I just wanted it DONE at last #apparently I now have a thing for nhs and lxc romantically playing go? I'm rolling witht hat I guess #jau writes #burn it down au

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coldflasher · 4 years

Photo

Part of Femslash Week, organised by @flarrowverse-shipyard :D Femslash Week Day 4 - Bed Sharing/Snuggling

Pairing: Charlie/Zari Tarazi

Rating: Teen (mentions of sex)

TW: mentions of sex and character death

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23028457

All That Glitters by coldflasher (capriciouslouis on ao3)

“Most of the rooms down this corridor are spoken for," says Sara. "You’re gonna have to bunk up.”

Thanks to a mysterious shortage of rooms on the Waverider, Zari and Charlie have to share a bed. Neither of them are particularly upset about the situation.

“So can you really shapeshift into anything?”

They’re lying in bed together in Charlie’s bedroom, which looks like a teenager’s emo phase met a museum exhibit in the middle of a tornado. Glossy vinyl records spill out of their sleeves all across the floor like the world’s most dangerous stepping stones. There are clothes abandoned everywhere where Charlie’s stepped out of them and left them there, including a pair of lacy black underwear draped over the lampshade, and battered punk posters of howling singers plastered all over the walls. It wouldn’t have been Zari’s first choice of bedroom, but she didn’t exactly get to choose. When she’d announced she was staying, she’d had a look through a bunch of different rooms and thought she’d finally found a nice one - a little vintage, smelling faintly of perfume - when Sara had grabbed her by the arm.

“Nope. This one’s off limits.”

“Why? There’s no one in here.” And there hadn’t been for some time, judging by the layers of dust.

Sara hesitated. “It belonged to a friend.”

“Well your friend isn’t here now, and I am, so…”

“You’re temporary,” Sara snapped. “You don’t get to rearrange everything just to suit you.”

“Who made you the boss?” asked Zari. Certainly no one who believed in the importance of manners.

Sara smiled thinly. “Popular vote.” She released Zari’s wrist. “Most of the rooms down this corridor are spoken for. You’re gonna have to bunk up.”

At the time Zari had been deeply unimpressed by this rudeness - the ship was huge, and there were so many empty rooms, so why shouldn’t she take one that was free? But when she’d tried to let herself into another empty bedroom, this time it was the AI that locked her out.

“What is with you people?” she demanded. “Why do you hate me?”

“This room belonged to Leonard Snart,” Gideon told her. “It has remained almost untouched since his death at the Vanishing Point in 2016.”

Zari had been trying to prise a panel off the wall to see if she could have another flash of inspiration that would let her hack her way in, but at this, she paused.

“Wait,” she said. “This room belonged to a dead guy?”

Gideon explained, and she discovered the sad truth of all those rooms lying empty. Each one was a time capsule for a departed team member. Some had left voluntarily, others had passed away - but regardless of the circumstances, each bedroom still remained as its occupant had left it, like a time capsule. As if the team was waiting for their lost and fallen members to come walking back through the door. They could travel back and forth in time, but the people they loved were still lost… and apparently it was easier to leave everything as it was than to move on.

This deeply traumatising discovery had a horrible effect on Zari, who was an empath and highly sensitive. She’d ended up in the kitchen having a staring competition with a doughnut, afraid that Behrad’s peace offering the other day had started a dessert-related backslide that she’d never be free of - and that was where Charlie found her.

“You all right?” Charlie asked, concerned. “You look a bit bummed out.”

“All the free bedrooms are for dead people,” Zari mumbled.

Charlie had given her a big grin that had a strangely uplifting effect, like she transferred happiness across the room with one glowing smile.

“Well. If you need somewhere to rest that pretty head, you can always come and have a kip with me.”

That was how they ended up in Charlie’s disaster of a bedroom, and if Zari’s being honest with herself, she doesn’t hate it. Thanks to her social media following, she doesn’t really have the opportunity to be messy. She has to be ready to turn on the camera at all times, to look pretty and perfect and put-together. Dirty laundry isn’t conducive with her brand.

“So you can really shapeshift into anything?” she asks.

Charlie turns towards her with a grin. “Ah, there it is. Knew it’d come up eventually. Come on then, spill the beans. Who’s your fantasy shag?”

“Excuse me?” says Zari.

“You know, your fantasy shag! George Clooney, Gillian Anderson… who makes your fanny flutter?”

“George Clooney’s like, super old,” says Zari, wrinkling her nose. “And for the record, your word choice leaves a lot to be desired. I don’t know how you do things in England, but where I’m from ‘fanny’ is not a sexy word.”

“Sorry. Picked up an English accent back in the seventies and for some reason I can’t seem to shake it.” Charlie stretches lazily, pointing her toes, one painted nail poking out through a hole in her fishnet tights. “But you’re changing the subject. Being in bed with me means you can sleep with anyone you like. Who do you want me to be?”

Zari thinks about it for a while. She looks at Charlie sprawled out on the bed with her fuck-me eyes half closed, her wicked grin and the wild cloud of hair wrestled into its braid, tinged purple at the end; her stripey shirt and mesh jacket. Effortlessly sexy and cocky enough to know it.

“I don’t think I want you to be anybody. I like you how you are.”

Charlie looks surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Zari says. “I mean I know this isn’t your original form, but it looks good on you. I’m sure you still look sexy with your tentacles or whatever -”

“My original form would melt your brain,” says Charlie. “But I can probably rustle up a couple of tentacles if you’re into that.”

“Maybe later,” says Zari. “That’s not my point. I feel like if I was going to sleep with someone with shapeshifting powers, I’d want them to look whichever way made them comfortable. A body’s just a body. The sexy part is what you do with it.”

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course. I’m very sincere. It’s one of my most awesome qualities.”

Charlie grinned a little bit at that. Zari found herself smiling back.

“I don’t think anyone’s said that to me before,” says Charlie. Her expression dims slightly and she starts toying with a loose thread on the pillowcase. “This isn’t my real face, obviously. Belongs to some bird named Amaya who lived here a few years back. When I first met the team, I put her face on just to mess with them. Then I kind of got stuck with it for a bit. Now I can change again, but I’ve had it so long that it feels like my face. But they still don’t see it that way. Sometimes I feel like they still look at me and see…”

“Her,” Zari says softly.

“Yeah.” Charlie rolls onto her back. “It’s partly my fault, I know. That’s the whole reason I looked like this, because I knew it would throw them off. But now I want to just be me, Charlie, without some random woman hanging over me making them do a double-take when I do something that’s super anti-Amaya. You’re the only one on the ship who hasn’t met her, the only person who looks at me and sees… me.”

It’s the first time she’s ever heard Charlie be serious. No flirting or wisecracks. For the first time, staring into her eyes, Zari can believe that Charlie is a fate. That she’s seen civilisations fall and the centuries pass like seasons. No one as young as Charlie looks could have eyes so old.

“I get that,” she says quietly, propping herself up on her elbow. “It’s not the same, but… when you grow up famous, people think they know you. It’s like there’s a part of you that doesn’t belong to you. I can never just be me; I have to be the brand. And I love it, I’m proud of it, I spent years building it - I just wish people could see past it. Even my parents don’t know me.”

“I have a confession,” says Charlie.

“Go on.”

“I don’t have a bloody clue who you are.”

Zari cackles. It’s a horribly unattractive sound she would never have permitted in one of her vlogs, but it feels so good to let it out.

“I’m serious! You could tell me you’re the Queen of Sheba and I’d believe ya.”

“You gotta join the Z-nation,” Zari teases, snapping her fingers in a Z-formation. “I’ll add you to the mailing list.”

“You’d better bloody not.”

It feels good to laugh, and even better to have someone laughing with her. When she first joined the team and realised none of Behrad’s friends recognised her, it had pissed her off. She’s an icon! She has a make-up range and a million followers and even if the perfume launch didn’t go exactly to plan, she’s still in the running for influencer of the year if she can knock Stormi Jenner off the top spot. But although Charlie doesn’t know her, she doesn’t make it sound like a bad thing. It’s not because she thinks Zari is vapid or irrelevant or beneath her notice. She just… doesn’t know. There’s no prior expectations, no way she can disappoint. For the first time in years, she can be judged not on who she has been for a decade, but on who she is today.

“I may not know you,” Charlie says softly. “But I’d like to.”

“Well then,” says Zari, offering her a manicured hand. “I’m Zari. Nice to meet you.”

She’s expecting Charlie to shake her hand, but instead, she lifts it up to her mouth and kisses it. And like a fourteen-year-old with a first crush, Zari blushes.

“Yeah,” Charlie says with a smirk, knowing exactly what kind of effect she’s having. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”

#FSFFWeek20 #FSFFWeek20DayFour #zari tarazi #zarlie #day 4 #my fics #this was supposed to be funny and then it got kinda angst #baymax voice: oh no

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somethingvaguetodo · 4 years

Text

I recently got a comment on one of my fics that led to some exploration of Marinette’s interest in Adrien, Chat’s desire for Ladybug’s attention and affection, and their future career and lives together.

I have a lot of thoughts, and didn’t want to put them all in the comments section on AO3, so here we go.

1. Sometimes I think everyone needs a healthy reminder that these are characters in a children’s show. Not that there is any issue with all of this speculation, but sometimes that seems to slip people’s minds. Because it's a kids show, we don't have the same level of insight into the characters thoughts and motivations as we would if it were an adult drama, simply because the focus of the story is supposed to be on the action and the fight of good versus evil.

2. On Marinette’s interest in fashion - this conversation began around the fact that, in my story, Marinette attends one of Adrien’s photoshoots and is so engrossed in the fashion that she occasionally forgets to freak out over Adrien. Apparently, that made it seem like her interest in fashion is more than her interest in Adrien, and that she cares more about the “clothes” than the “boy.” Even though this is not my interpretation of my writing, I’m unclear as to how that is a bad thing. While she is young, Marinette is serious about becoming a fashion designer as her future career. We’ve seen her in the show make strides toward that goal, even when it is unrelated to Adrien. We saw her give up probably the most amazing opportunity possible - going to New York with Audrey Bourgeois, so that she could stay in Paris to protect the city, something else that, according to the comment, she apparently doesn’t care about as much as fashion. It particularly bothers me to hear that Marinette should be prioritizing her crush on a boy more than her interest in a career. Liking fashion does not mean that she does not care about Adrien, but it means that she is allowed to have her own interests and passions in life, unrelated to love and romance. We should be encouraging young girls to have these passions and interests, and not limit themselves to only focusing on love and the attention of boys. I thought society had moved past that a little bit, as it is a very patriarchal view of women's value in the working world.

3. On their futures - so if Marinette pursues this career in fashion, apparently the only future for them will be Adrien being miserable in taking over his father's company, or will be "forced" into the role of stay-at-home dad. First, there is ABSOLUTELY nothing wrong with being a stay-at-home parent, and a lot of people choose to do that out of a genuine desire to be a parent and not be in the workforce (also, taking care of children is often a lot more difficult work than most office jobs). I know that the fandom has made it an idea that Adrien wants to study physics, be a teacher, or stay at home, but there is nothing confirmed in the show, so we can all have our own thoughts and opinions on what his career goals might be. But with this explanation, we are making it out that, by being ambitious in pursuing a job, Marinette is "evil" and will turn into a replica of Gabriel leaving Adrien neglected and in charge of the children. (Which, coincidentally, is what the patriarchal view of stay-at-home mothers is. Let's not perpetuate that by turning it on it's head). Women are allowed to have a career and a family - it's 2020 not 1950.

4. On babies - there was a little tidbit thrown in on how, if they separate and come back to each other in their late 20s, it will dramatically push back the age at which they have children. I'm really struggling to wrap my mind around this one. My mother was in her mid-30s when I was born. I'm turning 26 in two weeks, I'm single, I definitely want a family in the future, but by no means do I consider myself getting too old for that. I am the youngest person in my social circle, and NO ONE I know has children. Only one person I know is actually married, and that ceremony happened one month ago to someone she has dated for 10 years. I'm not trying to say that this is the norm, but definitely from what I've seen, in major cities (I'm from the suburbs of NYC, went to college and grad school in the city) people don't have children in their early 20s, especially if they are also focused on establishing a career. These are personal choices, and I would never tell someone they should or shouldn't have children, but let's stop telling women that if they aren't married and settled down by their late 20s, it's too late. That's disgusting.

5. Adrien's psyche - switching gears, I was then told that Adrien (as Chat Noir) is a wreck around Ladybug only because he's "reacting to her like he reacts to his father" and she in turn "ignores, belittles, or forgets he even exists for extended periods of time." As much as this bothers me on a level of inaccuracy in the show, let's get a little into psychological theory. Here's a crash course on CBT (trust me, you don't want the course on psychoanalytic theory). All of our thoughts, feelings, and behaviors that we have as a reaction to people and circumstances we encounter on a daily basis are influenced by our core beliefs. Core beliefs are the way that we think about ourselves, other people, and the world, that are created by the foundational early experiences we have. I like to say that core beliefs are like the lenses that we wear as we look at the world - they color the way that we interpret what's coming in. So, for example, if one of Adrien's core beliefs is that he is unlovable (possibly from a childhood that was emotionally neglectful), his automatic thought in a negative encounter with his father could be: "He doesn't love me because I'm not good enough to be loved." Then, there are conditional beliefs, or rules that allow you to adjust to the core belief without a feeling of incapacitating psychological distress. So for this situation we would have: "If I can be up to his standards of perfection, I will be good enough and then he will love me." This means that Adrien will strive towards perfection to please his father, because he believes that is the condition on which he will be able to earn that love. This is not at all what we see with Chat Noir and Ladybug. Chat Noir never strives toward perfection with her, but is comfortable being his natural, goofy, flirty, joking self. His love confessions are sincere and genuine, and he has taken rejection in a mature and emotionally competent manner. Never has Ladybug ignored or belittled him, or forgotten his existence, and without a real window into her mind 24/7 it is a real stretch to say any of those things. Instead, we have to remember that she is her own person, with her own set of core beliefs (if you are looking at who the real perfectionist is in the story, its HER) that she brings to every interaction just like Chat does.

Overall, I'm tired of the salt (particularly this against Marinette, who isn't doing anything wrong in canon or fanon), and the harmful rhetoric around women that can really change the way that young women think. At the end of the day, these characters are canonically 14 years old. They are allowed to be flawed, they are allowed to still be figuring things out, just like real teenagers.

Be kind to each other.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug analysis #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ladybug #chat noir #mlb #my thoughts #please let me know if you agree/disagree

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

Text

Wings & Water (Part One)

Title: Wings & Water

Part One

Author: Gumnut

Feb 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: “I needed to get your attention.”

Word count: 5451

Spoilers & warnings: Marks & Wings AU, Wing!fic, shapeshifting, Virgil/Kayo, Gordon/Penelope (eventually)

Timeline: Sometime post-‘John’. All the fics can be found on Ao3, the timeline order and artwork can be found on my website.

Author’s note: This is the universe I write when I’m feeling tired, off or unable to write anything else. It is little more than self-indulgence usually, an exercise to find my writing mojo, to play with sensation and description. So tired one night a few nights back I scribbled down what was supposed to be just a scene with Kay and Virgil on the beach. The characters apparently had other ideas and now I have another WIP ::headdesk:: Why do I even try? So, I’ve given up trying to write it in one go and now offer you Part One instead of a complete fic. Fortunately, it does not end on a cliffhanger or anything and could almost be considered complete except for one serious plot thread which is actually quite subtle anyway..

Many thanks to both @scribbles97 and @vegetacide for the read throughs and advice ::hugs you both:: I got wibbly and those who read my Tumblr may recall the ‘floppy’ Virgil post I made in the middle of writing this. Here be the Floppy Virgil I was talking about. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

It had been a long mission.

Virgil hit the locker rooms with a drawn out sigh. The irrational part of him just wanted to shed uniform in a trail behind him, but his disciplined mind refused to let him. So his baldric was shed and stowed for cleaning and redeployment along with his tool kit and harness. His boots did get kicked under the bench and he would no doubt get words about it later, but at this point he didn’t care.

His mark ached.

And his mind was a battlefield for angry brothers.

He shed his uniform, draping the heavy material over the bench. His black undershirt quickly followed and the cool air of the room hit his skin causing it to goose pimple in response.

His groan as he bent over, stretching the dark lines sculpted into his back, came from somewhere deep inside. He needed to lift, but god, he was tired.

A glance at the shower stalls and he longed for the water drumming on his skin, but the cubicle was too small, too confining. He had to stretch out.

The smallest of groans.

It had been a rockslide. Steep mountain side. Small village.

Children.

He closed his eyes.

They didn’t often lift during rescues. The whole mystic behind their wings was something that either terrified the rescuees more or resulted in amazement and a hailstorm of questions, most of which none of them had time or care to answer.

And god forbid if the media was there.

Which in this day and age only had to be a phone.

A little boy had fallen from a height and Virgil had reacted on instinct. Lifting his massive eight metre span within an eye blink, he launched himself into the air just in time to save the toddler from the sharp rocks below.

The film was still showing on loop on CNN.

The questions of his heritage, their history, previous shots of the Tracy brothers flying...it all came up again.

None of them were happy.

John and Eos did their best to contain the outbreak, but there were limits.

Virgil just wanted to hide.

Kay was still inbound. Alan was up with John, and Scott was still on site at the rock slide. Gordon had come home with Virgil, but his brother had spent the whole trip mentally kicking himself and the aquanaut had promptly disappeared after the necessary post-flight tasks.

And was currently circling the Island waterbound.

Water.

A frown as he bent over to pick up his uniform. Perhaps Gordon had the right of it. A swim, to rinse the clammy feeling from his skin, to stretch out, to relax.

The uniform was chucked in the laundry chute and he grabbed a towel, throwing it over his shoulder. Deciding his undershorts satisfactory, he headed down to the lagoon.

-o-o-o-

Shadow was a beautiful ‘bird to fly. Kayo had flown all the Thunderbirds at one time or another, but Shadow was just elegance in the air, a ballerina up against the rest of the fleet’s brute strength.

Of course, this had its downsides. She was quiet, but not as strong as her sisters. More prone to engine damage under stress and she could carry much less. But these were small sacrifices to let her dance in the sky. More the bird of prey she emulated than should ever be possible.

Kayo flew out of the setting sun on approach to Tracy Island, killing her ‘bird’s forward momentum and activating the docking platform, ready to receive. As was her practise, she flew a standard sensory loop around the perimeter of the Island on approach. She took the opportunity to double check the Island’s security sensors with those highly sensitive scanners built into her ‘bird.

It was reassuring to see all the check sums add up nicely.

Particularly considering the media shit storm currently underway.

She had been on the other side of the planet, liaising with Penny. But the moment she saw Virgil on the nets...Penny had urged her to go. Kayo had no doubts the aristocrat would follow shortly as soon as she could tie up their business.

The Tracys hated what the media could do to them.

This wasn’t the first time. Probably not the last. But that didn’t stop it from hurting.

She knew Virgil. She knew it would get to him first.

Scott would rant and rave. John would steam in his station until Eos called for help. Fortunately Alan was already up there so would probably drag him down with the first excuse he could come up with. Gordon would disappear into the ocean.

Penny would have to go fishing, literally.

Alan, out of all of them, cared the least. She wasn’t sure why, but the youngest just turned a blind eye and shrugged the rest off. Though she did have some knowledge regarding an anonymous caller on a late night talk show the last time this had happened. It hadn’t sounded anything like Alan, but the presenter had been verbally shredded in a very exacting way.

Alan was a smart young man. He didn’t take well to his big brothers being compared to water fowl or chickens.

It was the chickens that probably did it.

But no one other than her and Eos knew he was responsible and she planned to keep it that way.

As Shadow banked she flew over one of the beaches and Kayo got a glimpse of a figure in the water. For a split second she assumed it was Gordon, but the more familiar and intimate profile sank into her mind as she turned back for docking.

It was Virgil.

Her heart tightened.

It had definitely gotten to him.

She hurried through docking procedures and post-flight, hitting the lockers and shedding her uniform as quickly as possible. She unpinned her hair, threw on a sports bra and shorts and darted through the house and out into the trail that led down to the beach.

It was the same beach where he did his regular workout. The same beach he had caught her out and kissed her silly so long ago.

It was a beach with wonderful memories. No doubt the reason why he had chosen to come here.

She wasn’t quiet on approach this time. Her flip flops cracked twig and gravel alike. She wanted him to know she was there.

She needn’t have bothered.

He was waist deep, staring out into the water. His whole upper torso was cast in the gold from the setting sun, leaving his mark an iridescent intricacy of a starry midnight of lines and swirls across his back, shoulders and biceps. The light couldn’t touch it and, as always, she found it mesmerising.

Her feet reached the edge of the water and the wavelets of the lagoon caressed her toes.

She opened her mouth to call his name, but he suddenly hunched a little and lifted.

Black feathers splashed into the water and he groaned aloud, startling her.

God, he was hurting.

But before she could say anything, his wings unfolded to their full span, flinging water in every direction.

They never failed to impress her. Black, iridescent and just huge. He stretched them out to their full extent and held them there. His arms appeared above his head and he stretched with another groan.

Kayo threw herself into the water, wading in behind him, reaching up to rest her hands on his shoulders, brush her cheek against his soft downy back feathers.

He tensed for just that second before recognition set in and he melted under her touch.

“Kay.” His voice was rough and ever so weary. His arms came down and his wings drooped slightly into the water.

Her hands slid from his shoulders, brushing gently across feathers enough to make him shiver, before slipping up under his wings and arms to curl around his chest where he caught them and held her close.

She exhaled amongst down. “I’m sorry, love.”

His breath came out as a soft sigh, his body wilting just a little more against her. “Had to do it. Had to save him.”

“I know.”

His head dropped a little more and she needed to see his expression.

Ducking, she dove under his wing and surfaced in front of him, pushing to her feet as water ran off her body.

His eyes were ever so sad.

Touching a finger to his cheek, she leant up and kissed him gently.

His response was immediate, drawing her in with his arms, his wings leaving wake as they skipped across the water surface to encircle her. His kiss drew her in, his passion feeding hers and for a moment there, it was just the two of them.

But reality quickly intruded at that thought because it never really was just the two of them.

She broke off the kiss, wrapping herself around him, drawing his forehead down to touch hers. “Tell me.”

Another soft groan and he looked down.

“C’mon, love.”

“Gordon blames himself. He feels he should have been in place to prevent the child from falling. John disagrees. I disagree. But he won’t listen. He’s hurting and I can’t help him.”

She had done her best to understand the three brothers and their connection. They could hear each other. Not words, just sensations, emotions. The impressions Virgil described were ever so visual, so tied into how her lover’s mind worked, they were quite frankly amazing. He spoke of starlit blues and magnesium bright golds when speaking of his brothers. But how he processed these into interpretations of what they were thinking, she did not know.”

“Can you tell where he is?”

“Circling the Island like a lost soul.”

“Penny will be here soon.”

“Thank god.”

She brushed the back of her fingers against his cheek, nails dancing over two days’ stubble. He was so tired. He needed sleep. But she knew he wouldn’t be able to until his brother found some peace.

A decision and she straightened slightly. “Swim with me?”

He leant in and kissed her forehead, her eyebrow, her temple, her cheek...he trailed his lips all the way down to her mouth and again took moments, his tongue slipping in between her teeth seeking hers. His arms tightened around her, lifting her in the water, almost clinging.

Her eyes closed and her only sensation was him.

-o-o-o-

Virgil sometimes wondered how he had survived before finding Kay’s love. Obviously, he had, and he had been happy as a member of an extraordinary family, but now her touch was capable of consuming him, blocking the world out and giving such comfort to his soul.

He broke off the kiss and ran his fingers through her wet hair. Her hands moved to his chest, brushing through fine feathers and hair alike.

The need to rest was aching in his bones, but the tired spark who was his younger brother was fizzling in the back of his mind and the silent fury of John so far above them was a burn that gave him no relief.

He didn’t blame them. No, there was no fault in this, either in the effect or the reason. All he wanted to do was reach out and reassure. But Gordon wasn’t listening, John was still juggling the after effects as he and Eos took out copies of that damned video and the commentary that came with it.

There were no fuzzy or poorly caught video files. Technology compensated for lighting and speed and the footage of himself running, his feathers sprouting through his uniform as he moved was ever so clear. His yell as he launched himself into the air, even the sound of straining wing beats as he took off almost vertically could be heard. He weighed more with all his kit strapped to his body and it had been hard work to get airborne at that angle and speed.

But he had managed it. Caught the screaming child mid air. He had been forced to gain more height to even out his flight before banking in an arc to land beside a screaming parent.

He didn’t speak her language, but the terror in her eyes as handed the boy over was not only for his safety, but for the man who had saved him.

There had been murmuring as he folded his wings and walked away. He had let his wings go and forced himself back into routine. Just another rescue. Just save as many as he could.

But the staring, the wide eyes, the touch of fear, the question of ‘what are you’ that hung in the air hovering over his bent back as he worked to save a young girl.

The whispering.

The remorse stirring in his younger brother.

He could feel Gordon on approach. He wasn’t far away, still looping the Island. Perhaps...

He shook himself and found Kay staring up at him, worry in her eyes. Her fingers, once again brushed his cheek and he kissed them. Hands on her waist, he turned in the water, taking her with him until he was facing the shore, his back to the horizon. He stepped back and let her go.

“Virgil?”

“I need...” He needed her. God, he longed for her touch. But he also needed his brothers. He needed rest.

He took another step back, moving deeper, his wingtips dragging against the swell.

She frowned at him in worry. “Virgil, what?”

A flash of midnight alarm and he let himself fall backwards into the water.

Virgil closed his eyes.

-o-o-o-

This was all his fault. The child had been part of a group of villagers whose homes were on the top of the cliff that had fractured, taking out the the rest of the village below. Virgil had identified the area unsafe with Two’s scanners while on approach and Gordon had been assigned to shore up the cliff edge with nanocrete. Which he had, using a pod. But he had returned on foot, not convinced it was fully secured and filled a few more cracks to make sure the cliff wasn’t about to collapse before Virgil could finish the evacuation below.

His back had been turned to the village behind him. He should have kept an eye out. Several families had refused to leave their homes no matter what John broadcast across Two’s external loudspeakers in any language.

He had seen the little boy out the corner of his eye and moved to stop him, but the toddler had taken a fright at the sight of Gordon dressed in his protective equipment and the long snake of delivery tube in his hands.

He had yelled in caution, but the child only startled more, a mother screaming somewhere off to the left. The little boy stepped backwards...and was gone.

Gordon’s shock screamed across to his brothers and Virgil responded.

As Gordon hurried to the edge, his brother was already airborne, great black wings beating hard to gain height and the intense concentration of he had to do, foremost.

Virgil caught the little boy, shooting up past the edge of the cliff and Gordon in a great black-blue-green streak.

The little boy was screaming.

His brother circled around and brought himself into land gracefully in front of a tearful mother.

She took her son, obviously terrified and hurried away.

Virgil’s shoulders dropped just enough for Gordon to notice before those wings folded and vanished.

People were talking. Muttering. Words of fear. At least one obvious obscenity despite the language barrier. As Virgil approached Gordon, the words grew louder.

Someone threw something.

Virgil helped him finish securing the cliff edge and then they had flown back down with the pod.

Scott was liaising with local emergency services, but the questions being flung at him when Gordon arrived to report, had nothing to do with the emergency.

“I’m sorry, what you are asking is our private business and I repeat we have no comment. Now can we please save these people.”

One emergency services officer was replaying Virgil’s flight on his phone with several of his buddies hovering around.

While Virgil had donned his exo-suit and was shifting rubble off a trapped family not twenty metres away.

Scott lost it in the calm and deadly way only Scott could two seconds later. Another two seconds and all those emergency personnel were fleeing from Commander Tracy whether they could understand him not.

“Is the cliff secure?” Those angry blue eyes were glaring at him.

“Yes.”

A swallow and a red flush to his cheeks. “Assist Virgil, deploy the pod for anything he can’t lift.”

“FAB.”

Gordon spent the next three hours doing exactly that.

Hardly a word was said between the brothers beyond the necessary. Virgil was very quiet and Gordon even more.

John, so far above them was spikes of anger as he wrestled with both the networks and the language on site. Gordon didn’t need a translation of what was being said with his brother so highly tuned to understanding.

And it was all Gordon’s fault.

If he had been paying more attention.

If he had been fast enough to stop the child.

If he hadn’t scared him further.

Gordon did not have wings. The world did not know of his ability and he was damn glad they didn’t. But his gentle brother had been cornered into lifting a handful of times on rescues and every time it was the same. Curiosity and terror.

Scott had lifted in public before as well, but Johnny hadn’t been seen since the attack and Alan had never been seen at all.

Of course, that didn’t stop the press. There was artwork out there guessing what colour both Gordon and Alan’s wings were, not to mention the conspiracy theories surrounding John’s absence.

If they knew Gordon grew fins instead...

They weren’t the only Aves out there, but the ability was so rare, it was a novelty.

The depressive and exhausted cloud hovering over Virgil just drove Gordon’s guilt deeper.

John instinctively tried to calm him, but the man wasn’t great himself, slowly approaching boiling point like a pot simmering on the stove. There was only so much his brother could tolerate and no doubt the slander was vile.

On the way back to the Island, Virgil had tried to talk to him, but by then Gordon was too angry with himself to respond intelligently. As soon as they landed, he was out the hatch and headed to the water where he shifted and let himself go.

He flew through the ocean, his wings those of his eagle ray form. His change muted his brothers somewhat, though not entirely and he had no doubt they could still feel him.

It was just stupid. He could have easily prevented it, yet he hadn’t and Virgil had been exposed again.

The water blurred around him as his thoughts took him in as many circles as those he made around the Island.

He knew the moment his brother stepped into the water.

Virg.

For god’s sake.

He just wanted to be alone. To think.

An emerald spark shot across the ocean at him. It was full of worry and love and so his big brother his heart clenched.

But he didn’t deserve it.

That didn’t stop Virgil.

A wave of exhaustion, fear for his safety and concern followed that spark.

Virgil was such a motherhen.

And he loved him for it.

But he didn’t deserve it. If anything, he should be apologising to his brother. It was all his fault!

Virgil’s mental sigh was almost a physical thing.

Gordon arced away from the Island and further out into the sea.

As he looped around the familiar beaches and outcrops, anger again sparked from far above and Gordon wondered what the hell his star brother had found now.

All his damn fault.

A spark of blue-grey suddenly radiated from Virgil’s direction followed by a wash of relief and desperate love.

Gordon mentally blinked and smiled. Tin had his brother.

Her touch was like fire to the gentle man. Gordon could not feel her at all, but Virgil’s reactions were enough to alert both John and himself to her presence...which led to interesting times...sometimes.

But for the moment, Gordon was only grateful she had his brother in hand. She would look after him.

Gordon dove deeper, revelling in the cool water streaming across his body.

Tin and Virgil had been a surprise to both John and Gordon. A spark of which neither of them had been aware, burst into flame and both of them reeled as their brother lit up.

Gordon felt it was truly something beautiful. Virgil deserved so much happiness and his sister blossomed as their relationship developed. Gordon wasn’t one to pry much beyond blackmail material, but his brother’s joy just overflowed into everything and everyone around him.

So it was with some shock that he received the first flickers of panic and a sensation of...drowning!

The eagle ray shifted mid beat and was replaced with a shark, the mako’s slim and speed-designed form throwing him through the water towards the beach where his brother was now struggling.

What the hell had happened?

It only took moments for Gordon to reach the waterlogged Ave, Tin struggling to pull Virgil out of the water, his fully spread wings hampering her efforts, his weight and drag formidable.

A leap and Gordon shifted mid-air, landing smoothly on his feet in the chest high water behind his brother and grabbing his feathered shoulders as Tin pulled desperately at his arms.

Between them, they got him upright, his wings still hanging in the water.

“What the hell, Virgil?!”

John was sparking all over the place, fear and fury, the astronaut was getting closer. No doubt, heading down on the elevator.

“What were you thinking?!”

They were both supporting him, one on each side, step by step dragging him towards shore.

“I needed to get your attention.”

“What the hell? By drowning yourself?!”

“I knew where you were. I was safe.”

Gordon stopped in the knee high water, waves muttering at his legs. “Why?!”

Tin’s expression was fast morphing from fear to rage and she yanked on her lover causing him to stumble.

Eight metres of black wings were dragged out of the water and onto the sand. The winged brothers were as nimble in the water with their wings spread as Gordon was in the sky in his ray form. In other words, not at all. They weren’t sea Aves. Their wings were not waterproof and while they did possess enough natural oils to prevent any damage to the feathers, they were extremely cumbersome underwater, heavy and that was why all the brothers let their wings go before diving into the ocean.

“Why didn’t you let them go?!” Tin was furious.

Gordon found it totally understandable since he shared the feeling.

A distant murmur off to the east suddenly swelled to a roar and Thunderbird One shot into the Island’s airspace, hovering a moment before rising up in preparation to dock.

John had obviously let the cat out of the bag. None of the three middle brothers could sense the eldest or the youngest.

But that was what comms were for.

As if to emphasise the point, the faint dot of the descending elevator appeared far above the volcanic peaks and made its way down between the jagged rocks.

A matter of minutes and they would be mobbed by brothers.

Gordon stood in front of his brother and glared. “Explain it to me now.”

Virgil’s whole posture was one of exhaustion. His eyes bloodshot, eyelids at half mast, his wings dragging on the sand. “I needed to break the cycle. you were so angry with yourself.” A hand reached out and landed on his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault, Gordon. Let it rest. Let me rest.” Please. And Virgil was folding himself up, crouching down to sit on the sand his wings were covered in.

“Why didn’t you just call me?”

“I did. Again and again. You wouldn’t answer.” A sigh. “Too angry.”

Gordon opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out. A pause. “You could have drowned!”

“No. It wouldn’t have gone that far.”

“How do you know?!” Tin was livid. “That was stupid, Virgil. You made me watch and I couldn’t pull you up-“ She broke off, struggling to compose herself.

Virgil reached up and pulled her to him. She resisted, but he insisted, and swearing through her teeth, she folded down beside him. He tucked her under his chin, muttering quiet apologies over and over again, his eyes closing.

Gordon took a step back, sensitive to what had suddenly become a private moment.

He looked up as his sense of John swelled above him, to see three brothers gliding over the palm trees. A rush of backwing breeze as six feet hit the sand.

Scott’s silver grey wings folded and vanished first, followed by Alan’s gold-blond flicker of feathers. John’s prosthetics whispered closed with just enough difference to the others to declare them artificial, ever reminding them of what had been done to their brother.

Gordon stepped in between Virgil and their brothers, holding up his hands.

Scott frowned, eyes barely leaving the pair curled up on the sand. “What happened?”

“He’s tired. Leave it. Probably my fault.”

That only served to narrow his older brother’s attention on Gordon. “What happened?”

John broke off with a flash of frustration and stormed past to crouch beside Virgil, his hand coming to rest on his brother’s shoulder. Murmured words Gordon couldn’t hear, but flashes of emotion danced around his head.

It was then Gordon realised that it wasn’t only Virgil who was exhausted.

“Scott, he did it to get my attention. He was successful, if overly dramatic. Blame it on the day if you have to. I’ll kick his ass later, I promise. If he survives Tin, that is.” Gordon eyed the pair. He knew his sister. This wasn’t over and he didn’t begrudge her at all. Of all the stupid things for his brother to do...

“Are you okay?” Alan’s voice sounded a little small.

Gordon sighed and strode over to his little brother who looked even smaller with the lack of shirt. His bro really needed more sun. Too much time spent in space. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up glowing in the dark like Johnny.

He dropped a damp arm around Alan’s shoulders and grinned as his brother squirmed.

“You’re all cold and wet.”

“Comes with the territory, little bro.”

“Ergh.”

But he didn’t pull away.

Scott eyed the both of them, but his lips thinned anyway and he turned towards the huddle of brothers and sister on the ground.

“Scott?”

His brother turned to him.

“Be kind.”

The man frowned a little before nodding once and turning back, his silver mark glittering in the shadow of the vanishing sun.

-o-o-o-

Okay, it was a stupid thing to do.

John’s hand gripped his shoulder like a vice and the short sharp words cut at him. What had he been thinking?

“I don’t know, John. I just...don’t know.” He curled himself around Kay. His wings were sodden and covered in sand, he desperately need to preen them clean, but so, so tired.

He closed his eyes.

The midnight sun of his younger brother swelled and enveloped him. The intensity of worry, anger and love that came with it, his brother’s fingers on his feathered shoulder and two words.

It’s okay.

Virgil’s eyes shot open, seeking turquoise in the dimming light. “John?”

His brother’s eyes widened. Standing beside Alan, Gordon’s head shot up, a worried query thrown directly at the both of them.

But John still hadn’t answered him. John?

Oh, shit.

What the hell?

But Scott interrupted and John shook his head just enough to stop Virgil saying anything.

Kay was staring at the both of them.

The eldest was oblivious to the entire exchange, his focus still on a younger brother who had done something stupid.

“Virgil, I need to know what happened.” His big brother’s voice was calm, but demanding. “John said you were in some difficulty. That you were drowning. Why were you in the water with your wings lifted in the first place?”

“I...” Turquoise, blue, green and brown were all staring at him in the approaching darkness. “It was nothing.” He looked down shaking his head. Please, I just need sleep. God, please just let me rest.

John straightened, his hand still on Virgil’s shoulder. Voice quiet. “Scott, maybe later? We’re all exhausted. Virgil has been awake for almost thirty-six hours.”

Scott’s eyes glittered in the darkness for a moment as they darted to his middle brother. The commander’s lips thinned even further. “We debrief first thing in the morning.” Back to Virgil, his eyes softening with worry. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Virgil blinked, his tired mind frozen in shock. What? He didn’t have to explain?

Be thankful and move. John was lifting him under one shoulder while Kay had slid under his other one. Somewhat dazed, he found himself on his feet, turned around and led back into the water.

Suddenly Gordon was there with Kay. John stepped back and let Virgil go as they stepped into the waves. They went in deep enough for him to fully submerge his feathers, Kay and Gordon helping him wash off the sand.

They didn’t let go of him once.

God, these feathers are huge. Must be heavy. How the hell does he support them? Tank body, tank wings, I guess.

Virgil frowned and stared at Gordon. What?

They’re darker than night, yet catch the light. Gordon had one gentle hand on Virgil’s forewing and was combing ever so carefully through his flight feathers.

Stealth wings. The thought was humorous, but no smile appeared on his little brother’s face, his frown of concentration dominant.

Virgil continued to stare.

Gordon shook his feathers ever so gently. “Okay, bro, I think I’ve got most of it out. Tin, you’re side done?”

Virgil turned to find his beloved Kay finishing up, her touch soft and loving despite the anger on her face. “We’re good.”

“They’re all yours, Virg.” Gordon moved in closer and gently squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t drown yourself again.” A small smile and he walked back to shore.

Something slipped away with him.

Kay was less liking to let him go, scooting in and grabbing his hand, leading him back to shore. As they approached, the four brothers on shore stepped back and gave Virgil room.

The sand was firm under the soles of his feet.

Kay stepped out of reach and he was clear.

Bracing his feet, he expanded his wings fully, ignoring their tired complaint, and shook them. Leaning over slightly, he pushed them through the air, their huge beats threatening to lift him off the beach.

Water scattered everywhere. Wingdraft caught the tideline detritus and flung it across the beach. Two of his brother complained as sand was tossed with it.

Alan ended up with seaweed in his hair.

But god, it felt good.

He wanted to jump into the sky, to fully stretch himself out, the feel the wind in his face.

“Virgil!”

John and Gordon said his name together, both of them frowning as if twinned. It would have made a great photographic moment if they weren’t projecting so much worry.

Or if Kay wasn’t standing beside them, her expression even worse.

He didn’t need to look at Scott to know what he would be thinking, lack of mental connection or not.

Okay.

He slowed his wings, enjoying the feel of the air rifling through his drying feathers. As the draft lessened, Kay approached him, her hands landing on his bare chest, only to slide up to his shoulders and the back of his neck.

Her fingers climbed into his hair and she brought his forehead down to hers.

“Let them go, love.”

He closed his eyes, his hands landing at her waist. One more stretch of his wing muscles and he shook his feathers before folding them neatly across his back.

Then he let them go.

To say she kept him on his feet wouldn’t have been a lie.

So stupid.

So tired.

Kay slipped under one arm and he suddenly found Scott under his other.

Virgil frowned. “I’m fine. I’m not sick.”

“I’ll let the medscanner reassure me anyway.”

“Scott-“

“Virgil, home, medical scan, bed. That’s an order.”

Mumbled. “Not on duty.”

Kay poked him in the ribs. “Move your ass.”

“Well, in that case...”

Gordon snorted and his brothers and his Kay took him home.

-o-o-o-

End Part One

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #marks and wings

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everbrilliantheartbreaker · 5 years

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Fanfiction Reader Tag

Tagged by @eyeliner-vampire ♡ ♡

Fanfiction Reader Tag!

1. When did you start reading Fanfic (How old you were or how long ago)?

When I was probably...11 ish? so like 13 years ago

2. Do you have an AO3 account?

Yeh (LadyWisteria)

3. Do you read WIP (work in progress)? Why or why not?

All the time. I’m not picky about this at all. I’m a simple person. I see fic I think I’ll like? I read. doesn’t matter if it’s finished or not. I’ll make up my own ending til it is lol. also authors need that encouragement. finishing stuff is hard

4. What time of day is your ‘fic reading time’?

Usually late at night (like 1 a.m. and later..much later) but sometimes I’ll waste an afternoon instead (2 p.m. ish til I either have to go to work or I finish the fic)

5. How much time do you spend reading fic per week?

Not remotely as much time as I used, that’s for sure. Anywhere from an hour (if I’m rereading That favorite fic) to 2-4 hours if my friend has sent me a longfic again.

6. Do you listen to podfic (fanfic recorded like an audiobook)?

I...didn’t even know this was a thing tbh, so no. Sounds very neat but also I don’t listen to audio books anymore bcus my attention span re: audio input has gotten so bad over the years I can’t focus for more than a few minutes.

7. What’s your favorite fic genre to read?

AUs AUs AUs. and fantasy. and fantasy AUs (although good long AU fics are harder to find). I am a very simple person. I see magic mentioned, I read. I also read a lot of romance fic (proving once again that fanfic writing is often better than mainstream original writing, bcus romance is one of my least favorite YA/movie genres). I don’t read as much of them but I also love mystery and paranormal fics

8. Are there any genres that you tend to avoid?

Super angsty no happy ending type stuff. “Major Character Death” is an automatic nope lmao (unless the summary looks reaallyyy interesting or it was recc’d to me). Tragedy is definitely Not my thing

9. What tag(s) do you track?

I don’t track any fic tags (I stopped tracking tags at all since Tumblr changed it from “keeping track of new posts in said tag” to “dropping random posts from that tag into the middle of your dash, and usually the same three”)

10. How do you find new fic?

Nowadays I mostly just read what friends send me or the new stuff a very few writers I follow post, but sometimes I also come across stuff through Twitter or Tumblr and curiosity wins out

11. How do you organize your fic bookmarks?

I..don’t? Is this a thing people do?? If I wanna reread something I either search through my bookmarks by title/author or just. filter by fandom.

12. Do you subscribe to authors or stories?

Yeh. I only keep up with a very select few of them though. altho part of that is due to several of them being people I followed on fanfic.net years and years ago and never unfollowed, even though our interests may no longer be the same. (the other part is me going “oh I’ll read that later” and then just. never doing it.)

13. What is your favorite fanfic trope?

fake dating and bed sharing are always good

everyone is gay. also Good

14. What kind of plot line are you always here for?

“everything’s the same but they’re soulmates” (oh my god they were soulmates)

mafia AU

MAGIC

I really like in-between scene fics too. the events and character interactions that happen off-screen. I like writing those

15. What can an author do to make you love them?

write about my faves frequently

cool AUs

write about minor characters

good sense of humor

16. What can an author do to make you avoid them?

not into mpreg fics

a/b/o fics make me super wary I usually pass on those, even if the summary looks mildly interesting. they’re rarely if ever done in a way that isn’t rapey and gross

don’t care for fics period that have rapey scenes but you’re supposed to find them romantic

adult/minor ships

characterization is a big deal to me so if I don’t like how they handle the characters, especially faves I probably won’t be back

17. What do kudos mean to you?

when I get one I have a few seconds of “oh someone kinda liked this thing I wrote” and then I carry on about my day >.>;;; (I do appreciate them tho)

18. What kind of commenter are you (No comment, short comment, keyboard smash)?

I don’t comment as often as I mean to or wish I did, but when I do they’re loong comments (I’ve passed the AO3 character limit at least once kshg)

I tend to quote favorite parts and then react to them, and I like to theorize and ask questions about character’s thoughts at a certain part or what author imagines happens before/after the fic

19. Have you ever stopped reading a fic? Why or why not?

Yes. Once because I stumbled into a very sexually explicit fic when that was. Not at all what I was expecting (I was also very young lol), I think there was a very few I quit because they were boring or very poorly written, but most often I “quit” a fic for the same reason I don’t do audio books anymore lmao: because my attention span is sht and my motivation and commitment are extremely fickle things. I either forget or just wander away for a bit and then forget. Often I mean to come back and finish it; it’s just a matter of how long it takes. (I also second hand embarrassed out of a fic so hardcore that it’s been a whole 9 months since I’ve touched it khdfgd)

20. Have you ever read a fic more than once? What is it about that fic that makes you want to read it again?

YES. This requires like a minimum 4 separate posts to really answer but:

Behind Bricks and The Penance of a Killer by Deathbelle

this person is my fricking favorite author ever and these are two of my fricking favorite fics ever, I must’ve reread Behind Bricks 6 or 8 times now and Penance is the BokuAka-centric companion piece to my favorite fic of all time that I always wanted

Mending Bonds and If the Heart Breaks, Does That Mean There’s No Home? by RussianSunflower3

Mending Bonds is soft found family fluff centering on a very minor fave of mine and If the Heart Breaks is very angsty found family fluff that also focuses on some minor characters and it always hurts my heart but the ending and the soft middle always heal it right back up (“[Hanamaki] has a heart big enough for everyone in the world, and then some.” ohhhh my godd)

Boiled Frogs by ReginaGalaxia

this one is. a really hard read centered around emotional abuse and manipulation and hoooo boy it is a rough read especially if you’ve experienced any of that personally but it’s so well written and the character dynamics are great and in its lighter moments it’s fricking hilarious.

(bits and pieces of) The Roost by Ugglabarn

bits and pieces only bcus Roost has a lot of very heavy dark content that I’d have to be in a specific mood to reread the whole thing because it hurts my heart way too much but also it’s one of the best Fukurodani-centric longfics I’ve ever read (PLUS AN AU..!!) and I love love how they write the characters and how much focus there is on the minor members and ships and in its lighter moments Roost is also really funny the most recent chapter was hilarious

Expensive Hotel by Crown_of_Winterthorne

smut. explicit smut. excellent explicit smut with loving polyamorous boyfriends and plenty of consent discussion and kissing. my entire jam right there

Class 1-A Whomst? by Ya_Boi_Hal

this is the funniest chatfic I’ve ever read in my life and the first good chatfic I ever read. absolutely hysterical. also has some really good serious content in the middle and some Aizawa dialogue that punched me right in the feels. 12/10 will read again. sometimes I just randomly say “Mineta whomst??” and cackle to myself

and back in the day it was:

The Flame of Betrayal by DataIntegrationThoughtEntity

I guess traitor! Tahu was a popular trope back when Bionicle fandom was at its peak?? and not everyone liked it apparently but I enjoyed this fic greatly every time I read it it was well written and had interesting OCs and I am actually highly tempted to go reread it again

and Asleep Beneath a Wheat Field by Feline Freak

this was a very peculiar little OC-centric one shot that was also very sad and I don’t know why it grabbed me like it did but I remember rereading it 3 or 4 times at least

21. Do you like sequels?

The fics I like don’t usually come with sequels but The Penance of a Killer is one so Yes

22. Do you like dabbles?

I guess? I haven’t read too many I don’t think but hey, more fic is more fic. Who’s gonna complain about that?

23. What do you wish more fic authors would do?

Write about minor characters more

24. What do you wish more authors would stop doing?

that thing where they latch onto one facet of a character’s personality - or worse, one that fandom made up - and write them as if that’s the only trait they have

25. Do you like one-shots or multi-chapter?

Multi-chapter. I mean both are great obviously but the majority of my faves are multi-chapter and obviously if I like a fic I’m gonna wanna spend as much time in that universe as possible

26. How long do you like chapters to be?

Usually I feel the longer the better. once in a while I’ll hit one that’s so long it’s kind of distracting but extremely rarely

27. What’s your favorite POV (point of view) to read (first, second, third)?

Third

28. What do you think of OC’s?

I didn’t use to care for them very much but as I started reading fic by more advanced writers I found several I really liked. have a very small list of OCs from recent fics I’ve read I would actually kill a man for I love them so much

29. Do you download fic?

No, but seeing as my absolute favorite Bionicle fic vanished off the face of the earth several years ago and I cannot find anything about it an y wh ere sometimes I think about saving my faves. I never got to finish reading that fic and I am absolutely devastated every time I think about it.

30. Tell me something else about your fic reading! Anything else!

best thing is when my friend and I buddy read a fic and send each other our favorite parts

Tag!

@yaelathewordsmith and @samantha-girlscout ♡ ♡ ♡

#Toa does a meme #long post #i didn't forget about this i've just been picking at it ever since u tagged me

4 notes · View notes

raywritesthings · 5 years

Text

Dear Friend, 9/9 (at least for now)

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Quentin Lance, Felicity Smoak, Thea Queen, Ray Palmer Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: When Felicity decides to get serious about Ray, she knows it won’t be a good idea for Oliver to be hanging around. So she turns to the world of online dating to keep him distracted. Unknown to the both of them, over the summer Joanna had set Laurel up with an online dating account in the hopes that her friend could move on from past failed relationships. There’s only one way this can end. Notes: So ultimately I have decided to go with the shorter ending. I'm sorry if that disappoints some people, and I'm not opposed to picking up this idea for some League-related shenanigans at some point down the line as some have suggested, but as it stands I'm just not going to have the time to devote to drafting a whole new section just yet, and I don't want to leave people hanging. I've just accepted an internship for the summer that starts next week as well as working on two summer courses, so I know it would be taking too much on. I already have enough trouble updating my other WIPs regularly as it is. So I hope you enjoy the resolution to this silly online dating idea I had, and thanks so much for reading it! *Can also be read on my AO3*

Quentin shouldn’t have been surprised Laurel would be the one sent to pay him a visit.

“You know this is a frame job,” she said, pacing back and forth. She was still in a dress from that wedding she’d been at, her clutch resting on his desk. “And just like Pike did all those years ago, you are misinforming the public to suit an agenda.”

“Alright, the difference between then and now is that then we had ready proof this Dark Archer was a different guy,” he pointed out. “These arrows turning up are the exact same as our vigilante friend.”

“Sarcastic as you’re being, he is your friend. Sara’s death doesn’t change that. Alright? You can be mad at me for asking him not to tell you, but you know him suddenly switching back to killing makes no sense.” Laurel crossed her arms, as best as she could while wearing a cast over one, and added, “And why would the rest of us let him?”

“Good question. I should probably find that out.”

Using her distance to his advantage, he snagged the clutch off his desk.

“Hey!” She took a step forward but made no move to restrain or strike at him. Some things were still off limits between them, it seemed.

Quentin ignored her protest and left his office, heading up the stairs to the labs. He walked up to the first occupied desk he saw and slapped the cell down in front of the occupant.

“My daughter’s phone. I gotta know who she’s been in contact with, any suspicious activity.”

That got him a bewildered look. “From the ADA?”

“Just do it. Off the books.”

To his credit, the CSU Tech got to work, typing away while Quentin paced.

After a few minutes, he spoke. “She’s logged a lot of activity on a dating app.”

Quentin blinked. “Dating app?”

“Yeah. One of those anonymous ones. She’s been trading a lot of messages with one profile. Handle is KingOfSurvival.”

An anonymous app. Simple, but it made sense.

“Alright, good work.” He took the phone and clutch back down to his office where Laurel was waiting, her eyes only narrowing as he set the phone down on the desk between them.

“You went through my phone?”

“This how you’re communicating?”

“It’s how most people communicate, isn’t it?”

“You know what I mean. The Arrow.” He tapped the phone again. “You’ve been using an anonymous app to get in touch.”

Laurel made a face, and not the guilty kind. “What? No.”

“Then who’s this King of Survival?”

“I can’t believe you.” She snatched the phone off the table. “You had no right to go through my messages.”

“Come on, Laurel. You’re not gonna tell me you’ve been using this thing to date.”

“I was — it’s none of your business. But it was not about the Arrow,” she insisted with a glare.

“Then why the app? Who’ve you been talking to? Who is this guy?”

“What has you so interested?” She fired back. “I thought we weren’t close anymore?”

“Damnit, Laurel! I- I care about you, you have to know that.” Even as he said it, he knew he’d done little to assure her of that over the years, and a part of him deflated. Angry as he had been that she had held onto the truth about Sara, was it worth her not knowing how he felt?

He glanced back down at the phone again and frowned. “And I definitely care if you’re on one of these apps talking to complete strangers. You have any idea how dangerous these things are?”

“Dad—”

“Could be anybody on the other end,” he carried right on. “A scammer, a violent criminal—”

“It’s Oliver!” She burst out, then continued on a sharp laugh, “Okay? Because it always is! I’m always just so stupid.”

Quentin wondered if he’d somehow missed a part of their conversation. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how Joanna set me up with that app so I could meet people and try to get over my seriously bad choices, except Oliver was also on the same app and of all the people in Starling City with which I could have connected with, I ended up talking to him,” his daughter said. “And I’m talking about how he invited me to be his date to, as it turns out, John and Lyla’s wedding, but I turned him down because I still didn’t think I was ready to get over my ex — who is also Oliver — and now he knows everything.”

Quentin wasn’t the Captain for nothing, but it was taking everything he had to make sense of this. “You got an app to try dating strangers, but instead of a stranger you met Queen on here instead?”

She gave a helpless shrug. “Pretty much.”

“Well- well what was he doing on here?”

“Apparently Felicity made him join. I don’t know,” she groaned, dropping into his chair. “It wasn’t like we were actually dating. Just talking and giving advice...about me. I was talking him through how to deal with me. Great,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “Maybe I should thank you for saving me from the most mortifying night of my life.”

Right, the case. The thing they should be talking about. The thing Laurel was so sure he was wrong about — because she knew, didn’t she?

Quentin felt a strange calm wash over him as everything was made clear.

“He’s the Arrow, isn’t he? Queen.”

She looked up, eyes wide. “Why would you think—”

“Because it’s always him.”

It was always Laurel, actually. She should have been all the evidence he ever needed.

His daughter shook her head. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah, you did.” And if she did, that meant something, too. For however much she loved that idiot, she’d never lie for him about this.

Quentin braced his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Laurel, give me the proof he’s not the one out there killing these people. Show me I’m wrong.”

Laurel held his gaze for a long moment. Watching him, judging him maybe. At last, she said, “He was at John and Lyla’s wedding tonight. Plenty of witnesses. He couldn’t have done this, whether he’s the Arrow or not.”

“And he is, so there’s more going on here,” Quentin finished. “Never can be the simple answers.”

“I know that there are people dead, but we need time. He already has a good idea of who’s doing this and why. It’s the League.”

“Sara’s League?”

Laurel nodded. “I should have told you everything. I’m sorry, daddy.” Her eyes looked a little wet, but she wasn’t crying. Still, Quentin felt an ache in his chest that had little to do with his health.

He walked around the desk. “Whatever he’s planning to do, it’s gonna need to be quick. We can’t have this going on.” Then he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay? This app stuff, Queen, you seem a little rattled.”

“I’ll be fine,” she promised. “We have things to do.”

“Yeah, but after?”

An officer knocked and then stuck his head in the doorway. “Captain, Ray Palmer is here saying he has evidence of the Arrow’s identity. He wants to press charges against Oliver Queen.”

Laurel’s head hung down as she sighed, and Quentin grimaced. “You wanna take this one?”

“Yeah, put him in interrogation. Do not give a statement to the press.” His daughter marched to the door, ready yet again to defend Oliver Queen’s lack of innocence.

Quentin didn’t know what to make of half of tonight’s revelations — the online dating thing most of all — but he sure hoped Queen appreciated just how much she was willing to do for him.

—-

In the end, it was Ray Palmer’s tech that saved them.

Laurel had to stay on the sidelines thanks to her injury as Oliver walked Ray through fighting a metahuman that had popped up in the middle of all this. It was better, really, that she was out of the way. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle fighting with him out in the field at the moment, even if he was just a voice in the ear.

Ray returned to their base after flying Deathbolt to Central City. He was going someplace the others called a pipeline, which Laurel had some misgivings about, but for now it had to be low on the priority list.

Felicity greeted her boyfriend with a congratulatory kiss for his first official try at being a vigilante. “You were great.”

“Well, thanks to Oliver, I was. I’m glad I didn’t end up getting my day in court after all.”

“The public is still looking for you to catch the Arrow,” Oliver reminded him.

“I know. But I’m prepared to go to the mayor myself and explain I was mistaken. The Arrow is not our enemy.”

“But someone pretending to be him is,” Laurel said, mostly to herself, but the others all turned. Oliver’s look seemed particularly intense. Laurel stepped forward. “We need proof of that to take to the mayor, not just our word.” Ray couldn’t rely on a preexisting relationship like she could with her father. And just like he’d used the proof of her chat conversations with Oliver, they needed something concrete as well.

“What kind of proof are you talking about, Laurel?” Oliver asked.

She kept her eyes on Ray. “What about your facial recognition software?”

“I thought you said it wouldn’t stand up in court?”

Laurel waved a hand. “I said that to keep Oliver out of jail.” At Oliver’s look in her direction, she ducked her head slightly. “And we’re not talking about court, we’re talking about public opinion. So do you think you could pick up one of the fakes on it?”

“We would need it to match to someone actually on file,” Felicity informed her. “Considering the League recruits all kinds of people from all over the world—”

“They do have somebody,” Oliver interrupted. “Maseo Yamashiro. He worked with ARGUS in Hong Kong. The CIA would have him on file.”

“So my facial recognition software could pick him up,” Ray concluded. An excited smile lit his face. “Alright, I’ll do a sweep of the city right now! And stop him from murdering anyone, of course.”

“Don’t engage the League, Ray,” Oliver cautioned him. “Even with my help, it would be a near thing.”

Ray’s enthusiasm dipped only slightly, but soon he was putting his gear back on and leaving the base.

“God, I hope this works,” Laurel muttered under her breath. She felt Oliver’s hand brush her arm and jumped. He looked away and walked back over to the station where the connection with Ray was set up, in case he was needed. Laurel looked down.

A silence filled the base. As was common, Felicity broke it.

“Is everything okay? I mean, obviously, not everything is okay right now, but we have a plan for the major thing. I meant the earlier thing.”

“What earlier thing?” Laurel asked.

“Well, you kind of ran out of the reception, and then Oliver followed you,” Felicity explained. “And we’ve been pretty busy since, but nobody’s really said what that was about.”

She looked between the two of them, expectant. Oliver was devoting an intense amount of study to the tech on the table in front of him, and Laurel dropped her gaze to the floor.

“It was nothing, really.”

“Okay.” It was fairly obvious her friend didn’t believe her. “Just, things got weird after I brought up Oliver’s online dating, and if there’s a problem, I’d prefer—”

“There’s no problem,” said Oliver, tense. Laurel couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t look at anyone.

The door to the Verdant opened and Thea came down the steps. “Ollie, I’ve been texting you all night. Did you figure out if Laurel — oh.” She stopped and gave an awkward laugh. “Hey, Laurel, how’s, um, things?”

“Things? What things? What was he supposed to be figuring out?” Felicity was speaking in near rapid fire now. “Why does everyone know what we’re talking about except me?”

This was unbearable. “We were on the same dating app,” Laurel said, then pressed her lips together.

“You were both on the same app? Well, how did you know — oh no!” Felicity was gaping in horror. “I mean, not, no, you know, just — what are the odds of that? I guess not astronomical considering your similar lifestyles likely contributing to your profile answers and since the app takes proximity into account, and you two are, you know, close — proximity-wise. I- I did not intend for this to happen.”

“Felicity, I have a visual!”

“Who? What? Oh!” It took a couple panicked turns back and forth for Felicity to grab up the comm to respond to Ray. “I’ll run it against ARGUS and see if you caught Maseo.”

“Good.” Oliver still had his focus on the table. Thea was watching her with open sympathy. Pity, even.

Because of course this was more embarrassing for her than him. Oliver had had plenty of relationships or attempts at them since he left her after the Undertaking. What did Laurel have? Nothing, and as soon as she tried, guess who had turned up? And even then, she’d turned him down for him, which was undeniably pathetic. She couldn’t even be angry at him, because it was her choices and her feelings that had gotten her into this mess.

Abruptly, Laurel turned and made for the steps. “Let me know if you need anything.”

It wasn’t as though she could fight. And John and Lyla would be more useful once they returned from their honeymoon for making a deal with the CIA. She was just useless, as per usual.

She’d already lost her online friend by declining his invitation to meet up, yet somehow she felt even worse now knowing he was never real in the way she’d thought. All those confessions she’d made...how could things possibly go on between her and Oliver when he knew the truth?

—-

Oliver winced as the door shut behind Laurel. She wasn’t happy. Truthfully, he still didn’t know where he landed on the issue.

He had thought he was taking the steps to move on properly this time, even if it hadn’t worked out. But if anything, it turned out he’d gone in the complete opposite direction. And despite what she had claimed about him on the app, Laurel seemed more miserable after finding out the truth than anything. So where did that leave things?

“I’ve sent the match to the CIA to confirm, and Ray tipped off the mayor’s office that an attack was heading their way. Can we say power couple?” Felicity’s enthusiasm was only partially forced; it was clear she was trying to tough it out through the awkwardness.

When he didn’t acknowledge her question, she slumped a little. “Oliver, I’m sorry. I swear I had no idea Laurel was on that app.”

“And I had no idea you were,” Thea added to him. “What exactly just happened there? Because it sounded like—”

“I was the guy that Laurel was talking to,” he confirmed. “Not that either of us knew that.”

“He also asked her out, which she said no to,” Felicity said. “Something about another guy.”

“Who is you.” His sister didn’t even ask, just stated it as fact.

And sure, Laurel had never used his name, but… “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Felicity blinked. “Well that simplifies things, doesn’t it?”

He gestured to the stairs up which Laurel had disappeared. “That didn’t look simple to me.”

Thea scoffed. “Just look at it from her point of view for a second, will you? She’s gotta be, like, super embarrassed.”

“Mortified, even,” Felicity agreed with a nod.

“Look at it this way,” Thea continued before he could even open his mouth. “She’s just found out that she confessed her feelings for you to you, and that you asked out another woman at the same time.”

“But I was asking her out!”

Felicity pointed at him accusingly. “Ah, but you didn’t know it was her when you did.”

“But I should have,” he realized. Oliver took out his phone and scrolled back through the messages. Laurel was in every one of them; her heart and voice and soul could be felt in every line when he really looked.

Maybe that was why he’d fallen.

He was in love with Laurel, that much was clear. Whether he knew it was her or not, he always ended up in the same place. Home. And judging by what she had written, he just might still have a welcome there.

But he frowned as he looked back at the computers. “The League is still out there.”

“We’re still waiting on a response from the CIA,” Felicity said. “I can send you any updates.”

As much as the leader in him wanted to remain at the base, he could recognize that times like these were exactly what a team was for. “Thank you.” Oliver reached for his jacket and pulled it on, then paused before leaving. “Really, thank you.”

If Felicity hadn’t been so determined to get him trying to see other people, none of this would have come about. He would have never known.

She shrugged. “This was not at all the plan, but I should have figured it’d end up this way. Try not to screw it up this time.”

“Right, go, go, go!” Thea only barely held back from physically ushering him to the door.

Oliver got on his bike and made the relatively short drive, finding himself like so many times in front of Laurel’s apartment door. Was this really happening? A part of him was still reeling.

He knocked, and it was several long minutes before the door was pulled open. Laurel had already changed into what looked to be her sleepwear underneath a bathrobe, and her expression was less than enthusiastic.

“Please tell me you didn’t come here to check on me.”

“Not entirely. Can I come in?”

Wordlessly, she stepped back and let him through. Oliver stood in her front hall, looking over her dejected appearance. “Are you okay?”

Something not really a laugh bubbled out of her. “I don’t know. There are things that I wrote, things that I told you on that app, that I never meant for you to know. And now it’s just out there.”

He could understand that. Some of the day to day frustrations and even his sense of doubt about the mission, those weren’t things he would be all that comfortable with anyone knowing with context. Laurel was one of a very few in that regard. Most of the profile questions and answers she was already aware of by virtue of knowing him so long, but it did bring one of their earliest conversations to mind.

“You, um, you came out as—”

“As bisexual, yeah,” she confirmed in a low voice, her eyes anywhere but on him.

“If that’s how you feel, I’m not gonna judge you for that. None of us would.”

“But you’re probably wondering if this is something new or me trying to be Sara.”

Oliver said nothing. He couldn’t deny that a part of him wondered. That was probably wrong.

“If anything, her coming out made me more comfortable seeing myself that way. I mean, on some level I knew I’d thought of women as attractive before — but usually I was already dating or not really in the right place to be dating. I never really knew until last year how my father and everyone would react so…” she trailed off with a shrug.

“And then when Sara did come out you were worried people would think you were copying her,” Oliver finished for her.

Laurel nodded with a grimace. “People figure there can only be one per family. And I didn’t exactly see myself dating ever again, so there didn’t seem to be much point talking about it.”

Her good arm was folded over her chest and gripping her shoulder. She was making herself smaller, he realized.

He wasn’t sure exactly what his thoughts were on the matter. He had always assumed he knew everything there was to know about Laurel — but then again, this didn’t change who she was as a person anymore than the color she chose to dye her hair did.

“I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t talk about it, and that I found out without your permission. I think — no, I’m sure Sara would have been happy to know.”

Her lips curved up in a smile that still conveyed a sort of sadness. It was the eyes. Laurel could never hide how she was really feeling with them. “Thank you.”

But it wasn’t just her own feelings she was talking about not wanting him to know. Something that she’d written was standing out now in particular. “You weren’t sure if I hated you or not.” He remembered her venting to his online persona, that she wished her friend and ex would just make up his mind one way or another.

“I don’t really believe you hate me,” Laurel said immediately.

“But I haven’t made it easy to maintain that belief.” He was so stupid. In his mind, it was so clear how he felt about Laurel, but whenever he tried to put it into words or actions, it always went awry. Except on that app. There, anonymously, he had been clear.

Oliver took out his phone and glanced down at it. “I think we needed this.”

Laurel raised an eyebrow. “We needed to lie and keep more secrets from each other?”

“Neither of us was intentionally lying,” he pointed out. “But what I mean is that this, it gave us a clean slate. A way to talk to each other without everything else getting in the way for once. I didn’t know how badly I needed that.”

He’d missed it, too. Talking to Laurel, just being open and honest. Since getting the app, he’d been making strides to do that in person thanks to her own advice, and in a way it had worked the same in reverse.

“And now that everything is back in the way?” She glanced up at him. “You said you needed to move on, Oliver.”

“Because I thought that was best. I couldn’t even imagine you might still have feelings for me after everything,” he admitted. “And my attempt to move on was to ask you out, so I think that says something.”

“It says I did a really good job at hiding the worst parts of myself.” Laurel turned and retreated further into her apartment.

But Oliver couldn’t leave things there. He wasn’t giving up this time. “You were yourself. And you’re more than the worst parts of you, Laurel. If you believe there’s any good qualities to me, then you have to know that’s true.”

She stopped, and he walked up to her.

“I took a chance and opened myself up to a stranger. Not because she was a stranger, but because she felt familiar. She felt like a friend who cared for me and helped me to be better. And I couldn’t believe that I could have found that in another person that wasn’t you.” He allowed himself the smallest smile as Laurel watched him. “Maybe a part of me knew it from the start.”

Laurel’s eyes were shining as she said with a hitch to her breath, “I didn’t let myself even dream it was you.”

“I know.” He reached out slowly and cupped her face with both hands. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers, warm and open. It was more like breathing each other in than kissing, relishing the little touches they’d denied themselves for so long.

Laurel’s eyes were closed as he nuzzled at her cheek, and her uninjured arm had wrapped around his back. “I’ve missed you. I missed talking to you the last few days.”

“You mean online?”

She nodded. “Mm-hm. I’m so glad I didn’t break some poor guy’s heart.”

Oliver muffled a laugh against her neck. “That makes two of us.”

His phone buzzed, breaking the moment. Oliver checked it and found a text from Felicity.

ARGUS said thanks for the tip and that they’re handling it. Going home with Ray.

“What’s up?”

His eyes left the screen. “Your idea to get ARGUS involved paid off. The Arrow’s off the hook.” The last bits of worry and tension eased as he said the words aloud.

Laurel let out a breath and smiled. “That’s great.”

“Yeah.” He made to put his phone away but stopped and got it out again.

“What are you doing?”

“Turning this off.” He grinned up at her. “We don’t need it anymore.”

He drew her back in towards his chest as she giggled, though those faded away as he renewed his attempts to re-familiarize himself with her mouth. Oliver couldn’t think of the last time he’d felt this carefree and happy, but the memories that immediately came to mind had this same woman in common. His oldest friend; his online friend; the woman he loved. Dinah Laurel Lance was all that and more.

He was so lucky.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #quentin lance #felicity smoak #thea queen #ray palmer #black canary #green arrow #my writing

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chromsai · 5 years

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GX Review

I’ve finished my long, grueling trek through GX and so now it’s time for a quick review. I don’t want to make this too long because I don’t wanna continue rambling on the same points I made throughout my liveblog, so let’s get this goin’ already...

Season 1 (Episodes 1 - 52)

This beginning fourth of the show introduces us rather gently to GX’s trend of “filler” episodes, or, rather, episodes that introduce us to villains-of-the-week that serve as fodder for our protagonist (and sometimes for GX’s side cast characters). Yes, GX is that kind of show. While I’d say it’s worthy to note that not every episode or characters is exactly boring, what is boring is GX’s complete refusal to build up its own world beyond just the span of the perspective of a few characters. It’s such a shame, really, because the concept of a world which takes dueling to a whole new, professional and academic level is quite interesting but it’s not explored much this season. That being said, certain characters are fun and have interesting enough beginning development brewing up slowly, however the group of main villains introduced in the second half are almost all incompetent and lacking in any appeal to the main cast, and even less so to the audience. They’re overall forgettable, as are most of the episodes this season. It certainly doesn’t help the side cast’s appeal that the majority of the duels are dependent on Judai, the protagonist’s, victory, leading us to quickly (and appropriately) assume that even they are easily expendable. Still, there are fun moments here and there, especially when the show doesn’t take itself too seriously, which is something that GX later tries to “fix”.

Production value-wise, it’s passable in terms of animation and sound design (which admittedly gets repetitive), but not anything to write home about.

Overall rating for this arc: 2.7/5

Season 2 (Episodes 53 - 104)

Season 2 introduces a bit more of a proper overarching conflict throughout the next 50 or so episodes. We’re introduced to a cynical villain and a new rival for Judai that leads him to develop... or so we would figure. While it does indeed seem so at first that Judai is about to undergo a bit of growth, mainly Judai’s defeat to this new “rival”, Edo Phoenix, leads him to the discovery of a new archetype that he tacks onto his deck as easily as that. While this season has a bit less of the villain-of-the-week -esque episodes, it still drags along its cast to near helpless states, which Judai is expected to eventually save them from. The overall plot focuses on the main villain Saiou and his relationship with Edo, however the spotlight is stubbornly set on Judai and of course all other characters are as expendable as Judai is the protagonist, and oh boy is he ever the protagonist.

We get a bit more world building but nothing is ever expanded upon too thoroughly as all the world building we get is mostly through side-character agency, which, as you may have already noted, doesn’t ever last too long. Production value-wise, it’s about the same as Season 1. For me, the most enjoyable moments included expansion on Edo’s backstory and Hell Kaiser Ryo’s fall into the corrupted underground duels scene, but again... those moments aren’t too often. I’ll give this season a bit more points for at least keeping a consistent plot line running, even if it was marred with nonsense and irrational interactions between some of the more, in my opinion, potentially interesting characters of GX’s cast.

Overall rating for this arc: 2.9/5

Season 3 (Episodes 105 - 156)

Ho boy.

Not sure how many people read my review of DM, but this arc suffers from a lot of the similar issues found in the Doma arc of that show.

I want to emphasize that up until now, the show’s central themes (about... having fun with dueling... and.... believing in your cards (?), as well as... growing up (???), destiny(?!??!???)) have not only been vague and jumbled, they’ve also been laughably weak, so when GX decided to use this season to finally “get serious” about addressing it’s “maturer” tones, you can probably guess how that played out. Hint: it plays out as well as any fanfic tagged under the “#angst #war au #self-insert” tags you’d find on the 13th page of AO3 at 3am after your 8th shot of vodka because you’ve lost control of your life, just as this show has lost control of all sense of its identity.

It’s illogical, melodramatic, dreary, predictable, and just a drag to get through. When Judai’s “friends” aren’t sucking on his poor, abused teet, then you can bet the show is doing its damnedest to appeal for you to take your turn too. It envelops him in this over-glorifying aura that just screams “look at me, I can do the development too” but then falls flat, settling on an anticlimactic plot twist that makes you question why you didn’t just skip to the last episode.

It has a few quirks here and there, I’ll give it that. A few sassy lines from a character here or there makes it a clever show, right?

Overall rating for this arc: 1.5/5

P.S. Yes, this is the season every ardent GX fan wants you to see. This is the one that makes it “worth it”. Right.

Season 4 (Episodes 157 - 180)

Just when you thought the worst is past you, your beloved GX characters have made it back to their regular daily lives, more or less, but then, suddenly, you’re enshrouded by endless DAAARRRKNESSS.

DAAAAAARRRKKKNEEESSSSS.

DAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRKKNEEESSSSSS.

*Ahem*

Judai returns as well, having developed into a much less sociable young man. He’s oh so very pleasant to be around now that he actively ignores his friends, but, of course, this is due to the traumatic experiences he went through in Season 3. He’s now a grown up. A fully fledged adult. And mature. And the show will make sure you know this. If you don’t like it, that’s your problem.

Judai withstanding, which is now extremely difficult to do for this show apparently, I can promise you that none of your favorite characters will receive proper treatment throughout this arc and only a very limited number of them will receive a proper send off. And the plot for this arc? Well. It’s pretty DARK. As in there is not a single shining fleck of light emanating from this rushed story line of a final arc.

Overall rating for this arc: 0.6/5 (I stand by my belief that 4Kids’ decision to end their dub of this show at the end of Season 3 was the correct narrative choice to make for this show).

Final Overall Rating for this show: 1.9/5.

Final thoughts: My final calculated score may seem rough but I agree with it. GX is not well written and, to be fair, that may have been due to the fact that, as the first spin-off of this anime franchise, the show’s producers seemed to have had an air of skepticism when approaching it. While I enjoyed watching it as a kid, a fresher perspective on GX didn’t bode me as well as I initially believed it would. I did enjoy some of the cast of characters, but I found their written development overall disappointing. And Judai for me could have been a likable protagonist but he ends up coming off as pretty insufferable and egotistical by the end of the show. Despite this, I think the rating I gave it reflects that there is something salvageable from it: character concepts and alternative theories of its under-developed and underutilized ideas. Nevertheless, it almost hurts me to say this because I do still see it as having been a part of my childhood, but I see now that it is no longer a show for me and I think it’s best I’ll keep it in my past.

Bonus note: Having revisited some clips of the dub, I believe it to be the more enjoyable of the two versions due to the fact that it doesn’t tend to take itself as overly serious so its themes don’t come off as disingenuous as the original version definitely does.

#sai watches gx #ygo hell challenge #i don’t wanna say much more...#yes i know the seasons have names but i don't care

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helplesslyfictional · 5 years

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Remember the Old Ways, Chapter 4, “Blurred Magics”

(stole this format from @loki-the-fox; hope they don’t mind!)

Author’s Note: There will be some cheerful sibling stuff in the future, but the serious stuff has to get out of the way first. This spends a lot of time in Loki’s head, so....sorry, but not sorry. :) Please let me know what you think! Chapter Summary: Loki encounters strange magics old and new. Pairing: None! These stories are going to be focused on family relationships.

What characters, then? Loki, Thor, Odin, Frigga, OCs

When? Pre-Thor 2011: From Asgard to Earth Warnings: mature themes, emotional trauma/abuse Taglist: @loki-the-fox; @i-am-loki-and-now-i-speak-up Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from tags and I’m more than happy to do so!

AO3 story link

Loki couldn’t sleep after he returned to his chambers. He kept a cup of wine at hand as he paced the floor, thinking about everything that had happened. Something tells me you are the thinking type of person. Sometimes that’s not a good thing. Osk’s words echoed in his head.

What else could he do? Not think? Loki tried to focus on something else as he paced - the taste of the wine, perhaps - but his mind, as ever, wandered. Nights like this often distorted the mind, bringing forward emotion and turning memories into trance-like visions. The wine certainly wasn’t helping to clarify things, but it was helping him to relax.

Loki winced as he thought about his conversation with Thor. He’d certainly taken the wrong tactic, thinking that perhaps a push towards the larger picture would help put things in perspective for him. Thor seemed scared, and it didn’t seem to just be about his image. Something else was wrong. Had something else happened when meeting Osk?

Loki made sure to take a sip of wine as he ambled back across his chambers. If the Seers had been in a position of power, where had they seen kings? It seemed that, if knowledge was passed matrilineally, perhaps they were summoned before the court, but that didn’t seem to make sense. Much like the Chanter’s halls, it seemed like there must have been a space for the Seer to do her work.

Loki had explored many locations in Asgard, mapping out the idiosyncrasies of Asgard’s boundaries, finding the secret pathways to other realms. He had delved into ruins, caves, and forests, setting up exits and traps to get away quickly and quietly. While he was certain he hadn’t mapped out the entirety of Asgard, getting into forgotten locations was a talent of his.

Loki wracked his memory, which was admittedly slower at this time of night, to think of a location that might align with what he knew of the Seers.

It was during this thought that Loki felt something, a sudden feeling coming from deep within. It coiled within him before blossoming in his chest, contracting it in sudden pain. It was sadness - no, something deeper than sadness - more complex. He gasped, clutching his chest, the room seeming to disappear as all he felt was pain. Loneliness. Agony. From his belly to his chest, the feeling wrenched his muscles, and he couldn’t seem to breathe.

As suddenly as the feeling came, it lifted, and Loki slowly came back to his senses. He was on the floor, on his hands and knees, where he had apparently fallen. He got up slowly, shaking his head to try and clear it. His cheeks felt odd, and reaching up a hand, he checked to find they were wet with tears. He’d been crying?

What the Hel had just happened to him? And why did these visions involve him falling? Hopefully this wouldn’t happen in public, as it would be incredibly embarrassing.

Where had that feeling come from? Loki didn’t feel that way, at least, never that deeply. What if…

Oh, no.

What if it was Thor’s emotion that he’d felt?

There wasn’t time to think, as Osk had said. There was only time to act.

Loki knew plenty of ways into Thor’s room, but by far the easiest and most discreet was via balcony. Quickly weaving a magical skin, Loki shapeshifted into a songbird. A small form made the tight turns required to weave around the trees surrounding their balconies far easier.

In no time, he soared over Thor’s balcony, through the curtains onto a nearby table. It was then he realized he’d made a slight error in his haste. Songbirds couldn’t see well in the dark. If a songbird could sigh, Loki would have.

Well, if he was going to check on Thor, he was going to be himself. Hopping onto the floor, the songbird gave itself a good shake, fluffing its feathers, then vanished, Loki’s tall frame blinking into existence.

He crept towards Thor’s bed, watching the rise and fall of the sheets. Thor seemed to be breathing evenly, and when Loki got closer, he noted that Thor seemed to be asleep. It was doubtful that if he’d had those emotions, he’d have drifted off so quickly.

Loki relaxed in relief before making his way back out to the balcony. He rubbed his eyes, then his forehead as he tried to calm himself down. Leaning against the cool stone of the railing, he exhaled slowly. Despairing. That’s what he’d felt. Osk’s rasping voice came to mind: Despairing, lost. The emotion he felt must have been related to the third child.

Why an emotion, and why was he, of all people, feeling it? Why no vision, no quest? If he could see the past, then why wouldn’t he see them, instead of this...feeling? He wanted information!

The beginnings of dawn began to light up the sky-shroud, faintly starting to give light to the balcony. Well, I’m already here, thought Loki as he thought of a little prank. Reaching out from the balcony, he plucked an acorn from a nearby oak. Swiftly and quietly, he stole up to Thor’s bed, pulling aside a sheet, and dropping the acorn down his brother’s trousers. He gave a little smile as he imagined his brother’s face, then headed out to the balcony once more.

As Loki began to prepare a skin to return to his chambers, it finally dawned on him what ruin might have been related to the Seers.

He quickly reversed his spell, switching out the songbird for an osprey. In his new form, Loki took to the sky, gaining height over the city as it gleamed in the morning light.

Though this was the only way Loki could fly, he had fallen in love with it at a young age. At great height the sky-shroud would fall away to show the stars beyond, and Loki liked to think that he was flying among them. The stars felt safe to him, a place where he could go and be free, an ever-present group of friends that could never disappoint.

The spot he had sights on was a cluster of vegetation at the top of a cliff near the city. The cliff faced the Bifrost, beyond the city limits, behind the palace. The bluff on top was a pleasant place to overlook the city, but few desired to climb the steep hill behind in order to spend time there. Loki’s suspicion had been correct that the vegetation hanging off the cliff concealed a ruin.

Loki sped towards the cliff, plunging into the leaves and landing, a little harder than he’d judged, on a leaf-covered terrace. Shifting back into himself, he stretched a little bit. Shapeshifting sometimes made him feel a little cramped.

He began to walk around, taking in the details of the ruin, since it had been a number of years since he’d been there. He recalled being quite disappointed because the ruins consisted of a terrace, a stone chair, and the vegetation-covered cliff face behind it. Aside from the destroyed stairs leading to the terrace on both sides, there was little else to see. Fortunately, since then, Loki had learned a few tricks about Asgardian ruins.

His primary interest was in the chair, a deceptively primitive but precisely carved large stone seat. It was not decorated enough to be a throne, but certainly, as he’d surmised before, could be used as a seat of power for a lord or, in this case, a Seer. He stepped up onto the seat in order to feel the surface of the stone on the cliff face behind it, as it was hidden behind crawling vines of ivy. No carvings, nothing but natural stone.

Hopping off the seat, Loki wove a spell he’d learned that had helped him immensely when exploring ruins. When he finished, the magic hovered on the palm of his left hand, giving off a gentle light. Crouching down on the terrace, he used the light to begin sweeping across the surface, stopping when he saw the first gleam of a hidden magical conduit.

He followed it to the cliff face, then doubled back to check on its origin, which was, unsurprisingly, the chair. Another conduit led from the chair to a matching location near the cliff face on the other side. Asgardians weren’t the only civilization to use conduits to direct magical energy, but it was theirs with which Loki was most familiar. The chair seemed to be the method of activating whatever entrance there might be. The question was, what type of magic was supposed to be used?

With a sigh, Loki turned around and sat in the seat, grasping the arms and subconsciously crossing his legs. As he expected, nothing happened.

If this was a spot for the Seers, he was at a disadvantage; he neither knew seidr nor was he a Seer. However, he suspected that, as a “Child of Time,” he might be able to gain access.

Was this a good time to try seeking a vision? Loki was unsure if it would activate anything, but it was at least an invocation of his...position, if that was the case. Everything felt so new with regard to this prophecy; he was not used to being this uncertain about magic.

Closing his eyes, he looked inward. Mother had attempted to teach him how to quiet his mind at a young age, but it had been very difficult. As he tried to remember what she’d taught him, breathe in, breathe out, focus only on your breath, whenever he began to quiet his mind and sit with himself, he began to feel uncomfortable. Swiftly shutting that out, Loki tried to focus instead on the past by recalling a memory.

He had never been sure why it felt like there were more bad memories than good. He could certainly find decent ones if he tried, but the first ones that sprung up were full of emotions he didn’t want to feel. Stumbling and falling next to his father. Lying in pain under a chokehold as his brother laughed. Being unable to articulate his frustration to his mother.

Crying alone in his chambers.

Frustrated, Loki slammed his palm against the stone. Come on, something on which to focus! These memories were too painful to spend time with. As a breeze picked up and rustled the leaves, he finally recalled something fondly.

They’d been on Vanaheim - Thor, the Warriors Three, and he. For pleasure, they’d ridden towards a stunningly high cliff face and Volstagg challenged all to see how high they could climb without magic, as he’d looked pointedly at the two princes. Thor and Loki outpaced the others quickly, but Loki began to lose his nerve the higher he climbed. He wasn’t afraid of heights, but he was concerned that at such a height he might not be able to cast a skin to shapeshift quickly enough to break a fall.

Despite being highly competitive, Thor had slowed down to give Loki support, even giving him a hand up in a couple spots. “Don’t worry,” Thor had assured him, “I’ll catch you if you fall. We’ll both get to the top, you and I.”

When they both had made it to the top, they’d sat, legs dangling off, watching the valley below in contemplative victory. Even though Loki had technically lost, it didn’t matter. They’d both conquered the mountain. The thought made Loki smile, and it was then he heard the deep clunk of internal mechanisms and the sound of stone scraping against stone.

Loki jumped as vines started falling on top of him, and he scrambled out of the way. Vines collapsed onto the chair and its surroundings as tall, thin openings, likely to let in light, opened in the cliff face above the chair. Swiftly, he created an illusion to cover what had been revealed, hoping that no one had seen the movement. It took him a few moments, but he was able to bind the illusion to a sigil that he marked in front of the chair, an easy place to remember.

Two doors had opened, and Loki carefully checked them for traps before entering. He didn’t think there would be any, if it was indeed a location that had been open to the public, but he’d burned himself enough times not to be too careful. Inside, the light illuminated a foyer with stairs leading up to what he presumed was the primary chamber. Ornate carvings on the interior walls filtered the light further inward.

As he entered the primary chamber, Loki was struck by how large it was. Buildings in Asgard were built to impress, but older ruins tended to be scaled down in size. In the faint light, it was clear the walls were carved in relief. In the center of the room, there was a slightly raised platform, and this is what drew Loki’s attention. Stepping up onto the platform, he found carved into it a large triquetra with a circle round the middle. That was all. Disappointed, he stepped away, surveying the chamber.

A cool breeze blew past him and it was then that he felt the shift. It was no emotion, no sudden vision, no vertigo, no tilting. Instead, Loki felt like he was hearing music - the emotion, the delight in the mind - but there was nothing to hear. The feeling spread across his mind, which seemed to dissolve into a thousand points of light, his mind moving far too fast. It felt like every sense was flooded for a single moment, understanding every note in a smell, comprehending every wrinkle in each carving. Everything seemed to slow, and Loki realized that this was it.

He had connected to Time.

It only took a moment, a blink, and Loki saw the same room completely differently. Braziers lit the sides as Asgardians filled the cavern, most sitting on the floor, bringing their own blankets. Some were picking their way through the crowd, searching for a spot to sit next to someone they knew. They were quiet, eyes trained on the platform, where a group of women sat in a circle around the triquetra. In the middle was the Seer, a dark-skinned woman dressed in light blue with silver details.

Afraid to move, Loki looked around to see if people had noticed him. It seemed not. He was standing between an older man and a young girl. Reaching down slowly, he tried to touch the old man on the shoulder, but his hand passed through as it would through one of his illusions. In many ways, it was a relief. The idea of actually travelling through time caused Loki a measure of anxiety.

The women surrounding the Seer began to hum, creating a polyphonic sound that continued onward into a song, various melodic notes descending to create a chilling effect down the spine. Some in the audience swayed, others closed their eyes, and the Seer closed her eyes, her spine stiffening as she tilted her head, listening.

Then the Seer raised her arms and the room fell suddenly silent. Opening her eyes, the Seer shouted, her voice echoing in the great hall, “Vara!” A great wind rushed through the hall, smelling of green and growing things, whistling through the holes in the walls and roaring outside. The Asgardians around echoed, “Vara!” and began cheering. The Seer broke into a smile, and the strict formation on the platform dissolved as people began to stand and talk.

That was interesting. Asgard’s seasons were changed by magic, and he’d always known that the Chanter was in charge of those changes. It must’ve been a domain where the Seers had purview, since the she had called out for the season to change to Spring.

Loki looked up as the Seer worked her way through the crowd. For a moment, she made eye contact with him, and he glanced behind him to see what she could be looking at. The Seer laughed, then nodded at him.

He blinked, and they were gone. The room was once more silent and darkened, the life and laughter he had seen far away in the distant past. For a moment, he felt saddened that those times were gone. However, incredulous joy at what happened swiftly overtook it.

It was true. The prophecy was true. More than anything else that had happened, this confirmed it. He’d had a vision of the past - clear and articulate! There was no guessing from old literature, imagining life in the ruins, no, he had seen it! He had to tell Thor. No - he probably wouldn’t believe him.

An idea came to him, slowly, as he put together a plan. Loki smiled as he realized today was supposed to be the first day of winter. First Frost had already been given, but today was the day that the Chanter would call forward winter...in the evening. The Chanter notoriously was a late riser and disliked morning rituals.

Thor might believe Loki if he called forth winter, himself, in the morning ahead of when the Chanter would normally do so. Even if Thor didn’t believe him, Loki would give anything to see the Chanter’s face when he found out he’d been beaten to the punch.

Of course, this was special, old magic, and it should be respected.

But he also wasn’t the God of Mischief for nothing.

Could he do it, though? He’d already accessed a special magic today, and he wasn’t certain whether the seasons used seidr, time, or another type of magic. If the Chanter could do it, was it a magic tied to Asgard?

Shaking his head to clear it, Loki walked to the center of the platform, facing outward towards the windows as he’d seen the Seer do. Flexing his hands in a nervous tic his mother would recognize, he tried to recall what he’d seen. Reaching to the familiar source of his magics, he turned from looking inwards to looking to the heart of Asgard. More than anyone he had delved into Asgard’s roots, looking for the edges of the realm, but also finding out its secrets. As he thought about its mountains and caves, it seemed as though something sparked. Not time, not magic, not even the universe. Something entirely different. Something he never really acknowledged.

A feeling that was felt by Loki ever so rarely, only in the most close moments with his family.

Love.

It was then, like an opening door, that the cold barrelled forth in his mind, then his throat. Raising his arms and opening his eyes, the cold trembled from his lips as he shouted in Old Asgardian, “Vetr!” The cold wind, laden with snowflakes, howled past him through the hall, out the doors and past the trees outside.

Loki stood there, gasping for breath with joy at what he’d found, then noticed that the triquetra around him was glowing light orange. Was this seidr? Had he used it? When the Seer used her magic, he hadn’t seen the symbol glowing but, as he recalled carefully, he hadn’t seen the symbol from his vantage point, as it was obscured by the circle of women.

As he breathed, he felt like his chest was opening up. Perhaps it was that feeling - he hated to call it love - or the excitement of the day, but it felt like he was becoming more, like his soul was growing larger, bleeding outside of his body. A jolt of fear ran through him as he realized that some sort of magic was still taking place, but that strange feeling would not let up.

Looking down at his hands, he saw the winding magic placed on him by Osk lighting up. He tried to move, but couldn’t, as the feeling grew and it didn’t just feel like his soul was growing, it was like it was dissolving at the edges. Like he was going to lose himself.

Panicked, he gulped for air. But…

Oh, my god. These aren’t my lungs. Focus…

Lady Sif was standing before him, a spear pointed at him. She looked confused. “Um, Thor?”

What? No, nonononono…

Loki blinked, looked down, then at his...Thor’s...his hands. They were in the sparring arena, snowflakes falling and melting on his...muscles. In his hand - his big, meaty hand - was Mjolnir, raised defensively.

“Do you not wish to fight?” Sif looked confused.

Loki may have, at times, wished that he was Thor, but this wasn’t how he’d thought it would happen. He opened his - Thor’s mouth to answer, but before he could say anything, he -

He snapped back into Loki’s body, trembling. Eyes wide, he tried to move, but was still disabled as the orange magic remained bright. That feeling, that fear of being lost, rose again and, heart racing, he tried to fight it off. <i>No, I don’t want to lose myself! What is happening?</i> But his soul seemed to drift away again, sliding like sand through fingers.

Am I Thor again?

He felt no snowflakes this time. Opening his eyes, Loki was faced with a wall. Wooden? No, no wood looked that fake. Poorly painted, most likely.

Looking down, he realized very quickly that this was not anyone he knew. This time, he was a woman, and she was definitely not from Asgard. Something seemed stuck to his - her - face and, with trembling fingers, she reached up to pull at it. To her surprise, it came off, but her vision became blurry, so she quickly put it back on.

What the Hel was wrong with this person’s eyes? And why did she feel so weak?

Before she could discern anything further, Loki felt yanked back to Asgard, landing back in his own body.

The magic vanished from his arms, and the triquetra lost its light. Feeling drained, Loki slumped to the floor. Too much magic, too quickly in succession. He didn’t know what enchantment lay on him from Osk, but it had gotten out of hand.

He needed to leave before anything else happened.

Striding out of the ruins, he checked to ensure that his illusion was maintained. Weaving a skin took a bit more effort since he was weaker, but he was able to complete the spell and launch out towards the palace. He changed course midway as he realized that he should go and ask Osk for further information, particularly to see if he could get this enchantment removed. Having an unknown magical element could be risky if he were to be needed in battle.

Loki landed in a garden to switch forms, climbing over the wall, slipping a little on the snow, and scurrying down an alleyway before arriving at Osk’s house.

To his surprise, there were Asgardians moving items out of her dwelling into a cart. Frowning, he approached a young dark-haired woman who seemed to be in charge. Her dark eyes widened as he came closer. “Prince Loki?”

“Where is Osk?” he asked directly.

“She - I didn’t know you knew her,” she said gently. “You probably didn’t hear, she passed away last night.”

Loki frowned. “She seemed well...when last I saw her.”

The woman nodded. “She did, but these things...happen…” Her voice faltered, but she shook her head and stood tall.

Loki looked down, surprised at how much the woman’s emotion moved him. “Are you her granddaughter…?” He had forgotten her name.

“Yes, I’m Osk’s granddaughter. My name’s Maer. How did you know her? She never mentioned you.” Loki looked up sharply at such a prying question, and she flinched. “If it’s not too much to ask.”

Loki tried to think of a generic explanation. “She gave me some good advice.”

“Oh,” said Maer, with a sad smile. “People were always seeking her out for that, but over the years, they just stopped coming.”

Loki looked at the door, still trying to absorb what had happened. “When will the funeral take place?” he asked distantly.

“Tomorrow evening,” Maer said softly. She started to say something, but stopped herself.

“Thank you, Maer,” Loki said, and turned to go. Something stopped him, however. Osk had helped them significantly, and was, perhaps, the last Seer. Above all, she had been kind and open-hearted.

Turning around, Loki looked Maer in the eyes. “I would be honored if you would allow me to perform the funeral rites.”

Maer covered her mouth, her eyes filling up with tears. “Your highness, I don’t know what to say, except thank you. It will be a tribute to her memory.”

#fanfic #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #thor odinson #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#see how long until you find dialogue #internal monologue #god this took so long

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xkurzel · 6 years

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Off-Limits (2/3)

Word Count: 3,706

Characters: Jake Puckerman, Brittany S. Pierce

Summary: Despite three separate instances of three different glee club members telling him not to go there, Jake Puckerman ends up going there and somehow finds himself crushing on the totally off-limits Brittany S. Pierce.

Notes: You can absolutely thank @brittanacedes for sending me this picture and making this extend into now three parts because I absolutely had to write it in.

Read on Ao3: [2] [1] | Read on FF.Net: [2] [1] | Read on Tumblr: [2] [1]

“As promised.”

Jake shuts his locker and standing there is Brittany, her hand outstretched and holding his leather jacket out to him.

“Thanks.” Jake lets out a sigh of relief and reaches for it but Brittany tugs it out of his reach. He glances back to Brittany and she’s got an eyebrow arched.

“On one condition.”

Jake cocks his head. “But... it’s my jacket.”

“You have to promise,” Brittany continues, ignoring him, “that you’ll stop skipping class.”

“Why do you care?” Jake blurts out almost out of instinct, wincing internally at the bite that comes across.

“Teachers really care about that stuff,” Brittany explains patiently, looking none too fussed at Jake’s tone, “Trust me, I know. You don’t want to inconveniently find out just days away from graduation that attendance actually matters in order to pass.”

Jake’s knee-jerk reaction to any type of authority or demand is usually to bristle at the suggestion and maybe knock over a few things. And he feels his shoulders start to straighten and he’s about to do just that when he makes the mistake of looking right into Brittany’s eyes.

Brittany has a smile on her face with an eyebrow raised expectantly, but she’s looking at him earnestly, sincerity clear in those blue eyes, and Jake’s stopped in his tracks because she’s looking at him like... she actually does care.

It’s a weird, unfamiliar feeling that catches him off guard which is why he instead says—

“Sure. I promise.”

Brittany brightens, her smile widening. “Awesome! Good deed of the day done. Here you go, younger Puckerman.” She extends the jacket back towards him.

Jake shakes his head a little to clear his thoughts and takes his jacket from her with a grateful smile. “You know, I have a name. A full one. Jake Puckerman. In case you didn’t know.”

Brittany taps a finger to her chin in deliberation. “Well, Jake Puckerman is shorter to say than younger Puckerman.”

Jake shrugs on his jacket with a chuckle. “How about just Jake?”

Brittany squints at him playfully, pretending to consider it with an exaggerated hum that makes Jake laugh, before nodding and grinning back at him. “Alright, Just Jake it is.”

Jake thinks to correct her but, at this point, he’s learned that it’s just better to roll with it when it comes to Brittany. “That works.”

The bell rings overhead and Brittany jumps. “Shoot, my class is all the way on the other side of the building.” Brittany steps close to Jake, reaching out and tugging at the apparently unkempt collar of his jacket, smoothing it over. “See you around, Just Jake. Stay in class!”

Jake watches her jog down the long hallway, her blonde ponytail swishing with each step, and he doesn’t move until she reaches the end of it, looking back to Jake with a smile and a wave, before disappearing around the corner completely.

He rubs at the collar of his jacket absentmindedly and makes his way to his next class.

And every class after that.

Jake’s lounging around in his room, attempting but failing to get through his homework, when his phone buzzes next to him.

(Half Bro): ABORT

(Half Bro): ABORT MISSION

“The hell is he talking about?” Jake mutters underneath his breath. On cue, his phone starts buzzing and a picture of him and Puck, the older Puckerman putting Jake into a headlock, lights up his screen. Jake rolls his eyes and picks up the call, shoving his phone between his shoulder and his ear, as he picks up his pencil.

“What’s with the cryptic texts, dude?” Jake says in greeting, erasing his previous answer on his notebook and scribbling down another half-heartedly.

“As your wise older brother—”

“Half brother. And dunno about the whole wise thing.”

“—it’s my duty to tell you to abort mission, bro.”

Jake scratches down another answer on his notebook. “Yeah, I still don’t know what you’re talking bout.”

“Brittany, dude! That is a total no-go!”

The phone slips from Jake’s shoulder as he sits up suddenly. Jake scrambles for the phone, picking it back up. “What? What about her?”

Puck barks out a laugh. “Don’t play the player, my man! I saw the latest episode and I could spot that classic Puckerman leather from a mile away.”

“The latest episode?” Jake blanks before it clicks. “Wait, of Fondue for Two? You watch that?”

“Hell yeah, dude. I’m subscribed and everything. Everyone watches it. Anyway, I totally respect your game, don’t get me wrong, do your thing. But take it from me, you do not want to go there.”

Heat creeps up Jake’s neck. “It’s not like that. We’re… friends.”

And it’s true. They are kind of friends now, ever since Brittany borrowed Jake’s jacket. When Brittany passes him in the halls, she gives him a wave and a, “Hi, Just Jake,” and she’s even started sitting next to him in glee club. They also have a weird, ongoing text thread about—out of all things—motorcycle riding that Jake catches himself rereading throughout the day, chuckling at the various emojis that’s peppered all throughout the thread.

So yeah. They’re friends.

But just friends.

“Right,” Puck draws out.

Jake clears his throat. “Uh, just between bros though, why not?” Jake tries to ask nonchalantly.

“Dude, two words: Santana Lopez. You do not want to get in between those two. Not even in the fun way, either, because that shit will get you nowhere and I’m pretty sure they stopped doing that like three years ago.”

Now, Jake’s really lost. “Wait, what? Who’s Santana Lopez?”

“You serious? You really don’t know?”

Jake scoffs, picking his pencil back up and doodling on the corner of the page. “I literally just got to this school, like, a few months ago.”

“Man, you’ve got a lot to learn. Let’s just say, I’ve seen many dudes try and fail—including yours truly, if you can believe it—to try and get with Brittany or Santana and it’s just a lost cause. Those two kind of just… belong to each other.”

“Wow. That is really cheesy,” Jake chuckles.

“Shut the fuck up, dude. I’m trying to do you a solid here.”

“Relax, alright?” Jake rolls his eyes, throwing his head back to look at the ceiling while still doodling aimlessly. “I get it. I didn’t know Brittany had a girlfriend, anyways.”

“Well, ex-girlfriend. I think. I dunno. Santana graduated last year, moved away, and then dumped her a little while ago is what I heard from Tina.”

“Wait a minute, so Brittany’s single? What the hell are you telling me all this for then?”

“I thought you guys were just friends?” Puck’s smug tone comes across the line.

Jake flushes, heat creeping higher up his neck. “We are! I’m just saying.”

Puck laughs. “Alright, dude, your funeral. But consider my brotherly duties fulfilled.”

Jake rolls his eyes again. “Well, thanks for your concern, bro.”

“Anytime, man!”

Jake ends the call with a click and a sigh, chucking his phone onto his bed. Phone calls with his dumbass half-brother are always a treat, but this one in particular just really grates at him.

First Kitty, and now Puck, too? Jake doesn’t know where everyone’s getting the idea that he’s into Brittany. He’s not into her. Especially knowing there’s some history with a Santana Lopez in the mix. No, definitely not. That would make things way complicated and Jake’s not into all that drama and luggage when he’s got enough of that to go around.

“We’re friends, that’s all,” Jake mutters to himself, shaking his head. “Just friends.”

Jake nods, resolved, and turns back to his homework.

At the corner of the page, where Jake was doodling, is Brittany’s name.

He quickly scratches it out and falls onto his bed with a groan.

“Hey, whatever happened with your experiment?” Jake asks Brittany, shifting Brittany’s books under his arm as they walk to Brittany’s class. “You know, the food one in the hallway?”

It’s the fourth day in a row where Jake’s walked Brittany to her fifth period class that just happens to be four classes down from where Jake’s fifth period is. Not that he checked or anything. Jake just noticed Brittany walking in the same direction for fifth a couple times so now, they walk together.

He’s kinda glad he promised to stop skipping this class.

“Oh, the results were inconclusive. But totally not going to test it again. You know how it is,” Brittany says dismissively, waving a hand in the air. “What song are you going to do in glee club?”

Jake sometimes gets a little whiplash from how quickly Brittany jumps from topic to topic, but he’s getting used to it. “Uh, not sure yet. What’s the assignment again?”

Brittany stops right outside of her classroom, leaning against the doorway. Jake stops and leans against the other side of the doorway as other students mill about the hall. “I think it has something to do with pirates. I was gonna do one, but it was really hard to dance with an eyepatch on.”

Jake tries not to smile. “Britt, I think the assignment was Hidden Treasures. Like you have to pick an underrated song by a really popular artist.”

“Oh. That makes sense. What are you doing then?”

Jake shrugs, checking the clock on the wall and noticing there’s about a few minutes until class starts. “I was thinking of doing a Bruno Mars song, just not sure which one.”

The warning bell rings and students around them shuffle faster to their classes. Jake steps back a bit to let other students filter into Brittany’s classroom, then steps towards her to hand over her books.

Brittany smiles at him gratefully, swooping up her books from his outstretched arms. “Thanks.” She suddenly perks up with a gasp, grasping at his forearm. “Wait, I got it! You should totally do Talking to the Moon. It’s about werewolves, which is as underrated as it gets.”

Jake’s mouth pinches, his lips tugging up on one side. “Is it really?”

The final bell rings above them and Brittany pushes him gently backwards. “You’ll kill it, Just Jake. See you in glee!”

Jake chuckles and waves to her in goodbye, before jogging over to his classroom.

“Alright! Who’s up next?”

Jake clears his throat and raises up his hand. “I have one.”

He jogs down the risers and goes to stand in the center of the room, in front of the mic. He glances around at everyone, ducking his chin to his chest as he leans into the mic. “Okay, this one’s Talking to the Moon by Bruno Mars.” Jake glances over to Brittany, who’s sitting in the front next to Artie, and she gives him a thumbs up.

Jake nods to the band, cueing the music, and he goes through the first verse. But as soon he’s singing, “At night, when the stars light up my room, I sit by myself…”, what Brittany said about what the song’s really about pops into his head and he can’t help but chuckle lightly, as he continues into the chorus.

“Talking to the moon,” Jake croons, shaking his head with a grin, and he makes eye contact with Brittany, who has a matching grin on her face and a knowing twinkle in her eyes. He keeps his eyes on her as he sings, “Trying to get to you,” watching her nod along to the beat, before looking away to the rest of the glee club, continuing through the rest of the song.

When he finishes, the room bursts into cheers and applause.

“Dude, that was awesome!”

“Great job, Jake!”

“Whoo! Go, double J!” Brittany hollers, hands cupped around her mouth, giving a fist pump for good measure.

He grins bashfully, bowing slightly, before jogging back up the risers to his seat.

“Okay, who else has something they want to sing?”

“Dude, you know what we should team up on?” Jake points towards Artie, swallowing the bite of his sandwich he just took. “Some Frank Ocean.”

“My man!” Artie exclaims, holding his hand up. “Now, you’re speaking my language!”

Jake grins and returns his high five. The rest of the glee club is seated around the lunch table and engaged in their own side conversations.

Artie starts listing off some classic Ocean tunes, Jake nodding and shaking his head at each of the suggestions, before Tina plops down across Jake, setting down her lunch tray.

“Artie, how’d you do the homework for Mrs. Peters’ class?” Tina asks Artie, and he shoots Jake an apologetic smile before answering Tina, the two of them going on to discuss the homework in detail.

Jake feels something nudging his shoulder and he looks up to find Brittany standing there, her lunch tray in her hands. “Scoot over,” Brittany says, nodding to the side.

Jake shifts over to make some room and Brittany squeezes in next to him, her elbow softly knocking into his.

“Hey,” Jake says in greeting, a smile growing on his face.

“Hey,” Brittany greets back, her mouth quirking up slightly, before she looks up. “What’s with the beanie?”

“Oh,” Jake reaches up to touch the beanie in question, perched around his head, “The hair was getting a little wild. I need to get a haircut.”

Brittany chuckles, looking back down from the beanie into his eyes. “Cute,” Brittany says with a wink. Jake looks down, scratching the back of his neck, and clears his throat, his cheeks warming.

Brittany’s hand pops into his view and he looks back up to watch Brittany pop a fry into her mouth.

“Those are mine,” Jake notes, watching Brittany chew.

“You know, sharing is caring, Just Jake,” Brittany grabs another fry, pointing at him with it. She grins as he shakes his head and she eats the fry she just picked up before wiping the grease on her fingers on Jake’s shirt.

“Gross,” Jake wrinkles his nose as Brittany sticks her tongue out at him, crossing her eyes.

Suddenly, Brittany plucks the beanie off of his head before Jake can even scramble to keep it on. “I think you need a lesson in sharing.”

“Britt, come on,” Jake laughs and lunges for the beanie but Brittany pushes a hand flat against his chest as her other hand holds his beanie out of his reach.

“Nope,” Brittany lets the word come off her tongue with a pop, before tugging the beanie onto her head. “It’s cuter on me anyways.”

Jake groans in protest, shooting her a harmless glare as he smooths down his hair. “Only cause it’s kinda true, but I’m getting it back after glee,” Jake responds casually, picking his sandwich back up, and Brittany giggles next to him.

“Deal,” She agrees, and he glances over to her from the corner of his eye, shooting her a smile.

Jake’s putting away his books between classes when Artie wheels up to his locker.

“Hey, man, sorry we didn’t get to finish our talk at lunch earlier,” Jake gives him a nod in greeting, but Artie just waves him off.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’m actually here for something else. Roll with me, Puckerman,” Artie says, and Jake arches an eyebrow. He shuts his locker closed and grabs Artie’s wheelchair handles.

“Alright, where to?” Jake pushes Artie along the hallway.

“Let’s go into this classroom. I don’t think there’s a class,” Artie suggests, and Jake nods, pushing Artie into the room.

Just as Artie noted, the classroom is empty, and Jake shrugs off his backpack, tossing it onto the desk as he takes a seat on top of it.

“What’s up, dude? Kinda secretive,” Jake gestures around the empty room.

Artie smiles gently at him before wheeling a little bit closer. “Look, Jake, I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Maybe a little advice, too.”

“Uh,” Jake lets out a laugh. “About what?”

Artie levels a look at him. “I think you know.”

Jake squints back, cocking his head. “No, I really don’t. You’re gonna have to fill in the blanks here.”

Artie wheels even closer and straightens up in his seat, looking Jake directly in the eyes. “Brittany.”

Jake freezes, his eyes widening. “What?”

Artie sighs and sends him a patient smile, folding his hands in his lap. “I couldn’t help but notice you two lately and, from someone who’s been there, it’s kinda obvious you’re into her.”

Jake shakes his head fervently. “I’m not… into her.”

Artie nods, as if he was expecting that response. “Sure, if that’s what you want to tell yourself. Don’t worry, plenty of guys and girls have been in your boat. Once you get sucked into Brittany’s orbit, it’s pretty much inevitable.”

“What? I don’t…” Jake laughs breathlessly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

Artie tugs his glasses down to give Jake a dubious look. “Be straight with me, Jake. I won’t tell anyone.”

Jake glances away, feeling warm like a spotlight’s on him, and he glances back to Artie. “Okay, so… I guess, yeah.” Jake blows out a breath. “I might… be into Brittany. But it’s only just a little.”

Artie levels him another look.

“I mean, she’s hot and a little weird but it’s cute and she’s funny, so yeah, I guess. A little. But it’s not a big deal.” Jake pauses. “Like, really.”

Artie smiles kindly, throwing his hands up in a nonchalant shrug. “Totally not a big deal,” Artie echoes.

Jake passes a hand over his face, his shoulders slumping. “Dude, I swear, I’m not usually like this. No offense, but I’m pretty sure I have way more game than someone like you, for example.”

Artie looks slightly offended but then makes a noise of agreement.

Jake continues, “And with anyone else, I probably would’ve already made a move but…”

Artie nods. “It’s Brittany,” he finishes for Jake and Jake nods slowly. “Yeah, things are definitely different when it comes to her. Like I said, it’s kinda inevitable. But, here’s something else that’s also inevitable.”

Jake picks his head up, listening intently.

“It’s never going to work.”

Jake reels back a bit, raising his eyebrows. “Harsh.”

Artie shrugs. “Harsh, but true. I was actually dating Brittany at one point and I should’ve seen it coming, but I didn’t.”

“See what coming?”

Artie leans forward. “She’s completely unavailable. Like one hundred percent off-limits.”

Jake blinks for a few seconds, eyeing Artie curiously. “Don’t tell me it’s about that ex of hers.”

Artie looks surprised. “So you’ve already been warned then.”

Jake scratches at the back of his head. “Yeah, Puck told me about a Santana in the picture. But I mean,” he shrugs, “she’s not even here and they’ve been broken up for awhile now, right? So how hung up can she be?”

Artie waves a hand around. “Doesn’t matter what they are to each other. Trust me when I say that those two are the definition of inevitable, and getting in between them just sets you up for heartbreak.”

Jake arches an eyebrow. “Experience talking?”

Artie chuckles. “The worst kind. But I learned my lesson. And now, I’m sharing it with you.” Artie wheels his chair back around, making his way to the exit. “Be a smart man. Take my advice, Jake. See you in glee!”

Jake watches him wheel away, running back through the conversation in his head and exhaling a heavy sigh.

Jake leans against the wall right outside the choir room, nodding in goodbye to the glee club members filtering out of the room, before he hears Brittany’s voice coming nearer.

Jake straightens up, and Artie wheels out of the choir room, shooting him a pointed look that he acknowledges with a tight-lipped smile, before Jake looks up to see Brittany chatting with Blaine as they exit the room.

Brittany catches Jake’s eyes and shoots him a quick smile before turning back to Blaine, giving him a single-armed hug and says, “See you tomorrow, Blaine Warbler!”

Blaine just shakes his head at the nickname, smiling at Jake in passing as he goes his separate way, and Brittany turns to Jake, blue eyes bright and a wide grin on her face, his beanie perched on her head.

Jake extends his hand out, eyes darting upwards with a slight smirk. “Didn’t think I’d forget about my beanie, did you?” Jake asks.

“You know, you’ve got the be the worst hostage negotiator ever,” Brittany deadpans as she tugs the beanie off of her head.

Jake just furrows his brow, giving her a questioning look with a smile on his face.

Brittany knocks his outstretched hand out of the way and steps a little closer and Jake steps back, the back of Jake’s shoes knocking against the wall behind him.

Jake holds his breath as he watches Brittany raise the beanie above his head, her blue eyes concentrating on tugging the fabric neatly onto his head and he lets her, keeping his arms to his sides. Brittany elaborates, “Because I keep kidnapping your clothes…”

Jake glances down to Brittany’s lips where she has her tongue peeking out in concentration as he lets her fiddle with placing the beanie on his head.

He watches her face, standing in place between her arms, as she gently arranges the beanie on top of his head, her hands smoothing the fabric over once it’s in place. “...and you keep letting me,” Brittany finishes and glances down to his eyes with an easy grin.

She takes a step back to evaluate her handiwork, making a face as if to say not too bad. “Still cuter on me, though,” Brittany flutters her eyelashes dramatically, and Jake breathes out a laugh.

“Want to grab a milkshake?” Jake blurts out. Brittany tilts her head at him. “You said you were craving one at lunch when you were eating my fries, because you like to dip them in a milkshake.”

Brittany blinks at him slowly, eyeing him, before she chuckles, shaking her head. “You’re being weird, Just Jake. But sure. Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

She spins on her heel, slightly skipping towards the exit, and Jake watches her take a few skips before he follows.

Fuck. He’s so screwed.

#jake puckerman #brittany s. pierce #glee #fic #i really got carried away with this one smh i just love putting jake thru torture #this completes the three warnings by the three glee club members #so hmmm wonder what next chapter is... ;)#spoiler for ch.3: DANCING #my fic

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xenosaurus · 6 years

Text

Vermilion City Pokemon Shelter (chapter 1)

Rating: T Tags: animal shelter setting, original characters, lesbian protagonist, worldbuilding

also available on ao3!

By this point in her career, Marianne Joy has learned to be wary of calm. It’s the same for the shelter as it was for the pokemon center her mother worked at when she was growing up-- if things seem relaxed, that means you’re either missing something or it’s about to get very loud.

After 45 minutes of paperwork with no noise except for her Nidoking’s gentle snoring, Marianne is ready for an interruption.

Right on schedule, the receptionist knocks on the door. Marianne knows it’s Lilo even before the door opens-- she’s the only one in the office who knocks like she’s setting the beat for a song.

“Yeah, Lilo, you can come in,” Marianne calls back. Her Nidoking, curled up in the enormous pokemon bed set up next to her desk, makes a snuffling sound and lifts his head in response to her voice. Marianne gives him a quick pat between the spines.

Lilo hovers in the doorway to Marianne’s office, an apologetic look on her face. She’s a short young woman, dark-skinned and pretty. She’s wearing orange lipstick today, the exact same shade as the trim on her uniform.

“Sooo, we have a situation.” Lilo draws out the word ‘so’ like she’s trying to delay having to actually finish the sentence.

Marianne puts down the paperwork she was reading with a sigh.

“Pokemon situation or people situation?”

“People situation,” Lilo says, grimacing. “Mrs. Bernard is here again.”

Marianne mirrors the sentiment. She’s heard stories about this one, and it must be serious if Lilo came for backup.

Marianne gets up from her desk, grabbing a clipboard from the rack on the way out of the room. Her Nidoking watches her sleepily, before deciding the situation isn’t worth sacrificing his nap. He’s back asleep almost immediately.

“What’s the clipboard for, Mar?” Lilo asks, while Marianne takes a random packet of papers from her desk.

“Makes me look more official. She’s obviously not scared of the damn Garchomp in the lobby, but maybe human authority will work.”

Marianne leaves her office. Lilo follows her, and out of the corner of her eye, Marianne can see the receptionist’s shadow jump unnaturally.

“You have your Gengar free-roaming today?” Marianne asks as they walk down the hall towards reception.

“Yeah! She’s doing so good, isn’t she? She even came out from under my desk!” Lilo turns to address her own shadow, which currently shows no sign of concealing a pokemon as far as Marianne can tell. “Did you hear that, Lucy? You’re such a brave girl!”

Sure enough, Lilo’s shadow shifts in response, swaying side to side. Marianne smiles. This is a good pick-me-up right before she has to deal with entitlement personified.

“Ma’am, you really should go through the Good Start program.”

Shit, that’s Tyler. Marianne turns to Lilo in alarm.

“You left Tyler alone with her?” she whispers.

“Peggy’s on lunch, somebody had to stay with her!” Lilo protests. Marianne just sighs and pushes open the door.

“Hello, Mrs. Bernard. How can I help you?” Marianne asks, customer service voice in full effect.

Mrs. Bernard is a middle-aged woman with the least practical fake nails Marianne has ever seen. Tyler, the shelter’s volunteer coordinator, is a tall black man with a honeycomb tattoo on his wrist and braids pulled back with a yellow elastic. His Ribombee, Daisy, is perched on his shoulder. Behind the front desk, Lilo’s Torracat and Garchomp are watching the humans with a shared sense of boredom.

“Nurse Joy! Finally, someone reasonable!” Mrs. Bernard exclaims, ignoring Marianne’s question entirely.

Lilo and Tyler exchange a look and Marianne resists the urge to throw the clipboard at their guest.

“Mrs. Bernard, as I’m sure you’ve already been told, we don’t have any pokemon that would be appropriate for your daughter--”

“I don’t see why I can’t go in and see for myself,” Mrs. Bernard interrupts, which greatly amplifies Marianne’s desire to throw something.

“I already explained the training class to her,” Tyler says, arms crossed over his chest. Daisy starts patting his cheek with her tiny hands, trying to soothe him. Tyler tilts his head into the gesture to acknowledge her efforts.

“She’s already taking lessons through the school! She knows how to handle pokemon,” Mrs. Bernard argues.

“Ma’am, the pokemon we have here generally aren’t appropriate for a kid just starting out, especially if she isn’t going to have adult supervision,” Marianne explains, desperately willing this woman to understand.

“I know multiple families whose children got their first pokemon through your organization!” Mrs. Bernard is only getting more agitated, and Marianne really wishes she’d brought her Nidoking along after all. Butch is good at looming until people stop yelling at his trainer.

“Oh, they probably got them from the Good Start event we hold in the fall!” Lilo jumps in to explain. “When we get very young pokemon or eggs, some of our fosters raise them special for the Good Start program so they’ll make perfect partners for new trainers.”

“And why can’t I have one of those pokemon?”

“Um. Because they all go into the program. So that kids from the smaller towns can get starter pokemon too. The Good Start program finds trainers for them much easier than we could, so we really don’t keep suitable pokemon around unless Good Start’s doing one of their local events. It’s mostly pokemon with issues or older pokemon that--”

“Then give me an older pokemon!”

Lilo’s good cheer falters a little, and her Torracat finally comes out from behind her desk. He nuzzles her knee, then sits at her feet, glowering up at Mrs. Bernard.

“The older pokemon are rescues. They have specific needs--”

“I know some of your pokemon come from retired trainers. Those pokemon would make <i>great</i> partners for a new trainer!”

Lilo’s Torracat does not appreciate his trainer being interrupted. He meows at Mrs. Bernard-- it isn’t terribly threatening, because he has a particularly small, cute meow, but Marianne is fully aware he’ll start spitting embers next. As much as Marianne would love to see that, it probably wouldn’t be good PR for the shelter to light a visitor on fire.

“Ma’am. I don’t mean to be rude, but we are not denying you a pokemon for your daughter out of spite. I’ve seen otherwise tame pokemon take bites out of beginner trainers seemingly out of nowhere, because the kids don’t know the pokemon’s limits. The pokemon in Good Start are trained from birth to be safe partners to young trainers who are bound to make mistakes. Pay Good Start’s registration fee, or, if you can’t afford it, talk to someone at the pokemon center,” Marianne says, in a tone that brooks no argument. Mrs. Bernard tries to interrupt her twice, but Marianne just talks over her.

That’s actually enough to make the woman falter, which Marianne takes as a victory. After a moment, Mrs. Bernard speaks again, less indignant this time. She isn’t addressing Marianne, having apparently decided Tyler is a safer conversational partner.

“So, um. What was that you said about classes?”

Marianne groans. Lilo’s mouth twitches like she’s trying not to smile.

“Come back with your daughter, then we’ll talk to her about classes,” Tyler says, staying remarkably calm. Lilo loses the fight against her smile and covers her mouth with a hand instead.

“I can’t believe you told her to get her daughter. I mean, you’re totally right, the ten-year-old is more likely to be reasonable, but it’s like telling a little kid to put mommy on the phone,” Marianne shakes her head and laughs.

Now that they’ve got Mrs. Bernard out of the building, she’s sitting across from Tyler in the break room. They’re sharing a styrofoam container of greasy takeout stir fry, their pokemon eating lunch nearby. Tyler’s Ribombee is sipping nectar from a special bottle, still sitting on his shoulder, while his Volcarona devours a large bowl of alfalfa on the floor. Marianne’s Nidoking is snacking on some high-protein kibble (figy berry flavor), occasionally trading morsels with her Audino, who prefers the pecha berry blend.

“I don’t know what her problem with the Good Start program is,” Tyler complains, gesturing with his chopsticks. He talks with his hands, even when there’s something in his hands. Marianne has seen him point to things with a Caterpie before. “I wish they had that program when I was a kid! My first Weedle stung me four times in my first week!”

“Probably would have helped if you hadn’t tried to hug him. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t, I’ve known you for half a decade.”

Tyler points the chopsticks at Marianne.

“Bug pokemon are adorable and they deserve hugs.”

His Ribombee squeaks in agreement and throws her arms around Tyler’s neck. He raises his free hand to pet her, grinning.

“See? Daisy knows what’s up. You too, right, Cinder?”

Tyler’s Volcarona makes a tiny chittering sound but doesn’t even pause in her quest to devour her bowl of sprouts.

“Admittedly, I also got poisoned a lot when I first started. Hugging may have been part of the issue,” Marianne says, tilting her head towards her Nidoking. “But I had basic medical training.”

“Don’t rub it in,” Tyler says. “We can’t all come from globe-spanning families of doctors.”

“That woman knew my name without an introduction. There are downsides.”

“Wait, you hadn’t met her? Lilo seemed to think you had.”

“Nah, Peggy dealt with her last time, and Lilo got her out of here herself the first time.”

“Holy shit, Marianne, you shaved your damn head and you’re still getting recognized?”

“It’s the cost of my beautiful face. Everyone I’m related to has the same one.”

“You should have taken your wife’s last name. Maybe they’re reading it off your nametag.”

“Do I need to get out my family photos? We all look identical.”

“Maybe it’s some kind of cloning--”

“Tyler, do not start with the cloning theory again.”

Tyler laughs and leans in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Come on, you don’t know--”

The door to the break room swings open. Tyler startles mid-sentence and turns to look at whoever has interrupted the conversation. It’s Peggy, the shelter’s adoption counselor, her Togetic fluttering over her shoulder and one of the Pichu she’s fostering tucked under her arm. She has long brown hair and oversized glasses, a fashion choice Marianne has never fully understood.

“I’m gone for 20 minutes and I miss Mrs. Bernard?” she asks without offering a greeting, sounding affronted. “Did anyone die?”

Tyler laughs and pulls out a chair for her.

“Come sit, we’ll tell you everything.”

#pokemon #pokemon shelter #vermilion city pokemon shelter #long post

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scummy-writes · 7 years

Text

This blog is only going to be used to post personal fic updates from a much more controlled environment, AO3, and nothing else.

This post has been set to queue post two more times for timezones and then no more after that.

Explanation under the readmore:

This is to the shock of absolutely no one, but I can’t do this anymore.

A lot of you guys have stuck here with me from the beginning, and, unfortunately, got to learn about personal stuff I never intended to share. Some of that came around in discussions, of some events that happened, or back towards the beginning of the year that severely impacted me and still does to this day.

Back before I made this blog, a few months before I had started playing MM. I loved it, thought it was great for an otome, and fell in love with all of the characters. Like a lot of people, I ran into the game when I wasn’t doing too well. Things at home were horrible, I had no job, I had recently gotten out of something life altering and was still struggling with myself. This game helped me out, sparked my creative flow again (I think the last time I had published something that wasn't for a friend was a good four years ago), and inspired me to write and share what I had written.

Then, when my stories got an incredibly large amount of hits, and I saw HC blogs circling around, I made one. This one.

I made it to share stories, ideas, and small headcanons- To share positivity, and maybe a bit of fictional angst. For a couple of months, things were going well. A got such sweet followers, I had great support- But then I brought back a fic people had wanted, originally taken down due to me unable to plan a decent plot, and harassment began.

And, well, a lot of you have been around for that whole debacle.

Then. Just more issues started coming up. Instead of this blog being fun, being something I was so glad that it was making people happy, things just went downhill. Constant negative messages/comments, constant drama- I just shrugged it off for the most part, but then I realized that most of this drama, most of what is starting to wear me down, is just because I didn’t write a character how one person wanted me to.

Just because I apparently wrote a character ooc, for two fics, apparently warranted harassment spanning over months– Like literally absolutely fucking months. Do you know when it started for me? March. February for others. But hey, everyone’s seen this, right? God knows I’ve reblogged it countless times hoping the fucking hateful anons would stop coming in. Except They. Kept Coming. Over and Over Again. I even took a fucking hiatus and stopped writing the fic this person couldn’t stop obsessively hate-reading only to immediately get shit on again.

I’ve had my mental Illness, PTSD, and overly traumatic and sexually abusive events in my life degraded, along with many of my friends and now victims of this who did absolutely nothing wrong, while friends and I were being told we weren’t ‘thinking of the abuse victims’ when being confronted about liking a FICTIONAL CHARACTER, Jumin, who was being deemed abusive by this ‘anon’ . My illnesses and abuse history that I had mentioned before and even directly to this person’s messages.

I’ve had the harassment that my friends and I have went through be deemed to be nothing because “Well this user always likes my posts”, “This user sends me a nice message sometimes”, while those same people ignored the posts of the user even completely opening up and admitting to what the fuck they’ve done.

You connect all this with some personal issues of mine- The issues surrounding my mother’s attempt, the strain with my family, and my own personal mental health namely- and, well. It’s hard to view this blog positively anymore.

I’m just not happy anymore. Namely, my current emotions are probably connected to another depressive episode, but even before today- It’s just been hard.

I made this blog to have fun- Because people enjoyed my stories, enjoyed my headcanons- And now due to all this drama and harrassment I just feel disgusting.

I don’t know where I’m going with this, honestly. I never made this blog to be constantly harassed because some dipshit couldn’t ignore my fanfic, couldn’t block my blog and ignore me, couldn’t just move the absolute fuck on with their life instead of spending nearly a whole year attempting to stalk me, attempting to harass me for every little asinine thing. Of course this had a strain on my writing- I after the haitus I just could barely put out HC’s anymore. I kept saving drafts, getting stressed to fuck and back because I didn’t know if a typo was going to cause me to be blasted with insults to my writing and life, I didn’t know if I expressed Zen having insecurities was going to send another flood of anons like I had received many times before. You think all the messages in the Call Out are bad? All the ones that weren’t in it and I didn’t link in this post? What about all the ones you all didn’t see because I deleted them before I even let myself think about them, because I had no energy just to put up bullshit because all I ever, ever, fucking did was write a Fictional Fucking Character a little fucking different from canon.

And that’s not all- There’s a support group in a discord server my friend set up because I’m not the only person this dipshit has gone after. There’s at least ten god damned people that we know of getting this same treatment- and there’s probably so so so SO many more that are probably feeling the same emotions I did. And FUCK, friends of us are even feeling drained because it’s absolutely sickening that we’re being harassed for liking a genuine love interest in a fucking mobile otome game. In a VIDEO GAME.

You know what I did? I went back into fucking therapy because of all this, because my major depression and anxiety kicked into full gear because I was sharing my writing, something that I made, something that meant so much to me because for once I wasn’t being mocked or laughed at when I wanted to be creative. The harassment got to me so fucking badly I had to go to therapy again.

I’m so blown away by how all this shit I’m dealing with is because someone just couldn’t ignore my blog/ao3 stories. That they think harassment is excusable because I won’t write or stop writing what they want me to.

So now, characters I used to help me cope with a very serious issue of mine, just make me feel empty. My coping mechanisms are failing, and running this blog isn’t becoming worth it anymore, not if I’m even going to be bitched at for trying to show lesser known artists to some newcomer in the fandom.

So. I don’t know. That’s why I hardly post anymore. I feel disgusting and empty, for a game that I used as a coping mechanism. Instead of it making me happy, all this drama and this god damned person just makes me regret even writing in the first place.

So no more hc posts. My writing has declined, we all know it, god knows it won’t stop being pointed out to me, and I shot myself in the foot doing character limits. My Hc posts went from getting so many sweet comments to one once in a blue moon, the majority of the comments I receive on here about my HC’s are just a constant stream of hatred, and I just cannot fucking do this.

I just wanted to have fun.

you guys can find me on my twitter (@Mm_Scummy) and my AO3 (Scummy). I’m not posting anything else to this blog unless it’s fic updates, and even that I’m debating on. I’m just keeping this blog up to keep what writings I did enjoy up, and just because I can’t bring myself to delete anything where I did get support.

If this post makes you angry, or makes you upset that it’s came done to this:

SUPPORT CONTENT CREATORS. Don’t sit around and let them be harassed!! I cannot even begin to tell you how amazing it felt when I would get a message from a random follower just seeing if I was okay. Just saying that they hoped I felt better, or just sending heart emojis. Every little bit of support means so, so, SO much to content creators after they’ve been outright harassed or taken advantage of, because it shows that you care.

REBLOG THESE POSTS:

- THIS one because the word needs to be spread that content creators do not owe you anything.

- And THIS one because the user that keeps harassing me and so many people, so many that we may never know who all they have harassed, uses the Anonymous tool on every single platform they can to hurt people, and she is NOT above making new accounts to continue her harassment over and over again. Because god knows we have blocked her account and have never, ever, fucking unblocked it and she STILL didn’t get the most obvious hint that what she is doing is absolutely, undeniably fucking disgusting and in no way excusable.

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takaraphoenix · 6 years

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Hi! I don't to sound annoying, but I think my last ask may have fallen into the void so here goes: do you have any tips for starting an AO3 account? Sorry if you got the last one and just didn't feel like answering

Oh no, sweetie. Not annoying at all!

And while I do usually not instantly get around to answering and the asks might lay around for a day or two... yeah, I don’t have any other ask from you, so, good you send it again ;)

Tips? Mh.

1. The Basics!

Let’s start with the most basic thing. Your name.

Is your name a “brand”? That is to say; do you already have a recognizable name? Do people know you from other sites? Tumblr, DeviantArt, Fanfiction.Net, Wattpad, other sites I don’t know?

Then maybe pick the same name, if available. People who already like you might recognize it! They will also have an easier time finding you.

Not to mention, the human brain can not remember that many names and if you make them remember that oh, your name on this site is XYZ and your name on another site is ABC but on the next site they can find you as A2C... that might be asking a bit too much of them.

So make it easy for people who like you to find you! ;)

But don’t make it too easy for people to find you.

That is to say; don’t put personal information on your profile. Don’t link to your facebook, best not put your real name on there. The internet is not exactly a safe place, there are bad people, there are creepy people and there are also dangerous people. So always stay safe.

Now that you got your name and a profile that, instead of leading to personal information best leads to your other accounts, such as tumblr, you’re all set to post your first fic!

2. Write a decent summary.

If you move to AO3 from a site like FFNet, you are used to a pathetically short character limit that doesn’t allow much freedom.

Your summary is your window into the fic. It’s supposed to be the hook. Nowadays, tags take over parts of that job too but in the end, the summary is the final sell.

It’s tricky to find a good balance between explaining your story in an intriguing way and not spilling all the beans. Because you don’t want to spoil the ending, you want them interested in reading more and not left with the feeling that they already know everything that’s going to happen.

The same as with the tags apply; include what you think is truly important. What do people need to know about this story before going into it? Think of it as a trailer to a movie. What’s the best pitch?

3. Tagging makes fandom life easier.

Tagging is the one important feature about AO3 that makes it so beautiful and special. And tagging seems to be the hardest task for authors.

There are those who undertag and those who overtag.

You don’t have to literally tag everything - like “kissing” and “hand holding” and the sexual orientation of every single character that will as much as be mentioned in the fic. If readers face a literal wall of tags, chances are they just won’t read it and skip the entire thing.

Undertagging isn’t good either though. If things are too vague, many might also feel like it’s not worth wasting time on checking it out because the risk of running into something they might dislike is too high.

My personal approach to it is to tag everything I see as relevant. Things that, if I see them tagged in a story, instantly make me click it. Like, if I write a story that is centered particularly around the angst and feels of a certain character; tag it. There might be people desperately looking for a fic that centers on that character’s emotional turmoil.

And be on the safe side with smut too. Tag what you’re doing; there might be certain things that are uncomfortable for readers and that they are trying to avoid. That can be as simple as the what, or even as the who does what. For example, if I see a tag for explicit content but the author did not bother tagging who tops and bottoms, I generally don’t even bother clicking on the fic anymore, because despite the fact how most authors claim that topping and bottoming has “nothing to do with the character”, 90% of fanfiction authors still have it hard-wired in their brains that fics are more bottom-centric, that the bottom is portrayed as the shyer one who needs to be fussed over and comforted while the top is the brash, brave one. So to avoid running into literal fuckery where the roles are reverse to how I view the characters, I just don’t even try anymore.

Which means that tagging top and bottom can a) cause people who are looking for specific fics with a specific character as either of those to find your fic and be happy about it and also that b) someone who doesn’t enjoy the order you enjoy not to run into something they dislike.

Which actually summarizes the way I apply tags anyway. Don’t tag everything, but tag everything you think someone might be looking for in a fic, or might be trying to avoid. It’s both a lure and a warning in once.

Also, trigger warnings. You plan on writing heavier subjects? Murder, self-harm, torture, abuse, rape? Definitely put it in the tags. There are people who might just be really squeamish about it and don’t like it, which should already be reason enough to warn, but there are also people who have a serious history with such issues and might be triggered by them. So if you tag such things, they might already be filtered out by having been blacklisted by the users and you might have just made some people’s lives a little easier.

Tag your pairings. Maybe best in order of importance; many might just look at the first listed pairing, used to authors sorting them by importance and thus dismissing the fourth, fifth or sixth ship you tag as just random side-pairing. So if you have a main-pairing, always tag it first.

Also include character tags. I was recently told that there are apparently actually people who filter by character tags. News to me, though I do check the character tags too to see if my faves are in it.

4. Use the features AO3 offers!

This starts with something as simple as the fact that AO3 sends you mails about Kudos and comments. It’s a great way to stay up to date with how much love your fics gain.

Now that we’re at it; comments. Reply to them, if you have the time. Those are people who are interested in your work, in something you evidently love enough to put it out there. Engaging with them is a brilliant feeling. Getting feedback on your things and getting to know what they expect of your work or want from it. Occasionally, it can even be very inspiring and give you an idea to include to your story that you hadn’t even thought about!

Another thing about comments however is that you can moderate them. It’s a feature I personally don’t use because I’m a veteran at this point and there’s nothing I haven’t seen in the comment section to I’m not that easily fazed.

But if you are still new to not just AO3 but fanfiction in general and if you might write a ship the so-called antis deem “problematic” - which, at this point in time, can literally be any ship aside from canon no, wait, canon too - you might do yourself a favor there. Because fandom life can be beautiful but it can also be hell. There might be shitheads who come to your fic and say nasty, bad things about your pairing choice, your fanfiction, your writing, maybe even you yourself as a person because they’re trying to hurt you.

Don’t let it get to you.

But if you are more sensible about such things, then maybe moderating reviews can be a useful feature for you because it allows you to delete spam and flames without them ever showing up in the fic. You can always flag reviews as spam or delete them, even if you don’t use the feature, but you’ll have an ugly “scar” on your comment section that says [this review has been deleted].

One of the most handy features AO3 has - after the tagging - is in my eyes the series-feature. It allows you to bundle multiple fics together under one umbrella. Personally, I really hate when people post oneshot collections on AO3 as one fic and there’s tags for like 20 fandoms, 30 pairings and 60 kinks in that one fic and you as the reader have no way of telling which of the additional kinks would now relate to which pairing. The far easier and cleaner solution would be to post oneshots seperately, so people can easier tell what they individually are, and mark them as part of a series for that collection. It’s, of course, a matter for authors, but I’m not the only one who simply scrolls past such oneshot collections because I don’t have the patience to go through it just to notice all my kinks are tags that would belong to a shot I’m not interested in (not to mention the ones that already tagged the collection as including a pairing but 20 shots in that pairing has still not been written, or the ones that don’t include in the chapter title what pairing and fandom the individual shot is... and you’d literally have to seep through 30 chapters to find that one pairing in the collection that you’re interested in. Yeah no, I got better things to do with my time and close the whole thing).

So yeah, the series function makes it far easier to gather things you want to put under an umbrella but still make easy to navigate for your readers, which, always nice.

Another handy feature about AO3 is that you can put links into the fic. So if a character starts singing a song in the middle of the fic for romantic mood... Not everyone recognizes a song by its lyrics and it just doesn’t set the mood as well; how about just putting a link to a YouTube video over the first line that the character sings? Your readers can open it in another tab and let it set the mood for your fic.

5. Don’t let haters get to you!

I know I mentioned it above already, that you shouldn’t let shitheads get to you, but it’s important enough to earn its own separate point on the list.

Fandoms are filled with hatred and mean, nasty, selfish people who will do and say everything to keep their fandoms “pure” and thus attack people who ship or like things they themselves don’t like.

That can, at times, be really drowning and hard, so you need to focus on the good parts. If you’re a first-time writer, you might not yet have the connections, or you already do from tumblr and other sites, I don’t know, but let’s say you don’t. Then make them. A point of that is the above mentioned “interact with your readers” advise I gave you; the people happy about what you write are the good people and the kind of people in fandom that you want to associate with - so just do it. Do it, make friends, find people who you can gush to about this thing you both love.

If you already got those contacts from other sites? That’s great! But hey, never too late to make more friends and meet more fellow fans.

But those people are incredibly important if you want to participate in any fandom, because they are what reminds you that the fandom can be safe, sane and nice. That it can be a beautiful place and that it’s worth loving.

Because otherwise the hate from the other part of the fandom might get to you and it might even make you dislike the show/movie/book itself simply by association. I’m sorry that I’m sounding like such a downer here toward the end, but I’ve already seen it and gone through it myself, that if you fall into the deep end of negative fandoms, they can ruin everything for you. So it’s a piece of advise that is very dear and important for me to give - find the safe, sane and nice part of the fandom, claim it for yourself and enjoy it and don’t let anyone tell you that you don’t have the right to enjoy and love it.

And that’s it. That’s all I can think of, at least. I hope there was at least some useful stuff in it, but since I don’t know how experienced you are with fanfiction writing and posting, I figured I’d better be more thorough and more general about it. Better give too much advise than too little, I guess.

Now, one last thing: Enjoy writing and never forget to enjoy writing; never let it become a “task”, always love it, okay? ;)

#Fanfiction #Writing #Fanfiction Writing #Advise #or at least I tried #AO3 #thisblogisdeaderthanspacedaddy

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