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masterjedilenawrites · 1 month

Text

Take Me Out

Bad Batch x Reader Exchange 2024

Crosshair x fem!reader | 4.7k words

Content: drinking, light angst, introspection, fluff, light humor, crushes, relationships, friendship, mentions of war and death, weapons (practice setting)

Prompts: "What am I even looking for?" - "I don't know" & "Sometimes I think some work on your communication skills wouldn't be such a bad idea."

My gift is for the event host - @ghostofskywalker! I was so excited to draw your name and I really hope you enjoy the fic. You put so much work and care into hosting these events for the fandom, it really is appreciated 🤗

I've actually had this story concept in mind for quite a while. I love that pretty much all of your prompts/wish-list items were able to fit in! We've got some platonic Hunter, romantic Crosshair, a little angst, a bit of fluff... Perfect!

Oh, and to keep things spoiler free (on my blog and for the event), this takes place before Order 66 and Omega.

Please go check out the @cloneficgiftexchange blog for all the other contributions to this great event! Fics are being posted all throughout today (4/13/24). Spread the love for fandom writers/creators by reblogging!

Vandor-3. Clone training facility: recreation sector. Winter.

You sat slumped over the bar, a drink cradled in your arms. You took lazy sips at the liquid, long past its effervescence, in between chewing on the straw. You could smell the evidence of your waning hygiene, being curled in on yourself like this. It disgusted you but not enough to do anything beyond self loathing. To say you were miserable was an understatement.

"Morning, Captain. A bit early for a drink, isn't it?"

The husky voice of the bar's newcomer was unmistakeable in who it belonged to. There were clones abound on this small moon, hundreds of identical-sounding men. But every once in a while you had the pleasure of hearing the one that was different.

You sluggishly swiveled your head and gave Sergeant Hunter a mock salute. He leaned against the bar beside you, seemingly torn between being amused and concerned by what he was seeing.

"Back so soon?" you asked, ignoring his own question. Though your speech wasn't slurred, your voice still betrayed some of the numbness you were working to surround yourself in. Which helped your friend make up his mind on how to feel.

"Easy mission," Hunter shrugged off the topic. "You okay? Did something happen?"

"No," you sighed and forced yourself to sit upright. Best to appear more in control and not give him reason to drag you to the med bay. "That's the problem. Nothing's happened."

Hunter frowned and slid onto the barstool next to you. You caught a whiff of soap as he did, a harsh contrast to your own odor that made you even more upset.

"I don't understand."

Your hands cupped around your glass, condensation pooling around your fingers, and you stared at the melting ice wishing to be as frozen and unfeeling.

"I don't understand, either," you whispered. "Why I'm still so... alone."

"Ah." Hunter placed a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. "That's right, you had that date you were going on. Another dud, then?"

You nodded, still refusing to look away from the ice cubes.

He hummed in thought. Your poor friend. How many times had he now had to come up with some sort of reassuring comment after another one of your failed attempts to find love? At least you were grateful you had such a friend, though. Where others would have made you feel guilty for admitting to loneliness, would have insisted they were company enough and all you had to do was ask for it, it's as simple as that, how dare you feel lonely when you aren't actually alone... Hunter was the one who always saw through to what you really meant. You were not what the other wanted, but you were both wanting, craving that kind of deep, romantic connection that seemed to allude you both. For Hunter, it was obviously his schedule that got in his way. For you... well, that was the mystery.

"You have to keep looking," was the sentiment Hunter settled on this time. He rubbed at your shoulder a bit, as if trying to smooth out your misery.

You huffed. His attempts to comfort were sweet, but not enough. You couldn't help but protest. "But with everyone I meet, I just find out what I don't want. What am I even looking for?"

"I don't know," Hunter shook his head sadly. "I don't know if anyone knows until they find it."

You groaned and slumped back forward, facepalming the bar top and wishing you could sink right into it. Sink down, down, down until you disappeared completely.

"Sorry, Cap," Hunter's now muffled voice attempted to chuckle, lighten the mood. "If I could track down your soul mate, I would. You know I would."

That comment was sweet enough. You forced yourself to stop sinking, lift yourself up again, and face your friend properly.

"I know. And I appreciate that. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be such a bummer today. It's just... it's been getting harder, is all."

He nodded and you nodded back and nothing further needed to be understood on the matter.

"Were you needing something from me?" you changed the subject. "Or did you come to day drink as well?"

"Ha, ha." Hunter started to get up. "Yeah no, I just wanted to let you know we were back for a few rotations, see if you'd have some time to finally come out and meet the boys."

You lifted up your glass and shook it a bit. "You're too late, I'm afraid. If I'd known you'd be back so soon, I wouldn't have started on this journey of self destruction."

Hunter titled his head at you, some of that trademark concern still showing. "This isn't going to be an all week thing, is it?"

You shrugged. Truthfully, you had no idea what to do with yourself. Making decisions even a day in advance seemed like too big of a commitment in your fragile state.

"I'd rather not meet any more new people right now, if it's all the same to you."

"I wouldn't consider them new. You've heard enough stories about each other by now. It's starting to get weird that you're not meeting, quite frankly."

You wanted to laugh, but the thought of introductions, stiff pleasantries, awkward small talk... It reminded you of every first date that never turned into a second, every dating app chat thread that went nowhere, every high hope you watched turn into disappointment. Even with a group like Hunter's brothers, the Bad Batch, with a reputation of being unconventional, who you'd only be making friends with just like you had with Hunter and every other clone on this moon... it was still too much for you to stomach.

"Sorry, maybe next time."

Hunter frowned, but he didn't overstep. "Suit yourself. Door's still open though. You know where to find us."

He made to walk out but paused to turn back to you for a moment.

"And hey, don't lose hope. We'll find our people soon enough. In the meantime, take care of yourself, alright?"

You waited until the bar doors closed behind him to let your tears fall.

* * *

Vandor-3. Woodland outskirts. Spring.

You were here. Finally.

You weren't able to pinpoint exactly where the turning point occurred, between crying yourself to sleep every night and being able to wake up with a smile on your face. A small one, of course, but a smile nonetheless. You weren't even sure it was something that had happened overnight. Slowly, eventually, the frost over your heart melted, the shadows in your thoughts grew thinner and lighter. Without even realizing you were drawing back the curtains and dusting off the shelves and each day being a little more open than you were the day before.

Your loneliness still existed. It came and went in waves, so while still devastating at times, you were at least afforded with periods of relief. Periods where you could smile again, find fulfillment in your work, and even dare to allow yourself to dream again. And not to mention taking more regular showers. It was always the little things that made the biggest difference, wasn't it?

And now here you were, standing in the early morning sun out in one of the training fields, the Havoc Marauder silhouetted against the sunrise as you shook hands with its crew in a meeting long overdue.

Hunter's stories had done the boys justice. Wrecker was just as larger than life as you'd pictured, aptly choosing to push past your outstretched hand and go in for a bone-crushing hug instead. Tech, who you'd come to know as the brains of the batch, only spared a second to be properly introduced before returning to fidget with some gadget. Echo was all politeness and disciplined respect, with his scomp-salute and ma'ams. And Crosshair... well, he was still on the ship asleep, which you supposed fit with the few facts you knew about him, too.

Hunter beamed beside them, clearly happy you had finally made the effort to meet his squad. His family, really. As a Captain overseeing drill training for the GAR, you knew better than anyone the close bonds these clones formed even before they stepped foot on a battlefield. This meant a lot to him, you being here. You felt awful for postponing so many times.

Once introductions were out of the way, and some pleasant conversation had passed, you eventually ventured out to the part of the training field that actually housed elements for training - your excuse for coming out here to meet everyone. A munitions crate full of shiny new blasters was carried between you and Wrecker while Hunter ran ahead to set up some targets. Tech and Echo went back to the ship to work on repairs.

"Aaaaugh. Only blasters?" Wrecker lamented upon opening the crate.

"Sorry, more budget cuts. This was all I could scrounge up for you guys."

Hunter was much more excited by the new weapons, though Wrecker still picked one up to try out. You held one as well but only used it to demonstrate different techniques. Just because you were good at training didn't mean you were the best at actually fighting.

The three of you picked off the various bottles, pots, and pans that Hunter had set up amongst the tree branches at the edge of the field for a short while. And on more than one occasion you found yourself pausing to breathe in the air and remind yourself that life was good. Maybe not how you wanted it, but it was still good and you'd need to continue to work on appreciating what you had.

After about an hour, there were only three bottles and a pan left, all proving tricky targets due to distance and angle. Hunter had even tried slinging a few knives to no avail.

"Okay I'm calling it," Wrecker announced with a huff. "One more missed shot and I'm blowing them up."

"I'll take that bet."

A new voice, one you'd never heard before, carried across the field. It was delicate and drawling and confident. Hunter chuckled and Wrecker rolled his eyes. And you... you had no idea that everything was about to change.

It was like he was moving in slow motion. Your surroundings blurred as the lanky figure caught the corner of your eye, your heart rate slowing as you turned and took him in. One confident step planted firmly in front of the other as he inched across the field. A sniper rifle perched on his shoulder. A toothpick between pursed lips. An eye surrounded by a reticle and narrowed in determination. He didn't even spare you a glance, and thank the gods, because if he had, you were sure your heart would've stopped beating altogether.

He squared off as soon as he reached the marks, bringing his rile forward to aim in a swift and careful motion. His head rested against the shaft, his tattooed eye squinted through the scope. You imagined him taking this stance a thousand times in his short life. It looked as natural a position as curling up on a couch might look for you.

You couldn't look away, not wanting to miss a single second of whatever this mesmerizing man was about to do. He was still for a moment, impressively so. You realized you were holding your breath as you watched, not wanting even your exhale to interfere with his process.

And then he fired. Once, twice, threefourfive times. Bang, bang, bang. Each in a different direction but no less precise than the one before. The first ricocheted off the pan and hit the green bottle, just as the second hit the red bottle. The three-shot volley was aimed at the branch the bottles sat on, causing it to crack and dangle even closer to the ground. And just when you thought the show couldn't be more over the top, the sniper swiveled his rifle toward the sky at a passing bird, clipped its wing with a shot, and then whipped out a pistol from his hip and fired at the remaining blue bottle just before the branch snapped and fell to the ground.

A few seconds later, the bird tumbled on top of the pile of shattered glass and splintered wood.

"Aaaand training is now over," said Hunter with a nod of his head. He raised his voice as he called out to his brother. "You'd better clean that shit up!"

The sniper flipped him the bird before sauntering off to clean up.

"Uh, you alright?"

Hunter paused in his own packing of gear to give you a concerned look. You were still staring after the newcomer, undoubtedly the lone Batcher you had yet to meet. Crosshair. Your brain had short-circuited with what you had witnessed him do, yes. But it was more than that. There was something about him. Something intriguing and attractive. Different than anyone you had ever known, and yet, somehow feeling so real and comfortable at the same time.

After a few waves of your friend's hand in your face, you snapped back.

"That," you breathed.

Hunter cocked a confused eyebrow.

"That is what I'm looking for."

* * *

Vandor-3. Clone training facility: recreation sector. Summer.

You were insanely busy. Separatist activity was ramping up in almost every corner of the galaxy and the GAR was responding to each new threat with full force. Rotations of new clone units were frequently arriving at the facility, one after another. You'd cycle them through a few trainings to get them certified on whatever was needed and then ship them right back out. And in between were all the additional tasks that needed to be taken care of. Piles of paperwork and coordinating schedules and ship inspections and updated security debriefings.

And yet through it all, you still had time to entertain the one thought that buzzed in the background of your mind: Crosshair. Every meeting, every meal, every training sim, first thing in the morning and last thing at night. He was there. Crosshair, Crosshair, Crosshair. On your mind, in your heart, driving you absolutely mad.

In the beginning you'd pretended it wasn't about him, specifically. You were simply happy to know what you wanted now, that you had a type and it existed. That was all. Hunter had turned up his nose, completely bewildered as to why that would be your type. You hadn't been able to give him much at the time; it would take you many rotations more to start describing the details of your newly discovered attraction.

But over time, it became harder to push aside the nagging thought that you hadn't found what you were looking for, but rather who. Specifically. Exactly. Why try to find someone like him when you already liked... him?

Oh there were plenty of ways you could answer that question, all of them self-deprecating and none of them productive. You could count on one hand now the number of times you had been in the same room as him, let alone interacted with him. The Batch may be frequenting the place more often as the war picked up, but not nearly as often as you needed to gauge whether someone like Crosshair would, could, or honestly even should be as interested in you as you were in him.

Today they were back on the grounds so Hunter could fill out some paperwork, and your heart had not stopped racing all morning. It was practically threatening to punch right out of your chest and run away. You weren't sure why, considering you'd probably only end up seeing Hunter this time. The rest of the Batch usually didn't venture into the facility unless they were staying overnight. But it seemed even knowing Crosshair was on the same planet as you got you worked up these days.

You carried Hunter's stack of paperwork with you now, intending to drop it off to him in between some meetings you had. As you hustled down the halls, you rehearsed a few ways you could subtly ask him how Crosshair was doing.

But as it turned out, you would have the opportunity to ask him yourself. If you could get over your frazzled shock at finding him in the rec room instead of Hunter.

The room was conveniently empty, making the silence between you that much more potent. Crosshair was standing awkwardly to the side, just behind one of the battered sofas, as if he had already been confused about what he should be doing before you pushed through the door. He stared at you and you stared at him and the moment only lasted for a few seconds but it felt like an eternity.

"Oh, um. Hi. Crosshair." You averted your gaze, despite having prayed the past several nights that you could see his face again soon. "I was... expecting Hunter."

That didn't sound right. You hoped he didn't take that to mean that you'd prefer if Hunter was here now. Obviously you didn't.

"He stepped out," Crosshair responded in that cool, even tone of his. Your eyes couldn't help but snap back to his as he talked. You wanted him to say more but he never did.

"Oh, okay. I just had some paperwork to give him."

Crosshair only hummed at first. You shuffled your feet a bit, debating whether you should make an attempt at small talk, try to coax more out of him, maybe even hint that you were interested in him. The thought terrified you, but not as much as the thought of being alone. You couldn't complain about that if you continued to let these opportunities pass by without at least trying to make a connection.

You shifted your weight again, intending to keep your feet planted so you wouldn't make a run for it, and Crosshair uttered your name hurriedly.

"Wait," he said. He'd thought you were leaving. You widened your eyes at him, waiting to hear what he'd wanted to tell you first. He seemed to hesitate before finally saying, "I was wondering if you knew what soup they were serving today?"

"Oh. Uh, potato, I think."

"How boring."

You smirked. "I know, right? They could at least serve it with some hot sauce."

Crosshair hummed.

The silence settled back in, though now you felt better about things. You'd practically had a conversation. Learned a little more about each other. It was a good start.

Your commlink suddenly beeped at your side and you blanched, remembering the meeting you were supposed to be heading to.

"I uh, I've got to go. It was nice talking to you."

It pained you to cut off your moment with him so quickly, but alas you were left with no choice. You shuffled back out into the corridor, though you only made it a few steps before realizing you still had Hunter's paperwork and could just leave it with Crosshair.

The rec room had an old school door that swung in and out on hinges. It was slightly ajar from when you passed through, and already in the few seconds since something was happening on the other side of it. You could hear more voices.

"...the kriff was that?" First, the deep tones of Hunter, equal parts annoyed and weary.

"That wasn't the plan." Then, the resolute voice of Echo, backing him up.

"What?" Crosshair bit back at them.

"You were supposed to ask her out," Hunter clarified.

"No, that was not the plan," Crosshair countered. "I needed to lay some groundwork first."

"You call that groundwork? You were talking about soup."

"And she agreed. No one ever agrees with me on the soup around here."

"What a special connection," Echo said.

Hunter sighed so hard you swore you could feel the breeze through the doorway. "You know, sometimes I think some work on your communication skills wouldn't be such a bad idea."

"What?"

"Never mind. Do what you like. Keep pushing away anyone who tries to love you and see where that gets you. Just know that it's exhausting, watching the two of you dance around each other like this."

"And kind of pathetic," added Echo.

You were against the wall by the door, holding in your breath for so long you were about to pass out. Or maybe it was the euphoria of knowing Crosshair was interested that made your head sway. Regardless, you had mere moments to make a move or let the opportunity pass. You dug into your pocket, fished out a pen, and scribbled a note on the top page of paperwork. Was it professional? Absolutely not. But the GAR would get over it. You left the papers by the door, making sure your note was turned to face it.

There's better soups on Coruscant. Let's go out sometime.

* * *

Vandor-3. Woodland outskirts. Autumn.

You were alone, standing in the middle of the training field, the early setting sun behind you casting a dim shadow across the remains of your latest training exercise. A chill was just starting to set in, causing you to tug at your jacket and pull it around you a bit tighter. You liked these moments, rare as they were recently. A quiet time to yourself. Not even to think, but simply to be. Present and comfortable. And you.

The wind picked up and sang through the taller blades of grass as a ship approached for landing. Your moment was over, but a new happiness settled in its place. Minutes later, the Havoc Marauder was opening its hatch and spitting out its soldiers.

"Captain," Hunter gave you a two-finger salute as he passed by.

"Sergeant," you returned with a smile.

Echo was close behind, giving you a respectful nod. Wrecker hauled a munitions crate in one hand and hit you up for a high five with the other. Tech was oblivious as he hunched over a data pad.

They filed by, one after the other, headed straight for the barracks, and what you hoped were the showers. They all knew not to linger, that you'd catch up with them later. This was your time with Crosshair.

The sniper was leaning up against the hatch opening, arms folded across a plastoid chest and a toothpick lazily perched between slightly curled lips. He took you in for a moment and you could feel yourself glowing in response to his soft gaze.

"Showing those clankers who's boss, I see," he said as he made his way down the gangway. He nodded his head toward the mess of scrap metal behind you.

You gave a half shrug. "My reaction time is getting better, but I still can't get the angles right with those pucks."

Crosshair inched up to you, gently resting his hands on either side of your waist. "Have you been doing the breathing exercises like I showed you?"

You nodded. Your hands instinctually came up to his run along his arms until they found the crook of his elbows, the only place not barring your touch by armor.

"And using the laser sight?"

You nodded a little slower and Crosshair tsked.

"I want to be good without it. Like you." You added a little extra honey to your words so he wouldn't reprimand you too much. It had been an adjustment for the two of you at first, he stepping into a training role and you stepping back to receive instruction for once. Thankfully the frustrations seemed to diminish the more your relationship progressed.

"You have to be patient," he said, giving your waist a slight squeeze to accentuate his point. "You aren't like the regs you train. You're building your skills, taking care of yourself."

You hummed, more in thought than agreement. "Will I ever have to use these skills someday, do you think? Is it really getting that bad out there?"

You tried not to think about how many soldiers you had trained only to be sent to a battlefield to die. How many of the shinies you were drilling right now would likely be killed soon. How many more would be brought in to take their place. You'd thought you'd known what you were getting yourself into with this job. But the relentless cycle of it all was getting to you more and more, especially as the Republic continued to be challenged in larger scales and higher stakes. It never seemed to end.

"It's hard to say," Crosshair responded. "We have to prepare for the worst."

You hated that answer, but you wouldn't let him see it. Not yet. Your fears and your displeasures, anger and sorrow, were things yet to be fully explored in this new relationship. All in due time. So you simply smiled, plucked the toothpick out of his mouth and tossed it aside.

"And hope for the best, right?"

He smiled back, or at least moved his mouth in the direction of a smile, as much as you could usually get from the reserved man. "Yes, of course."

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours. You both closed your eyes and breathed each other in. There was warmth in his embrace. A promise in the steady hands he held you with. Vulnerability in the skin that gently touched yours. To have someone this close, someone who was still more stranger than friend, though no less beloved, was what you had always wanted. And for once, what you wanted was just as lovely and fulfilling as you'd hoped. No catch. No deals. No unintended consequences. Just you and him and happiness.

All too soon he pulled away. His hand sought yours as he turned in the direction of the barracks. The longer you stayed behind, the worse the teasing from the others would be. They were only respectful of your relationship to a point, and after that it was fair game for a laugh. So you willingly followed.

"Crosshair?"

"Hm?"

"I was thinking about Hunter...."

The sniper glanced at you suspiciously.

"Well, you know he and I have been friends for a while. And he's confided a few things in me before. About what he wants. Or thinks he wants. He's changed his mind a few times on the specifics. But all in the same gist."

"Where are you going with this?"

"I don't know, I just feel like I owe him for helping me get through a tough time. And if it weren't for him, I wouldn't have ever met you. So--"

Crosshair cut you off with a groan. "If you're trying to get me to play matchmaker..."

"It would get some of the attention off of us," you quickly offered. "If Hunter had someone he was bringing around, too. Or even just interested in."

Crosshair frowned in thought. "There was a bartender on Scarif he kept checking out..."

You grinned and squeezed his hand affectionately. "See? Just keep an eye out and nudge him a bit. Who knows what could happen."

You could tell he was trying not to roll his eyes for your sake. Instead he squeezed your hand in return. "Or you could come with us and nudge him yourself?"

Your walking slowed, right as you were about to cross the facility boundary line. You would have to let go of his hand once you crossed it, keep a professional distance, share your company with others. And once the Batch's business here concluded, then you would have to let him go and watch him disappear into the sky with all the prayers you could possibly send with him. And then you would be on your own. Waiting, waiting, always waiting. And maybe he would return, and maybe he wouldn't.

And heaven forbid you would ever end up alone again.

"Or you can stay," he said. The quietness of his voice betrayed what he really meant, what he really wanted.

And you knew what you wanted, too. Without you realizing, it was getting easier and easier for you to define your desires. And not only that, but to pursue them, too. To know your happiness was worth the risk of disappointment. It was clear to you now that you were not only worthy, but also capable. The man standing before you, holding your hand, gazing at you like nothing else mattered, was proof enough.

And so you said, "Take me with you."

Every Character Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @justanothersadperson93, @arctrooper69, @sleepycreativewriter, @techie-bear, @theroguesully, @cw80831, @cdblake1565

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#star wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #crosshair #crosshair x reader #fluff #angst #romance #cloneficgiftexchange #hunter #wrecker #echo #tech

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wolven91 · 25 days

Text

Loyalty

The canid had faced death before, he didn’t flinch then, why would he this time?

As an ex-soldier, an ex-guardian and now a full-time ship guard, he’d faced plenty of ‘bad guys’ before and had survived. Sure, he’d even been shot a few times, although he tried his best to avoid that in most instances. It was unfortunate that the fiks had wonderful creativity and had used it to the best of their abilities to cause trouble for shipping lanes, specifically, overrunning the ship the old canid was duty bound to guard.

But, this was the very first that the fiks had relied on killing folk. Not to mention the first to outright demand someone specific.

The fik holding the already glowing red barrel into the fur and flesh on the side of the canid’s head did little to stir him into action. Even as he felt and smelt his own flesh melting around the super-heated barrel, the warrior was loyal. His fur would grow back. His flesh would merely scar. And one day, maybe even today, he’d met his end. Nothing was forever. Except for betrayal. That was forever.

“Saaah, tell me where the human is… and the pain stops. Yes?” Hissed the creature, teeth yellowed and jagged, breath harsh against the canid’s sensitive nose. The guard made no attempt to hide his disgust, wrinkling his nose at the foul odor.

“Let me show you pain. Might make this move a bit faster.” Retorted the guard, his arms still bound and openly bleeding from a severe wound on his leg and from one nostril. He needed the fik angry. Anyone angry made mistakes, and this idiot was already spending too long on the ship. This was turning into a siege, not a smash and grab. Terrible for any pirate to attempt.

The fik, displeased with the lack of progress, swung their weapon and hit the canid across the face in a savage strike. The canid grunted, bared his teeth, but only sagged for a moment before righting himself. Rolling his head and mane slowly, settling in for another. Truth be told, he’d had worse during basic training.

“Honestly, you need to start eating something *other* than the cubes. You’ll notice the difference in your work out routine immediately.” The canid casually explained as if discussing matters with a friend or subordinate, even though one eye was now closed as a new trickle of blood from his eyebrow stung him.

“Saargh! You do not care for your life, I bet the rest of your crew care not for theirs…Yes yes. But! Hai… There is someone who does…”

The canid’s face was set solid, he betrayed nothing, but an ice shard of fear drove itself between his ribs.

“Hai! Human! He hear me, yes? Your friends have fought and died for you. Saah! Very sad. They live for now. But… without you; there is no need for them to live.” The barrel was pressed to the guard’s temple once more, shoving the guard ever so slightly sideways.

“I will kill them all and you can stay, enjoy their bodies. Yes?” The fik suddenly tore the gun away, offering his arms wide to the camera that was quietly observing in the corner. “Or… Saaah… They live and you come with us, yes? No more harm, no more-“

“Don’t listen to ‘em! Stay hidd-'' The other canid, who had been laying on the floor, a big fik sitting on his back merely hit the back of his skull with the haft of a brutal looking axe, silencing the soldier.

“Your choice! I will not count! Yes or no! Reveal yourself!”

The guard grinned widely. He would happily die for the human. This was a good death if it meant-

A human appeared in the entrance of the room.

The guard’s breath hitched and his blood ran cold. No! Not for him! Not for any of them! They would gladly die to deny the pirate’s their prize!!. He watched the human with haunted eyes, knowing that this was a terrible mistake. The human stepped into the room, but kept the gun that was in their hand, firmly placed under their own chin. The human spoke first, the whole clan of fiks staying perfectly still at the sight of the unspoken threat.

“We leave. No one else gets hurt. I stop pointing this at myself when we leave the system, and this ship and its occupants remain untouched. No sneaky destruction after I’m on your ship, you hear me?”

The one still aiming a gun at the canid’s head merely lowered himself slightly, sweeping one arm out in a ‘trust me’ gesture.

“Saah! You not trust our hon-“ The human cut him off.

“No. Not at all.” The human retorted curtly. The fik frowned and growled, bearing his yellowed teeth again, spittle flying as he hissed through his teeth. He then gestured to his clan for them to let their prisoners go and retreat to the ship.

“Sah. On the ship. If any of the guards move, shoot them.”

The canids all glanced at one another, ready, waiting for the order to throw themselves at their attackers, advantage or not. Savagery could save the day!

“Guys. Stay.” Ordered the human in a firm tone, and the guard’s shoulders sagged again. The guard watched in silence as the human crossed the room, promising the human he would come for them. There would be nothing in the whole galaxy that would stop him and his team from chasing these bastards down and tearing their throats out with their own teeth.

They left without complaint and were, despite appearances, true to their word. None of the canids were harmed and the ship wasn’t fired upon.

The old canid guard however, swore he would not rest until he found that fik ship.

He burned it shape in his memory. He drank the crew’s stenches into his nose until he believed he’d never smell another thing as long as he lived.

“I swear on my teeth… I *will* find you…”

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #canid #werewolf

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rebelcourtesan · 21 hours

Text

My D&D 5e Build for Sir Pentious

Yep, fan favorite Sir Pentious gets a D&D character build from me.

While Hell's Overlords tend to look down upon, Sir Pentious has skills that can make him a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield.

Stats (From Highest To Lowest)

Intelligence - This should be Sir Pentious highest stat. While he lacked social suave and other talents, he is an inventor and the most intelligent of everyone in the hotel.

Constitution - Sir Pentious took several beat downs from Alastor and kept going back for more. He's very resilient unless it comes to Divine Blasts from an archangel.

Wisdom - Sir Pentious tends to go up against Overlords and Angels, so he needs a decent Wisdom score to resist magical effects.

Dexterity - Not his best stat, but far from his lowest.

Charisma - Second lowest because he lacks the social charm to woo Cherri Bomb at the club and is held in high esteem by the Overlords.

Strength - Dump Stat. Put lowest score here because Sir Pentious doesn't rely upon strength at all.

Race

For Sir Pentious, I chose Yuan-Ti for his race for obvious reasons as listed below.

Sir Pentious gains 2+ to Charisma (he's such a likable fellow) and +1 to Intelligence.

60ft Darkvision

Innate Spellcasting - Being a snake, Sir Pentious gains the Poison Spray cantrip . He also gains Animal Friendship which can only be cast on snakes and at 3rd level he gets Suggestion. Not really something we've seen him do in the show, but it's nice to have.

He gains Magic Resistance, which means he has advantage on saving throws against magical effects and spells. Very useful when going up against Alastor and other Overlords.

Poison Immunity - Sir Pentious cannot be poisoned and is immune to any poison damage.

Background

For background we're going with Cloistered Scholar which gives him Proficiency in History and select Arcana as his second proficiency.

Sir Pentious is an Intelligence based build so we're going to go into classes that suit his character, but he can excel at with a high Intelligence.

We're going to start Sir Pentious off in Artificer class due to his knowledge of weapons and gadgets. You can flavor the spells as steampunk weapons or abilities as needed.

For Skill select choose Investigation and Sleight of Hand

Level 1 - Artificer 1st Level

At first level, Sir Pentious gains Magical Tinkering. He can create a small item with a magical effect of his voice.

Item can shed light in a 5 ft radius and dim light in another 5 ft.

The item can play a recorded message that can be heard from 10 ft away.

it can emit an odor or nonverbal sound perceivable from up to 10 ft away

A static visual recording can be played on the object's surface. It can be an image, text, or shapes.

Also, Sir Pentious gains spells from the Artificer spell list. You can choose whatever spells you'd like, but the spells listed below are the ones I believe Sir Pentious would have.

Cantrips

Mending - Sir Pentious can make minor repairs to objects.

Magic Stone - Sir Pentious can infused three pebbles (or Cherry Bombs) with explosive damage. Either he or an ally can throw the pebbles at a target within 60 ft. On a successful hit the target takes 1d6 + Sir Pentious spell modifier (Intelligence)

1st Level Spells

Grease - Sir Pentious creates a spill of grease to trip enemies. They must succeed of a Dex saving throw or fall prone.

Alarm - Sir Pentious can rig up an alarm for an area in a 20 ft cube. The alarm notifies him if a creature tiny to large enters the area either through a mental notification or with sound.

Level 2 - Artificer 2nd Level

At this level Sir Pentious can infused an object with magic power. He can choose up to four infusions and can replace one with a new one whenever he levels up in Artificer. He can have two Infused Items at a time, and the Infused Item ability recharges after a long rest.

For his first four infusions select:

Homunculus Servant - The Egg Bois! Sir Pentious can create a creature that is friendly to him and his allies, and will obey his commands.

Repeating Shot - Sir Pentious creates a ray gun (a range weapon). It foregoes the loading property and produces it's own ammunition.

Enhanced Arcane Focus - When holding this object, Sir Pentious can cast a spell +1 bonus to attack and ignores half-cover.

Enhanced Defense - A shield or suit of armor gains a +1 to Armor Class.

Level 3 - Artificer 3rd Level

At this level Sir Pentious goes into an Artificer Specialist, since he likes canons and explosions, we're sending him into Artillerist!

As an Artillerist, Sir Pentious can create a small or tiny Eldritch Cannon. He can do this after a Long Rest or spends a spell a slot to create one. They can have an effect of his choice and costs only a bonus action to activate them.

Flamethrower - The canon expels fire in a 15 ft cone. Enemies within the zone must make a Dex save. On a failed save, they take 2d8 fire damage or half on a success.

Force Ballista - Makes a spell attack at a range of 120 feet. On a hit, the target takes 2d8 force damage and is pushed 5 feet away from the cannon.

Protector - Canon gives off a burst of positive energy that grants allies 1d8 + Intelligence Modifier of temporary hit points.

As an Artillerist, Sir Pentious gets bonus spells added to the list of spells he knows.

Shield - As a reaction, Sir Pentious can grant himself +5 to his Armor Bonus until the start of his next turn.

Thunderwave - Originating from himself, Sir Pentious can create a thunderous force. Any enemy within that zone must make a Con save. On a failed save, they take 2d8 damage and is pushed 10 ft away from Sir Pentious. On a success, they take half damage and is not pushed.

While we're dipping into spells, Sir Pentious gains another 1st level spell slot. Let's give him a new spell: Expeditious Retreat. If Sir Pentious gets into a messy situations, he can use this spell to dash as a bonus action.

Level 4 - Artificer 4th Level

Ability Score Improvement - Put both points into Intelligence. We want to max this out as soon as possible as Sir Pentious replies on this for spells.

Level 5 - Artificer 5th Level

Sir Pentious can now use Arcane Firearm to turn a wand, rod, or staff into a magic firearm (think another type of ray gun). He can use this as a focus for casting Artificer spells. When he uses the fire arm to cast a spell, he can roll a 1d8 and add the result as a bonus to the attack roll.

Speaking of spells, he gets more.

As an Artillerist, he gains two more spells.

Scorching Ray - Sir Pentious can launch three rays of fire to hit one target or more (up to three). On a hit the target takes 2d6 fire damage.

Shatter - Sir Pentious can create a thunderous explosion of a 15 ft radius. Anything within that area must make a Con save. On a failure, they take 3d8 thunder damage, on a success, they take half. Anything made of inorganic material has disadvantage on the saving throw and take double the damage.

He also has access to level 2 Artificer spells. Select:

Heat Metal - Sir Pentious can cause metal armor to glow red hot causing the wearer to take 2d8 fire damage when he casts the spell and as a bonus action each turn until the spell ends or the wearer removes the armor.

Pyrotechnics - Sir Pentious can create a dazzling array of fireworks causing enemies within 10 ft to make a Con save or be blinded by the display. Or Sir Pentious could create smoke in a 20 ft radius causing the area to be heavily obscured.

Level 6 - Artificer 6th Level

Sir Pentious now has Tool Expertise which lets him double his proficiency whenever he rolls a skill check involving his tools.

At this level he can learn two more Infusions and hold three Infused items at a time. Choose:

Radiant Weapon - Sir Pentious can manipulate Carmine's weaponry to make his own Angel Weapons which have +1 bonus to attack rolls and damage. It sheds light in a 30 ft radius and dim light in an additional 30 ft. The weapon has four charges so after a successful hit, the wielder can choose to spent a charge to force the target to succeed on a Con save or be blinded by the weapon's bright light.

Replicate Magic Item - From a list, Sir Pentious can create a magic item based on his level in Artificer.

Level 7 - Artificer 7th Level

Flash of Genius allows Sir Pentious to help his allies out in a pinch. When an ally within 30 ft makes ab ability check or saving throw, he can use his reaction to add his Intelligence modifier to the roll as a bonus. He can do this equal to his Intelligence modifier and regains uses after a long rest.

Level 8 - Artificer 8th Level

Ability Score Improvement - Again, add both points to Intelligence. We want this maxed out.

Leve 9 - Artificer 9th Level

Sir Pentious's cannons are now Explosive Cannons. Their damage output increases by 1d8 for all cannon types. As an action, he can order a cannon to explode as long as he is within 60 ft of it. Each creature within 20 ft of the cannon must make a Dex save. On a failure, they take 3d8 force damage or half damage on a successful save.

He gains two bonus spells for Artillerist.

Fireball - Sir Pentious can create a huge ball of fire with a radius of 20 ft radius. Every creature within that zone must make a Dex save. On a failure, creatures take 8d6 fire damage. On a success, half damage instead.

Wind Wall - Sir Pentious can create a wall of wind 50ft long. Any creature within that zone must make a Strength save. On a failure, they take 3d8 bludgeoning damage. Half on a success. The Wind Wall also offers protection from projectile weapons which came pass through (unless they are large such as boulders or missiles).

Also, Sir Pentious gains access to 3rd level Artificer Spells. Choose:

Protections from Energy - For one hour, Sir Pentious can grant a willing creature (or himself) resistance to one type of damage (acid, cold, fire, lightning, or thunder).

Fly - SIr Pentious gets a jetpack! A willing creature gains a flying speed of 60 ft.

Level 10 - Artificer 10th Level

At this level, SIr Pentious becomes a Magic Item Adept. He can attune four magical items at a time and it takes less time for him to craft common and uncommon magic items at half cost.

Also, he learns two additional Infusions.

Mind Sharpener - Sir Pentious can craft a set of robes or armor that allows a magic user to succeed on a failed saving throw to maintain concentration on a spell. This has four charges which replenish 1d4 charges daily.

Helm of Awareness - (think wearing tactical helmet) the wearer cannot be surprised and has advantage on initiative rolls.

At this level, he learns a new Cantrip. Select Message which lets him whisper a message to a target that only the target can hear within 120 ft. (either a can on a string or a special messenger device).

Not that we have Sir Pentious able to create gadgets and canons, we can not make him more resilient when going up against Alastor and other Overlords and Exorcists.

To do that, we're going into Wizard class.

Level 11 - Wizard 1st Level

At first level Sir Pentious gets access to Wizard Spells. These spells you can flavor as gadgetry and special weapons to maintain Sir Pentious's character.

To assist with spells, he gets Arcane Recovery. During a short rest he can regain spell slots equal to or less his Wizard level so long as the slots aren't level 6 or higher.

As before you can choose whatever spells you like as the ones below are the ones I would imagine Sir Pentious using.

Cantrips

Shocking Grasp - As a melee attack, Sir Pentious can hit a target with 1d8 lightning damage and it can't take reactions until the start of its next turn. If the target is wearing metal armor, the attack is made with advantage.

Lightning Lure - Sir Pentious attacks an enemy with a lash of lightning energy up to 15 ft away. The target must make a Strength save or be pulled 10 ft towards Sir Pentious and take 1d8 lightning damage.

Acid Splash - Sir Pentious shoots a bubble of acid at enemies. He can choose one or two creatures within 5 ft of each other. One or both must succeed on a Dexterity save or take 1d6 acid damage.

Spells

Magic Missile - Sir Pentious shoots three darts which always hit their target for 1d4+1 force damage.

Magnify Gravity - Sir Pentious uses a device to magnify the gravity in a 10 ft radius. Creatures within the zone must make a Con save, taking 2d8 force damage and movement halved for one turn on a fail, half damage with no penalty to movement on a success.

Level 12 - Wizard 2nd Level

Sir Pentious can go into an Arcane Tradition and the one he's getting is War Magic which will give Sir Pentious protection against harmful effects and spells, perfect for going against Overlords and Exorcists.

Which leads us to Arcane Deflection. Whenever Sir Pentious is hit by an attack or fails a saving throw, he can spend his reaction to gain +2 to AC against that attack or +4 to for that saving throw. However, he cannot use any cantrips or spells until the end of his next turn.

He also gains Tactical Wit, which adds his Intelligence modifier to his Initiative rolls.

Level 13 - Wizard 3rd Level

Sir Pentious gains access to Level 2 Wizard Spells. I would choose:

Invisibility - Sir Pentious can turn himself or an ally invisible. The spell ends if the target attacks or casts a spell.

Darkness - Sir Pentious can create a thick darkness within a 15 ft radius darkvision cannot see through nor nonmagical light can penetrate.

Level 14 - Wizard 4th Level

Ability Score Improvement - By this point, you should be maxing out Sir Pentiou's Intelligence. Use any remaining points to round out any odd ability scores.

Level 15 - Wizard 5th Level

Sir Pentious has access to 3rd level Wizard spells. For War Magic and protection, choose these two spells:

Dispel Magic - Sir Pentious can dispel any magical effect third level or lower. 4th level or higher requires an spell ability modifier (Intelligence) check with the DC 10 + Spell's Level.

Counterspell - as an reaction, Sir Pentious can cancel out a spell a creature casts. It's done automatically if the spell if 3rd level or lower. 4th level or higher, he must make an ability check with spelling casting modifier. DC is 10 + spell's level

Level 16 - Wizard 6th Level

From War Magic, Sir Pentious gains Power Surge. After each long rest, he starts with one charge and gains ones whenever he ends a spell with Dispel Magic or Counterspell. He can hold as many as equal to his Intelligence modifier.

When he damages an enemy, he can spend a surge to deal extra damage equal to his Wizard level.

Level 17 - Wizard 7th Level

Sir Pentious can now cast 4th level Wizard spells.

Vitriolic Sphere - Sir Pentious can shoot an emerald ball that explodes in a 20ft radius explosion. Each creature in that zone must make a Dexterity save. On a failure, they take 10d4 force damage and 5d4 acid damage at the end of its next turn. On a success, only half of the initial damage, and no following damage.

Level 18 - Wizard 8th Level

Ability Score Improvement - By this point, Sir Pentious should have his Intelligence score maxed out. So we could give him a feat instead.

War Caster will allow Sir Pentious to roll concentration checks with advantage to maintain spells.

Level 19 - Wizard 9th Level

Sir Pentious can now cast 5th level Wizard Spells.

Immolation - Sir Pentious can set a wreath of flames on an enemy. The target must make a Dexterity saving throw; on a failure they take 7d6 fire damage, or half on a success. On a failure, the target burns and on each its turns takes 3d6 fire damage until it succeeds a saving throw.

Level 20 - Wizard 10th Level

For his last level, Sir Pentious gains Durable Magic. When Sir Pentious is concentrating on a spell, he gains +2 to AC and all saving throws.

And we have created Sir Pentious, who can withstand and survive encounters with Alastor while dealing devastating damage to enemies.

Have fun with this build.

#hazbin hotel #d&d 5e #character build #dungeons and dragons #sir pentious

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justaduckarts · 8 months

Note

I give each SH god a block of cheese.

I wish to see how they react.

And for you, my dear fanfic author who has made me scream into a pillow on multiple occasions?

I give you bread and algae, as I have heard that is what ducks eats. If not, I apologize.

Hello!

Oh, this is interesting!

Before we get into the gods and their cheese, quick PSA! Ducks should not eat bread! It's bad for them. Should you feel an urge to feed a duck, I recommend frozen peas or blueberries! They'll thank you <3

Eclipse

When you placed the block of cheese upon the dark god's desk, he looked at you, bemused.

"What... What is this?"

"It's Gouda," you could barely hold in your snicker, "gouda to see you."

Eclipse stared you down for a long moment. You could see his shoulders tense as he struggled not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. He cracked, chuckling to himself as he shook his head.

"Dear, you are so silly sometimes." Rising from his desk, Eclipse collected the cheese. "Why don't we find something to have with this? I think a break would do me good."

You smiled brightly, taking the hand extended to you. Eclipse smiled fondly as he guided you out of the office.

Sun

The tired god looked over the block of cheese on his desk, puzzled. He had no idea what to make of this 'gift'. You looked up at him expectantly.

"Ahem. Thank you..." He picked up the cheese between two fingers, nose wrinkling at the pungent odor it produced. You struggled not to laugh as he dismissed you.

Pluto

The goddess paused her work at the forge. She turned and took in the sight of the cube of cheese you were offering.

"What's this?" She tugged off her gloves before taking the chunk from you. Pluto sniffed it curiously.

"I'm so cheesed to see you!" You grinned up at her. Pluto snorted, shaking her head.

"What? You're so silly!" Pluto laughed, patting your head.

Moon

The offering of cheese was met with great confusion. Moon picked up the hunk with a furrowed brow.

"Why?" He looked at you.

"Why not?" You smiled back at him. Moon tilted his head.

"Alright..."

Lunar

The moment he sees the block of cheese, he snaps it up and eats it.

"Mmm! Thanks." He laughed, fishing through his pockets before offering you a few pieces of colorful sour candy.

#justaduckarts answers #star holder au

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trivialbob · 1 year

Photo

I do not remember which one of you posted about putting a few drops of essential oil on the vacuum cleaner filter. But wow, that was a nice idea.

Lavender is my favorite scent. I have several vacuum cleaners, so I used more than a few drops. Each room I clean smells nice.

Orange is my preference for cleaning the garbage disposal. Mixed with a bunch of ice cubes it leave the disposal fresh.

Sheila has a few good recipes for Instant pot Indian food. The butter chicken is amazing. However, it leaves the silicon ring with a distinct curry odor which in turn lingers in the dishwasher. Lemongrass and orange do a good job of removing or covering up that smell.

Eucalyptus smells good in the diffuser, as does the lavender. Tea tree seems to have a million uses (or at least 14, according to one web site checked). My bottle of peppermint oil remains unopened.

#household tips from Bob

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aquietjune · 7 months

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Little Bird: Chapter 5, of the space for the dead and that of the living (part 2), is out on AO3

“The Eldians can do with less space.”

Nobody wants to live near the drainage channel in the internment zone, where the air is suffused with rancid odors and the humidity eats you alive; the chemicals dumped in the river impede the growth of anything edible. That was why we live here, Annie. These sick trees are our only company while we train, the only witnesses to my child-rearing, the only lives you’re not asked to take.

We have space to live, here, like there was in my home country once; we have peace.

But look, here comes the committee for the habitability in the internment zone, they are telling us we can do with less space. We have too much. I can curl up and turn into a little cube, but what about you, my child?

Can you live on this little strip by the riverside? If we put a bed here, right at the edge of it, will you fall into the river while you sleep? Anything is better than taking something that is not yours.

If you can’t, then you’ll also be put in a suitcase and be shipped somewhere else, on an island far away…

(continue)

#it's time for sports!#well kind of #there's a lot of sleeping or rather non-sleeping actually #little bird #little bird: chapter 5 #aquietjune writes stories #aquietjune fics #annie leonhart #aruani #aruani fanfiction #annie leonhart fanfiction #attack on titan #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfiction #levi ackerman #levi aot

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masterqwertster · 10 months

Note

Hi! I’m absolutely OBSESSED with your hurt/comfort fics just now! Thank you so much for those spots of sunshine in my days. You might’ve already done this one, but I would absolutely LOVE to see a #2 (druidcraft) with Orym and Ashton please. (If you feel like it that is lol). <3 <3 <3

(can you tell I’ve never requested a fic before lol, anxietyyyyy)

Prompt Thank you for the compliment and I'm glad you're enjoying them 😊 No need to feel anxious. I put the prompts out specifically so people will drop an ask, so you're doing great! Now I'm trying to play more in my AU sandbox for (personal) shits and giggles, so I'm going to take this into the Ashton of the Ashari AU.

2 Druidcraft

Whispering to the spirits of nature, you create one of the following effects within range:

You create a tiny, harmless sensory effect that predicts what the weather will be at your location for the next 24 hours. The effect might manifest as a golden orb for clear skies, a cloud for rain, falling snowflakes for snow, and so on. This effect persists for 1 round.

You instantly make a flower blossom, a seed pod open, or a leaf bud bloom.

You create an instantaneous, harmless sensory effect, such as falling leaves, a puff of wind, the sound of a small animal, or the faint odor of skunk. The effect must fit in a 5-foot cube.

You instantly light or snuff out a candle, a torch, or a small campfire.

Orym... probably shouldn't be doing this.

Dad had made it clear that the new kid next door, Ashton, needed to be treated carefully since their old home wasn't respectful of the dangers of elementals and the elemental planes. Dangerous ideas that didn't need to be fed means to act on them.

But it's just druidcraft. The worst the kid can get up to with it is some pranks. Which is hardly as dangerous as the animalistic elementals Ashton often attracts and plays with like other little kids play with pets or imaginary friends.

And Orym really just needs them to sit down for a little while.

Training to be a Tempest Blade is certainly honing his body for peak physical condition, but Ashton is about the same height as Orym and a lot more energetic. So getting roped into afternoon babysitting after a morning training is not a time when Orym is up for running around chasing a ten-year-old brimming with energy. He'd really rather sit down and read a history book. But Ashton is his responsibility right now, and that kid definitely has no interest in Orym's most recent selection.

Still, this impromptu lesson isn't so bad.

As much as Orym struggled to learn this small bit of magic, he's always glad he took the time for it. Making flowers at a whim is such a nice way to show his care for others. And his difficulty in acquiring the skill means that Orym has heard just about every trick in the book for bringing the ability to cast druidcraft to fruition.

Not that all those myriad tricks seem necessary.

Ashton struggles for a while at the start, but once he got his first little bud to form, it seems to click. He doesn't fail to start the growth of any flowers after that, though Orym is still working Ashton through creating specific flowers and plants, rather than churning out whatever happens to cross his mind in that moment.

Orym has found that druidcrafting flower crowns is a helpful exercise in that regard. When you go one flower at a time and have a shifting pattern to follow, you have to be on-point with what you're druidcrafting. And there's the colorful crown itself at the end as a reward for completing the exercise. Given Ashton likes colorful and pretty things, it's perfect, really.

So they while the hours away making flowers and increasingly elaborate crowns. It's peaceful and relaxing and Orym thinks next time he'll try to rope Will into joining them. Possibly as their flower crown model since the half-elf boy isn't particularly good at weaving crowns.

When Miss Mola comes to pick Ashton up, Orym waves goodbye with promises of more duidcraft flower crown sessions next time.

#MQ&A #MQfic #MQ AU machine #ashton of the ashari au #critical role #ashton greymoore #orym of the air ashari #spell hurt/comfort prompt

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ajjconcertat2am · 23 days

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this shit shoulda gone to the notes app but whatever idgaf

Sometimes i get really numb to the idea of a romantic or sexual relationship.... its hard to muster up a fictional ideal, a detailed dream or fantasy. The repetitive times of forced desires upon me during what i can only describe as the peak of my youth and malleability had created this instilled feeling that my time has past. I have to be deserving and disciplined and needed before i can even begin to think about what i want. Its not only that there cannot be pleasure without pain, but the idea they need to be happening concurrently.

When i say these things i know in my mind i am being melodramatic and impatient, my brain wont let me rest in pity. I understand my insecurities and i cannot cave to same fate, the same mistakes. However, understanding my mental state and causes and correlations, how to break it down, how to channel it into a better outlet, theres days where i am numb beyond a point of ration. i cannot force myself to feel positive of my desires and i experience a sort of un controllable response to what i thought was my own bodily functions. What was pleasure in an instance become a flash of fear in a self curated environment, where i am alone in the bed. I cannot bring myself to imagine what loving me would look like, and despite that pain my brain still betrays me and makes me afraid of my own satisfaction. It makes me feel as if i was a cube jammed into the wrong circular shaped hole again, again, and again. Surley there was the right shape for me but now im so bent none of the shapes look recognizable to me, and myself is so abstract and foreign at times it seems unlikely theres a solution.

Maybe I'm too focused on what the perfect fit wants me to be shaped like, what it likes about me, what IT wants. I need to be careful of being molded if i so desperately want it. But maybe I'm too focused on what i want. If i'm desperate to fit, i will jam myself in a desperate attempt to make it work. What seems impossible, if reflected on, becomes a self fulfilling prophecy, a nightmare waiting to happen again.

Posting this seems like the wrong choice and im tempted to write something stupid like anyways i need back shots 💖 to lighten the mood at the end, however with writing out something so sincerely im not going to lie at the end. I must say i desire the ability to desire again. I desire the ability to desire without the concurrent destruction of myself. And truely i do not despise the pain, I want the perspiration, the nausea, to be sick, to make a mess, the odor, the spectacle, i want it again, but this time, mutually.

#this took like an hour to write but anyways gn 💖

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gay-communist-witch · 2 months

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magic story world conlang alphabet

Magic Groups:

There are four magic groups, each with three kinds of elemental magic.

The life magic group includes body (red), plant (green), and mind (purple) magic.

The world magic group includes earth (brown), water (blue), and wind (gray) magic.

The energy magic group includes fire (orange), volt (yellow), and pure (cyan) magic.

The change magic group includes glitter (black), portal (pink), and color (white) magic.

Life Mages With The Power Of Body, Plant, And Mind Magic:

Life mages with the power of body magic can sense and control body matter, and heal and repair wounds, injuries, and ailments of bodies similar to the “Corporalki” from “Shadow And Bone”.

Body matter includes flesh, blood, bone, claw, fur, feather, and scale.

Life mages with the power of plant magic can sense and control plant matter, and heal and repair wounds, injuries, and ailments of plants.

Plant matter includes wood, leaf, root, fruit, and vegetable.

Life mages with the power of mind magic can sense and control people's thoughts, dreams, emotions, and memories, and use the magic power(s) of other mages by controlling their minds.

When a life mage with the power of mind magic uses the magic power(s) of another mage by controlling their mind, the physical power of the magic being used is determined by the mage being mind controlled, and the mental power of the magic being used is determined by the life mage with the power of mind magic controlling their mind.

World Mages With The Power Of Earth, Water, And Wind Magic:

World mages with the power of earth magic can sense and control dirt, rock, metal, and gem matter.

Dirt matter includes sand, silt, clay, and all kinds of soil.

Rock matter includes all kinds of igneous, sedimentary, and metamorphic rocks.

Metal matter includes iron and all kinds of ferrous metals.

Gem matter includes diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires.

World mages with the power of water magic can sense and control water in any form (water, ice, snow) and decrease temperature within areas.

World mages with the power of wind magic can sense, control, create, and erase air, sound, odor, and clouds.

Clouds include smoke, fog, steam, and clouds.

Energy Mages With The Power Of Fire, Volt, And Pure Magic:

Energy mages with the power of fire magic can sense, control, create, and erase fire, and increase temperature within areas.

Energy mages with the power of volt magic can sense, control, create, and erase electricity.

Energy mages with the power of pure magic can sense, control, create, and erase auras, sense the magic power(s) of other mages, transfer the magic power of a mage other than themselves to another person other than themselves, and increase or decrease the magic power units of one mage at a time other than themselves by how many magic power units they have.

Auras can be used as objects to physically interact with the space around them similar to the “Spirit Edge, Spirit Arc, Spirit Smash, and Spirit Star” from “Ori And The Will Of The Wisps”, the “Green Lantern” with objects made of energy, the melee battle equipment from “Worldless”, and “Violet” from “The Incredibles” with force fields.

Change Mages With The Power Of Glitter, Portal, And Color Magic:

Change mages with the power of glitter magic can sense and control glitter matter, and transform any physical elemental matter that is not glitter matter into glitter matter and vice versa similar to the “Manifold Cubes” from “Slime Rancher”, “Circe” from “Eternals”, and “King Midas” transforming things into gold.

Physical elemental matter includes body, plant, dirt, rock, metal, gem, water, and glitter.

Glitter matter is solid and rigid in form, has the same density and mass to volume ratio as iron, is black, sparkly, and iridescent in appearance similar to carborundum, oil spill, and the “End Portals” from “Minecraft”, and it can only be physically altered by glitter magic making it otherwise indestructible and perfectly durable.

Change mages with the power of portal magic can sense, control, create, and erase portals, and create up to 12 homing portals.

Portals are one sided with the other side being a pink barrier.

If a single portal is created, it stays empty until a second portal is created to pair it with.

If the size and shape of one portal is altered, the size and shape of the other portal it is paired with changes at the same time so as to match.

Portals can not physically intersect other portals.

A homing portal stays as a single portal until the change mage with the power of portal magic that created it creates a second portal to pair it with.

If a change mage with the power of portal magic creates a homing portal and then has their magic power transferred to another person, their homing portal stays where it is with the other person now having access to it.

If a change mage with the power of portal magic creates a homing portal and then dies, their homing portal is erased.

Change mages with the power of color magic can sense and temporarily control the appearances of things by changing the color of things to another color, making things invisible by surrounding them in a field of invisibility, or changing things back to their original appearance by erasing the illusion similar to the makeup aspect of what the “Tailors” from “Shadow And Bone” can do, and sense, control, create, and erase light and darkness similar to the “Sun and Shadow Summoners” from “Shadow And Bone”.

Color magic illusions that change the appearance of anything that is not glitter matter last for one day if the change mage with the power of color magic has one magic power unit at the time of the illusion, two days if they have two magic power units, three days if they have three magic power units, etc.

Color magic illusions that change the appearance of glitter matter last indefinitely, regardless of how many magic power units the change mage with the power of color magic has at the time of the illusion.

Matter Transformation:

Eight change mages with the power of glitter magic are needed to perform the ritual of transforming physical elemental matter that is not glitter matter into glitter matter.

The eight change mages with the power of glitter magic must position themselves as being at each of the points of the glitter magic star symbol with the thing they are transforming into glitter matter being in the middle octagon.

Transforming physical elemental matter that is not glitter matter into glitter matter can only be done with the entirety of individual things.

The mass of whatever is transformed into glitter matter stays the same, while the volume changes to a sphere with the appropriate mass to volume ratio for glitter matter.

Transforming glitter matter into physical elemental matter that is not glitter matter can be done with any amount of the glitter matter and without the need of the ritual.

Magic Power Transference:

Mages can have the power of any kind of magic transferred to them if they do not already have it, and it is within the same magic group of the magic power(s) they do already have.

Humans can have the power of any kind of magic transferred to them because they do not have any specific magic power(s) to begin with.

When a mage dies, their magic power(s) dies with them and can not be transferred from their corpse.

If a mage has the power of one kind of magic and it gets transferred to another person, the mage becomes human.

If a mage's magic power(s) gets transferred from them, the kind of magic power that was transferred from them can never be transferred to them again.

Physical And Mental Power And Energy:

If a mage has one magic power unit, the strength and intensity of their magic is about as much as their non magic physical power.

Two magic power units: two times as much, three magic power units: three times as much, etc.

If a mage has one magic power unit, the precision, dexterity, and complexity of their magic is about as much as their non magic mental power.

Two magic power units: two times as much, three magic power units: three times as much, etc.

If a mage has one magic power unit, the amount of physical and mental energy they exhaust when using magic is about as much as they would exhaust when doing a similar action without magic.

Two magic power units: 1/2 as much, three magic power units: 1/3 as much, etc.

A mage can only improve their magic by improving their physical and mental power, or by having their magic power units increased.

Overuse of physical power through magic can cause physical issues such as fatigue, aches, and cramps, and overuse of mental power through magic can cause mental issues such as brain fog, migraines, and seizures.

Increasing And Decreasing magic power units:

Energy mages with the power of pure magic can either increase or decrease the magic power units of another mage, or have their own magic power units be increased or decreased by other energy mages with the power of pure magic, but not both.

If enough energy mages with the power of pure magic decrease the magic power units of a mage to where they have zero magic power units, they would be equivalent to a human.

Energy mages with the power of pure magic can not increase or decrease the magic power units of a human because humans have no magic power units to begin with.

A mage with the power of one, two, and three kinds of magic has a default of one, two, and three magic power units respectively.

Chance Of Human/Mage Birth:

Regardless of genetics, the overall chance for any individual person to be born as a mage is 1/12, and as a human is 11/12.

Besides having magic power(s), a mage is the same as a human.

Each mage is born with the power of one kind of magic from one magic group.

The chance for a mage to be born with power from any of the four magic groups is ¼ for each magic group, and ⅓ for each kind of magic power, meaning the overall chance for a person to be born as a mage with the power of any kind of magic is 1/144 for each kind of magic power compared to the overall 11/12 chance for a person to be born as a human.

Mages Using Magic:

When a mage uses magic, it is a conscious and intentional choice that requires effort and attention.

When a mage uses one kind of magic, the symbol of that element appears on the middle of their forehead.

A mage can only use one kind of magic at a time.

When a mage stops using magic, things revert to their non magical state of being.

The magic element symbol disappears from the mage's forehead.

Magic power units go back to default.

Auras, non homing portals, light, and darkness are erased.

The control mages have over elements is telekinetic (telepathic for mind magic).

A mage can utilize any kind of tool, spell, movement, etc. to help them use magic, but it has no effect on the magic besides making the mage feel more official and professional, and they only need to imagine what they want to happen in order to use their magic.

#magic system #magic story conlang

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tropes-and-tales-archives · 2 years

Text

Perfectly Imperfect, Chapter Four

Word Count: 4282

TW: Light angst; thoughts about virginity; a kiss that goes poorly.

AN: Part of a series. The series masterlist here.

He expected you to take a while to get to his apartment, since he knew you lived in Brooklyn.

He straightened up, giving his place a cursory once-over, trying to see it through your detective’s eyes and wondering what conclusions you’d draw about him based on his place. Did his sideboard of decanters and bottles of booze make him seem depressing? Did his collection of Oscar winning DVDs and foreign films make him seem pretentious? Barba sniffed the air cautiously – did his place smell? He couldn’t tell since he lived there, but every home had its own characteristic odor. Did his smell like the apartment of an old, lonely lawyer?

He didn’t have much time to overthink it. He was straightening up his piles of paper and empty scotch glasses on his coffee table when there was a furious pounding on his door, and your voice, yelling “Police! Open up!”

He smiled when he threw open the door, but the smile faltered a bit when he saw you. You were in a wool dress coat, unbuttoned, and a fire-engine red dress with heels. Your hair was an artfully tousled mess, somewhere between wind-blown and bed-ridden. You’d obviously been on a date, and Barba felt both guilty for interrupting it and jealous that some other man had been looking you over all night. You strode past him like you owned the place, your heels clicking on his tiled entryway.

“You have a warrant?” he asked, and you shook your head.

“Nope. I had a reasonable suspicion that a crime was taking place here.” You sniffed the air dramatically. “Just like I thought. Imported whiskey. I bet you didn’t pay the proper VAT on it.”

He just watched you. You didn’t seem drunk, exactly, but a few of your usual layers of propriety and professionalism were peeled back. You seemed more comfortable, more casual. You slid out of your coat and tossed it over the back of his armchair, then you tossed your purse on the seat with it.

“Make yourself at home,” he said sarcastically, and you ignored him, looking around the place, doing exactly what he thought you would.

“Nice place,” you finally said. You turned to look at him. “My taxpayer dollars hard at work, I see.”

“My taxpayer dollars pay your salary too, detective,” he joked back, emphasizing your title.

You let out a little huff of air. “And yet here you are, living on Park Avenue while I starve in a garret apartment in another borough.” You pointed at his sideboard of high-end liquor. “Your monthly scotch bill is probably more than my rent.”

“You want a drink?” he offered. He made his way over to the sideboard and grabbed a glass, waiting. You made your way over to stand beside him, and he tried to ignore how it felt to stand so close to you. He could smell your perfume, something light and floral and sweet, and if he shifted half an inch, he’d brush his own arm against your bare arm.

“What are my options?” You peered over the bottles. “Looks like….scotch….scotch….and scotch.” Then you snorted at your own joke, and then snorted again when you glanced at him and saw the look of pained patience written across his features.

He poured you a scotch and plunked two ice cubes in it to water it down. You took it and watched him pour his own, and then you turned and went over to his couch. You perched on the edge, and Barba joined you, sitting a respectful distance away. He glanced down once, taking in the way your skirt rode up when you sat, showing an expanse of thigh. He shifted uncomfortably and looked at your hands instead. One grasped the cut glass tumbler as you sipped at your drink, and the other sifted through his notes.

“Sorry I ruined your evening,” he murmured, and he watched as you turned to face him, a bit surprised.

“It wasn’t ruined,” you replied. “Just a night out with the girls.” You turned and resumed reading through his notes. “You actually did me a favor and got me out of there before I had to start dodging guys.”

Barba snorted. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged and took a drink of scotch. “You know how guys are. They get drunk and say bizarre stuff that doesn’t make sense, and when you don’t respond the right way, you’re suddenly the weirdo.” You shrugged again. “I usually just pretend that I don’t speak English now.”

Barba laughed outright, and he wanted to explore this line of questioning much further, but you were thumbing through the case files and asking what he needed help with.

He told you about his plans for questioning the defendant, and he asked for your read on him.

“Well…” you thought about it, and as you did, you absentmindedly did that thing that women did with their hair that drove Barba crazy. You gathered up your hair and did some twisting maneuver. You picked up one of his pens on the coffee table and stabbed it your hair, pinning it up. Like magic. Barba could imagine pulling his pen back out, reversing the magic, making it tumble back down over your shoulders and down your back. He shifted again in his seat.

“The defendant is a classic power rapist…” you continued, and Barba could barely focus as you explained the defendant’s character and past to him. Never pausing in your lecture, you reached down and removed your heels, setting them aside. You slid off of the edge of the couch, kneeling at the coffee table and writing out salient points on a fresh pad of paper for him.

He imagined you out at a bar, speaking in some gibberish patois to avoid drunk men. Not that he could blame them: you looked gorgeous in your dress, and if he were younger and more confident, he’d definitely approach you in a bar. He wondered what kind of line would work on you. Maybe something corny – you were always snorting at Fin’s puns at work. Whatever it was, he liked to think that he’d have a solid line for you instead of the bizarre stuff you were getting, whatever that meant.

“What did you mean, bizarre stuff?” he blurted out. He didn’t mean to, but he had just enough scotch throughout the night, and the quiet parts in his head were bleeding out through his mouth. He noticed your look of confusion, so he clarified. “The bizarre stuff men say in bars.”

“Oh,” you laughed. You rubbed the back of your neck in embarrassment. “You know…”

“I don’t know,” he teased. “I need to know so that I don’t end up doing it myself. Give me an example.”

You sighed and put down the pad of paper, then turned a bit to face him from your place on the floor. “Well, once a guy said he wanted to take me for a ride all night. And I told him that I didn’t really like motorcycles, and suddenly he and all his stupid buddies were snickering at me.”

Barba thought you were joking, but your expression belied no humor. He had to press his lips together to hold back his smile. “Good to know,” he replied, his voice sounding a bit strangled. “Anything else?”

You sighed again and thought about it. You took a deep swallow of your scotch, polishing it off with a wince at the burn, and then chewed up the remains of the ice cubes before you continued. “Once a guy leaned in and whispered that he wondered what I tasted like. I told him that humans probably taste a lot like pork – that’s why they call us “long-pig” – but he got confused and walked away.”

Barba dropped his head, unable to look at you, but you clearly saw his shoulders shaking with silent laughter because you huffed in indignation at him. A million puzzle pieces fell into place in those few seconds though. Barba thought back to your jacket and it’s laundry list of degrees and certificates and commendations. He thought back to your outrage at getting an A minus in your class, thought back to how you took weekend and evening shifts for your coworkers without a complaint. You never mentioned dating or a boyfriend or girlfriend. You never mentioned an ex of any sort.

Barba wondered if you ever dated. If you ever had dated. He thought back to your brief kiss and how surprised you had looked. He always assumed you were shocked by him kissing you, but maybe you were shocked to being kissed at all.

You were a detective with SVU; you knew all the clinical and violent terms for sex and sexual acts. You probably knew more than most people about the terrible things that could happen, sexually. But everything you dealt with daily at work was a long, long way from consensual, loving sex, and just because you were an expert in the former didn’t mean you knew anything about the latter.

And you completely failed to understand the flirting, filthy euphemisms that men used when they tried to pick you up. And you completely failed to understand why they didn’t understand your responses.

On the surface, he didn’t think it was possible that you could be a virgin. You were too much of a catch; there was no way you made it through college and into a career without finding someone.

Then again, he knew you didn’t compromise on anything you cared about. You didn’t suffer fools, and you had no patience for time-wasters. He could easily see you writing off potential suitors if they weren’t worth your time. And he had been your age once, and knew how men could be at that age. Barely more than overgrown boys. A woman like you, who collected A’s like shiny coins and who wanted to be the very best at her job? It was very plausible that you were a virgin because it wasn’t worth the effort to stop being one.

He didn’t have a lot of time to expound on the idea, however. You reached over and smacked him lightly across his shin with the back of your hand. “Stop laughing,” you ordered, and when he looked up, your face was so dour that he started laughing even harder.

You stood up and brushed your hands down the front of your dress. “Alright, I’m going home,” you said, and you held your head with dignity as you stood over him. Barba sat and looked up at you, apologizing through his chortling.

“No, stay,” he said, his laughter trailing off. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” you replied, your head still tilted up. “I opened up to you, and you’re only interested in clownery.”

Barba knew you weren’t really mad, just embarrassed, but your use of the word “clownery” – slightly muddled, you were more tipsy than you seemed – only made him laugh again. He watched your eyebrows knit together as you made your mad face, which was entirely too adorable to him. When you reached down to pick up your heels, he reached out to take your hand. He tugged you down and you plopped onto the couch beside gracelessly, thrown off balance from the booze.

“I am sorry,” he said more seriously. He squeezed your hand. “I didn’t mean to laugh.”

Your eyes were only a bit watery, and you glared at him. “I came all the way over here to help you - ”

“You didn’t have to,” he cut in. “But I’m glad you did. No more clownery on my part.”

“When you say it like that, I don’t believe you.”

“What do you mean?”

You pulled your hand away from his so that you could slap him again with the back of your hand, this time across his chest. “You know exactly what I mean. ‘No more clownery on my part,’” you mimicked in what Barba assumed was an attempt to sound like him. “Sarcasm, smirking. The Barba trifecta.”

“A trifecta is three things, detective.”

“Sarcasm, smirking, smoldering,” you amended.

Barba gave out a bark of laughter. “What?”

You rolled your eyes elaborately. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean.” You donned your terrible Barba impression again and continued. “’I’m Rafael Barba, Harvard graduate and Manhattan ADA. If I can’t make my case, I just smolder at the jury members until they vote my way.”

Barba laughed incredulously. “I do not smolder at the jury!”

You nodded your head, emphatic. “Yes, you do. Where your brains fail, you just fall back on your good looks.”

“Now who’s engaging in clownery?” he replied, pretending to be mad but biting back a grin at you saying he had good looks.

And when you reached out, swinging that backhand at him again to hit him lightly, he caught your wrist in mid-air and held it, his fingers encircling you. You looked up at him in surprise, your dark eye makeup slightly smudged. Barba reached out with his other hand and slid his pen out of your hair, and it was exactly like he imagined it: your hair tumbling down over your shoulders. You looked completely delicious, and Barba felt his blood rush to his groin. You were so sexy, and you had no idea whatsoever, which somehow made it even worse.

Your eyes widened, and he watched your detective-brain reading the situation. There was no point pretending it was anything other than what it was.

“Can I kiss you?” he blurted out, heading off whatever you were about to say. The part of him that was still sober was telling him that this was a terrible idea, but the tipsy part was saying that it was fine. More than fine.

“Okay,” you said simply after a beat. You didn’t move forward, waiting for him to make his move, so he did.

He tossed his pen on the coffee table and placed that hand on your shoulder, cupping the bare skin right where it disappeared into the fabric of your dress. The hand that encircled your wrist loosened and shifted to grasp your hand lightly. He pulled you to him a bit, leaned in to you, met you more than halfway. You closed your eyes as he pressed his lips against yours, closed-mouth but still smelling the scotch on your breath.

It was, all things considered, a terrible kiss.

You were as rigid as a statue in his arms. He could feel the tension coursing through you – your arm and hand trembled – and you didn’t kiss him back. He could barely tell that you were breathing; you seemed to be holding your breath. Your lips were soft against his, but you didn’t kiss him back, and you definitely didn’t open your mouth to him. He broke away after a moment and gazed at you, your eyes still shut. Not just shut – squeezed shut tightly, like a child trying to not see a monster.

“C plus effort,” he joked softly as he shifted his hand to your back, rubbing a comforting circle there to relax you.

The next morning, he’d replay the line over and over, mortified. Bizarre stuff men said, you had complained. Your eyes flew open, and Barba actually flinched at how hurt you looked. He wished immediately that he could take it back. The girl who collected A’s like it was her life’s mission, and he not only just graded her as barely passing, but he insulted her ability to do something she probably never did.

You refused to look him in the eye as you mumbled some excuse about why you had to leave, and he tried to apologize as you jerked away from him, jammed your feet into your heels and your arms into your coat, and grabbed your purse, all but sprinting to the door. He followed you, tried to put a hand on your arm to pull you back to him, but you fumbled open the deadbolt and chain and were gone in a flash.

The Barba trifecta, amended: sarcasm, smirking, screwing everything up.

*****

Every single time you replayed that stupid kiss, first you felt a flush of red-hot embarrassment, then a similar flush of red-hot anger. And you replayed it a lot.

Of course you were an awful kisser. You had no experience beyond a single gross encounter in high school, and kissing wasn’t like braiding hair – you couldn’t just pull up an instructional video on the internet and practice in the mirror. You needed a willing partner, and how do you phrase something like that? Do you sign up for a dating app and list “make-out buddies only”?

And of course you were irrational about the “C plus” comment. You knew that it was irrational to link so much of your self-esteem to an actual letter. But growing up as the eldest child in a family where scholastic achievement made you the black sheep, where else were you supposed to get the scaffolding that held up your brittle ego? Gold stars, A’s, pats on the head. They were all you had.

You never really thought that anything would happen with Barba, but it had been a fun little infatuation while it lasted. Right up until the point it stopped being fun and became a monumental embarrassment.

You dodged Barba as much as you could the next few days. Your desk was situated in the bullpen in such a way that you could see the entrance, but you were half-hidden from the door, making an easy escape possible. So when Barba strolled in, you were able to pull a sneaky move, ducking him and loitering in the break room or locker room or ladies’ room or stairwell. You found a lot of nooks and crannies that you could fold yourself into until Barba left the precinct.

But your case was at trial, and while you sat in the gallery and watched it unfold, you knew that you’d have to prepare for your own testimony soon. You prayed for a plea deal that never materialized. Barba tried to catch you a few times in the hallway during recess, but you always slipped away for a coffee or a bit of fresh air outside.

When the day came to meet with him after work, you dragged your feet every step of the way. If a meteor was headed for earth, now would be a good time for impact, you thought.

*****

Barba was glad to finally have you as a captive audience, even if it was just for testimony prep. You’d been avoiding him all week, creeping around the precinct and courthouse like some flunky ninja. You weren’t as stealthy as you thought you were: more than once, he saw you furtively slinking along walls, obvious as all hell but acting like you were invisible.

When you met him at the courthouse that evening, you looked like someone facing a firing squad, and Barba wondered if actual death was more appealing than facing him again. He had kicked himself for his stupid comment, over and over, so he could only imagine how you’d been feeling. His phone had been silent all week. No emojis from you. He missed the chiming of a new message.

You nodded at him but kept your eyes carefully down, avoiding his gaze. You climbed into the witness box, straightened your jacket, looked ahead and answered his questions. He ran you through the possible strategies of the defense, and you nailed every answer perfectly.

“Good,” he said. “I think you’re ready to testify.” You nodded at him again, then turned in your seat to climb down, but he held up a hand and you stopped. “I have a few more questions, though.”

You nodded – this time, reluctantly – and settled back into your seat. “Okay.”

“Are you going to avoid me for the rest of your natural life?” When you didn’t answer right away, he added, “and remember, you’re under oath.”

“Yes.” You finally answered him while looking at a spot over his head.

He sighed and made his way over to the witness box. He tried to place himself into your line of sight, and your eyes slid down to look at your hands in your lap. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

You fiddled with your hands but then looked up, looked him dead in the eyes. “You know, Barba, I never dance. Not at clubs, not at weddings, not in the privacy of my own home. You know why?” When he shook his head, you continued. “Because when I was ten, my father caught me dancing in the living room and told me I looked stupid. So I never did it again.”

Barba knew that you internalized criticism, but he never guessed it was so bad….or so engrained in your personality. He knew the point you were making though: if you couldn’t nail something perfectly, you weren’t going to do it again. Ergo, if someone kissed you and made an ill-advised comment about how bad it was, you would spend the rest of your life dodging kisses from them. Not to mention avoiding the things that followed kissing.

You were watching him steadily for a moment until you knew he’d gotten your meaning, and then you turned to leave the witness box. You stepped down and went to walk past him, and he reached out to take your wrist in his hand. He circled it with his fingers, and he could feel your pulse thrumming steadily against his hand.

“For what it’s worth, I can dance,” he murmured. “I could teach you.”

“That was just an example,” you replied.

“I know.” He reached out and took your other hand in his. “You have to know that you can’t be perfect at everything, right? You’re good at so much though. And you can learn the other stuff.”

You snorted. “Like dancing, sure. A snarky comment every time I stomp on your feet.”

“I’d assume the stomping was intentional,” he said with a smile. “I deserve it. But I wouldn’t be snarky. That comment the other night….” He trailed off, mortified again that he’d even said it. “I didn’t mean it.”

“You did, though.”

Barba looked at you without answering. You were close enough that he could make out the faint scent of your perfume, that light floral that made him think of the little white flowers that pushed up through the snow in winter. You didn’t suffer fools, he knew, so maybe honesty was the best policy forward with you.

“Maybe.” he finally said. “I just wanted to kiss you again - ”

“And I disappointed you,” you cut in.

“That’s not it at all.” Barba tugged you towards him, and you only resisted a bit. “I like you a lot. I feel like you like me too. You seemed comfortable being around me when we work or go to lunch or grab drinks in the evening. You seemed comfortable that night at my place before I kissed you.”

You tilted your head a bit and then nodded. He pulled you closer so that you were inches away from him. He could feel the tension start to radiate off of you, so he leaned back a fraction and felt the tension dissipate.

“What can I do to make you comfortable?” he said softly. “Because I want to kiss you again, badly, but I can’t stand another week of you fleeing when I come to the precinct.” He gazed into your eyes and saw the conflict there. “I’d rather be your friend than nothing at all, but I’d like to be more.”

“I’d…like that,” you said, your voice halting. “Or at least, I can’t keep coming up with excuses about why I’m hiding in the break room so much at work.”

“And I can’t keep pretending that I don’t see you when you slink along the wall like you’re invisible,” he teased.

You gifted him with a slight smile, so he leaned back in, tension be damned. You hadn’t admitted that you were a virgin – the possibility existed that you weren’t, of course – but the last thing he wanted to do was make you embarrassed again.

“There’s no pressure,” he assured you. “We could take things slow. I haven’t dated in a while, so slow is good for me. Glacial, even.”

Your smile widened, and Barba felt you – amazingly – relax a bit. And then, in a surprise that topped all surprises, you closed the gap between the two of you and pressed a gentle kiss on him. Nothing crazy, just your closed-mouth on his, but it was enough to make him drop his hold on your hands. He laid his palms on either side of your face, holding you gently, tilting your head.

And then, not surprising at all because Barba already knew you were a quick study, you kissed him back. He felt you lay your hands on his arms, gripping him lightly. He thought he could stand there forever, kissing you in the most PG-rated make-out session he’d even experienced, sweetly innocent.

It made him feel unusually protective of you, like he wanted to scoop you up and install you in his apartment and never let the big, bad world in where it could hurt you. Which was ridiculous – you were an SVU detective, for heaven’s sake. You already knew the worst that could happen.

So instead, he broke off after a while, relishing the way your eyes shined when you finally opened them. He smiled at you and remarked, “see? No snarky comment. And you didn’t stomp on my feet once.”

#rafael barba #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #tropes-and-tales

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