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dmwrites · 2 years

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“Xisuma, can you sign this, uh, form for me, please? It needs an admin signature. No need to read it or anything, it’s nothing really. Stupid.” Zed stood as casually as he could, passing over a slip of paper to Xisuma, who put on his reading glasses. “No!” Zed said in a panic. “I mean, no, it’s just, please just sign it. Reading is for losers, am I right? Haha.”

Xisuma looked up at Zed, then back down at the paper, and then up at Zed again. He took off his reading glasses.

“Zedaph, why am I holding a field trip permission form?” Xisuma sounded just so tired.

“I- well, I mean- please sign the form.” Zed tapped his hooves nervously on the floor.

“What on earth kind of trip requires a permission form to go?” Xisuma put his glasses back on.

“It’s for a science experiment!” Zed said. “It’s in another land though, so that’s why I need an admin! Please??? Please X??” Zed begged.

Xisuma reread the paper and let out a long sigh. “Fine, as long as there is a chaperone there.”

“Yes, there is! The best one around! Oh, thank you X! You won’t regret this!” Zed pranced around Xisuma’s office joyfully as Xisuma signed the paper.

----

“Hello BadBoy of the Halo variety!” Zed was in his best lab coat, wool nicely arranged, even with a packed lunch from Beef, standing in a little spawn area.

“Zedaph! Welcome!” A super scary demon with a super big smile stood in front of him. “We are thrilled to finally have you! Here. Have you here.”

“Well, Mr. Halo, my curiosity knows no bounds, and the idea of a huge red egg is something I’ve never encountered before! I am delighted to help you experiment on it.”

“Ah yes, experiment…” Bad said, laughing. “Well, Zed, follow me please, and I’ll take you to The Egg.”

Bad lead Zed down a wooden plank path, which was highly worn. The buildings around, too, seemed worn. Old, falling down, unused, colors fading. It was quiet here, too. Zed wondered what civilization had once been here. Bad indicated for Zed to leap down a hole, and they ended up in a spider spawner farm room. There was a cat person hacking down some spiders- he turned and watched the two walk out of sight. Down a janky mismatched hall, and then Bad turned to the left, where there were a bunch of planks hastily nailed up.

Bad looked at the boards for a second, quiet. “They keep doing this for me.” He took out an axe and chopped them all away, revealing a grand staircase down further into the earth. “Let’s go, Zedaph! Much to do!”

Bad walked briskly down the staircase, but Zed took his time. He wasn’t much of a builder, all things considered, but the brickwork here was… weird. He knew it was nether brick. But it felt… wrong. The color of congealed blood and almost less solid then normal. The whole staircase was meant, clearly, to look grand. But it felt empty. But alive. Like there should be something in it.

“Zed? You coming?” Bad’s voice echoed up to him, almost a little muffled. Zed shook off the shivers he felt and trotted down to where Bad was standing. “Ah good. Thought you got cold feet at the last minute. Wouldn’t want that.” Bad said with a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Shall we?”

“Oh, yes, I am so excited!” Zed rubbed his hands together and took a clipboard out of his bag. He stepped forward into the room and audibly gasped. Zed lived in a world of incredible, but incredible is infinite, and this was beyond anything he’d ever seen. The room was bathed in red, like it was some kind of living cavity and they’d just drained the blood. Red vines hung from the ceiling, and pockets of lava dotted the floor. And there were tendrils, enormous and dominating the floor, walls, and creeping onto the ceiling.

And then there was the egg itself. Bad had described it vaguely over the phone as a red egg that was alive. And seeing it now, Bad hasn’t been to far off the mark. It sat in a corner, the epicenter of it all. And there was this deep ache of sentience all around. The air moved like something was breathing, but it was a weird sensation, like the air was taken out of Zed’s lungs when it took a breath. And it was dead silent, minus pops of lava and the footsteps of Bad and Zed.

“Oh wow.” Zed leaned down to study a vine. “This is insane! And it’s just been here, waiting for someone to find it?”

“Come closer to the egg, Zedaph. There’s a lot more to… study over here.” Zed looked up at Bad and he swore he looked paler then before.

“Bad, are you okay? You seem pale. I know this seems scary but we must investigate for science!” Zed asked as he picked his way to the egg.

“What? Oh, I’m fine.” Bad coughed, and some color returned to his body. Not all of it, but some. “Now, we are standing next to The Egg. It’s it amazing?”

“Fascinating!” Zed whispered, leaning in until his nose was almost against the egg.

“Do you hear it?” Bad’s voice seemed a little lower then before, and almost too gleeful.

“Hear what?” Zed said distractedly, jotting down a few notes.

“The egg.”

Zed looked up in surprise. “Is the egg talking to you?”

“Yes! And what about you, Zedaph? Do you hear it calling to you?” Bad leaned towards Zed, a look of urgency now on his face.

“No, but that’s so interesting! It is alive, or is speaking somehow! Fascinating! I can already think of so many tests we can do!” Zed was writing frantically.

Bad sighed. “Okay, let me ask you this. Zedaph, how do you feel about The Egg?”

“Excited!” Zed was indeed shaking with excitement. “I can not wait to study this thing! We could change the world with our discoveries!”

“So you like the egg?” Bad sounded excited too.

“I suppose so! I mean, it’s just some egg, so liking it is a relative term, but I like that it’s a weird thing to investigate!”

“So you’ll join the Eggpire, then?”

Zed looked up from his notes. “The what? Eggpire? Is that some kind of scientific group?” He gave Bad a concerned look. “You okay, my guy? You look…” Zed trailed off, not quite sure how to say “terribly happy and sad at the same time” without sounding rude. That, and the tears rolling down his face were surprisingly red. Maybe it was just the light.

“Yes, the Eggpire is just a big group of people who like studying The Egg.” Bad nodded.

“Excellent.” Zed looked at the egg again, full of thoughts, too many to even make an egg pun.

“And, just to be clear, you feel good about The Egg? You don’t hate it?”

Zed frowned and looked at Bad again. “Bad, it’s just an egg. There is no good or bad here. It’s just science. It doesn’t have like, eldritch powers or something.”

Bad gave Zed a long, searching look. “Yeah… of course, you’re right…”

“Frankly, I think we should make an omelette out of this when we’re done experimenting on it! It kind of gives me the heebie-jeebies, to be honest with you.”

#April 25 2022 #fic #hcraft x dsmp #zedaphplays #bbh #long post

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briarfox13 · 3 years

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Thank you @starsandskies @thirstyforred @slothssassin and @alyssalenko<3

I tag anyone who wanted to! I’d love to see your answers

Five songs I’ve been listening to on repeat lately

Spectre Induction-Mass Effect

Wellerman Sea Shanty

Hollow Knight music

Gimme Gimme Gimme-ABBA but in Attic Greek instead

A bardcore version of Summertime Sadness by Lana del Rey

Currently Watching

I’ve been watching Red vs Blue from the Halo universe, I’ve always tried watching it and failed so this time I’m determined to finish it XD and I’m tempted to try out Shadow and Bone from Netflix! I hear it’s very good!

Last Movie

The Curse of the Golden Flower, I went through a small phase a couple of weeks ago where I watched my favourite foreign films! This one is particularly beautiful and sad.

Currently Reading

I’m rereading Mass Effect: Revelation in lieu of the MELE coming out, I’m also reading Halo: Fall of Reach since I’m in a Halo mood again!

But I also have bookmarks in The Doomed City, A Season of Storms and The Remnant, they are long term reading projects I have going! Eventually I’ll finish them all

And lastly, I’m reading the online webcomic Romantically Apocalyptic which is just so weird but I love it! I love Snippy <3

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kinsbin · 4 years

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First Date, Darling

Title: First Date, Darling Word Count: 5010 Pairing: Star/Kray [si/canon]

Summary: Kray asks Star, his personal assistant, out on an official date. She can’t quite belief it, but, there they are at a restaurant nonetheless! Romantic shenanigans ensue.

A/N: Commission for @starscloset!!! It was such an honor to write for them and I super loved doing all of this! Star/Kray is GOOD CONTENT PEOPLE UR SLEEPING ON IT-

——————————————————————————————

Star tried to figure out just how she got in this situation.

Try as she might, her mind was a miasma of events. A whirlwind of happenings rose and fall along the span of her memory as she attempted to pull it forward from the depths of her hippocampus, resulting in one or more headaches quickly quelled by Foresight state of the art pharmaceutical painkillers. The echo of her heel tapping sharply on the edge of the polished tile floors filled the void of her thoughts, the otherwise isolated hall of the Governor’s tower quiet save for the low humming of the lights overhead. They shone down their dim rays to reflect the circular perimeter of their bulbs back upwards at themselves. They were eyes staring at one another, unblinking and watchful overhead and below.

She was surrounded by those eyes, their presence making her as uneasy as being summoned abruptly to Kray Foresight’s office was making her.

The return thought of her location made a series of goosebumps trai up her neck as she bit her lip, the tapping of her heal increasing with renewed vigor as she tried to ease herself into entering the office. The summons had been an abrupt call on her phone during one of her lunch periods, the fork she was using to spear her food held mid lift to her soft lips as she read the ominous text that had brought her up to where she was. From Kray’s private number and in all lower case letters (odd, considering he usually typed as formally as if he were writing a letter) were the summoning lines that would bring about the anxiety she felt in her stomach all the way up to the top floor:

star please come to my office as soon as you are available we need to discuss something

She reread the text several times both in the lobby and on her way up, her hand shaking as she arrived at the door, where she stood now with her teeth worrying at her lip. Had she done something wrong? Was she about to be fired? The mere thought of that made her heart clench tightly in her chest, her stomach filling with a horrible sensation of acid that made her want to vomit up the chicken she had so hastily scarfed down on her way to her (possible) demise. What would she do if this was the end? If it wasn’t… then what could she possibly be needed for?

Her mind pushed itself forward, a deep breath as she reminded herself of her faith in Kray. She had put her faith in him from the moment she was hired and it had never failed her now. From the moment they had begun their work together she felt safer. At ease in his presence and happy at his side… Warm, even though the admittance brought a blush to her cheeks. Whatever the reason was for his summoning of her, she was certain that it would not be bad. She would not lose her faith in him now.

Forward she went, her steps forward activating the motion sensing door frame so that it slid open fully, revealing the beautiful view of Promepolis from far above.

In comparison to the bright outside world the room was dark, but it wasn’t cold. The perfectly heated internal temperature was set to be comfortable to most living within the facility. Its regulated degrees were relaxing enough to soothe the upstart of hairs on the back of her neck as she watched Kray from across the room.

He was standing up from his desk, his back facing her as he stared downwards at the city below him. The broad form of his shoulders and tapering torso cast an even darker shadow across his entire office space, the edge of it landing at her feet in way that made him seem so… far away. So distant despite being across a room from her. She wanted to reach her own hand out and hope that her shadow would cast itself along the edge as well, touching at his body and comforting that distant shadow of his… why was it so distant anyways, she wondered? What was its point, she thought…

“Star.”

His voice brought her back from the momentary daydream she had put herself into, her entire form snapping to attention at the voice that echoed. Hands at her sides, she blinked a few times as her hair settled back into its normal position, having fluffed up slightly like a bird alongside her emotions as she all but shook in her intonation towards him.

“Y-Yes, Mr. Foresight!” Her tone was automatic in its incantation, a natural instinct to please her boss filling the softness of her lilting speak with practiced ease. It was her job, after all. To be soft. To be at his side. To make sure she was non threatening to him so that he might allow her to do the work that was assigned to her.

When he finally faced her fully, the smile on his face was almost as blinding as the sun, its curves so perfectly in place on his lips. His gaze squinted and soft in her direction. The look of pleasant adoration made her heart leap, as it always did, and she tried to force away the growing blush on her face as she attempted to keep her eyes level with his. Her fingertips shook as she tried to keep them in place, fists clenching and unclenching on her sweaty palms.

“Star,” His voice was careful as it was reprimanding, “How many times have I told you to call me Kray when it’s just the two of us?”

She smiled despite herself.

“At least one more time today, Mr. Foresight.”

He chuckled at the banter, playful and soft in its demeanor. As though they were talking about the weather. A single gestured of his gloved hand ushered her forward and closer to him. Her compliance was quick and unhesitant, her body moving towards him so that the edges of her shoes clicked softly on the tile with resonating purpose. Her previous panic gestated in the bowls of her stomach while the comfort of Kray’s presence blossomed over her with a brightness the likes of which she couldn’t describe to anyone if she tried. It was simply… How he was, after all.

“I called you in today to ask you a question,” He stated once she grew close enough to the opposite side of his desk to deem it a polite speaking distance. He closed the rest of the distance, however, his body so eerily close to hers that she had to crane her neck to look upwards at him. How beautiful he was when he towered over her like this, she thought mildly as she bit back a smile of appreciation. His form was an adonis amongst men and she had to be blind not to appreciate the build she was with on a near daily basis, the normalcy of day to day activities doing nothing to soften the admiration.

Hey, she wasn’t blind.

“You can ask me anything… Kray!” His name was strange to say in the lax of professionalism but she tried her best. It brought a sweet smile to Star’s face as she looked up at him, her beautiful doe eyes focusing on his form with such an intensity that Kray could feel his own blush of surprise wander its way up his cheeks. He didn’t look away, though.

“Star…” That sweet tone of his voice made her tense for a moment, curious as to where it would lead. He seemed so uncharacteristically careful as he licked his lips for a moment, pursing them before finding the next words that would fully display the desires he had towards her. The intentions of his motives clear in each syllable as he worded it as easily as he possibly could:

“I’ve found myself… favoring your company in more ways than one lately. Greater than a professional relationships… And I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t let it sit any longer within me. I would… It would make me happy if we were to go on a date together, if you’d like it. Officially.”

She could scarcely hear the words above the ringing in her ears. Above the redness in her face as she stared in awe at the man before her, her stomach swelling with something between pride and shock as she tried not to shake in the spot she was rooted in. Was he… serious? Was this some sort of test? Star searched through each point of his face, finding nothing against the chiseled jawline and sweet smile that he offered down to her with a tilt of his head. His brows knit ever so slightly together in worry as her hesitance filled the space between them, a gap of silence where a response should be as she watched his face with her jaw slowly falling agape.

“I apologize if this is sudden,” Kray’s words were soft as he reached out, his hand finding her cheek where it gently grazed her skin. Despite the coolness of the gloves he wore, her body felt like fire as she watched him continue to speak, “I… simply cannot ignore the feelings I have for you any longer is all… If I’ve misread something in you and you don’t feel the same way, you have my apologies and-.”

“No!” She blurted the word out faster than she thought was possible, her hands flying outwards to cup his own between them and bring him closer again, the once shocked gaze in her face becoming as determined as it was awed. The shift in her demeanor practically put a halo of light around her hair, emphasizing the beauty of it and the passion with which she seemed to speak as she watched him with those beautifully soft eyes of hers. Kray almost startled back slightly, his lips parted with an awe to the suddenness of her oncoming determination.

It left as fast as it had appeared, however, her face heating up as she averted her gaze. Star’s eyes narrowed for a moment as she tried to get the words out from between her lips without becoming too embarrassed, the curve of her mouth a slight pout against her skin as she squeezed his trapped hand tighter with her own.

“I-I mean-! I just wasn’t expecting it was all but…” She smiled slowly, light and happy as she gazed up at him once more, “I’ve felt… I want to spend time with you too, outside of work! A date with one another… I would be happy to accept, Mr. Foresight!”

He stared down at her, watching as she found her mistake amongst her excitement and she blushed, flustered as she threw her hands in every which way in an extra effort to correct herself:

“Ah, I mean Kray! Kray, right, I’m sorry!”

He laughed, the sound soft and warm in the back of his throat. It was more of a chuff, soft and malleable like a tiger as he watched the woman before him radiate with excitement. She glowed with a beauty that only seemed to increase the longer they spent time together. A side effect of his presence against her personality, their differences like night and day but so perfectly fit against one another that it made his heartbeat quicken without his permission. It was that sort of thing that always made him confused as they spent time together. Estranged as he felt his own flames fanning against his will for her.

He wondered if this was love. He considered that it must be, for no other woman could look at him like that and have him see the stars that he did.

She was his Star, after all.

He leaned forward, his lips finding the top of her forehead in a long, gentle press of a kiss. Star went rigid under the motions, her eyes blowing wide as the smile against her mouth couldn’t help but climb its way up. This was happening, she registered finally in the back of her mind. Through all of the things they had been through together, rough and easy and bad and good, he was kissing her head like this. Intimate and soft and so completely vulnerable to her and her alone that she felt her chest swell with pride, her brain etching the single memory in a valuable placeholder for as long as she might have it there.

“Does tonight at seven suit you alright?”

She couldn’t hide it as she smiled even wider up at him, his lips parting from her body to ask the question though she wished they could stay there for eternity.

“Yes, that’s perfect.”

---

Star stared carefully at herself in the mirror of her bathroom, lips pursed as she judged the shade of lipstick decorating their edges. The soft, semi nude shade made the already warm edges of her mouth look Fuller than before. They sparkled, glossy and clear and oh so peachy, in the brightness of her home.

But what would Kray think of it? Would it be too much? Maybe it wasn't enough? Her mind worked at a million miles an hour, causing her to let out a long sigh if exasperation and reach for what was possibly her fourth makeup wipe that day.

Cleaning the lipstick from her mouth, Star had to take a moment to gaze at the outfit she had chosen for the night. A white dress, lined with peach and pink laces that cascaded outwards like a cloud close to her bottom. The thin straps upon her shoulders were hidden away by a thin but tasteful lace shawl. It was one of her finer outfits, she admitted to herself. Even though the shoes were borrowed from a friend and one size too big, they brought the entire thing together.

Well, almost. There was that damn lipstick.

She threw in the towel and pulled out the shade that normally decorated her mouth on an average work day. The reliable semi-nude peach always seemed to make her feel more at ease. Perhaps it was just a memory of it's repetition. There was safety in it's embrace. A beauty so consistent in it's reliability. She could only hope that Kray didn't mind it and wasn't lying about tolerating it for the past years they had been working together.

A knock on her suite's door startled her from her contemplation, her head turning so fast that she almost hit the open medicine cabinet with her temple in the process. A strangled gasp of surprise saved her as she scrambled for the door, her palms sweatier than she had thought they might be, and opened it slowly.

Kray towered against the frame, making the expensive wood that lined the edges of the door seem cheap when compared to his expensive suit. It was the same signature shades of white and gold as his governor's outfit was.The elegant way in which it fitted him, displaying to her the form of his muscles and arms in the process, was eye catching. She felt so mall in comparison to his form, the massive being that he was always towering over her in one way or another. Still, they coordinated in an odd way and that could only bring a small smile towards Star’s lips despite the shock of seeing him so fancifully garbed in front of her doorway.

“Good evening,” Kray greeted with his own, slightly excited, smile. It was cute to see the amount of emotion making its way across his face. So rare was Kray Foresight open to displaying himself so vulnerable in front of anyone that it made Star’s heart leap at the mere sight. She wanted to take a picture and keep it in her home forever. To frame it up on a perch next to her bed and admire him as she readied her nightly routine.

Star focused back on the moment at hand, not being able to stop the smile that spread on her lips as she shyly watching him through the frame.

“Good evening, Kray.” She greeted back as she opened the door fully to reveal herself, exiting her apartment with a quick grab at the smooth white mini purse that accompanied the entirety of her display.

A hand fell from behind his back, offering out a modest bouquet of purple orchids before her. Each flower sparkled in the light, their petals stained with dewdrops as they displayed themselves fully to her. Star gasped as she looked downwards, each beautiful purple bud making her heart beat fast as she reached out to touch the wrapping around their stems, holding them close to inhale their sweet fragrance. She felt as though she could cry there, the fact that he brought them as well as the fact that he had remembered her enjoyment of both color and plant making her delighted.

When she looked back up at him from her boquet, she was beaming.

“You shouldn’t have! This is so sweet, Kray, I appreciate them so much- oh - they smell just wonderful! I should put them in water before we go…”

Kray felt his cheeks redden at the sight of her, so beautiful in the white she wore and so vibrant in her personality as she always was. Star was a true beacon in the world that he found so unpleasant, he couldn’t deny that. She was radiant as her name suggested as she adjusted the edge of her shawl haphazardly and took a deep breath. Her smile up at him was caring, the same amount of care that she always put into her admiring eyes when she gazed up at him. It was only then that Kray realized how much she genuinely looked at him. How much her emotions were always written so beautifully across her soft face.

He didn’t resist the temptation of cupping her cheek with one large hand, making her tense in surprise as his thumb brushed across her chin and lower lip. He smiled soft as he admired the redness that formed in her cheeks.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured in an honest, sweet toned whisper of disbelief. As though he wasn’t ready for how smitten he truly would be by her.

Perhaps he wasn’t.

Star brushed some of her hair behind her ear, eyes falling to the floor as she smiled.

“You look quite handsome yourself.

The words filled him with a pride that manifested itself in the form of a bubbling laughter as he removed his hand from her and offered it, palm up, instead so that she might take it. She did, her smaller fingertips gentle on him as he held her close and brought her to his body with all the confidence Kray Foresight seemed to have within his form. He exuded it, softly but surely, and it made Star feel safe and loved all at once, the method in which he brought her towards him making her head spin as she bit her lip to hide the next smile that wanted to claim the softness of them.

As they moved through the halls of the building, the world felt like a dream. Even as she stepped out of the building and into Kray’s expensive car nothing felt real. The world was a miasma of happiness, ever changing but never a solid form in her life. Star couldn’t find it in herself to mind, though. If this was a dream then, damn, she certainly didn’t want to wake up. Not as Kray’s hand held hers firmly even when they entered the car, the warmth of the seats traveling up her back as his body radiated its own furnace of comfort at her side. She adjusted herself so that her shoulder would touch his arm gently, all but bathing in the comfort that the closeness offered them. Star shut her eyes for a moment and sighed, content. Kray watched her as she did, his gaze fixed on her as the ghost of a smile touched his lips.

Their talk shifted in the car, from projects of work to more personal topics. The end discussion of why their favorite color was their favorite color was trivial but easy to bring up back and forth as the two discovered just how well they made for debate partners on either end. Kray defended his enjoyment of white, a pure and untouched form of ironclad beauty while Star spoke easy about her own enjoyment of the shade of purple. The conversation never rose above a whisper, the tones relaxed and intimate even as they pulled up to the restaurant Kray had declared he had chosen for their relaxing evening out.

Its front was italian in stylature, the corinthian columns fading upwards to a tympanum of beautifully done architecture reminiscent of the ancient renaissance style. Lithe fingers of angels touched at one another while halos of painted gold were emphasized by glowing lights behind them, faces boring into one another’s soul as the story told appeared different to each person who walked by.

Star stopped for a long moment to admire the decor, her heart pounding as Kray’s hand found its way to her back. His large palm rested placidly on her spine, the touch sending another shiver up her entire back as she averted her gaze from the decorum to the man at her side.

Yes, she decided after a long moment, he was much better to look at.

“Shall we?” He smiled, his voice clearly amused by the gaze she held as he held the door to the restaurant open for her.

Her hand touched at her chest, just over her heart, as she smiled up at him.

“Why yes! We shall!” She giggled back, entering the door as she did so. Kray stood for a moment, his gaze dumbfounded by the beautiful sound that was her soft laugh, so warm and bell like in his ears that he never wanted to forget it. A moment passed before he was able to collect himself enough to follow after her, his smile still even as they entered.

Their seats were perfectly within the restaurant, bushels of plants and sweet smelling flowers blocking them from public view. Star knew all too well how the media would bend over backwards against themselves for a bite of a story that involved the elusive governor’s private life. As a keeper of his public persona, she was aware that fending off a multitude of grabby paparazzi was as exhausting as it was a game of calculation. A habit of staying two steps ahead of those who wanted their information and smiling smugly at them when they could not get it. It was a game of cat and mouse that she would secretly get bored without and, Star felt, it was a nice way to pass the time at least.

Star sighed as she opened the menu that had been put out in front of her, only to immediately close it and slam the piece of laminated plastic down with a wide eyed gaze of disbelief.

“Kray this place is-!”

“Beautiful? I know,” He smiled, his tone teasing as he was well aware of the actual word daring to fall from her lip as she leaned forward.

“E-Expensive! Are you sure it’s alright for us to be here? Wasting all of this one me is-”

“It’s not a waste.” Kray’s tone was sharp. It left no room for debate in his heart as he tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady on her face as he reached outwards. HIs hand found her own trembling one and gave it a firm and loving squeeze, mouth curling up into a smile.

“It’s not a waste when it’s to spend time with you. You deserve the best and that’s what I will give to you. There’s no arguing about it now, alright? So, please, get whatever you want and I’ll do the same.”

She couldn’t find the breath to argue back.

Instead she hid behind her menu as she ordered her food, a nice and simple dish that she would still find an immense joy in while Kray seemed to go all out with his steak and seafood medley. Lobster decorated with prime rib meat and spun about with a light sauce, asided with a heaping helping of vegetables for good measure… Star couldn’t help but drool slightly at the sight of his food, her eyes following his hands as he cut off a piece of lobster to eat.

Sensing her awe, however, Kray smiled and held out his fork to her.

“Here, would you like to try?”

“Oh! Um…”

Star smiled wide, biting back the laugh of enjoyment she got from the situation before nodding and leaning her head forward. Her mouth opened, perfect pink lips forming the softest ‘o’ shape before she bit down on the fork full of delicious food. The flavors exploded in her mouth, the world spinning around her with its buttery richness. The galaxy seemed to bloom in the back of her mind as she chewed, her heart racing at the deliciousness of the single bite she had experienced. Kray watched all of the emotions spread across her face inch by inch, the shape of her mouth and the red of her cheeks drawing forth on her feelings like a curtain. Long and endless in its display of beauty, he sighed slightly to himself as he watched her enjoy his food.

“You should have ordered it yourself.” He commented with light amusement.

“But this pasta is also really good!” Star protested as she took a bite of her own pasta, nibbling on the end of the chicken within it as she smiled through her own fork, “I just think it’s some sort of significant other tax that your food tastes better than mine.”

“Significant other?”

She stared at his surprised look for several seconds before her own horror dawned on her. The realization of what she had said, what she had IMPLIED, was permanent in her mind as her body deflated for a moment in acceptance of the words. Star choked slightly on the pasta between her lips, coughing as she held out her hands and blushed vibrantly.

“N-No I mean-! I didn’t mean to rush into it and-! It wasn’t supposed to come out like that I promise I was just trying to-! I swear-! Ohhhhhhh…. “

She ended on a bemoaning wail, holding her face in the palms of her hands as she tried to hide away from the world. To push the embarrassment away in favor of burying herself ten feet underground and never coming out. Let the magma at the earth’s core consume her, she thought with a bitter wheeze to her indignation, she didn’t care anymore. It would be a welcome death over what was going on here.

She felt his hand again though, warm and large as it ever was, touch at her arm with the gentlest of movements. “Star, please look at me…”

His voice was so soft, the tone a gentle coercion that made her want to listen. Star hesitated for only a moment before she peeled her hands from her face, peeking between the tips of her fingers as she opened up a singular eye to examine the face of the man before her. Kray simply watched her, his form patient and kind as he waited for her to be comfortable. As she uncurled herself from her shell in order to reveal herself to him. It was something like putting down crumbs for a timid mouse and letting them approach him, Kray mused. It would be terrifying to the mouse to approach a lion such as himself, so patience was necessary in promising no harm would come to her. Which it wouldn’t, of course, because… well… She was Star, wasn’t she?

When she finally lowered both of her hands down, simply placing one of them atop of his own, the room was quiet for a long moment. The distant clangs and clatters of other diners paying them no mind filled the void of their quiet communication, a long and thoughtful sort of moment they shared despite the awkward conversation that had ensued not a moment earlier. Star could feel the uneasiness fading away with every moment they were touching. Every second they were connected made her heart thrum faster and faster. She felt like a wind up toy, being pulled taught to its gears and then let go to hum and thrum accordingly to its movements. Only her movements were wide-eyed stares and slightly parted lips to ask a question that never fell from her lips fully.

Then he leaned forward. Then the world moved in slow motion.

Kray’s lips were softer than she had thought they would be, the kiss gentle and careful in its exploration. It never pushed too far. It never moved too fast. It was simply his warm, soft lips on hers as her eyes widened for a moment in shock. He was kissing her! He was kissing HER? He was… kissing her…

And her eyes fluttered closed, the quirk of a smile finding its way on the edge of her lips as she kissed him back. He tasted like ash and the flavoring of the butter on the seafood he had eaten not moments before, an odd but pleasant combination that reminded her of a cookout in the summer. It reminded her of being warm and surrounded by care and safe above all else. Kray could taste the flavor of Star’s lipstick on his own mouth, a sweet strawberry gloss that matched the perfume she had worn and he wanted to devour her there and then.

Instead they parted, their lips lingering close to one another as they mourned the loss of the intimacy they had adjusted in themselves. Still, Kray smiled. He never faulted, as Kray never did, and squeezed her arm gently.

“I wouldn’t have invited you out if I didn’t want this. You… are beautiful. No matter what you call me, I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine.”

She fought back the tears of appreciation as she smiled, the glimmer of her moist eyes diamonds in the candlelight as she gave a quick nod and laughed through them. She spoke the words he most wanted to hear from her. The words that made his heart quake in the intimacy and his breath disappear amongst the chatter as she reached out to hold his hand gently in return, the reaffirming squeeze only echoing in her words:

“I’m yours.”

And it was that, Kray was sure, that made this night perfect.

#kinley talks #COMMIssion #commission work #kinley writes #promare #kray foresight #promare oc

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squiddybeifong · 5 years

Note

Can I ask for Damirae: You asked me whether I had a crush on someone, then cried when I said I did (because I'm crushing on you). It seems unlikely that either would get drunk, so maybe dami's on some heavy pain medication? Please? I really want to see Damian act like a overemotional dork in front of all his friends and family (who might not have noticed his crush). OOOOo, I wonder how Raven would react after he's conked out....

Morphine

on ao3 here:

–

He was an idiot.

His condition was stable and hopefully the morphine would keep any pain she couldn’t take away at bay, but he was an absolute idiot. Pushing her out of the way and getting beamed with half a car in her place was Jon-levels of impulsive; Raven bit back a sigh as she tried to ignore the Kryptonian’s nervousness from the common room. The team-up was a success but he didn’t have the invincibility to take this kind of damage willy-nilly.

Raven readjusted her spot in the chair before her legs could fall asleep, still carefully keeping watch over him. She was hopeful with the recent shift in his emotions that he’d be waking up soon, but she kept muttering about his haphazard idiocy under her breath.

Her hands kept flicking over everything; lifting his lids to check his eyes, prodding to ensure his IV was correct (even though it’d been perfectly in place the last four checks), running her fingertips over the monitors’ as she reread their signs, methodically pulling the bits of frayed edges off the cot’s blankets, fiddling with her rings and the singed ends of her hair when she ran out of IVs to occupy her mind with.

Sitting directly across from her, Jason wasn’t too concerned. No, with an arm slung over his chair and one boot resting on the cot, his hoodless face was calm as he alternated between checking his phone and stealing glances at his unconscious brother’s face.

He ran a glove through his hair as a message came in, a relieved sound coming from the back of his throat. Raven glanced his way, “Oracle received everything?”

“Yep.” Red Hood slid his phone back in his pocket and reclined in his seat until it balanced in the air, crossing his legs as they set on the blankets. Raven rolled her eyes and shooed his boots off the cot with a flick of magic. Snorting as his chair slammed back down, Jason crossed his arms and glanced at Damian’s face again, “Now all we need is for baby bat to wake up and I can get outta here.”

She hummed at that, biting back a “Think of the devil” as Damian’s nose twitched.

Raven hurried to lean over him, holding down his hand so he couldn’t accidentally pry the IV loose as he shifted again, “Damian?”

His chest heaved as he took in a deep breath, groggily grumbling as he was regretfully pulled back into consciousness. It took him a minute, but eventually olive eyes creaked open and Damian squinted at the light. He closed them again as the mage wiped his lashes clean, a lopsided grin forming when Raven pulled back and the fluorescence haloed her head.

The swordsman tried to let out a giddy laugh and hissed at the pressure against his ribs. Raven put a hand to his side, her brows jumping nearly to her hairline as he drawled out, “Heeeey.”

The mystic paused, her head tilting to the side. Jason snickered at the sight of Damian being anything but his uptight, sober self and brushed aside the pointed look Raven aimed his way from the corner of her eyes. He decided to wait a bit longer before leaving; this was shaping up to be quite entertaining.

The empath took a calming breath, trying not to react to the equal parts happiness and confusion that was radiating off him. Her eyes were concerned as she got his attention –even though a tiny part of her knew full well that she’d have it the whole time he was in this state, “Damian.”

His brows furrowed and he reached for her, “Why are there three of you?”

“That might be the concussion talking,” Raven hummed out. Her hand angled his face up to check his eyes again, “Sorry if I’m a blurry mess.”

“Don’t worry, Hiyati,” The swordsman’s head lolled as he relaxed against the pillows, leaning his cheek into her palm. “Even blurry Raven is too pretty to be a mess.”

She felt Jason’s sharp spike of amusement before she heard his bark of laughter and flushed. Raven cleared her throat as she pulled her hands away, the clink! on her fingers bringing Damian’s gaze to the jewelry.

“Oh!” He sloppily pointed at her hands, “Can I see?”

The demoness blinked once and, deciding that it couldn’t hurt to indulge him and his intoxicated curiosity, gave him her left hand. Still far too out of it to conceal his features, Damian ogled at the silver and onyx that graced each of her fingers. He almost let go as he leisurely turned to stare at her. His pupils wide, he squeezed the tips of her fingers and Raven’s brows jumped to her hairline as he pouted (actually pouted! Kory must’ve ordered some strong morphine) and sadly brought her hand up to his face again.

Damian rubbed his thumb against the braided obsidian ring that she rarely took off, dejectedly sighing out, “You’re married?”

“No.” She tried to keep her face stoic as her teammate perked up at the news.

“Then do you…” He hesitated in that faux ‘the idea juuuust came to me, honest!’ sort of way only inebriated people could believe was believable, “Do you have a crush on anyone?”

Jason casually laced his fingers over his stomach and lounged in his seat, wishing he had a bucket of popcorn. Mindlessly, he pondered the ethics of calling Alfred so he could hear the clusterfuck alongside him and whether or not that was something the butler would approve, but ultimately decided against it.

Raven ignored the anti-hero’s amusement that danced over her empathy, sheepishly tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she shrugged Damian’s way. She decided he deserved the truth, especially in this state. The mystic bit the inside of her cheek, hesitating for just a second, “I do, actually.”

“Oh…”

Her head tilted at the bursts of sadness and amusement that mixed into her empathy, knowing which of the two Bats she could realistically question on their emotions, “I– Damian?”

He sniffled and brought her palm back up to cup his face. Tenderly gazing up at her, the ex-assassin had that same despondent look that Titus wore whenever they left to go on missions without him. Raven felt her heart tumble end over end; she’d never seen Damian this open before, yet alone to the point of tears. If he noticed their audience’s snickering he didn’t seem to care, especially not with the forlorn, heartbroken way he whined (what in Azar’s name was going on? Should he be on a smaller dose?) out, “I was hoping you didn’t have a crush on anyone.”

At the awfulness that was teenage confessions opened up into the room Jason, shit-stirrer that he was, couldn’t help but pipe up, “But if she didn’t have a crush on anyone she couldn’t have a crush on you.”

Raven let out a quiet, horrified little sound at him pointing out the obvious and at her patient perking up at the idea, not knowing if she could lie to Damian. Confused, bright, hopeful, somewhat glassy olive eyes settled on her and her lips twitched. Scratch that, there was no way she could lie to him; not about this and not when he was in this state.

So instead, she rationalized that placating him would be enough for now.

Putting a hand to his forehead, Raven chanced running her fingers through his hair. He let out a lovestruck coo and her words came out a tinge more blunt than she anticipated, “Go back to sleep.”

Jason let his head fall back, laughing and declaring them “Idiots” to the ceiling.

Leisurely trailing her hand down to cup his cheek again, the goth ran her thumb over his cheek and traced the shell of his ear. Her shoulders relaxed as Damian’s lethargy sunk into her mind, glad that he wasn’t too bothered with his confessions and still-fractured bones. Damian sunk into her touch, sighing as he started slipping back to sleep. Raven kept rubbing soothing circles under his ear as his breathing evening out and a fond smile curled her lips, her calm exterior hiding just how much she was screaming inside at what Damian had all but admitted.

Once he was asleep, the mystic let herself enjoy a few more seconds of ease before she realized exactly what she was doing. Catching herself, she pulled her hand away and snapped her head to the other side of the cot, worried about how much of that Jason saw. Raven flushed as the Bat merely raised a brow at her.

Running a tongue over his teeth, Jason smirked and held up his phone, “Alfie wants to know if you’d like to stay over for the holidays?”

She shifted in her seat. His emotions were saying that Alfred’s request was serious so she nodded, but her eyes narrowed suspiciously when all her answer brought was the man innocently texting his grandfather back. Raven crossed her arms, disbelief slipping into her voice, “No teasing?”

Green eyes shot up to her face. “You’re the girlfriend I hardly know. I’m gonna mock the shit outta him,” Jason jerked a thumb his brother’s way, his grin wide and all-knowing, “But you’re safe. For now.”

The Titan let out a quiet harrumph at that, not quite sure how to respond. She watched as the anti-hero finished sending out his message and stood, cracking his neck as he pulled his leather jacket back on. The dark pine ring of his eyes were muted as he considered her for a moment. Jason’s gaze flicked between the two teens and he aimed an honest-to-Azar smile her way.

It brought some hope that Damian’s actions weren’t just from the morphine, but she was still hesitant. There was mischief on Jason’s face as he drawled out, “D’you know what hiyati means?”

Raven’s lips pursed. She shook her head. Jason smirked and tucked his hands into his jacket’s pockets. He kept glimpsing at his tiny, only-partially-homicidal brother and Raven couldn’t tell how much of this was him being genuine as he advised, “You should look it up sometime.”

Chuckling, Red Hood slipped his helmet back on and started towards the door. He casually tossed over his shoulder, “Later, Birdie. Let Lil’ D know all the Bats’re gonna know about this by the time he’s up.”

Unsure what to say, indigo eyes flicked from Damian’s face to the closing door and back again. As the quiet of Jason’s aura leaving filled the room she leaned back in her chair and tucked her legs up underneath her, alternating between fiddling with her rings and watching Damian as he rested. The braided obsidian on her ring finger kept reminding her of his pout and Raven sat up, taking a few minutes to read and reread the monitors to keep herself occupied. Jason’s words kept chipping at the edges of her brain and the demoness rested against the side of the cot.

Making up her mind at the steady rise and fall of Damian’s chest, the goth pulled out her phone. Her face fell at the sheer amount of new messages that Dick and Kory (but mainly Kory) were sending her, all built from the gossip Jason must’ve sent out to the adults’ group chat.

Shaking her head and hoping that Damian would be awake when the rest of the team found out about the rumor, she quickly typed ‘hiyati in english’ into the search bar. With all the machines the med-bay’s reception wasn’t the best, but a few long seconds later her eyes widened as the translation popped up.

Raven glanced at the swordsman again and smiled down at herself.

#demonbirds #damirae #damian wayne #raven #jason todd #my writing #asked and answered #mistkissedmoon #they are d o r k s and i l o v e them #really hope ya like this!!!

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shep-writes · 6 years

Text

Glass

Fandom: Halo Character(s): John-117/Master Chief, Kelly-087 Pairing(s): John/Kelly Rating: T Genre: Romance/Angst Warnings: N/A Language: English Summary: Reach was being glassed and she was going to die. A/N: Guess who just got done rereading Halo: The Fall of Reach? This girl! Dedicated to one of my best pals in the entire universe, @greenleafcm. Also, 343 can pry John’s brown eyes from my cold, dead hands :) Read On: fanfiction, AO3 Chapter: 1/1 Chapter Title: N/A

Kelly stared into yawning maw of death and did not blink.

The air had become thick with soot and ash, dangerous for even a Spartan to breathe, yet her helmet lay somewhere on the broken, blood-splattered terrain behind her, forgotten. It didn’t matter what she breathed, not anymore, because Reach was being glassed and she was going to die. And if she was going to die—which she was; there was no “if” about it—she would be damned if she spent her last few moments viewing it all from the optics of a machine.

A wave of impossible heat tossed her tightly-bound hair, a few stray stands sticking fast to the sweat-slicked skin of her forehead. Her eyes burned, assaulted both by the warmth of the distant plasma strikes and by random bits of microscopic debris, but she did not turn away, did not falter, did not flinch, like the Spartan she was.

Angry reds and brilliant oranges erupted from the ground and reached up into the storm-dark sky where silhouettes of Covenant craft were lit by flashes of unnatural lightning. Kelly was kilometers away from the nearest impact site, but with her enhanced eyesight, she could plainly see the destruction, witness the devastation. She could feel it, too, could feel the ground tremble beneath her feet, the weeping groans and heaves the planet made in its death throes reverberating through her very bones, chattering her teeth.

Buildings directly in the line of the plasma’s fire had been obliterated in an instant, the structures that had been slightly outside the blast zone engulfed briefly in unholy flame before simply ceasing to exist as their component materials gave out. Anything—anyone—even remotely close would have perished within merciful seconds.

The urge to go forward, to look for survivors, was strong, but Kelly knew that it would be a wasted effort. Nothing could have survived in such an environment, not even a Spartan. And even if something had survived, where would they go? Where could they flee to?

The Spartans had failed.

She had failed.

Reach was lost.

Red slowly warmed Kelly’s Mjolnir-clad body, and she craned her neck upwards, her suit valiantly trying to cool her off and failing. Directly above her, a Covenant battlecruiser was charging its plasma turret, preparing to bathe the forest clearing she was standing in with hellfire. Soon—within mere breaths—she would be nothing. And yet…she could not find it within herself to be afraid. Not for herself, at least.

The red intensified, blinding. Kelly stood her ground, straightened her back, clenched her fists, and set her jaw—a last act of defiance. The Covenant aboard the ship probably couldn’t see her and wouldn’t have cared if they had been able to. She was about to be naught but red mist—what could she possibly do to them? Still, she held herself strongly, bravely, boldly. Not for them, or even for herself, but for him.

John.

Red light blotted out the landscape. Her skin blistered and peeled as her armor bubbled and boiled. The pain was excruciating. And yet, still, she could not find pity to spare for herself. Her fight was over. But John’s fight…

Her heart skipped a beat, sorrow clogging her throat.

John’s fight was just beginning. And he was going to face it alone. Without her.

A distant humming throb pulsed inside her broiling blood, a solemn drumbeat to play her to her end. Everything melted away, her senses of sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch scorched into insensitivity. Yet her brain continued to function, continued to sing a single name, repeating it over and over and over again even as the plasma shot down to the ground and erased any trace of a being that had once been known as Kelly.

John.

~*~

John woke with a start.

Gasping, he propelled himself forward, bedsheet slipping down his front, scarred chest heaving as his lungs labored to keep up with his desperate need for air. Perspiration clung to his naked form, wrapping him in an uncomfortable embrace of moistness, but he didn’t notice, didn’t care. There was only one thing on his mind, one thought, one person.

Kelly.

Fear lanced through him sharp and cold. Wrenching his torso to the right, brown eyes wide, his hands tore at the blankets, throwing the layers aside with reckless abandon, eliciting a reaction from the lump buried beneath them.

“John!”

John nearly choked on his relief as Kelly surfaced, blue eyes clear and focused despite the sleep she had just been roused from. Concern brought her eyebrows together as she took in John’s harried state, the intense, battle-ready gleam shining in her eyes dissolving into something softer, but just as alert. He didn’t need to explain why he’d woken her, didn’t need to tell her what nightmare had taken hold of him once more. She just knew.

Sitting up, she took the hard lines of his face between her hands. “John,” she said again. “I’m here.”

John nodded his head, eyes slipping closed as he put his hands on top of Kelly’s, pressing them against the flesh of his fevered cheeks firmly. A single tear escaped and slipped down the left side of his face, pooling into the space between her index and middle fingers.

It was only there, in the privacy of their bunk, that John could let the horrors out, express the things, the thoughts, the memories, the doubts, the fears, that had eaten at him since he had first been made Squad Leader, since he had first been made responsible for the lives of the Spartans. It was only with Kelly that he could shed the mask of God and be the man—the very human, very flawed man—he really was.

Years had far removed him from the events of Reach, but it was something—one of the many things—that would forever haunt him. Because it was Reach where he had gained everything—a home, a purpose, a family—only to lose it forever. Or, at least he thought he had.

“Really, John, it’s a bit insulting that you think something like orbital bombardment is enough to kill me.”

John’s eyes fluttered open. He almost physically recoiled at Kelly’s ferocious glare. It was something he’d only seen a few times before, one instance of which he had been unlucky enough to be on the receiving end, as he was now.

Kelly felt the slight flinch and laughed. “You still remember that?”

“Of course, I do.” John frowned. “How could I forget? My shoulder was bruised for a week.”

Kelly lifted an eyebrow. “A week? I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“You punch hard, Kelly.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” she mused. “You never questioned my abilities again.” She narrowed her eyes. “Until now.”

“Kelly.” John furrowed his brow even deeper. “That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant.”

Kelly couldn’t keep up her angry façade for long. She laughed again—god, did John love her laugh—her fingers brushing his lashes and swiping away any errant moisture that remained. John couldn’t help the smile that replaced the frown creasing his face. He had never been able to be cross with Kelly.

John’s hands lightly trailed down Kelly’s forearms to her elbows, savoring each inch of skin his calloused pads brushed over. Kelly was corporeal and whole, her skin marred by rough scars and wounds of old. Life pulsed beneath the pale flesh that covered her bones, strong and vibrant and alive.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Kelly’s breathy voice tickled his ear as his hands moved up to her shoulders and back.

“Is that a challenge?” he whispered back.

Before he knew what was happening, Kelly was on top of him, pressing him back into the sheets that smelled of her. Her thighs clenched around his abdomen and her weight pressed into his stomach. The entirety of her being hovered above him, pushed into him, hard and soft, supple and sturdy all at once.

“Let’s see if you can keep up with the Rabbit for once, Master Chief,” she said with a mischievous smirk.

John opened his mouth to respond, managing to get out, “I—”, before the words died on his tongue as she scooted down the length of his body and descended upon him. Stars popped behind his closed eyelids, as she reminded him that she was there, that she was real and whole and solid, that she was tough and ready and able and willing, that was anything but glass.

#master chief #john-117 #john117 #kelly-087 #kelly087 #john x kelly #halo #halo: the fall of reach #bungie #fanfiction #shep fanfic #fanfic

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preservationandruin · 6 years

Text

Oathbringer Liveblog, Part Four: Chapters 108-111

Onward with our various plotlines in various Planes of Existence!

Shadesmar Road Trip continues, Dalinar arranges a meeting, Azure bids the group farewell (and also I’m still in love with her), Dalinar meets my Least Favorite Person In All Roshar, and then everything goes straight to hell while I scream constantly.

An epigraph:

Chemoarish, the Dust-mother, has some of the most varied lore surrounding her. The wealth of it makes sorting lies from truths extremely difficult. I believe she is not the Nightwatcher, contrary to what some stories claim.

So that’s interesting. I remember thinking back in my book 1 reread that “dustmother” might be a reference to Cultivation, but looks like I’m wrong. Anyway, back to the honorspren ship! Apparently the humans were kept in the hold for a week, and when Kaladin tried to argue the honorspren into letting Syl out he got locked in for another two days.

Of course he did.

He’s trying to plan them a way off the ship--getting off when it’s closest to Thaylen City, then making for the Oathgate. Not going to be easy, as Shallan thinks. She’s also drifting between personalities, and Kaladin’s fuckin ended up growing a beard again. Kaladin’s attempts to remain clean-shaven in this book seem doomed to failure.

The honorspren are, still, bound by honor--they can’t keep Shallan and the others imprisoned, because they did nothing wrong. it wouldn’t be right. But they don’t know what to do with them. Shallan’s starting to get familiar with dealing with the beads of Shadesmar, but Veil keeps peeking through into her main persona, which worries her.

Notum, the head of the honorspren on the ship, has confirmed that the Voidspren are trying to create an empire in Shadesmar. Azure got her sword back--because it doesn’t have a bond or an enslaved Spren, they’re fine with it. Still, Azure warns the honorspren she’s talking to to draw the sword slowly--”she doesn’t know you.”

So it probably is a Blade similar to Nightblood, although with a different command-phrase, I expect. Kaladin and Azure start arguing--she wants to go to Lasting Integrity, to try to get to Cultivation’s Perpendicularity and see what the honorspren know about the person she’s hunting--who I’ll bet is Zahel, although might not be. Kaladin stalks off onto the high deck. Azure says that it’s a weapon that she’s chasing, so it’s almost certainly Nightblood.

Shallan glanced toward the high deck, where she could faintly hear Kaladin making a disturbance.

Never change, Kal.

Anyway, Shallan’s drawings of herself are going strange, too--she’ll draw one head on another body, and such.

“Shallan?” Adolin asked, coming over to her. “Are you all right?” She shook herself. How long had she been sitting there? “I’m fine,” she said. “Just...remembering.” “Good things or bad?” “All memories are bad,” she said immediately, then looked away, blushing. He settled down next to her. Storms, his overt concern was annoying. She didn’t want him worrying about her. “Shallan?” he asked. “Shallan will be find,” she said. “I’ll bring her back in a moment. I just have to recover...her...” Adolin glanced at the fluttering pages with the different versions of her. He reached out and hugged her, saying nothing. Which turned out to be the right thing to say. She closed her eyes and tried to pull herself together. “Which one do you like the most?” She finally asked. “Veil is the one who wears the white outfit, but I’m having trouble with her right now. She peeks out sometimes when I don’t want, but won’t come when I need her. Radiant is the one who practices with the sword. I made her prettier than the others, and you can talk to her about dueling. But some of the time, I’ll have to be someone who can Lightweave. I’m trying to think of who she should be...” “Ash’s eyes, Shallan!” “Shallan’s broken, so I’m trying to hide her. Like a cracked vase, where you turn the nice side toward the room, hiding the flaw. I’m not doing it on purpose, but it’s happening, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

So first of all, this is horrible for Shallan--she’s so lost that she’s actually talking to Adolin about it, asking which version of her he likes most, and I’m so glad he’s hugging her through this. This is what I’ve been wanting to happen--Shallan actually being open with someone, admitting that she’s a lot more broken than she pretends to be.

And as if that wasn’t enough of what I wanted, the other big thing I’ve been wanting to happen also happens:

“I...” he pulled her tight again as the ship rocked. “Shallan, I killed Sadeas.” She blinked, then pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “What?” “I killed Sadeas,” Adolin whispered. “We met in the corridors of the tower. He started insulting Father, talking about the terrible things he was going to do to us. And...and I couldn’t listen anymore. Couldn’t stand there and look at his smug red face. So...I attacked him.” [...] Shallan shivered, then whispered, “Good for you.”

I’M SO GLAD THESE TWO ARE TALKING ABOUT SOME OF THEIR MANY, MANY ISSUES AND STARTING TO BE MORE OPEN AND HONEST.

Anyway, Adolin says that he likes the real Shallan--the vase is cracked, but that just lets him see what’s inside, and he likes what’s inside. There’s a moment, there, where Shallan is comfortable. Warm. Unafraid.

And then Kaladin causing problems on the upper deck ruins it. He’s arguing with the captain. Again.

When you try to explain that god is dead but are talking to a depressed agnostic who really doesn’t give a shit:

“The honorspren were created by Honor himself, many thousands of years ago. You call him the Almighty, and...I’m afraid he’s dead.” “Which makes sense, as it’s pretty much the only excuse I would have accepted.” “That wasn’t levity, human,” Notum said. “Your god is dead.” “Not my god. But please continue.”

Anyway, Kal calls Notum out pointing out that both keeping Syl captive and killing Kaladin--which he mentions as a way to get rid of the bond--would go against Honor.

And as he thinks, as he ponders the Fourth Ideal, noting that he’s worried what it’ll demand of him, small pinpricks of light start spinning around him, almost like spren--but not spren, because spren here are closer to people. And then he hears Syl’s voice in his head, and they start talking.

Syl claims that she escaped the Honorspren trait of stubbornness, which is. A lie.

Ok, so the light-prick things are windspren that Kaladin is somehow drawing. Also, he tells Notum that Dalinar, who Kaladin is trying to save, is bonded to Stormfather--and realizes he probably should have said that sooner.

Adolin notes that it’s kind of hard to compete with Kaladin, who is currently dramatically posed, trailing a halo of windspren, and is just like. he doesn’t even know he’s doing this, is he.

And then, of course, the Fused start coming for them.

Re-Shephir, the Midnight Mother, is another Unmade who appears to have been destroyed at Ahareitiam.

Ok, so we can’t trust any reports of them being destroyed, ‘cause we know Shephir came back.

We’re over to Dalinar, in any case. He and Navani are still trying to figure out how the hell Urithiru works. It has garnet veins running through it. I still think it’s interesting how Radiants find it easy to get around, but other people are baffled. They’ve gotten confirmation that the Voidbringers are building a navy--probably to start harrying the shores, as Dalinar suspected.

Anyway, Dalinar is going to try to bring someone--the one of the Voidbringers that Stormfather can sense--into a highstorm vision. Please, please work. Venli needs to know she and Timbre have other options.

Plus, if anyone can understand feeling like the wrong sibling lived and the wrong sibling died, if anyone knows their own stupid, stupid actions tearing their loved ones away from them...it would be Dalinar.

Unfortunately, Odium has noticed that Dalinar is starting a vision. Dalinar gets Stormy to try to hold him off so that Dalinar can speak with Venli. Venli is startled and bitter, but notes that here, she can use the old rhythms--so Odium hasn’t concentrated on her. Yet.

Also Venli is currently taller than Dalinar and I love tol Parshendi ladies. Just a note. Odium starts battering at the vision. Venli starts running--trying to avoid Odium, knowing what he’ll do if he sees her talking to Dalinar.

She turned away, desperate to do what she could to delay her own burning. Then...she stopped and looked back again. Dalinar Kholin stood on the balcony. And he was glowing. Neshua Kadal. Radiant Knight. Without meaning to, she attuned the Rhythm of Awe. Around Kholin, the balcony was stable. Boards trembled and quivered at his feet, but did not move into the sky. The balcony had ripped apart to either side of him, but where he held to it with a firm grip, it remained secure.

Dalinar is literally holding this vision together despite Odium’s force. It actively starts reknitting itself.

Venli tries to leave, and Odium comes for her again--she’s clinging to the balcony, not wanting to let go, and then sees Timbre, fighting through the wind and the vision to get to her. Have I mentioned I love Timbre because I love Timbre. Venli manages to grab it out of the air, and feels warm as Timbre basically yells “THANK YOU” in Timbre-speak, which is just a pulse of Rhythm of Praise.

And then she’s falling into a bottomless chasm, and Dalinar jumps to save her--and shoot her out of the vision before Odium burns it to shreds. She lands in Marat, and she and Timbre are safe.

Dalinar, on the other hand, is in excruciating pain. Odium gives his little “ohh I care about you, Dalinar,” speech again, then Dalinar returns to Urithiru.

Stormfather is weeping from pain and exertion.

The most powerful spren on Roshar--embodiment of the tempest that shaped all life--was crying like a child, whispering that Odium was too strong.

HEY BRANDON CAN I HUG STORMFATHER

Anyway, we head back to Shallan and Shadesmar. They’re getting let go--but the Fused are still on their tail. Notum notes that they need to hurry--he can’t promise how long the crew can keep their secret. Syl is more than a little pissed at Notum. Azure is staying with the crew, saying she’ll help them try to fight off the Fused. That...increases their chances considerably.

“When you boys next meet the swordsman who taught you that morning kata, warn him that I’m looking for him.” “Zahel?” Adolin said. “You know Zahel?” “We’re old friends.”

And then she confirms with the captain that they were cutting cloth into specific shapes. Oh boy, those Fused are about to get a nasty surprised. They’re expecting a ship full of honorspren; they’re getting that, but they’re also getting a practitioner of BioChroma who trained with one of the best.

The gang basically hides in a Shallan-made cave under the water. They manage to survive, and Shallan wants to draw the trees in Shadesmar. There’s a highstorm happening in the real world--this must be happening pretty much concurrently with the Dalinar moment, then. They’re almost to Thaylen City.

Back over to Dalinar, opening with the MOST RELATEABLE SECTION THE BOOK:

Dalinar stepped out of the Oathgate control building into Thaylen City and was met by the man he most wanted to punch in all Roshar. Meridas Amaram stood straight in his House Sadeas uniform, clean-shaven, narrow-faced, square-jawed.

In case anyone is keeping score: I still hate Amaram. He fuckin thinks that they’re going to being invading Thaylen City, because god forbid anyone do anything good without an ulterior motive, am I right???

“Permission to stab him a little, sir,” said Teft, the bridgeman leader. “How do you stab someone ‘a little,’ soldier?” “I could do it,” Lyn said. “I’ve only started training with the spear. We could claim it was an accident.” “No,no,” Lopen said. “You want to stab him a little? Let my cousin Huio do it, sir. He’s the expert on little things.” “Short joke?” Huio said in his broken Alethi. “Be glad not short temper.” “I’m just trying to involve you, Huio. I know that most people overlook you. It’s very easy to do, see...”

I fucking love bridge four so much like here we get: A) they still to a man hate Amaram B) Lyn is already ride-or-die enough to offer to stab a highprince C) they instantly lift the mood of any situation through teasing and bullshit jokes

Navani is very smug about the success of her arm-clock fabrial in getting Dalinar to be on time or early to things and this is still my favorite tiny running gag. We also get that Fen’s son has spiked his Thaylen-long eyebrow hair, leading me to declare this man a punk icon.

They’ve left running the Oathgate to Malata, which--given that she’s working for Taravangian--might be a problem. Oh well. Renarin is wondering if there are any larger gemstones in the city, other than spheres; when asked why, he just says “because.”

Someone might be either planning something or getting another future-vision.

We get that the only reason Stormfather is alive is because Odium doesn’t want to expose himself to a strike from Cultivation. So, even in her retreated state, the thought of her attack is still an effective deterrant for Odium. Good to know. I think her retreat might only be partially grief-driven; I think that also, in her mind, the way for Roshar to grow was for it to learn to live without active gods.

I mean, what if she was active and they relied on her, and then Odium killed her like he did Honor? That would be devastating. This way, they learn to stand on their own. Their growth is their own.

That’s just a hypothesis, though.

We get that the Nightwatcher isn’t Cultivation, although Dalinar has met Cultivation herself. The Nightwatcher is one of Stormy’s siblings--the third Stormy refers to with “they” pronouns and refuses to tell Dalinar about, saying “Leave them alone. You hurt them enough.”

I don’t know who this slumbering nonbinary wounded third godspren is but i love them.

“Did he...care about what we felt?” Dalinar asked. “Honor, the Almighty? Did he truly care about men’s pain?” He did. Then, I didn’t understand why, but now I do. Odium lies when he claims to have sole ownership of passion. Stormfather paused. I remember...at the end...Honor was more obsessed with oaths. There were times when the oath itself was more important than the meaning behind it. But he was not a passionless monster. He loved humankind. He died defending you.

YES. Tanavast didn’t deserve the slander Rayse was spreading about him. Yes, I am very protective of Tanavast, and no, I’m not sure why.

Taravangian says that Dalinar can call him Vargo. I think someone is feeling more and more guilty.

“I am...I am well, today.” He stopped and squeezed his pale grey eyes shut. “That’s good, isn’t it?” “Yes. But it is not a day to be heartless. So I worry.”

This does not bode well for literally anything ever.

Oh no, Dalinar is also looking forward to the meeting, which means that you know something is going to go horribly wrong.

Anyway, things are starting out well. Queen Fen’s son is making a point to talk with Renarin and engage him in conversation, which is good. Lift is perched on a windowsill near Bridge Four, and somehow Bridge Four has actually gotten two scribes--perhaps the women that some of the members were courting. They’re becoming a real platoon, while still being a ragamuffin crew of bros.

Dalinar keeps hearing unite them in his head, but Stormy says he’s not saying anything. You know how I totally distrust all voices in people’s heads that don’t have a source? Even though this is literally Dalinar’s catchphrase, I’m on edge.

I just...don’t trust when things are going well in these books. And we know that Taravangian is planning to undercut Dalinar. He’s probably going to do it now. Fuck. Fuck.

The Azish fleet is only a day away, and there’s no sign of a Voidbringer advance. They might wait for a Everstorm, though. Amaram’s troops have been carousing, and he’s a bit pissed at that.

He wants his image to be cleaner than that. Well, too fucking bad, asshole.

Renarin looked very uncomfortable and just excused himself, so that means something bad is definitely going to happen. I’m going with my instincts, which say “trust the one kid who can see into the future.”

And then Stormfather says that a storm is coming.

Oh, fuck. That’s the Everstorm. it just hit Shinovar. Navani and Jasnah are distracted, reading through something. Stormfather says that that won’t be everything--there’s more coming.

A passage of the Dawnchant, called the Eila Stele, has been translated by both the people in Jah Keved and those in Kharbranth.

...Taravangian was talking about leaking something about the Dawnchant....

Oh, god. Oh, oh god.

The original Voidbringers weren’t Parshendi.

They were human.

Fuck. So many things make sense. Why Roshar’s mythology is a refugee narrative. They say that humans were exiled from the Tranquiline Halls, and that’s why they went to Roshar. This gels with that. The Dawnsingers, the original inhabitants of Roshar--

Dawnsingers. Fuck, how didn’t I see it before? Dawnsingers. Of course they were Singers, parshmen. They welcomed humans, and that welcome destroyed them. it was in the name. How did I think that Dawnsingers would be human? Only one race in this world is tied to songs.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This will kill morale.

And that’s the truth that destroyed the Radiants. Humanity destroyed its previous world with Surgebinding.

At the same time, the news about Dalinar being “highking” has been raised. And that he had a Vision where he talked to Odium. Lift reacts to that.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Jasnah immediately picks up on the fact that someone leaked this deliberately.

These three pieces of information: that humans are the original invaders, that Dalinar talked with Odium, and that Elhokar wanted to make Dalinar an Emperor.

That’s what Taravangian is using to destabilize the alliance.

#oathbringer spoilers #stormlight archive liveblog #to be unmade you have to be made #i love timbre #dalinar voice: unite them #i am in love with highmarshal azure #god do i hate meridas amaram #FUCK YEAH BRIDGE FOUR

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jamaninja · 7 years

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that’s what little girls are made of

Word count: 3,584 Rating: General Pairing: Olicity (obviously) Summary: Oliver learns pretty quickly that he’s useless when it comes to his sister’s hair. So he enlists the help of someone who...you know, has some.

Author’s note: Sooo...a while ago, I wrote a really quick thing called sugar and spice. I was rereading it the other day and a new scene came to me. Before I knew it, it resulted in this. Enjoy!

“Ollie!”

The fourteen-year-old groans as he rolls over in his bed and pulls the pillows over his ears, hoping to drown out his little sister’s shrieks.

That, however, does nothing to deter her.

“Ollie!” A shift on his mattress alerts him to the fact that she is now on his bed, and that just makes him burrow into his pillows even harder. “Ollie, wake up! Wake up! You promised you would help me get ready for school today!”

He groans, cursing his past self for making that promise. He did indeed tell her that he would help her get ready for school, since Mom and Dad are both out of town on business. But he agreed solely under duress. That’s the only way you can describe Thea when she’s looking up at you with her huge hazel eyes swimming in tears.

“A few more minutes, Speedy,” he grumbles underneath the pillow.

But all of a sudden, it disappears and his head is exposed to the early morning cold. “No, now!” she shouts happily, hitting him in the side with said pillow.

He sighs heavily. There’s absolutely no chance she’s going to leave him alone. He might as well get up already.

With a grunt, he sits up in his bed and gently shifts Thea so she’s on the floor. “All right,” he yawns, stretching his arms high above him. “Let’s go.”

She drags him across the hall to her bedroom and he helps her choose her outfit for the day. As much as it would have cracked him up to see his little sister go to Pre-K in rainbow striped tights, a hot pink ballet tutu and a black and purple polka-dotted blouse, he has a feeling his mother would behead him the minute she was back on American soil. So he steers her toward more conventional choices in a pair of black jeans and a top with light green balloons all over them.

Once she’s dressed, he takes her to her en suite to help her brush her teeth and wash her face. But then to his still sleepy confusion, she hands him a hairbrush and stands with her back to him, looking up at him through the mirror with an expectant expression.

“Thea?” he asks. “What are you doing?”

“You have to fix my hair,” she answers.

His eyes widen. What the hell! He doesn’t know the first thing about hair!

“Can’t you get Raisa to do it?” he protests weakly.

“Nope,” she replies, her adorable eyes almost as wide as her smile. “I want you to do it. Please?”

He sighs. Again with the duress.

For the next ten minutes he runs the brush through her hair as he struggles to pull her long brown locks into two bunches. He ties them off in what he hopes are pigtails, but when he looks in the mirror, he realizes they look more like twin, lopsided rat’s nests than anything.

But that doesn’t matter to Thea. She just beams up at him and says, “Thank you!” before kissing him on the cheek and running down to breakfast.

After breakfast and after Oliver gets ready himself, the two of them climb into the car and the driver takes them to their respective schools. She gives him another peck on the cheek and a cheery wave before bounding out of the car and off toward the school, her Elsa backpack and her horrible pigtails bouncing up and down as she runs away.

His mouth twists in half amusement, half resignation as he watches her go. God, that hair really is terrible, he thinks to himself. But what is he supposed to do? He doesn’t know the first thing about hair!

The driver drops him off at his school, and he trudges toward his locker in the freshman hall. Unsurprisingly, Felicity is already sitting there, her back up against the locker next to his with her book open in her lap.

“Hey,” he greets her.

“Good morning,” she mutters distractedly, and it makes Oliver smile and shake his head. Knowing Felicity as he did, she likely had finished her homework the night before, but she has to double check her answers before she turns it in. She’s a perfectionist that way.

“Tommy here yet?”

She shakes her head, her eyes never leaving the page. “Probably still asleep.”

Oliver snorts at that. Figures, since class is going to start in fifteen minutes.

Once he’s grabbed all the books he’ll need for his morning classes, he plops own on the floor next to her. It’s only then that she shuts her book and turns her full attention to him, a soft smile on her face that never fails to make his stomach a little jittery.

“So how are you?” she asks.

“Good,” he shrugs, his mind still on his sister and the predicament of her hair.

It makes him think about the first time he met Felicity — her hair was a golden halo of a mess, falling out of the little ribbon that was supposed to keep it in place. And her hair ended up looking like that for most of grade school. It wasn’t until high school that she started taking better care of it. Now it’s sleek and shiny, and it’s in a ton of different hairstyles from day to day.

Suddenly, it dawns on him.

“Hey, Felicity,” he says slowly. “Can you teach me how to braid hair?”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Why?”

Oliver sighs and rubs his hands over his eyes. “My parents are out of town this week and Thea asked me to do her hair this morning and it turned out awful because I don’t know the first thing about doing hair and she’s probably going to get shit on the playground because of my shitty hair skills, and that just makes me feel like a shitty brother.”

Felicity’s expression melts into a smile and he ignores the little flip his stomach does. Again.

“Sure,” she said. Immediately, she turns so her back is to him and she tugs the little elastic band tying her hair together at the top of her crown. In an instant, her golden locks tumble down her back and the sweet, fresh scent of her shampoo hits him right in the face.

“Here,” she says, handing him a tiny brush over her shoulder.

Tentatively he takes it and starts running it through her hair. It’s soft — surprisingly soft. And it’s cool to the touch, like it might have still been a little damp when she tied it up.

It isn’t until this moment that he realizes he’s been wanting to touch her hair for a long time.

“So the first thing you’re going to want to do is separate my hair into three sections,” she instructs him. “One on the left, one on the right and one in the middle.”

He does as she says, carefully brushing through each section to make sure it’s a clean separation and as untangled as possible. Then, with her back still to him, she shows him how to weave each section together, the left over the middle, then the right over the middle. Alternating over and over again until she has a single plait trailing down her back.

The first time he does it, it’s a little messy and a little uneven. The second time he tries, it’s too loose and Felicity tells him it’ll fall apart easily. But by the third time, he’s got the hang of it, and when she runs her fingers over the finished project, she turns around and beams at him.

“Good job,” she says.

Suddenly he has no breath left in his lungs. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Thanks.”

The bell chooses that moment to ring and it forces the life back into his muscles. The two of them stand up and she gives him a wave, telling him she’ll see him at lunch. But as he walks to class, he can’t get the smell of her hair out of his nose or the beauty of her smile out of his head.

The next morning, Oliver braids Thea’s hair the way Felicity taught him, and you would have thought he’d given her the moon, she’s so happy. She shows off her braid to Raisa, to the driver, to anyone who’s patient enough to listen to her ramble about how awesome her big brother is.

It makes his chest swell with pride.

When he gets to school, he tells Felicity all about Thea’s reaction and it makes her smile.

“Do you want me to teach you how to French braid, then?” she asks.

“What’s that?”

She pulls up a picture on her phone. Oliver frowns at the complicated braid.

“I’m not sure I can pull that off,” he says slowly.

“Sure you can,” she dismisses. And with that, her hair is once again loose and she’s turned her back toward him so he can practice.

Well, far be it for him to lose out on the chance to play with her hair again.

It takes him far longer to master the French braid. It’s just so darn complicated, and he swears you need like twenty-six fingers just to be able to handle it all. But Felicity is patient, and she only giggles when he starts cursing.

He’s determined, though. He wants to get this right, so he spends his lunch time, the entirety of their half-hour reprieve outside on the lawn with Felicity and Tommy, his fingers tangled in her hair as she reaches behind her and feeds him carrot sticks every time he leans over her shoulder and opens his mouth, since his hands are otherwise occupied.

“Goddamn it!” he shouts as the braid falls apart for the millionth time.

Tommy rolls his eyes. “What’s your problem, bro? It’s just a braid! How hard can it be?”

Oliver glares at his best friend in annoyance. “Fine,” he shoots back. “You try it.”

Never one to back down from a challenge, Tommy takes his place behind Felicity as Oliver steps away to let him have at it. He runs the brush through Felicity’s hair a couple of times, then squints at the phone screen Felicity holds for him.

“OK, so I pull a section of hair from the top,” he mumbles to himself, his tongue caught between his teeth as he makes his attempt.

But twenty seconds in, Tommy’s cursing up a storm as well. It makes Oliver smirk in self-assured satisfaction and Felicity giggle at his impatience.

“What the fuck is this?” Tommy demands.

“What’s your problem, bro?” Oliver repeats mockingly. “It’s just a braid! How hard can it be?”

They spend the rest of lunch bickering at each other over how to properly execute a French braid while Felicity chuckles lightly to herself whenever she looks up from her history textbook.

It isn’t until after school that Oliver finally gets it. Felicity sits perched on the edge of the low brick wall that surrounds the front of the circle drive and he stands behind her when her hair finally resembles a braid and not a tattered string of yarn after an energetic kitten has just finished with it.

“So?” he asks, showing her the picture he took on his phone. “What do you think?”

Felicity just grins and gives him a high five. “There may be hope for you yet, Queen.”

For the next week, Felicity teaches him all sorts of hairstyles: ponytails, pigtails, buns and increasingly difficult and complicated braids. He’s had his hands in her hair so much that he’s practically memorized how each cornsilk strand feels under his fingertips.

He can’t get enough.

Thea squeals in delight with each new hairstyle her brother makes up for her — so much so that even when his parents return from their business trip and Mom resumes her control of Thea’s morning routine, the little girl refuses to let her mother touch her hair.

“Ollie’s my hairstylist,” she announces, much to the poor teen’s embarrassment.

His mother, though, doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she gives him this watery look that just makes him squirm in discomfort and try as hard as possible to avoid her sappy gaze.

Oliver tells Felicity and Tommy about it at school the next day. Tommy falls over laughing at the thought of his best friend turning into a hairstylist.

“I’m going to have to get you a sink and a smock!” he cackles as he clutches his stomach.

But Felicity doesn’t laugh. She just smiles softly at Oliver and says, “Don’t pay attention to him. I think it’s sweet how much you and your sister love each other.”

His insides clench at the way she’s looking at him, and he can’t tell if he wants to reach forward and touch her or bolt as far as he can in the other direction.

He does take her advice, however. Oliver ignores Tommy and continues styling his sister’s hair, and he finds that he actually enjoys it. It’s fun to look up styles online to see if he can pull it off. And he enjoys listening to Thea babble about her little four-year-old dreams. It’s a way for them to spend some time together, just the two of them.

And he finds himself telling Felicity about it. Every day, before the first bell rings, the two of them sit in front of their lockers and he recounts his time with his sister, making his voice high-pitched and waving his arms around to properly imitate Thea’s energetic manner. And every day, Felicity listens and giggles and grimaces in all the right places.

“She sounds like a sweetheart,” she says after Oliver recounts a spirited anecdote of Thea’s constantly change social circles. “I really want to meet her.”

His heart leaps in his chest at the thought of them meeting, and the words are out of his mouth before he can even stop them.

“Do you want to come over this weekend?”

The instant he blurts out the invitation, his immediate reaction is to run his head through his locker. But much to his surprise, her smile widens and she nods.

“I’d love to.”

When Saturday rolls around, Oliver turns into a complete mess. Felicity’s supposed to come by at one in the afternoon, but it’s already twelve-thirty and he’s changed his shirt and pants six times, completely unable to decide on what he should wear. It’s a rare opportunity for her to see him out of his uniform, and he feels an irrational need to impress her.

Thea bounds into his bedroom (without knocking, as usual) just as he’s throwing his blue polo onto the bed in frustration. She stops at the look on his face and cocks her head to the side.

“What’s wrong, Ollie?”

“Nothing,” he answers distractedly as he walks back once again into his closet, looking for some hidden gem deep in its depths. “I’m trying to find something to wear.”

She follows him into the cavernous closet and she starts shoving hangers aside as well, like she’s helping him.

“What about this?” she asks brightly, holding up a gigantic white Hawaiian shirt with tiny pink flamingos printed all over it.

He glances over and grimaces. “Speedy, that thing could fit the both of us at the same time.”

That makes her giggle hysterically. “No it couldn’t!” she shouts.

He can’t help it. At the sound of his sister’s laughter, he feels his anxiety ebbing away, giving rise to the playful side she naturally brings out in him. “Oh yeah?” he teases. “How much you wanna bet?”

“Six BAJILLION DOLLARS!” she shouts.

With that, he grabs the shirt and his sister. He hugs her, her back to his chest as he pulls the shirt over the two of them.

“See?” he mocks her as he stands the two of them in front of the mirror. Both of their heads stick out of the collar, but their arms are trapped underneath. Thea cackles at the sight.

“We look like a monster!” she shrieks happily.

“You look like a monster!” Oliver answers as he tickles his sister.

Trapped by the tent of a shirt, Thea can’t get away. All she can do is curl up, paralyzed by her laughter, begging her brother to stop.

“Ollie!” she shrieks. “OLLIE, STOP!”

He’s about to answer, but he hears a throat clearing in the doorway. His smile falls and instead his face freezes into an expression of shock and slight panic when he sees Raisa standing there with Felicity.

“You have a guest, Mister Oliver,” the kindly housekeeper grins.

Oh God, he thinks. She’s here. And he’s wearing the most horrendous shirt known to man. And more importantly, he’s wearing it with his sister.

Thea takes advantage of his paralyzation and slips out from underneath the shirt. Then she bounds up to a smiling Felicity and grabs her hand.

“Hi,” she greets. “I’m Thea Queen.”

“Hi, Thea,” Felicity answers, crouching down so she’s eye level with the little girl. “My name is Felicity. I’m a friend of Oliver’s, from school.”

Oliver turns bright red as she says his name and immediately clears his throat. “Uh, hey, Felicity. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I don’t blame you,” Felicity answers with a laugh. “We could hear you two horsing around all the way in the foyer.”

Thea is watching Felicity carefully and for the first time it occurs to Oliver that his sister might not even like Felicity. And just like that, his nervousness doubles as he waits with bated breath for Thea to give her verdict.

And as quickly as a four-year-old’s mercurial moods allow, the little girl’s face breaks out into a soft smile. “I like your hair,” she says admiringly, as she reaches up to touch the fake daisy Felicity has tucked into her braided crown hairstyle.

“Thank you,” the older girl answers with a sweet grin. “Whenever I wear my hair like this, I feel like Elsa.”

Thea’s eyes widen at the mention of her favorite character. “I love Elsa!” she shouts. Then she turns around and stares at Oliver, who feels oddly fuzzy-chested at the sight of his sister and one of his best friends getting along so well.

“Ollie, can you braid my hair like Felicity’s?”

Her question pokes him out of his reverie and he adopts an expression of mocking skepticism. “I don’t know if I can pull it off…”

The little girl immediately runs back toward her brother and tugs on his arm. “Pleeeeaaaase? Pretty please? I want to look like Elsa!”

“Come on, Oliver,” Felicity teases. “I can teach you.”

So for the next hour, the three of them are sitting on Oliver’s bed, Thea sitting cross-legged and as still as her nature will allow while Felicity directs his movements.

At one point, he’s concentrating so hard that his eyes are a little crossed and his tongue is sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Felicity’s soft giggling breaks him out of his focus for a little and he turns to frown at her.

“What?” he demands. “Am I doing it wrong?”

She just smiles and shakes her head. “No. You’re doing fine. You’re just so focused.”

He frowns. “Is that a bad thing?”

She shakes her head again. “Of course not. It’s just cute, is all.”

Then she leans forward and pecks him on the cheek.

He tries really, really hard not to turn red at the feeling of her lips on his skin, but he’s pretty sure he fails miserably because Felicity’s giggling again and that’s only making the whole blushing thing worse.

After Oliver finishes braiding his sister’s hair, the three of them spend the afternoon re-enacting the movie Frozen with Thea as Elsa, Felicity as Anna and Oliver as Kristoff. But, as group play is wont to do, pretty early on in the movie, they all veer off course and create their own weird adventure where the three of them are questing for a magical stone that will bring summer back to Arendelle, and the three of them run into dragons, trolls and giants along the way.

A few hours later, Felicity’s mom comes by to pick her up. Oliver and Thea are both disappointed that the afternoon is cut short, but she promises that she’ll come back next weekend.

Once she’s gone, Oliver and Thea wander into the kitchen where Raisa is preparing their snack. As his sister munches down on her crackers, she turns to him and asks, “Ollie? Is Felicity your girlfriend?”

He almost spits out his juice. “N-no,” he sputters. “Of course n-not! She’s just a friend!”

Thea frowns. “But if she’s a friend and she’s a girl, why isn’t she your girlfriend?”

Sensing that Oliver really rather wouldn’t be talking about this, Raisa quickly butts into the conversation. “Miss Thea, we haven’t started planning the menu for your birthday party! What would you like to eat?”

Talk of her birthday plans sufficiently distracts the four-year-old long enough for Oliver to quickly scarf down the rest of his snack and retreat to his bedroom.

But Thea’s question haunts him as he goes. If Felicity is his friend and she is a girl, could it be possible for her to be his girlfriend?

He ponders the possibility until he spots his reflection on the mirror hanging from the back of his closet, and he realizes he’s still wearing the flamingo shirt.

Well, crap.

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farfromdaylight · 7 years

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reading that post about cortana got me to reread my own haloblogging tag and now... for the first time in a year and a half... i actually have the desire to play halo again

is the sky falling

seriously though, as bad as halo 5 is (and it's so fucking awful i don't have words to describe it), halo is one of my favorite series to play. i miss rolling through legendary with @shotgunspree and screaming when we died for the eight hundredth time. honestly i still have a perfect visual memory of quite a few levels. i could probably run through all of 4 in my head, i've played it so many times.

slowly reaches for halo... sadly... i want to shoot aliens... :(

#haloblogging

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bloodgulchblog · 2 years

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The Rubicon Protocol

Okay I forgot I was gonna talk about The Rubicon Protocol. I am sitting on at least three drafts of partially completed Talking About Books posts but that will not stop me.

If you would like a non-plot summary of what I thought about The Rubicon Protocol and my attempt to help you decide whether you want to read it:

I once again like what Kelly Gay is doing in Halo a lot more than Troy Denning because I am a very character-focused reader. I also think her action sequences are better because she doesn't bog down the way he does, but recognize this may be a subjective distinction. Kelly Gay is restrained a bit by the fact she has to keep to the events of the audio logs, but I really didn't notice it much and, if you want to compare it to other times we've covered game events in Halo novels (The Flood, Forbeck's summaries of ODST and 5 in the Alpha Nine books) this is much better.

It does not cover every Spartan-IV we heard in the audio logs, and if you are looking for more facetime with Fireteam Taurus you won't get it here (except we get some of Griffin, poor Griffin). The major characters are three of the Spartan-IVs we heard in the audio logs (Stone, Kovan, and Horvath), the medic Lucas Browning, Lt. TJ Murphy (you know, from Spartan Ops), and a collection of support staff from the Infinity. It covers the period from the attack on the Infinity until a few days before the Chief wakes up again. There are some parts that are pretty fuckin' grim, the section with the Banished sorting through and mass executing prisoners made me flinch the hardest, but it's kind of a book you go into knowing that the situation is really awful. It will punch you and it will hurt, there are deaths in here that hurt, but you're probably prepared and the protagonists actually manage to do something really important by the time it's over.

Overall, you guys know me by now. I wouldn't say this is my most favorite Halo novel, but I like to hurt when it feels like it meant something. I also really like those small moments where characters connect in crisis and try to care for one another even when everything is terrible. I like this one.

Alright, spoiler helmets on, let's get into it.

There are two major plot threads in The Rubicon Protocol. I'll probably get the exact timeline mixed up a little (and maybe miss some details) because I'm not rereading the whole thing for this, but it should be enough. The first plot thread belongs to the boat crew (technically the Spartans aren't entirely with the boat crew, but I am counting them). The boat crew is a group of people all bonded by shared experience in the incredibly chaotic landing of their lifeboats:

Spartan Bonita Stone - A member of Fireteam Shadow, and memorable as the first dead Spartan you find in the Infinite campaign, so there are no spoilers here about how much this is gonna hurt. We are introduced to Stone when she's busy holding up a collapsing support beam on Infinity so that evacuees can reach the lifeboats.

Spartan Nina Kovan - Another member of Fireteam Shadow. (The status of the rest of Shadow is unknown, by the way.) Kovan is the one you hear punching her drop pod through a Phantom in the audio logs, which we actually get a novelization of in here. Kovan and Stone go back ten years. She's a sniper (canonically inspired by Linda, among others) and the other Spartans nicknamed her "The Stoic."

TJ Murphy - Murphy is a character from Spartan Ops and Escalation (...which I still haven't read). As the most experienced non-Spartan on hand, he takes on a leadership role for the others. He does a lot to support the other members of the boat crew and to try to keep them from falling away into the despair. He also has pre-existing rapport with the Spartan-IVs. Murphy and Browning share the job of non-Spartan Viewpoint Character in this book. I like him here, but I also don't know how he was established previously and if this will possibly affect that experience for you.

Lucas Browning - One of my refrains reading this was just going oh, Lucas. We heard those audiologs. We go into this knowing he's doomed, and the book made me care about him and it hurts a lot. Lucas is 25, a medic, the youngest member of the boat crew, and cares so much. He cares SO much. We are first introduced to him when he's the last person Stone manages to get through onto the lifeboats, and he endears himself early with how badly he feels about Pvt Kinney (who is dying of internal injuries after the lifeboat crash, and he can't save her.)

Erik Bender - One of two people Kovan finds from another shuttle: Bender was working as a barber on the Infinity. Kovan makes a wisecrack about how he must be good with a blade and lends him her knife.

Gavin Jo - A mortuary specialist that Kovan found along with Bender, nobody else on their boat made it. (Can I just say once again how much I love that there are people with ordinary support staff jobs in this book?)

Robin Dimik - A safety specialist (or "glorified firefighter" as she puts it) from Murphy's lifeboat, who starts the book with a concussion from the rough landing.

Isaiah Cameron - An ensign. Cam's the one who manages to jury rig an antenna so the lifeboat can call for help, and who ends up with a piece of shrapnel through his knee that Browning pulls out for him.

After evacuating the Infinity Murphy, Browning, Jo, Dimik, and Cameron are trapped inside their lifeboat when it lands in such a way they can't get it open. They manage to make contact with Spartan Tomas Horvath (of Fireteam Intrepid) and he promises to come get them out, but never comes (it's not his fault!). The one who does is Spartan Stone.

Speaking of Horvath...

The second plot thread belongs to Spartan Tomas Horvath, a member of Fireteam Intrepid. "A big, burly, good-natured troublemaker—the kind you wanted at your back." Horvath is the one I remembered as for-sure having survived in the audio logs even before we started here. One of the first things we see him do is bond in a really kind way with Browning over comms by asking him where he's from, figuring out they share a homeworld, and just talking to him to try to keep him calm.

Horvath is on his way to assist the stuck lifeboat when the Halo cracks up. Horvath is unable to reach the lifeboat, separated from his fireteam, and (while trying to evade the Banished) winds up buried under a landslide of earth, and (to add insult to injury) marooned on a floating chunk of Halo that is now leaking its atmosphere.

Stone, the marines Stone has found, Murphy and the boat crew, and Kovan have a harrowing time traveling on the ring, pretty much in pure survival mode. They lose all the marines to the Banished. One evening, after surviving a particularly harrowing attack where several of the boat crew are almost hauled away by Kig-Yar that intend to eat them (Jo in particular has a very traumatic time because he has to stab a Kig-Yar to death at grapple range), they find out that the UNSC has established a rally point at the crash site of the frigate Mortal Reverie.

I love the part where they go to the Reverie. The ship still has a lot of resources so people actually get to eat food and have clean water (though they have to aggressively ration it) and this is, of course, incredibly emotional for them. Also loved the somberness of all the survivors filtering in bringing all the dog tags of people they'd lost. Feed me delicious sorrow, Halo.

Meanwhile, Horvath is trapped on a bad piece of Halo that's getting worse. He finds that the Banished Phantom that chased him out onto this rock in the first place (and was then taken down by a Sentinel) ended up crashing on the Sentinel, so Horvath could theoretically use that Sentinel to jury-rig a way off the rock. Unfortunately, if he's going to do that he's going to need the help of Gorian: the lone Jiralhanae survivor of the Phantom crash. Gorian is a Bloodstar, a Spartan Hunter, and a real piece of work, but he agrees. They are both very clear that at the first second they can do it without jeopardizing their own survivals, they are going to backstab each other so fast.

Unfortunately, once they're off, Gorian has allies and Gorian is faster. He leaves a badly wounded Horvath to (presumably) die, but you know. Spartan-IVs. Horvath is instead just very unconscious. For days.

MEANWHILE, THE BOAT CREW.

During the time where the Reverie actually functions as an outpost for the UNSC they manage to establish the FOBs, and Fireteam Taurus puts their plan to assassinate Escharum into motion.

This, of course, as we know, fails, and the retribution is vicious. The survivors have very little time to prepare for an overwhelming Banished assault on the Mortal Reverie, which scatters them. The boat crew loses Jo. Spartan Kovan, whose armor is damaged and has started to randomly lock up in the gel layer, goes down. Browning, because he cares and because we love him, draws the Banished away from Kovan and the others by taking off on his own before they can stop him. This is how he gets captured, and how Kovan comes to feel responsible for what happens to him. Also, they're separated from Stone. Because all the Spartans' armor is jacked up and they have no way of fixing it out here, communications are spotty and long-range comms are pretty much lost by this point.

What happens to him is that Browning gets processed as a prisoner and bears witness to horrible atrocities, because the Banished are terrible and the Banished suck. Browning is allowed to live because he's not a soldier (they can tell, he's too scrawny) and that means maybe he's a scientist or something. He becomes one of the people the Banished are using to operate Forerunner technology, and is treated abominably in Chak 'Lok's tower like all the rest of the prisoners. He meets a fellow prisoner that is tortured often, way more than most people would be able to even survive, and who wants to know what happened at the Reverie and which Spartans Browning has seen. When asked his name, he tells Browning it's probably better for Browning if he doesn't know.

(The implication is really strong that this is Griffin. Poor, poor Griffin.)

Out on the ring, the scattered UNSC enacts the Rubicon Protocol: Pure asset denial. The chain of command doesn't matter anymore: if you can do something to fuck up the Banished, you don't need permission or authorization. Just do it, in any way you can.

There's some room for storytelling in this sketched out space in time, if you wanted: lots of little groups of people all over the place, not clustering together so they're harder for the Banished to deal with, lots of guerilla fighting and raids and sabotage. It's awful but there's also the hope of people bonding together in crisis. It's not a fleshed out detail but I loved that groups of UNSC give themselves names (one example is Hatriox) and establish a word-of-mouth "leaderboard" of who has done the most impressive shit, spreading the stories around whenever they run into one another. The surviving boat crew are very genuinely friends that care about one another.

Horvath gets up and, while trying to follow the trail of Gorian's activities, finds something tragic: a dying ONI operative (Kate Stalling) who had been studying Zeta Halo for two years before the Banished rolled in. Stalling has been brutally tortured and the Banished now know what the UNSC did about the ring's Conspectus network, which keeps a complete record of everything on/about Zeta Halo in its various hubs. Gorian and Jega 'Rdomnai are on their way to a Conspectus hub, and left Stalling to die.

There's really not much hope of Stalling recovering and she is in incredible pain. She asks Horvath to kill her but he can't do it, then she asks him to leave her his sidearm. He hates it and feels awful about it, but he does. Horvath sets off to follow the lead Stalling gave him re: the Conspectus network.

Meanwhile the boat crew actually finds Stone, and Stone and Kovan end up scouting the Mortal Reverie again. They also find out that Browning is still alive, because by this point the Banished have brought him up to the Forerunner site under/near the Reverie and used him to let out the Harbinger.

There's a devastatingly sad scene where Kovan sneaks onto the Phantom he's on to talk to him, and she can't actually take him with her because the shackles he's in will kill him if she tries.

Spartan Stone tells Kovan that she's going to investigate deeper into the Banished excavation (spoiler: it's Gorian and Jega at a Conspectus hub), and to give her a few days to do that.

This is the part where you're getting to be most of the way through the book and you're like "shit, I know she doesn't make it," and you are right to feel that way.

Stone witnesses Gorian and Jega using a human prisoner to extract a data node, then they destroy the hub and kill the prisoner. Stone steals the data node and fights BOTH OF THEM for time while her onboard AI copies the data and corrupts the original, so that once they do kill her and take it off her body it will be useless.

It's actually a very badass way to die and she succeeds and dies laughing blood at them and they have no idea.

When Stone doesn't come back, the rest of the group goes in and does find her body (and is Emotions) and recover the copy of the data her AI kept. They also run into one of the ring's submonitors: 091 Adjutant Veridity.

Veridity isn't the main monitor, but she's pretty irked that Cortana locked Despondent Pyre up in the Conservatory and locked all the submonitors out of the Halo's systems. But hey, what if these Reclaimers could go to the Conservatory and let Despondent Pyre out?

The boat crew picks up Horvath along the way (because he's following his Conspectus network lead) and they all go have a terrible time with the Banished over the Conservatory. They have three goals: 1) Release Pyre, 2) Use the data that Stone stole to send a message to the UNSC telling them the ring's current coordinates, and 3) kill Jega and Gorian.

They release Pyre, but Despondent Pyre isn't particularly eager to help them. Veridity has to yell at her a lot, and finally to tell her that HEY, the Banished let the Harbinger out, to get her to budge on it at all. Pyre explains that they don't have control over the ring's beacon towers anymore due to, you know, all the shit that's been going on, but she gives the boat crew a key to gain control of one if they can get to it. That's all the help she gives, though. She won't even let Veridity come along.

The boat crew goes out to the beacon tower and has further terrible Banished times. They lose Cam and Murphy (Murphy especially hurts) but manage to send the message. Kovan has a grudge match with Gorian and manages to kill him, but is on top of a teleportation pad that lights up and sends him god knows where. (This is where he is when he sends his final transmission we hear in Infinite)

The surviving boat crew (Kovan, Bender, and Dimik) are going to be overwhelmed by the Banished, but Veridity appears in time to save them and teleports them away to safety... somewhere else on the ring. God also knows where.

Kovan, Bender, and Dimik are last seen working on Kovan's damaged armor as much as they can, planning to try to rest and heal. Then, their new objective?

They're pretty sure Browning is still alive in the Tower. It sounds like as good a place to aspire to fuck up as any.

I frontloaded my opinion on this one because it's a recent Halo book and I figured people might... actually care... so I don't really have that left to say at the end here.

I liked it. I thought it was good. I cared about the characters and I'm glad to know more about what's going on. The actions in this book also meant something because getting that transmission out there re: the new location of the ring gives the hope that help might actually come, and that's lore-significant.

I am pleased!

#halo: the rubicon protocol #rubicon protocol spoilers #summaries of things

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