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docholligay · 3 years

Note

What's your opinion on the Ow 2 redesigns, Tracer and Mercy in particular?

OH LORD HERE WE GO

So I salute their right to redesign the characters for the Second Coming, and its not particularly unexpected because, I mean, they want to build conversation and hype, and that's a way to build conversation and hype, I suppose.

So I DID see it coming, and I know me well enough to know that when I am terribly fond of something, I don't necessarily ENJOY the idea of change, so I've been sitting with this for a long while to get USED to it before I decide if the hate is legit or just me being a little pissbaby.

ANYWAY HERE'S THE CONCLUSIONS I'VE COME TO

In generalities, I don't even think most of the redesigns are BAD, I just think that they make everyone look a little more samey-same, less exaggerated, and more grounded. On THEORETICAL PAPER, I don't have a lot of trouble with it because it makes them look more like a cohesive team (Which is essentially the point of the fic I'm working on) but I do miss a bit of the uniqueness of the characters in the redesign and they all feel like they've been flattened a little bit. Everyone is a bit more POLISHED, but a bit less FUN. This works for me for characters like Pharah, who, because of how I see her, I could see picking something more streamlined, more together, more PROFESSIONAL, but for like, Human Representation of a Vegas Slot Machine Floor, Lena Oxton, it doesn't make as much sense.

Now on a personal level, let's get into it. I'll start with Pharah:

They darkened her skin a shade and removed her little gold bead hairthing, both of which I not only have no trouble with but out and out like. I have never cared for her silly little hairthings, and now I am at liberty to ignore them entirely, picking and choosing from canons at my pleasure. I'd have to see a better picture too, but I think her hair is longer, which I don't love, but we all know if it were up to me Pharah would have a haircut like this:

You know, sexy but also very officious, so perhaps we can't go by me.

As far as her uniform, the changes are fairly minimal

It’s basically just streamlining. The changes they made to Pharah were really minimal, which is good because I liked her the way she was, mostly, and they took away one of the things I didn’t care for, but also bad because making few changes to her seems to suggest to me that her involvement in the lore of the game will once again be minimized. But then again, who knows what they would do to her, perhaps it’s for the best.

Winston, my poor bab, why do they treat you like this constantly? He gets hardly any change except they make his face less expressive??? Maybe in the game itself it won’t be so jarring.

Mercy!

WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH THIS GODDAMN HAIRCUT, I HATE IT SO FUCKING MUCH

a reminder of her full hair style before the redesign

She looks like a fucking soccer mom who’s complaining about Bath and Body works being sold out of individual hand sanitizers for their big sale of the year, and now how is she supposed to make gift baskets for Teacher Appreciation Week with the PTA? IT BEING UGLY ASIDE, the woman is a combat medic!! Why in god’s name would she have hair that she can’t pull back in any way, shape or form? Where does she find the time to keep something like that trimmed up?? Also, out of all the shit you changed, you couldn’t let her have a wrinkle or something? Give a bitch a break.

As far as her actual uniform, I highly approve of putting her status as medic on her sleeve, well done, and I think the way in which they tried to make the halo thing “work” as an actual item that a human being might have a reason to wear is not totally ungraceful considering how patently ridiculous it is.

AND NOW, MY GIRL

I went to the website and just gripped my chest. My heart! How I love her!

So i actually really approve of how they changed her face:

They removed some ot the rim from her goggles to allow her to have more expressiveness, and actually removed most of her eyeliner! PRAISE AND FUCKING BLESS, I am forever begging for scraps at the “please let Tracer be more butch, as a treat!” table, and every once in a great while, i get it. I DO wish they had brought back her freckles, but somewhere along the second year I think it was, they dropped her little angel kisses and every time I commission anything of her I have to be lIke, “And could you please give her freckles? :)”

A better view!! I’m love her!!

HER JACKET

I HATE HER FUCKING JACKET

ALright I get that this one is actually integrated better with her CA, and that’s fine and fair, but my god it is so colorless and drab and sad???? I loved the way her old jacket paid tribute to her RAF career, and it was such a THING of hers that I feel like I have to go back and remind blizz they actually sold her fucking jacket AND her hoodie was based off it, so why are we removing it now?? This thing is dishwater-dull, some sad excuse for a moto-style jacket that just doesn’t fit her at all to me and OH MY GOD HOW MUCH DO I HATE THAT THE PATCH IS NOW JUST TRCR GOD I HATE THE TREND OF JUST FUCKING REMOVING ALL VOWELS FROM SHIT.

Also, the clips??? WHY? If you weren’t going to connect them to anything, wjhy keep them? In the original, they clearly keep Tracer’s CA in place while she’s fucking around, and if they decided her new CA (Which is flattened and made into a more wearable thing--I approve) didn’t require that because it fit better or is integrated with the jacket or something WHY IN GOD’S NAME ARE THE CLIPS STILL THERE???

Anyway, MY Lena Oxton would not wear this, or she would, in the name of the team, but she would scowl as she put it on.

I have no idea yet what they’ve done with DVa, so STAY TUNED.

Small thoughts: I like that Genji gets to wear clothes! His reign of naked cyborg oppression has ended! I don’t like that they’ve removed McCree’s chaps look from the whole thing, so he looks less cowboyish.

#Lena just like #'it's a grey jacket. why am I wearing a grey jacket?'#let's not even get into my many fears about the lore of OW2 itself #God I love overwatch and YET it's always just this #ANYWAY I KNOW LIKE FIVE OF YOU CARE ABOUT MY OW FEELIGNS AND YOU ARE THE REAL MVPs

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plaidbooks · 3 years

Note

I was going to request a Nick fic, but I see you have a lot coming up so I’ll chill ☺️ Instead can I request a Rafael one where him and Liv actually do have some sort of secret thing going on, but reader starts as a new detective with SVU and her and Rafael have an instant connection.

To Love Again

A/N: Heya Anon--never feel hesitant about sending in a request! Even if I’m backed up on someone, I’ll gladly take any request haha!. Anyways, this got...a lot more angst than I meant for it to, whoops. I hop you enjoy (and there’s a small possibility for this to get a sequel, depending on inspiration).

This also jumps perspective, between Rafi and reader. Just a heads-up.

Tags: implied smut, angst with a happy? ending, mentions of sexual assault (no details given), alcohol

Words: 2650

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @dianilaws

It had started one drunken night, by mutual agreement, after a rough case and an even rough loss. Rafael and Olivia had gone out for drinks, to take the edge off after getting back the “not guilty” verdict. To show that they weren’t mad at each other. To show that they could work through the arguments and disagreements they had through the whole trial, the whole case. And the night had ended with Rafael waking up in Olivia’s bed. It was awkward at first, but they had talked about it; they cared for each other, but not in that way. It was simply…stress relief. And it didn’t happen again. Not until another rough loss, about two months later.

“We’re both single adults—we’re being safe about it. Who cares?” Olivia had said one day, and Rafael had agreed. Like they said, they cared about each other. Just not in that way. Who cares if they found relief in each other’s bodies once in a blue moon? It didn’t go beyond that, which was fine with Rafael; his heart was too shriveled up for a relationship, anyways. This was simpler, easier.

**********************

There was a knock on his office door late in the afternoon. Glancing up, he called out for whoever it was to enter, curious as to who was coming to meet with him. He had no appointments at this time, though it wasn’t rare that people stopped by for one thing or another. He quirked an eyebrow though as you entered his office; he had never seen you before.

“Mr. Barba? I’m here to drop off some signed statements from the Jackson case, and to pick up a warrant for Wilson’s apartment,” you said shyly, coming to stand in front of his desk. You held the paperwork out to him, and he took it from you, that eyebrow still raised. You swallowed nervously as his bright green eyes roamed over your face.

“And who are you?” Rafael asked. His voice was light, a conversational tone.

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. “Oh! Detective [Y/L/N]; I just started with SVU a few days ago. Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself,” you replied, smiling sheepishly and holding out your hand.

His lips twitched up at the corners, and he took your hand, shaking it. Olivia had told him that she was getting a new detective soon, but he didn’t know she already did. Nor that you would look so….

“You said the Wilson warrant, correct?” Rafael asked, pulling his hand back, flipping through files.

“That’s the one.” You watched his fingers run over the pages on his desk, flicking through the paper. Your face grew warmer as you thought about what those fingers would feel like against your skin, moving down your body, pushing under your pants….

“Ah, here it is,” he said, breaking you out of your lewd thoughts. He passed the folded warrant to you, and you thanked him, face now completely on fire. His eyes were sparkling with mischief, as if he knew exactly where your mind had been. “Would you like to get a nightcap with me tonight, Detective? Get to know each other a little better?”

Your breath hitched. “I-I’d like that very much,” you replied, smiling at him. “I’m off at 8 tonight. Is that alright?”

Rafael nodded. “Of course. Meet me at Forlini’s after you’re off.”

You turned to leave, warrant in hand, then you remembered that your new business cards had come in, with your personal cell phone number on it. Taking one from your pocket, you handed it to Rafael. “Here’s my number…if I’m late, feel free to text. I’m the new kid, so don’t be surprised it I get stuck with OT,” you laughed, and he smirked, tucking the card into his pocket.

***********************

You made it to Forlini’s shortly after you got off; no OT, not tonight. Rafael was already sitting at the bar, a glass of amber liquid in front of him. His suit jacket was off, hanging over the back of his chair. His sleeves were rolled up, showing off his forearms, and you had a moment to stare before he turned and saw you heading over towards him.

“Detective,” Rafael greeted, nodding towards you, a grin on his face. “What are you drinking?”

“Ah, vodka cranberry. I’m on call tonight, so only one drink for me,” you smiled back at him. You could hold your liquor well enough that one drink wouldn’t kill you. But that was it; you didn’t want to mess anything up, especially this early in your new career as detective. You worked too hard to get here.

Rafael nodded in acknowledgement. “Fair enough.” He waved down the bartender, ordering your drink onto his tab.

“Thank you,” you said, to both the bartender and Rafael as you were handed your drink. You both sat in silence, sipping your drinks, eyeing each other. Rafael was, well, attractive. You had heard about him, of course; when Olivia had sent you to get a warrant earlier that evening, everyone in the department had a warning for you about his sass, his sarcasm. But he seemed nice enough, and those eyes…those forearms…those fingers….

“What made you decide to go for SVU?” he asked, bringing your attention back to him.

“I’ve, uh, I’ve always wanted to help people. And so many of my friends were…assaulted when I was younger, back before we knew what the word meant. I’ve seen firsthand what it can do…what it does to people. And if I can help even one person reclaim their life, then it’s all worth it.” You didn’t mean to go so in depth, but once you started talking, you realized you couldn’t stop. And something about Rafael seemed…comforting. Like you wanted to tell him your whole life story. Maybe that’s why his conviction record was so high.

He nodded along with you, his eyes boring into you, watching you intently. “That’s a noble cause. You do realize that there’s a lot of grey areas in this job, though, right? And that the justice system doesn’t always win out?” He said it matter-of-factly, his voice unwavering. But there was a slight sadness underneath, tinting his eyes as he said it.

“I-I know…. We won’t always get our guy. We won’t always win. But the fight is worth it, if only to validate the victims, to put the behavior in the spotlight, to make it easier for the next victim,” you sighed, “because there will always be another victim.”

Rafael noticed how your voice had changed and decided to go for a lighter topic. “So, who’s your partner?”

“Uh, Fin, so he can keep an eye on me. And also Carisi—he tells me it’s because it’s getting colder and Fin doesn’t want to leave the warmth of the precinct,” you answered, smiling slightly.

“Stuck with Fordham, huh? I don’t know how you’re going to stay sane with him. He’s started shadowing me, and I already have a headache just thinking about it.”

You laughed, and Rafael chuckled. “Come on, he’s not that bad. A little excitable…. That’s cool that he’s shadowing you, though. Getting some hands-on experience.”

“Yeah, cool for him. Though, I have to admit, he has some…decent points every now and again,” Rafael conceded. Then, he gave you a sharp look, “you are to never tell him that I said that.”

**********************

Conversation flowed easily between you two, and you ended up staying much later than you thought at Forlini’s, simply chatting with the counselor. You switched to water after your one drink, making sure you had a clear mind in case you were called in. But by 11pm, you still hadn’t received a call, and you were getting tired.

“I think I should head home…I got work in the morning,” you said reluctantly. You didn’t want to leave; you were having a lot of fun with Rafael. You had no idea why the other detectives had warned you about him.

“I’ll walk you out,” Rafael replied, finishing his drink and waving the bartender down. You waited while he paid, thanking him again for your drink. And then he was leading you out of the bar, his hand on your lower back, sending electricity through you.

“Thank you for tonight, Rafael; I had a lot of fun talking with you,” you smiled at him.

He grinned back at you, waving down a cab for you. “I had a good time, too. I’m excited to work with you.” A cab pulled up, and he opened the door for you. You brushed past him, and he grabbed your elbow, turning you back to him. His lips were suddenly on yours, the kiss gentle, innocent. You froze for a moment before you kissed him back, savoring the taste, the feel of him against you. Pulling back, you both looked at each other, panting slightly. It took your brain a moment to catch up to what just happened, and now that it did, you panicked, mumbling a goodnight, and climbing into the taxi, leaving Rafael standing on the sidewalk.

*************************

He wasn’t sure what had come over him, what had possessed him to kiss you in front of Forlini’s. This was…different than what he had with Olivia. With Liv, it was all stress that was shoved down, down until it burst out of both of them. There were no feelings when it came to sleeping with Liv, just primal urges, actions. But sitting in Forlini’s, talking to you, Rafael felt….

That was just the problem, wasn’t it? Rafael felt, something that hasn’t happened in so long, he almost forgot what it meant to feel, what it…felt like. And you had returned the kiss! But then, before he could even attempt a next step—whether it was an apology or inviting himself over to your place, even he wasn’t sure—your eyes had gone wide with surprise, and you had fled. And now, Rafael was at a loss for what to do. He had your number; should he call you? Text? Should he apologize? Or should he lay on the charm, try and slip into your pants, your bed? And what the fuck was he going to tell Liv? Sorry, we can’t sleep together anymore cause I’m fucking your new detective? But that wasn’t even true yet! Sighing, he went back into Forlini’s, ordering another drink.

************************

Thankfully, one of these situations had fixed themselves…though, it still fucking hurt. Olivia had come into Rafael’s office late one night, a few days after the incident at Forlini’s, closing and locking the door—the tell-tale sign that they were going to discuss some…personal matters.

“We can’t do this anymore, Rafa,” Liv had murmured, her voice soft. Even in his secluded office, the walls had ears. And while she was being vague on purpose, Rafael understood immediately.

“What’s changed?” he asked idly. He wasn’t…mad, but he was a little surprised, and hurt. He had enjoyed having a warm body in his bed, rather than his hand.

“I’ve…” Olivia dropped her voice lower, and Rafael had to strain her ears to hear her. “I’ve started seeing someone.” Rafael nodded, keeping his face neutral. He was happy for his friend; she deserved someone who loved her, cared for her. But he couldn’t stop the jealousy that cropped up. Not so much at her, but at the fact that she had found someone.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted,” Rafael smirked, going back to the motion he was currently filling out. He thought back to the kiss with you, and his heart constricted.

“Are we okay?” Liv asked, her voice low.

Rafael glanced up at her, his eyes softening. “Of course, we are. I’ll always care about you, Liv. And I’m happy you found someone.”

Olivia nodded once, her hand rubbing Rafael’s shoulder lovingly, before she left his office. Sighing, he pulled out his phone, your card, and typed in your number.

************************

You didn’t know why you answered your phone when an unknown number called, nor why you gave him your address when you learned it was Rafael. You weren’t entirely sure why you let him into your apartment when he showed up 20 minutes later, nor why you opened the bottle of spice rum when he asked if you had alcohol. But the most confounding thing to you was when he kissed you again, you didn’t stop him. In fact, you escalated it, pulling his shirt off.

Groaning as you woke up, you froze as you felt strong arms around your naked body, a warm chest against your back, a heavy breath tickling your neck. Oh fuck, you didn’t…no way. But the soreness between your legs, your naked body against his, and your memories of the night prior were slowly coming back to you, and you grimaced. You were not the type of person to sleep with someone you had just met, drunk or not. It didn’t matter that you found him attractive, or that from what you remembered, the sex was phenomenal. This wasn’t you, so what happened?

“Morning,” Rafael’s voice was still thick with sleep, husky in your ear. His lips brushed over your shoulder, his arms tugging you tighter against him.

“Uh, morning Rafael,” you replied softly. But he heard the hesitance in your voice.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his breath warm on your skin.

You sighed, rolling over to look at him. “This…I don’t know how to say this…” you trailed off, and he furrowed his brow. “I’m…I don’t just…sleep around with people….”

Realization swept over his face. “Oh. I’m…I’m sorry. You seemed…you seemed okay with it last night. And I used a condom—”

“No, I’m not blaming you, I promise.” You sighed, looking away. The sadness, the regret on his face was too much for you to bare. “I mean…I like you, Rafael, but I don’t know you.”

In the softest voice, he said, “this is…this is all I know. I’m so sorry.” He rolled over, pulling away from you. He got out of bed, moving around your room, grabbing his clothes, and pulling on articles of clothing as he went.

You watched in silence, your heart breaking. What did that mean? “I’d like to, though…know you, that is.” Rafael turned to look at you, his brow furrowed once more. “But let’s take it slow, go out on a date or two, learn about each other.”

“A date?”

You smiled softly at him. “You have been on a date, right?” you joked.

“…not in many, many years.”

Your smile faded and your heart strained for the man—that kiss at Forlini’s and last night made so much more sense now. You wondered when the last time he felt genuine love was…and how badly it must’ve ended for him to be this broken over it.

“Then I’ll remind you. We’ll go slow, take baby steps…that is, if you want,” you said.

Rafael nodded, his head barely moving, and he blinked away the tears that threatened to form. “I’d like that. You’ll…you’ll have to be patient with me,” he warned.

“Lucky for you, I have all the patience of a detective,” you grinned, and his lips twitched upwards. “Let’s start with lunch. Today work for you?”

He nodded once more, then left your room to let you dress. This could work; you’d teach the counselor about love again, let the walls around his heart down, let him feel again. Rafael was, of course, afraid of being hurt again; he felt like his heart still wasn’t fully put back together. But after this many years, he alone obviously wasn’t enough for the job. Maybe he needed someone else to help. And he trusted you, more than he thought he could after everything he’s gone through throughout his life, especially since you had just met. Sure, he was terrified about all of this. But for you…for you, he was willing to try.

#rafael barba x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #the slightest bit of barson #but not a focus and it ends p quickly #Anonymous

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aspenflower17 · 3 years

Text

Finding You (Part 16 of ??)

Hello metal husband and readers! Welcome to another update to Finding You! What’s on tap today you ask? Well, just keep reading and find out! New here and don’t want to spoil the story? Just hop on over to Part One through this link, and you can read through!

Word Count: 3,558

Tags for the Tagged: @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan @theuglypugling @oofthelazyweeb @solomonismyman (If you want to be added to my tags list, just say the word down below in a comment or a message, and I will get you added to the list :D)

Trigger warnings: One character’s a total douche, talk of war and death

Mc twirled the pencil she had been sketching with debating if she should ask the question she had been thinking about. Her and Michael were the only ones in the room and no one would be coming in for quite awhile. This was probably the best time she’d get to ask, "Hey, Michael. Can I ask you a question?"

He looked up from his book, "Yes? What is it?"

"Well, I was reading a book the other day, and I came across something odd. It… it was about the Avatar's Fall," Mc couldn't look at Michael, so she just continued, "Eyewitness accounts say there were eight angels that fell that day. So, I was wondering: Was there an eighth angel who fell that day?"

The silence was heavy, threatening to crush Mc. After a long moment, Michael's voice sounded lowly, "And just why were you reading about something like that?"

"Meeting them in person got me curious."

"And you would believe an eyewitness account over the teachings of the Celestial Realm?"

"Well, not necessarily. I just was curious since I'd never heard of there being another angel who Fell."

There was silence, and Mc still couldn't make herself look over, "I suppose just because some of them have paid attention to you makes you think you know all about demons.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it then? If you haven’t forgotten, demons will lie about anything. Sinning comes naturally to them. In fact, the seven you keep coming into contact with are the embodiment of some of the most damaging sins. The lower demons are even worse.”

“I just want the most information possible. If there was another angel who fell that day, shouldn’t we tell everyone?”

“You forget your place, Mc. You may have luxuries other angels do not possess, but that does not raise your station. Questioning Father’s teachings. To believe something a demon wrote about another demon-"

"I'm not really questioning. I was just confused because-"

"And now you interrupt me? Just who do you think you are? I am an archangel, and the only reason you've been allowed down here. You are a simple angel that we have allowed to express her talents throughout the three realms. Do not make me wonder if it was the right decision."

Mc flinched at the door closing. Though he hadn't slammed it, nor had he raised his voice, she had felt the waves of displeasure rolling off of him. The threat about sending her back to the Celestial Realm had her really nervous. Before she was aware of what she was doing, the message had been sent.

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

“I could’ve come to the castle.”

“Hmmm… I don’t think that would be for the best right now.”

Satan cocked his head, “Did something happen?”

“Kind of. Anyway, thanks for meeting me here.”

“Of course. Is there anything in particular you’d like to do?”

“Well, I kinda thought, since I have an invitation and all, that you could show me around the House of Lamentation.”

“I… I mean, if you want to. I’m warning you now, it’s almost never calm there. My brothers are… a handful.”

“Sounds great!”

Satan looked over in shock, “Seriously?”

Mc nodded her head, “I grew up with calm. I want some excitement.”

“Well, be careful what you wish for.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

“GIVE ME BACK MY LIMITED DIAMOND EDITION SUCREY FRENZY SIGNED POSTER MAMMON! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT’S WORTH!”

“Course I know what it’s worth! Why’d ya think I took it in the firs’ place?”

“SO YOU DID TAKE IT!!!”

“Oh. Whoops! Forget I said anythin’.”

“MAMMON!”

A blur of demon shot past Mc and Satan. All Mc could make out was white and brown, before Leviathan went past, considerably slower than Mammon, but still fast for a demon. At least, Mc thought it might be Leviathan. The shy purple haired demon was now in all black, with black horns and a snake-like tail. He also looked like he was going to rip apart his brother.

Satan sighed, continuing forward, hands in his pockets, “Welcome to the House of Lamentation.”

“Shouldn’t we do something?”

“Hmm? Oh, about them? I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Ah. I see…”

“We should probably get you out of the immediate vicinity though. There’s no telling what those two idiots might do.”

“Where should we go then?”

“Hmmm… Well, since we’re close, I guess we could start with the kitchen.”

“Sounds good to me!”

As they walked, Mc looked around her. Though the decorations were both a tad macabre and extremely grand, she found herself… comfortable. The candle light cast everything in an almost cheery glow, and the atmosphere, while a little daunting, made her feel like she was…

“... Home.”

Satan stopped dead in his tracks, and turned slowly towards her, “W-wait… Hwat did you say?”

“Oh, did I say that outloud? Sorry. That probably sounded really weird,” when Satan didn’t answer, Mc continued a bit awkwardly, “It’s just… This is the most comfortable I’ve been in a brand new place in a long time. I thought maybe my attraction to the Devildom was just because of how novel it all is to an angel. But… Being in this house, it just makes everything feel more like… Home,” Mc looked up to see Satan looking at her with a very tender but sad look, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Let’s keep going.”

When they got to the kitchen, Belphegor and Beelzebub were there, former hiding his head in his arms and the latter consuming a concerning amount of food in a very short time. He stopped when Satan and Mc entered the room.

“Burfy! Wrok hus herr!”

“Hmmm? What? Who is it?”

“Ots Emm Fee!”

Belphegor lifted his head tiredly, but smiled when he saw Satan and Mc, “So, you took us up on the invitation?”

“Yup. Satan’s showing me around.”

“Do you guys want some food?” Beelzebub asked, mouth cleared for a second.

“Well, I-"

"Here. You can have this," Beel said, grabbing her hand and dropping what looked to be a kind of sweet bun in it. He gazed at it for a second then looked at her and grinned before walking back to his food pile.

"You should eat it," Satan said quietly, " He doesn't share his food with just anybody."

"Oh. Okay," Mc said, looking at the sweet. She took a small bite and then her eyes grew wide before eating the whole thing.

"Thought you'd like it," the Avatar of Gluttony smiled.

"It was absolutely delicious! What was it?"

"An orange roll. It's a human word treat."

"I'm going to have to have Luke make it later."

"Did he come with you?" Beel's eyes were shining.

"Ummm… Not this time."

"Oh."

"I'll make sure to let him know next time I'm coming."

"Please do," Beel said, smiling again.

"Well, I'm going to continue our tour if that's alright."

"Yes, please do," Mc smiled, turning back to him.

"Have fun you two," Belphie said, dropping his head back onto his arm.

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

Mc and Satan progressed through the house. The feeling of familiarity just kept growing as they went. There was a room off the kitchen that Mc felt very drawn to. Satan said it was just an unused bedroom, nothing of note, but it did nothing to curb her interest. In fact, it made her want to see what was inside even more.

When they got to the library, they had to stop because Mc was so excited. No matter how many library’s she saw, personal or otherwise, they never failed to excite her. The fact it was the personal library of the Fallen was not lost on her.

“Do you want to stop here for a bit?” Satan chuckled.

Mc turned to him with wide eyes, “Can we?”

“Of course. Spending time with books is always time well spent. Anything in particular you’d like to look for?”

“Ummm… Do you just want to give me a tour?”

“Of the library?... Hmm… I suppose I could do that. Lucifer does like it organized a certain way. And, of course, if there’s a book that catches your eye, all you have to do is say the word and we can stop to read.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re really after,” Mc teased.

“Well, can you blame me? Reading with someone in companionable silence is one of life’s greatest joys.”

“Well, I suppose it is nice to just sit and read with Sim, though he’s probably the only one I’ve read with.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Most other angels don’t just sit and read very often. Unless it’s scripture.”

“Sounds about right,” Satan said, rolling his eyes and starting to climb the stairs that lead to the second story of the library.

The “certain way” Lucifer liked the books to be organized was by genre, then alphabetically by author.If an author had multiple books, they were to be then sorted alphabetically by title, any series sorted by the first book’s title then in order. Many of the books were old though in impeccable condition. Mc was impressed by the breadth of selection available, and she could sense some spacial magic at work which housed more books than what was visible to the naked eye. While browsing, Mc found a book that looked interesting, and carried it until the tour was over. Satan happened to have a book in a hidden pocket in his jacket so they decided to sit and read awhile. Instead of the ground floor, Satan knew of a little nook on the second story which had a cushioned window seat and two plush reading chairs, so they went and sat there.

Though the story was interesting, she just couldn’t get into the book she’d grabbed. Her mind kept wandering back to her earlier conversation with Michael. She didn’t know how she could have brought up the subject in a way where he wouldn’t have gotten so upset with her. He’d reprimanded her before, but never had he been so dismissive and final about it.

“Are you alright?” Satan’s voice cut through her thoughts. She looked over to see him watching her.

She suddenly felt embarrassed, and averted her eyes, “It’s… Well, I got reprimanded by Michael.”

“Why?”

So Mc told him about her search for information, how Barbatos had told her to ask Michael and his rebuke. When she finished, Satan’s face was impossible to read. He was silent for long enough, she was concerned she had offended him somehow. Finally he spoke, “Lilith. Her name was Lilith. If you want some answers about what happened, I think Lucifer would be the best person to give them to you. I would suggest Beel, but he has enough trauma about what happened as it is. I don’t even know if he remembers, or if he’s blocked it…”

“Blocked what?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Satan knocked on a bookshelf on the ground floor. A deep voice sounded from behind it, “Enter.” At the word, the bookshelf sung open to reveal a secret room. Despite wondering what was going on, Mc was both delighted and intrigued.

“You guys actually have a secret room behind a bookcase?!”

Satan shrugged, “Yeah. The house has a lot more secrets too. It would’ve been my room had I not lost a bet with Lucifer. Now it’s his office,” and with that, he walked in.

The whole room was a lot cozier than Mc would’ve expected. Austere and imposing yes, but there was a level of warmth and comfort to the room Mc would never have expected.

“Satan, what is it?” Lucifer sat at his desk, quill scratching across some paperwork. He hadn’t looked up.

“Mc has a question for you.”

This got him to look up, “Ah Mc. How can I help you?”

“Oh, if I’m interrupting something I can come back later.”

“I could use a break anyway. Please continue,” Lucifer sat there expectantly.

“Okay. Umm…” the memory of Michael flashed through Mc’s mind, and she winced a bit, but continued on with her story. Lucifer’s eyes darkened the further into the story she got. When she got to Michael’s chastisement, Lucifer got up from his chair abruptly, and went over to his window, back to Satan and Mc. Mc faltered in her story, watching as his clothes changed, horns pushing up and out from his head.

“I told her you’d be the one to ask,” Satan intervened, coming to stand behind Mc.

“Why? You know everything. You were there,” Lucifer asked, back still turned.

“You know the whole story,” Satan shrugged, eyes on the black clad figure.

Lucifer was silent and unmoving for quite awhile. Mc’s tension was on high alert for quite awhile, not seeing the horns retreating, until he finally spoke, “Before I begin, I feel I must warn you. You are going to hear things you probably won’t like or agree with. You are not to interrupt me. There will be a chance for me to answer your questions at the end, but only at the end. I will not explain my actions. The only person I answer to is Lord Diavolo. Whether you believe them correct or not, I am not embellishing the truth nor am I trying to hide from it. Knowing all of that, do you want me to continue?”

“... Yes. I would like to know the truth,” Mc answered confidently, though the fact he was still angry put her on edge. She knew he wasn’t angry at her at least.

The eldest, having calmed down enough to revert out of his demon form, came over and sat behind his desk. Satan came and sat next to her, earning a look from Lucifer, “You’re going to stay?”

“She is my guest.”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, turning his attention back to Mc, “Have you heard about the Great Celestial War?” Mc nodded, and he continued, “No doubt you’ve heard their version of what happened. Probably talks about me and my brothers rampaging around the Celestial Realm until they finally cast us out?” Lucifer looked to her for confirmation.

“More or less,” Mc conceded.

“I am sure they make me out to be a villain in every way?”

“They say before you became angry, you were the model angel.”

“That is… interesting to know. Thank you for that. Now, where to begin?... Do you know anything about our sister?” Mc shook her head no, and Lucifer sighed angrily, “To think they just… Lilith came into my little makeshift family with Beel and Belphie. They were almost triplets in a sense of the word. Beel was the sun, Belphie the moon and Lilith the stars, though I would argue she shined the most brightly out of them. She was... angelic. They should really point to her as the model angel. She was everything an angel should and could be. Though they were all very close, once Beel made himself my bodyguard, Belphie and Lilith spent a lot of time together. Belphie had a habit of going off the the human realm whenever he could, which was not seen as a good thing, though he knew how to keep himself unattached to the humans he happened to meet, so no one could really do much more than grumble. That is, until Lilith started going down him.

Her heart was so pure and full of love, she ended up falling in love with one of the humans she met. Belphie tried to talk her out of it, but it was no use. When the rumors started, I asked both of them what was going on. From what they both said, it was love at first sight. Though I was furious, I went down myself to meet the man in question, and found myself unable to criticize her. He was everything I could have wanted for my sister.

Unfortunately, he was mortal and he came down with a serious illness. Lilith was devastated. We all tried to tell her this was a good thing. He was a good enough person he would probably join us in the Celestial Realm. I even spoke with my father and got permission for her to lead him to the Celestial Realm when he passed. She wouldn’t listen however. He had told her all about his dreams for the future and she couldn’t let his life end. SO she concocted a plan. I wish she would’ve told me about it earlier, but I only found out about it after the deed had been done. She took a Tarel fruit and fed it to him,” Mc gasped despite herself. That fruit was precious. Michael himself wasn’t allowed any unless Father approved of it. Lucifer didn’t even acknowledge the outburst, “He recovered, obviously, but the damage was irreversible. As punishment for her sins, my father decided she would be put on trial, though we all knew the outcome, “ as did Mc. Either death or complete exile. They were essentially one-and-the-same.

“I had… many issues with the Celestial Realm and how it was run. How it probably still is. I was able to put those all aside however for the sake of my family and my position. This however,” and Mc could see the rage that still filled his eyes, “I could never forgive. Not if it meant the death of our dear baby sister. All my brothers felt the same way, especially Beel and Belphie. We all decided we were going to do something about it. Despite what anyone might say, I did try to go the “correct way” in the beginning. Supplications to my father. Speaking to others that might listen. I think we even tried a petition at one point. Very few would listen. I think there was a level of envy from most of the other angels. They saw in Lilith all their shortcomings, and so they had latched onto the one “bad” thing anyone could ever remember her doing.

“Tensions came to a head one day when I told my father and Michael I would do everything in my power to keep Lilith safe. Michael then looked me dead in the eyes and told me my sister was going to be punished, even if he had to do it himself. I left that meeting trembling with rage, and that’s when I knew I would wage war against anyone who tried to hurt my family, even if that meant fighting my father myself. I flew into the sky that day and sent my declaration of war over the entire Celestial Realm.

“Some came to our aid, but most sat on the opposing side. The war was long and bloody. Many that had flocked to our aid perished, low ranked angels who didn’t stand a chance against the likes of Michael and his bow. On what would come to be known as the last day of the war, we had so few left, my precious family had to be put near the front of the battle. Everything was going fine, and we were actually winning when I saw Michael emerge from the enemy forces. He had spotted Lilith, standing with Beel and Belphie, and I could see his intentions before anyone else. I tried my hardest to reach the three youngest, but a large crowd of angels came to attack me. Whether it was his plan all along to keep me tied up with so many, I don’t know. All I do know is that by the time I had fought off all my attackers it was too late. He had strung three arrows pointing them at my family. They all knew it was coming too, and I watched the panic set in to all three of them, with Beel in the middle. He chose to save Belphie. Lilith went down with an arrow to the wing, which was then followed by three more arrows shot by others, one to her other wing, one to the stomach, and then one to the chest. She looked over to me as she started falling and I…” Lucifer’s voice broke and he had to take a second to compose himself, “Well, let’s just say I will never forget it. After the shock had worn off, I flew after her as she fell. I tried to shoot down as fast as I could hoping to grab her, but it was no use. She crashed into the Devildom, wings singed body broken.

“I didn’t tell anyone about that day for a long time. Eventually I did tell Barbatos and Lord Diavolo who Lilith’s murderer was, which is why Barbatos knew who to send you to for answers. The fact Michael wouldn’t come clean about the whole thing, and that they’ve essentially erased her from history… It makes my blood boil. To see Diavolo acting so chummy with my sister’s murderer…” Mc could see, through the film of tears blocking her vision, Lucifer’s horns starting to emerge again.

Without thinking, she crossed over to him and hugged him, openly weeping. The thought was appalling. Whenever people spoke about the Great Celestial War, they always spoke of Michael’s brilliant tactical genius. They spoke of how he’d helped crush the rebellion, though they had never gone into detail. She now knew why. Lucifer was taken aback for a second by the behavior, but eventually hugged her back.

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

So, yeah. That happened.

Likes, shares and comments all vm appreciated.

If y’all got the reference in the beginning, I applaud you and offer the chance to quote her magnificence in the comments or you could send me asks and I will reply with another quote (please take me up on this!)

Part Seventeen

#obm #obey me!#obey me #obey me satan #obey me swd #obey me satan/mc #obey me lucifer #obey me michael #obey me lilith #obey me angst #obey me celestial war #obey me hol #obey me beel

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warm-starlight · 3 years

Note

Hello eve i know that you're trying to move on from aot but just hear me out pls cause i have no one else to talk to about this🥲 i know that you actually liked the original ending but one of the things that really bugged me about it was how easily annie and riener were forgiven i mean sure they saved the world but the rumbling was happening outside of paradis they never paid their dues to the people of paradis then how were they accepted as peace ambassadors? They did nothing for paradis

Hello, i have no insights to share with you really. None of the things you are upset about really bothered me, but your oppinion and feelings are also perfectly valid. That said, i think people (including me) took this series not for what it is and way too seriously. In the end the things people thought was foreshadowing something meant nothing. We can accept being wrong about it and move on.

I accepted that in the end i don't understand SnK completely, or maybe there is nothing to understand really. Maybe Isayama just wanted to write a cool "horror story" that has no message just like "the mist".

That said, i personally don't think Reiner and Annie were "forgiven too quickly". The main point about Jean, Connie, Hange and Armin is that they let go of their hatred. Besides, they had a previous bond with RA so for them it was easier. It's not like Paradis forgave them. Isayama never showed us how their lives ended so you can headcanon they were all just executed as traitors if you want.

Zeke's actions i interpreted as a sort of coping mechanism. He distanced himself from his victims completely and it looked like he enjoyed killing them. We also have to take into account that he felt as if he was saving them and their children that would be born from the world of suffering, so it's no wonder he showed no sadness over their deaths.

As for Eren, i guess i don't mind the "everything is predestined" part. It seems like the guy who wanted freedom most, had none of it at all.

I think to me the cringiest part was the whole Mikasa Ymir situation and the whole romance twist. In the end he portrayed Mikasa as being able to "get over her love" by killing him and setting an example for Ymir, freeing her from shackles of love. Ok that's fine... Flash forward and lo and behold... The only thing he focuses on is Mikasa still being bound to Eren, visiting his grave, placing symbols of love on it year after year after year until her death. She does not look happy, her face is obscured from us and her face does not look happy even when she is lying in her burial site with that damn scarf (that was a symbol of an engagement ring) on her neck... So basicaly while Ymir took her killling Eren as an ultimate move of setting yourself free for Mikasa she did what Eren Asked her to (when he told her he is in the mouth) and didn't really Choose it herself. In the end she is still bound to Eren until death.

I am sure hardcore EM shippers will love it, like "Look! Look! She got married with kids but she never forgot her one true love 🥺🥺🥺" , but for me it's just disgusting portrayal.

Paradis being destroyed years later also sends a gross message that the Yegerists were Actually right. Eren should have finnished the rumbling and wiped out the Entire outside world instead of leaving it to exist. Of course people will say "we have no idea why Paradis got destroyed, ot could be that there was a civil war!". Sure, we can interpret it, you know why? Because Yams did Not explain a Thing about this new war. He just drew the panel and said Nothing about it.

However, the fact that that city was leveled to the ground and never rebuilt shows us that the intention was to wipe them all out. I suppose this is the "Jurassic park" ending where the dino island is completely destroyed, but in the end it is implied some of the dinosaurs survived, which is portrayed with the kid in a weird post apocalyptic gear and a new Titan tree.

The implication that the titan powers may resurface again is the Worst for me. It really renders the entire story pointless and the message is "Why even try if things will turn out the same".

They had 100 years of peace inside the walls. They should have just lived it in peace and died when the time came. Why struggle and throw your life away if you are gonna die anyway and Paradis will still get wiped out in another 100 years?

This is the nihilistic message that i hate the most.

In the end i could take nothing positive from this story.

In the end he wrapped it up without answering a single question and raising more.

Sure, Yams said for him the best stories are the ones who tremendously hurt him, but is it really good when you remember a series just as a tremendously disappointing peace of work?

That's not really the kind of sad endings i like.

Anyway, i rambled on too much!

What i wanted to say is, just let go of the series and move on. In the end it wasn't what all of us thought it was. It's ok, it happens. :)

Thanks for the ask!

#snk #aot #anonymous

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heckinhacker · 4 years

Note

Heyy may i request bff headcanons for Kyle, Cartman, Craig & Tweek? If that’s too much characters, then just Kyle please :)

Kyle, Cartman, Craig and Tweek - Best Friends Forever headcanons!

A/N: Honestly, south park is rare on this blog so no, no problem at all! Wanted to write it sooner but writer’s block T~T’

Rest is under the cut cuz it might get long-

Kyle Broflovski

As I always say, South Park is a shithole and finding some REAL friends might be hard.

Kyle sometimes doubts his own existence, or everyone else’s. Literally. That’s how bizzare things are happening here.

He cannot trust anybody, maybe Stan only. But sometimes he doubts him too. (Brutal truth)

So seeing someone honestly concerned about him, and being stubborn at it, would make him soften up pretty quickly.

As long as you’re not a Cartman, you’re fine.

Maybe he didn’t start right off bat to spill his secrets out, but he invited you to hang outs more often when he realised you’re fine.

The most of trust he shows when he invites you over his place. Without anyone else. Just you two.

Nothing over-friendly line, you just laugh at stupid youtube videos, share some memes, tell some stories you somewhere read or heard. Friend things.

If you prefer to stay inside, say goodbye to the comfort of your room. Kyle LOVES long walks, and he forces you to go with him. “It’s more healthy than ‘taking a walk’ simulator, [Y/N]!”.

Long walks - long talks.

Kyle never shuts up. No matter what. You know something’s wrong when he does.

Kyle realised you’re his BESTIE FOR LIFE when Hanukkah was hitting close in the calendar. That time of the year he talks to noone since everyone celebrates Christmas.

But you? You, beside spending time with family, decided to gain some knowledge about Hanukkah.

You searched in the internet, asked Kyle’s parents, you just tried your best. And decided to surprise your best friend with Hanukkah gifts. Well, if you’re at it, you should get something for his parents and Ike too.

Your pocket money cried fo mercy, but you had none.

Everyone expected your arrival but Kyle.

And boy, was he emotional?? He had TEARS in his eyes. But he’d never addmit that.

After that he’s loyal to you as FUCK.

Anyone picks a fight with you? No need to strain your arms, Kyle is already at it.

Someone made you sad? Emotional support Kyle right away.

Cartman always teases you that you love yourselves so much you should date!

But you’re both comfortable with things the way they are now.

Eric Cartman

From this four? The easiest one to befriend.

Noone really stays around enough to get to know the deepest of him for him to call someone best friend.

But here you are.

Cartman is not very secretive when he likes someone. He just brags and brags about himself and his most private things. Just because he’s that egocentric.

Not the best of friend material, really? His advices are shitty, mostly he’s the reason you’re sad or hurting, but you just stay beside him anyway, God knows why but he doesn’t.

When he’s NOT the reason you want to cry, you can sit beside him and cry yourself out, he’d let you lean on his shoulder. Maybe he’d be silent, but he’d hear you out.

If that’s what you want, he’s more than enough.

Please don’t be chaotic duo with him one Cartman in South Park is enough.

BUT if you’re as rude as him, South Park is done with you two. You’re inseparable.

Miss Cartman loves you as much as her own child, she’s just so grateful someone takes care of her Eric and is not here only for...any other reason.

You’re the only one person that Cartman knows that when picks on him and laughs at him, it’s for jokes, never for reals.

That’s why he’s the most comfortable with you, to be honest.

Too lazy for walks, but will go out when he has some bigger purpose than just wandering around, doing nothing.

Craig Tucker

Almost the hardest to befriend. He’d be the most difficult, but we have Tweek on the list.

Feels bad.

Noone had any clue WHY are you trying so hard. Even his group sometimes have hard time figuring Craig out.

He was very cold to you at first.

He was worried you’d put him through some weird shit, like main four did. And he’d hate that.

If you want to befriend him, you have to get trust of Token. At least.

Don’t start with Clyde, Clyde likes everyone (almost), so you’d be nothing new, Craig will still ignore you.

When Token, on the other hand, says you’re cool, you have to be. Craig would groan, but would try ot hang out with you normally. Well, as normal as he can.

You knew he acts somehow different, so you held into that thought, trying to get to know him even further.

“Why are you trying so hard?” - he’d once ask you when you stayed behind, when Craig was packing his things the slowest. You were alone.

“ Well, you’re always beside people, but you still look alone. That looks like it hurts, so I want to help to stop it.”

“Weird.” he just answered and started walking out of classroom, you beside him.

Well you weren’t wrong? He bottled his emotions inside, with noone to know about that. Even himself.

“He’s just like that”, they’d say.

Maybe he is, but he still has to have some kind of emotions, right? He’s a human being, after all.

Maybe his emotional needs are not as big as for others, but they do, indeed, exist.

Best advice giver. Plus he can help you out of panic attack. He’s REALLY good at it. He’s best friends with Tweek after all.

If you make him actually more than tolerate you, trust me you’re safe and sound with this dude.

Rely on Craig Tucker.

He’s a ‘stay inside’ type of dude too. Watch some things together in silence, talk a little but not too much, just...vibing together.

Unlike Tweek, he’s okay to go outside though. To take some photos maybe, take in fresh air.

Pro tip: never make small talks with him. He hates them.

Tweek Tweak

my absolute favouritest boi

The hardest to befriend out of everyone. Literally.

He has big, BIG trust issues.

Don’t force him into anything. Seriously.

Small steps. Baby steps, even.

Try to hang around him in Tweek Bro’s. Or at school where others are at.

Never try to be with him alone at the beggining. Dude will freak out.

He generally freaks out when he notices you being around him most of the time.

“Y-you having any problem?? I’ve got an eye on you, you won’t kidnap me! My friends already know who to suspect when I’m-!”

“Tweek.”

“Wh-What?!”

“I don’t want to kidnap you, man. I just want to see how you’re doing.

“...oh.”

Still doesn’t trusts you, but relaxes. You’re in public place, after all. Many other people would see if you’d plan something on him.

It takes a shitton of time for him to warm up to you. You see every single sign of him trusting you.

Inviting you to hangouts with friends? Small step.

Asking if you’d come when he’s working? Even bigger step.

Damn, noone’s here beside you? He invited only you? Friendship points!!

You know he considers you as a friend when he invites you over to his house. He never did that. When he asks if you want to come, you almost cry.

You took your time and got sweetest boy as a friend.

He notices the smallest changes in you, so when you’re feeling down by even slightest, he’d point that out.

Advices are almost pointless, he cannot help himself, so helping others is even worse, but he tries to act like Craig acts when you open up to him.

It’s so noticable you smile right away. Tweek tries his best.

He sometimes gives you free coffee. “It’s on me”, he says. He’s scared of what will his dad say, but you can count it as a payment. He doesn’t get paid for three people’s work on his shoulders, so he has rights to do what he wants.

Prefers to stay inside.

Big events and parties are a big no-no.

He can force himself into big event happening somewhere close to South Park, but parties are NEVER an option.

I’ll just mention, but boy do I hate Tweek’s surrname?? It feels like he’s a joke but he’s so important to so many people it’s sad-

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Nine: Group Therapy

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: A familiar drink brings back steamy memories for Shane (by popular demand), a ghost from the past picks a fight with the present, and the future hangs in the balance for our heroes.

Behind on the drama? It’s cool. I gotchu.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Language, mature themes, violence, smut, alcohol consumption, more feels than you can shake a stick at.

Author’s Note: Guys. Listen guys. I know this chapter is a tad late…not that I have deadlines, I just know y’all want more sooner than I can always get it to you. It’s also, though, a bit longer than most of the previous installments have been. I hope you guys enjoy it. I think it’s my favorite chapter so far…I definitely cried the most writing it…you’ll see why…I’m not sorry. Initially, for some reason, it was hard to stay focused. (I blame my own emotions and feelings clouding my ambitions. Can’t let that happen anymore. Even though the same factors apply. I’ve gotta keep my head in it!) I’m actually pretty sad that there won’t be very much more of this story…they’ve been such good friends to me. I may just have to find a way to keep them going in follow-up drabbles. I don’t know. But I’m open to suggestions.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland

@speakerforthedead0

@tumblnewby

@suavechops

Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

It wasn’t top on Shane’s list of things she wanted to do tonight, but it had been ages since she’d gone out with her friends. It wasn’t totally because she’d been seeing Sy. But more recently, he had become the most prevalent reason she ended up bowing out. Because she had plans with him, or she needed to do things that she hadn’t gotten or wouldn’t get done because of plans with him unless she skipped out. They were bad excuses, but those of an introvert weren’t usually top-shelf, anyway.

It was Heather, the other secretary Marsha and her husband Alec, some of her fellow PTs Cory and Juan, and both OTs, Olivia and Miranda there at Cade’s that night. And Shane and Sy, of course. They were sitting at two tables close together, and after dinner, the guys got up to play darts while the ladies ordered a round of shots.

Heather both requested and paid for the tray of tiny glasses full of dark liquor. Shane knew the aroma all too well. Those were full of Jack Daniels. And she got tingly just thinking about the spirit, especially now.

“Let’s drink the first round to Shane.” She passed them around and held one up. “For landing captain sexy pants over there, and for being happier than I’ve seen her in actual years.” Heather clinked to the middled with the other girls as they completed the toast with cheery responses of “to Shane!” With intermittent whoops and cat-calls. She felt funny saluting herself, so she said nothing, silently dedicating her own drink to the guy she wasn’t expecting, wasn’t even asking for, but who’d been gifted to her, by God Himself, it seemed. Whoever or whatever or why ever, she was grateful for him.

She downed the full measure of whiskey, feeling the familiar pleasant burn down her throat and reminisced about the last time she’d had the drink.

~~~~~~

“No you’re cheating!” She slurred at Sy’s kitchen table.

“Not how I see it!” He smirked, that crooked grin mixing with the alcohol in her already impaired system making a heady and dangerous concoction.

“You’re delib’rately using my PT career against me!” They we’re playing “Never Have I Ever.” And he’d just used “never have I ever measured somebody up with a big protractor.”

“Hey, you’ve been trying to get me with ‘never have I army this, and never have I army that.’ And you just can’t and now you’re mad about it.”

“Ugh, I’m not mad, I just…don’t like cheating okay. Fair play. I’m a Hufflepuff, through and through!”

“As a Gryffindor, I resent your implication against my honor! And I say, drink twice.” They’d run out of mixer, and were down to the straight liquor. She was fine with it. She loved the sweet, oaky burn of Number 7 as she held small swallows on her tongue. Relished the burn of it on the tender skin of her lips like a rough kiss. She took two shots at his insistence.

“Never have I ever…fired a gun!” And they both drank because she had chosen a “never” that she “had ever” on purpose. She liked feeling this way with Sy. She liked being able to abandon her control and feel safe in so doing. Knowing that he wouldn’t let anything hurt her. Including herself.

His eyes began to glimmer in a way that she could always tell meant he was thinking something particularly salacious. Which typically meant something good was about to happen.

“Never have I ever…fooled around in a kitchen.” He waited a beat, then slowly stood, taking a long stride to stand directly in front of Shane, towering over her as she sat limp from drinking and more than ready for whatever he was planning. The kiss he gave her was almost instantly hungry, devouring, consuming. A wild fire that would spread throughout the forest of her. He pulled a stool out from under the table near her, barely having to break the contact and sat down in front of her on it. She leaned into him now, the boneless feeling now overtaken by her craving for him. She tugged at his casual blue tank top that stunned her because of the way it matched his eyes so well. She needed him closer. His hands rested on her thighs, mostly bare in the shorts she'd chosen for tonight, simply for their comfort, and not because they provided any sort of easy access. Not on a conscious level, anyway, she told herself.

His grip was tightening but the pain of the pressure didn't matter. His thumbs and fingers were rupturing tiny blood vessels and she registered the pain and the fact that she would have bruises in the shape of his claiming grip but all that really mattered was that he was there. Near. Present. And touching her.

His hands moved, sliding up her legs, their trajectory shifting inward, their aim to open her up to him.

She was nothing short of willing.

He reached down to the seat between her legs and pulled her closer to him. Yes, she thought. He's too far away. Even though she could smell the whiskey on his breath even as she tasted it, still sweet on her own tongue. He laid a gentle hand on her left cheek, an almost chaste gesture, that snaked into something entirely different as it descended, brushing her neck, between her breasts, and over her abdomen, tumultuous from his touch and the drink.

He made it finally to her apex, easily brushing aside the fabric of her shorts, and teasing her there over her underwear with a soft, measured touch. She threw her arms around his neck, a wordless plea for him to go on. But her body was at odds with her mind.

“Sy, I wanna go slow.” She meant she didn’t want to end up in his bed tonight. Well, not that she didn't want to…

"Don't worry, sunshine. I'll take it real slow." he assured her, pretending to misunderstand her meaning as he teased her over her panties. She couldn't have spoken to correct him even if his lips hadn't taken an urgent hold on hers. His firm but frustrating touch was leaving her speechless and breathless.

Finally, he moved her undergarment aside to touch her, skin to skin. To pull a sweet, euphoric moan from her with just his fingers. He had been right about taking his time. It took him ages to find that space inside her that brought her to her pinnacle, but he made the wait enjoyable, all the same. She had a feeling he could have gone right to it, if he’d wanted to, but since she’d asked for it…

He grinned and chuckled into her mouth a bit as he toyed with her. He finally spoke,

“Hot damn, girl, you should have told me you needed me this bad.” He added a second finger to his game of search and destroy.

She could only grasp at his bare shoulders and the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to ground herself. He quickened, then slowed in sweet torture until her cries of his name became over loud for his neighborhood. The last build up, he added his thumb , brushing it against her aching center.

It hit her in waves of bliss as every muscle in her body responded to his localized, expert touch. Her vision blurred and for a second she could see the electricity flowing through air and matter and into her. Since when did THAT happen to her when she came?

“Sy!” She whimpered, a plea for him to stop but also to never stop.

“I know, darlin’, it’s alright. I’ve gotcha. Go on and let it out.” And she barely realized another climax had been building in her before she was falling headlong into it again, just as intense as the first one. He slowed, gently soothing her body after its small death, rubbing her neck and shoulder on the right side with his free hand.

He took his right hand away from her heat, brought it up to his mouth, and tasted her on his fingers. He poured them both another shot of whiskey, they threw them back, and once she had caught her breath from it all, she said,

“I don’t know the score, but I think you’ve won.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Back in the present, she felt too sober to handle the bombardment of questions coming from her coworkers, no matter how pure their intentions.

“So are you guys a couple, like officially?”

“Have you met each other’s folks?”

“Do you think he’s the one?”

“What is he like in bed!?”

“I bet he’s an absolute fiend!”

“Nah, guys ya think that about are always so vanilla.”

“How big is he!?”

All of these questions seemed to come at one time, or at least before she could answer the previous ones, and it made her head spin.

“Listen, girls. I’m gonna go get myself a strong drink, and when I come back, I’ll answer one question at a time, so figure out the order in which you’ll be asking, and a punishment system for interrupting. Fair?” The hens all nodded their beaks in agreement as she stood to go to the bar. She reminded herself to add a disclaimer when she got back to the table about having veto power over questions she felt weren’t appropriate.

As she stood at the bar waiting for her turn with the bartender, she tensed as she heard an all too familiar voice say her name.

“Shane Benton.” He said in a charming tenor that she now found obnoxiously boyish.

“Elliott Thomas. What misdeed did I do in a past life to end up back in the same room with you?” He ignored her jibe.

“You look well.” He said, surveying her as if he intended to make a purchase.

“Okay.” She would not give credence to half assed, insincere compliments.

“Who’s the guy you’re with tonight?”

“That couldn’t be any less your business.”

“You’ll always be my business, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes. “Funny, you didn’t seem to give a shit when we were together.”

“Come on, tell me where ya met this meat head.”

“Back off, Elliott.”

“Come on. He’s in a plaid shirt. He looks like he’s trying to cosplay the Brawny man. How quick does he pick you up?” He raised his eyebrows, driving home his attempt at double entendre.

The rage came suddenly, without warning, and manifested in a firm slap from her right hand to his left cheek. It landed solidly enough for him to have to stretch his jaw and feel it, as if making sure it was still there.

"Well, still got some spunk. Good to know. Not so fast--" he grabbed her wrist as she stepped away from the bar, but she was saved the trouble of getting out of it with her favorite self-defense maneuver, by the solid wall of red plaid and denim topped with his favorite black Chiefs hat. Sy had apparently noticed her altercation at the bar and elected to step in.

"What's goin' on here?" he asked, not brusquely, but so coolly that it was almost friendly. Elliott let go of Shane's wrist immediately and threw his hands up.

"No trouble here, man. Just a little friendly conversation between two former lovers." he said, oozing pure, stinking hubris.

"Oh, you're Elliott. Nice to meet you, man." Sy reached out to shake the man's hand. "I've actually been wanting to thank you."

Elliott looked confused. So was Shane. This guy had broken her heart. What was Sy intent on thanking him for?

"I wanted to thank you for fucking up so bad with this kind, beautiful woman, this graceful and forgiving saint, that she couldn't stand the sight of you any longer. Who knows. If you hadn't been such a dick, she may not have been free to be with me today." all of this, Sy said with Elliott's hand still in his. Shaking it. Apparently not too firmly. Until Sy leaned in very closely and whispered something to Elliott that made him go several shades of puce, and grimace, pulling his hand away, which Sy eventually relinquished.

After Elliott had tucked his tail and ran away, Shane found herself in a far less merry temperament than she'd come in with. She and Sy decided to leave. They said their goodbyes, Shane promising more answers as soon as she could. And they left, her arm around his waist, and his around her shoulder.

About halfway to Sy's truck, Shane heard a solid ping near her ear and the shattering of glass on the pavement nearby, followed by a low growl from deep in Sy's chest. They halted in their stride, Shane turning quickly around, Sy turning more slowly and intentionally in the direction of his would be attacker.

Elliot stood beside the brick exterior of the bar with three other men, none of them within 50 pounds of Sy, and hardly a match for him…individually…but together, she was concerned. She would absolutely try to help fight these guys, but she couldn't take out more than one with the potential weapons she had on her person that she could inventory off hand. Plus, if she had to fight Elliott…he'd get into her head…she knew it. Thank God she didn't know the other guys. She'd hope to get one of them.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Sy said, back to his polite self, not worried about potentially getting into a street fight in which they were outnumbered two to one.

"Just thought you'd like to tell my buddies here what you said to me in there. I mean, I gave them the gist, but I think they'd like to hear it from you." Elliott puffed.

"Ah, somebody can't keep a secret." Sy sigh scolded him, wagging his finger at him as if he was a misbehaved child. "I was gonna let it all go as long as you left us alone. Did you mention that to them before you got them into a whole mess o' trouble?"

"Tell them, you fuckin' coward."

"Big talk from a guy who had to make it four to one before he confronted me." Sy accused.

"Four to two." Shane squared her shoulders, standing next to Sy, and attempting to make herself look more formidable, which was next to impossible given the fact that the man beside her was a massive army captain and she was just…herself. But she'd be damned if she stood by and let Sy take all of this on when it was all because of her. Plus, she didn't want him to reinjure himself.

"How about you jump in if I need ya, sunshine." He whispered to her. She didn't move or reply. "But ya know, since ya asked so nicely, I will oblige. I told this piss-ant friend of yours after he physically accosted this lovely lady here, in no uncertain terms that if he EVER touched MY GIRLFRIEND again, he'd be begging for death for hours before I had mercy on him and put him out of his misery and that his body would never be found." He eyed each of the men before him, his fiery gaze a physical force upon them, letting his promise to Elliott sink in. "Now if y'all wanna defend a man who would put hands on a woman, and then proceed to physically assault a United States Army veteran like myself, I can come up with similar guarantees for all of ya. And carry them out here tonight. But y'all look like ya've got a lot o' shit ya still wanna get done in this life with limbs and dicks intact. So I would encourage all of you fine gentlemen to walk away from this situation."

Two of the men, surrendered, claiming Elliott hadn't mentioned that he'd hurt Shane or that Sy was a vet. One of the men asked to shake his hand and thanked him for his service. The smallest member of Elliott's group, however, remained with him. Shane thought she recognized him after getting a better look. He'd been at a few events she'd been to with Elliott's friend group. She thought his name was Kyle. Clearly he was one of Elliott's oldest and most loyal friends. He still looked skeptical. Unsure that the two of them alone could take Sy. Shane thought he was right to be worried.

"Come on, Kyle!" Elliott summoned his friend to the fight.

"I dunno, man. He's a soldier and I mean…look at him. Look at us!"

"You pussy." Elliott walked up to Sy.

"You don't want to do this, friend." Sy warned.

"I'm not your friend, asshole. You stole my girlfriend." he swung wildly at the larger man, but missed. He was unsteady, Shane could see now, from excessive drink. She hadn't noticed inside.

Sy remained still for one punch that landed weakly on his jaw, barely displacing it. "Are you done, there, Mayweather? We even? Now that you got to hit me?"

"We are not done. Not until one of us is on the ground." Elliott insisted.

"Fair enough." Sy socked him with a jab straight to the nose, knocking him dizzily to the hard asphalt of the parking lot. Kyle came up to him to drag Elliott to a nearby car as his head lolled forward like a rag doll.

"I'll get him to the ER. Explain to them what happened. You guys get home safe. And thanks for not killing him. Or me." Kyle said as he opened his passenger door. Sy helped heave Elliott's comatose form into the seat and shook Kyle's hand.

Shane's eyes were still wide at the entire chain of events. Her adrenaline supercharged from her readiness to fight alongside her man. Which, she was both relieved and disappointed that she didn't have to do. But there was another thing on her mind. She had been mentally replaying what Sy had said to Elliott played over and over for more reasons than his chivalrous and heroic conduct.

When they were in the car and headed to her house, Shane asked him about it.

"So…you called me your girlfriend tonight." she looked at him.

"Shit, Shane, I'm sorry. I've been wanting to ask ya for days to make things official, and I just haven't found the right time. I was gonna ask you over drinks tonight in front of all your friends, but then that asshole fucked it all up. I even have a gift for you." he fished around in his pocket for a small, flat box, and handed it to her. She flipped up the spring loaded lid of the black velvet box, and inside, on a tiny pillow of black satin was a silver necklace with a silver charm. An "S" in an elaborate script with a small emerald set in the lower hook of the letter. "And if you don't want to make it official, you can still keep the necklace, because the 'S' can be for 'Shane,' and the stone can just be an emerald, and ya don't have to think about it like it's my birthstone, and I--"

"Sy, hush. Of course I want to be your girlfriend, officially. I've been dying to say it myself. And I love the necklace. It's perfect."

"Really? You mean it? All of it?" she'd never seen him so desperate. She had no idea why he thought she might not be serious. But she did have an idea of how to prove it.

"Stay with me tonight, Sy."

"It's still early yet, babe. I'll have plenty of time--"

"No, I mean, I want you. Tonight." How could she be more clear than that?

"Oh, you mean…but I thought you wanted to wait until my treatments were over?" He asked, as if he didn't want to get his hopes up just yet.

"When you were on the phone with my boss that day, you said something that I haven't been able to stop thinking about. Something that's gnawed at my will and resolve ever since. You said that life was too short, and you didn't want to wait to be happy when you could be happy now." she was verging on tears. "Well, I'm tired of waiting too, Sy. You make me happier than I've ever been, and I don't see the point in ignoring what we really want anymore. Because the fact is, Sy…the fact has been for a while now," she laughed at her own foolishness for stifling and ignoring it all this time, "I love you. And I think I have from the moment you first called me ma'am." She was fully crying now, and the tears had broken through down his cheeks, as well.

He pulled into her driveway and jumped out of his truck, still running, headlights blazing into her yard. He jogged around the front, but Shane, being uninjured had caught up to him without the benefit of a head start. He caught her up in his arms as if she'd stay there forever. They sobbed tears of joy and relief as they kissed each other with abandon, silhouettes against the footlights and exhaust courtesy of the Ford Motor Company, the PowerStroke engine roaring a soundtrack for this moment as it idled.

"I love you, Shane. From the moment you found me dreading therapy all alone that first day and cheered me up instantly. I knew." he brush the tears and hairs away from her face and held it, scrutinizing her features in the high-beams as if he intended to draw her from memory.

"I didn't know you were dreading it." she laughed, lightening the mood a bit.

"I was. A lot. Never had a lot of luck, especially recently, with PT. Until you."

She smiled, and looked at the truck, a third party to their romantic moment now more obvious to her.

"You're wasting gas."

"Hang the gas. I'm wasting time with you. You wanna go inside?" he asked. She nodded.

"You go get your purse. I'll be right around."

Sy shut off the truck and took his keys out, locking the vehicle from the fob after his arm was back around Shane and they were walking up her front porch steps.

Up Next: Chapter 10- Myofascial Release

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #syverson smut #sigh for sy #Smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x ofc

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soda-fawn · 4 years

Text

Have some Horrorfell Sans oneshot while I don’t work on my story.

The sun felt like touching a light bulb that had been on too long. You were taking shelter underneath one of the trees on your property, at the top of a hill. You had only been working for a few hours and you were already exhausted. Your hair was damp with sweat and stuck to you. You felt grimy and disgusting and honestly were just ready to give up for the day, but a few more animals needed food, and you had a few different crops to check on in the greenhouse.

Your hands were stained with soil as you looked down at them, rough and quite honestly tan from the amount of sun you had gotten. The laces on your boots felt small and frail as you began pulling off the damned things. Your feet ached like no other and you just wanted some peace now.

Peace was what you got as you rested against the large oak tree. The bark against your back felt like small pins and needles poking into your skin. Your back ached and whined, just wanting some sort of relief. Your head began to pound softly as you tried to shield your eyes from the sun, and everything in your stomach began to rumble.

You turned your head to a small rustle next to you, one of the old alley cats had found his way to you. His hair was matted and dirty but you still gave him love whenever he came around. He was a tuxedo cat, though most of his hair had turned a dirty gray instead of the pristine white or the smooth black. He placed his head in between your palms, purring softly, as you scratched his ears. He started crawling into your lap, refusing to take his head from your palms as he did so. You wondered if he belonged to anyone yet.

“Getting a bit old to be an alley cat huh bud?”

The old cat seemed to respond by putting more of his weight onto you, seeming to get comfortable in your lap. Did you want an old cat? You were certain he would love to lounge around on your furniture inside. Honestly have some company really wouldn’t be too bad, sure you had all the animals you had to take care of. But it was different when you went home every night to an empty house. Maybe you should adopt him, see how he’d like a domestic last few years.

“Then what would I name you? How about Oscar?”

There was a soft protest from the old cat as he rubbed his face against your palms.

“Jack?”

The cat slowly began kneading into your thighs, his claws barely drawn.

“Okay.. how about Ollie?”

Those big yellow eyes opened, he turned and began licking your hands. You laughed softly and began petting him again, scratching his ears with one hand.

“Ollie it is!”

Ollie began to knead again, his claws full withdrawn now. He seemed to just be doing if affectionately by now until he got up and leap off your lap and pranced off. He looked back at you with those big yellow eyes and waited like he wanted you to follow.

You slid on your boots, almost immediately regretting it as your feet began to ache and boil. Tying up the laces you followed Ollie into the bushes, almost getting caught a few times with your pant legs. Ollie seemed to just prance from place to place until you came to a small clearing. It was dark, a few of the larger trees circling the surrounding area. Ollie sat down underneath one of the trees and seemed to just be happy it was cool.

The soil was soft, almost sinking underneath your feet. Like someone, hand buried something almost like there was a hole that wasn’t completely compact underneath your feet. You have it a few good stomps before stepping away and towards Ollie. The ground was solid. People often buried animals, but this was on your property, and you hadn’t buried anything for years. It was concerning, to say the least.

Against your better judgment you god down on your knees and began to peel away the soil. It was soft and cool as you continued to claw at it, hitting something almost instantly. You pulled away some pebbles and grass and were horrified when you saw a very large, almost bone-like hand sticking out of the soil. Your face paled as you stood up and walked in the other direction. Maybe you should just feed the rest of the animals and be on your merry way.

+++

You were certain your hands had splinters in them as you quickly washed them under the water. It was evening and you had finished everything that you needed to do, well except one thing. You didn’t want to think about it. You looked at the small bag of peaches you had brought in, grabbing that bag and slowly washing each peach. You wondered what on earth could be under that dirt, that was a hand, right? Maybe you should call the sheriff. That wasn’t a good idea, chances were that if it was a body then you’d be investigated thoroughly.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by scratching at your door, for a moment you froze. It was safe to say you were on edge since you found that... Well, whatever it was. Putting down the peach you gave a small shake to your hands, following the sound to the front door.

The door gave little resistance as you opened, and thank your lucky stars no one was there. You glanced down to see Ollie sitting patiently like he was waiting for you. You stiffened slightly and crossed your arms, “I’m not going back there Ollie” your voice was a bit stern than you had intended.

The old cat barely seemed to listen to you as he walked towards the trees, looking back at you with shining eyes. You huffed and held eye contact. He seemed to give you big sad eyes as you went to close the door. You grumbled under your breath and walked out the door, Ollie followed along the path. Every once and a while he’d spare a glance to make sure you were still there.

The air had gotten a bit colder, you could feel it traveling up your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. You felt anxiety run through your veins as you got closer and closer to the clearing, your hands slightly trembling now. A part of you hoped that it wasn’t still there, but that hope quickly subsided as you thought about what that would mean. Either someone had come back to get it or it moved on its own.

That last part was ridiculous though.

But as you walked through the brush it didn’t seem like such a ridiculous thought. There was a rather large hole where the hand used to be, almost 7 feet in length. Ollie continued through the trees as you stopped dead in your tracks. You had never seen a hole this large, what scared you most was that whatever was in there wasn’t.

You stepped closer, down on your knees and looking around the hole. There were no tracks, nothing suspicious. Except for the large claw marks on the walls of the hole, you tried desperately to ignore them. But… the were just so wide, nothing a human could do, nothing a shovel could do. What the hell had been buried here, what the hell crawled out?

When you looked up you were met with those same bright yellow eyes, just a few feet ahead of you. That wasn’t what made your face pale or made your blood run cold.

There was a large figure behind Ollie, almost 7 feet tall. It was a bare skeleton... But not quite. His rib cage could have held you and another, and his ribs were thicker than your forearm. His spine was cracked in most places but held a deep blue in between each vertebra. As your gaze followed upwards you felt your hands tremble and adrenaline pump through your veins. His skull was too cartoon-ish to be a human skeleton, his mouth was formed in a thin line and his nasal was cracked. The rest of his skull was wrapped in stained bandages, seemingly tightly.

One of his hands reaches out to you slightly as his ribcage expanded, almost as if he was breathing.

“...you…”

You bolted to your feet and as you began running you felt something large and rough wrap around your wrist, easily swallowing it. You were yanked backward, slamming into what you guessed was the skeleton. You took in a shaky breath and looked up. Sure enough, the skeleton was looking down at you, bright light behind those bandages staring directly at you.

“..help..me..”

His voice felt like a roll of thunder, deep, powerful, dangerous.

Your saliva felt thick as you pulled away from the skeleton, not going much farther than a few feet. His hand was still wrapped tightly around you, you couldn’t find your voice as you stared at his abnormally large hands. They held so much power within them, and you knew he wasn’t using an ounce of his genuine strength as he held your wrist tightly. He could crush you if he so pleased.

You turned your attention to the old cat that seemed to lead the way and began tugging the skeleton alongside you as you followed him. He was surprisingly quiet as he walked alongside you, his grip still tight on your wrist. He stumbled a few times through the brush, barely wincing as thorns began to cut at his ankles. A small trail of dust followed him once you moved away from the brush, getting closer and closer to your home.

The small walk was silent until you approached the house, Ollie sat there meowing like his life depended on it until you got the door open. It was much warmer than it had been as you walked in, the skeleton following until a small thump and a tug forced you to stop. Looking back you suppressed a laugh as the skeleton held his head in his hand, rubbing it softly.

“I’m sorry, you should duck if you’re going to be coming through the doorway.”

He stopped his movements and looked at you, a small hint of blue forming behind his bandages. You paid no attention to it as he ducked his head and moved through the doorway. You sat him down on a chair and tried to unclasp his fingers from your wrist, “I-I need to get something. Please let go.”

To your surprise he did. You rushed to grab a first aid kit and placed your hands on his skull, he jumped from the contact and a small growl left the large skeleton. “Oh I’m sorry, may I remove this?” He hesitated but nodded.

The bandages were much tighter than you thought, and there were at least two layers of them. Unwrapping the first layer wasn’t hard, it didn’t stick to the other bandages or to his skull. The second bandages seemed to have more blood, dirt, and what you could only describe as dust on them. It was either gray or brown, you felt a little repulsed at the sight.

The second layer was.. Gross to say the least. It stuck to his skull and sounded like velcro when you began unwrapping it. You began to understand why, as you unwrapped his skull a large chasm made its self-present. You furthered unwrapping it, small cracks following it. There were small divots around the cracks, a few almost deep enough to be cracks. You decided against saying anything.

You began to unwrap the bandages around his eyes, well sockets. One crack continued to follow the way down to his eyesockets, surprisingly the two of them were closed until you threw the bandage away.

“Okay, I’m gonna clean it and then put a new one on okay?”

Your eyes widened as he opened his sockets, in his left, your right, socket there was a large glowing red orb. You swallowed hard as he stared at you with the one glowing orb.

“..no..bandage..”

You gave him a curious glance before turning to get an alcohol swab. You felt his eye watching you intensely as you ripped open the package and turned to him.

“This may sting..”

Your voice came out smooth as you began to clean around the cracks, he made no attempt to get away from you. He didn’t even make a noise as you began cleaning the large hole in his skull. You stepped away from him, picking up the first aid kit and putting it away.

“...name?”

You turned to him again and laughed softly, he sat up at the noise. “Oh, I’m sorry! I’m (Y/N), what’s your name?”

He hesitated and shook his head.

“Oh uhm, do you have a nickname?”

He raised his brow or the closest he could.

“Oh like a shortened version of your name or something you would prefer to be called by.”

“..zodiac..”

You smiled softly at him and looked at the small pile of peaches on your counter. You looked back at Zodiac who seemed to be staring at them as well. “Would you like one?”

His gaze changed from the peaches to you, and he nodded eagerly. Picking one up you examined it, giving it a small squeeze and then giving it to him. He slowly took it from your hand, examined it, and opened his mouth- you weren’t sure how that was even possible- and stuffed the entire thing in his mouth.

“Wait no-”

How did he..? Maybe you didn’t want to know. You turned to the peaches and cut another one in half, and peeled the seed from the middle then gave him the two halves. He did the same thing and looked at you like an eager puppy. “Uhm I don’t know if I have enough peaches to fill you, but help yourself. You should cut the seeds out though.” With that, he stood from his feet and moved to your side. He began to imitate what you had done and stuffed the rest of the peach in his mouth.

It’s like he didn’t even care that you just barely reached his sternum, or that he was completely nude in your kitchen. He focused on doing the same act to each peach.

You decided to start on dinner.

#Sans #f/o tag #(y/n)#sans x reader #xreader #undertale #undertale x reader #how should i tag this?#I didn't properly edit this #so #excuse any typos #or mistakes #thank you :)#Horrorfell #Horrorfell Sans #Horrortale #horrorfell sans x reader #he has more scars

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1056

survey by katesmarie13

(Merry Christmas! Or Happy Holidays! Or Happy Friday! <3)

Okay, just a few basics first...THEN the new stuff.

Your full name? I only feel like sharing the name Robyn today.

Your hometown? Manila, kinda. I won’t give away the city I currently reside in.

Age? 22, and a waste of a year it was. I’m so tempted to just turn 22 again in 2021.

Now for something different and completely random...

When you're having a bad day, what comfort food do you reach for? It differs per bad day and it also depends if I can afford to get whatever it is I’m craving. Though for the most part, I’ve found myself pining for samgyupsal the most often. It’s just the ultimate problem-fixer and makes-the-sad-go-away-er.

Do you have an item that is your good luck charm? I don’t really believe in those, so no. The farthest I’ve gone with a certain item and luck is how I insisted to use the same paddle that was available in our gym whenever I trained for table tennis back in high school. The reason I don’t think it has anything to do with luck is because I simply thought I had the best grip with that paddle, not because I was convinced I can win any game with it.

If so, what is it? See paddle situation aboe.

Your favorite thing about your job (or school)? It’s in the media/public relations field so there are lots of freebies and treats that come with the job that make what I do worth it, and a lot more fun. The entire team also consists of Gen Z-ers and younger Millennials, so there are practices we follow that bigger corporations might not have, like longer office shutdowns during Christmas (we don’t get back to work until Jan 4th), reminders to take mental health breaks, and a no-video-meetings rule every Friday afternoon.

Least favorite thing about your job (or school)? It’s very, very hectic so I have the tendency to get overwhelmed as early as 10 AM. There’s never any dead air and I don’t get rest for nine hours straight (my shift is technically eight hours, but I work through the allotted 1-hour lunch break as well). OT is also common, but at least I get paid for it. Demanding clients who micromanage and/or ask for too much work to be done from our end also make the job stressful.

Does global warming and the hole in the ozone truly bother you? Of course. My heart sinks every time I come across a new article saying glaciers are melting, that animals living in polar regions are suffering, that sea ice continues to drastically decrease, etc.

Do you have a "funny" toenail? I don’t think so? All my toenails look...the way they’re supposed to look like, lol.

How many times have you moved in your lifetime? The times I can remember, just twice. But my parents moved around a bit when I was still an infant.

Do you watch professional wrestling and is it real? I do watch and keep up with it, just not as much as I used to. I don’t recognize most of the new faces anymore, and I wouldn’t be able to give you a decent breakdown of the current storylines in any promotion, not even in WWE. The angles, results, belts, and characters all aren’t real, but the movesets (especially the submission holds) risks, and injuries very much are. Are we going to debate this in 2020 still? Lmao.

What's your favorite thing to microwave? Don’t microwaves just heat stuff up? I dunno if it heats a certain food better than others lol.

Could Pop-Tarts survive a nuclear attack? I doubt it.

Does anyone know where the UP (Upper Peninsula) is? Can I give you a different UP? That’s where I went to in college, heh heh.

What's the regular unleaded gas price where you are? I have no idea. I never paid attention. I usually just give the gas attendant anywhere between P300 to P700 and see how far up it would fill my tank.

Do you know someone who's been injured in Iraq? I don’t know. Probably not. None of my relatives who migrated ever signed up for the US military.

Do you remember what a Puff-A-Lump is? I’m pretty positive I’ve never heard of it before.

Least favorite TV show? Game of Thrones.

Favorite canned soup? I don’t consume that.

How far does your belly button stick out or sink in? How can I even measure this?

Do you have a particular coffee mug you drink from? Yes, but I’ve described it so many times in surveys from just this month alone.

What does that mug say/have on it? The first line reads “Seattle, WA” then “Starbucks” in big bold letters, then “Coffee Company” below it, and the last line reads. “Est. 1971.”

Your take on declawing cats? I don’t like cats a lot but this does not sound like a responsible thing to do, and it also sounds like a painful procedure for a poor cat.

Do have smoke detectors in your home? No. That’s not really a requirement or standard practice here.

Would it be easy to erase YOUR identity? I suppose it’s technically easy to hire someone who can do that (a la Breaking Bad), I just would not be willing to do it and give up who I am for anything in the world.

Do you know anyone named Sam? Lots. My cousin is named Sam; I also went to school with multiple Sams.

How many drawers do you have in your room/office? Five.

What was your favorite snuggle toy when you were a child? I was happy with a pillow. I was never into stuffed toys all that much.

Great! A few firsts then...

What was your first pet and their name? I had a goldfish that I simply named Goldy. I vividly remember this because Angela’s first pet was also a goldfish; and there was a time we did show-and-tell in first grade and she bought her pet. We had been bickering that day, as 7 year olds do, and I remember being an absolute asshole and snickering when she introduced her fish as Fishy because I thought it was a cheesy name and that Goldy was far superior. Sorry Fishy. You had a great name.

When your mind wanders, where does it go first? My biggest stressor for the day, usually.

Your first knick-knack (item you placed in your room/house)? I have no clue. I was 10 when we first moved in here, and a completely different person.

First "real" piece of jewlery? (This goes for the guys too) I’m going to forgive this survey for being a little sexist because it’s nearly 15 years old; but anyway, I’ve never had any expensive jewelry of my own. All the pricey ones I’ve ever worn are owned by mom.

What did you do on your first date? We went to a museum and had early dinner at an Italian-American restaurant. We also had coffee after, and then she slept over at my place where I let her play GTA V on our PS3 because she wasn’t allowed to play it in her house.

Who was your first best friend? Kaye. I can’t trace her down now because she has such a common name, but I hope she’s been doing well.

When did you first realize that life isn't easy and fun? I was 12, going through puberty and a generally not-nice time of my life, with everyone in the house hating and isolating me.

And lastly...

The last thing you thought about before you fell asleep last night? I briefly thought about how many hours I need to sleep to get a decent rest, but I passed out in like 10 seconds.

Your last argument? Last night my mom and I had an argument about where I last placed my phone because I had already misplaced it two times prior during the day.

Your last words to someone...? “You’re wearing black; it’s not too obvious” when my mom was complaining that she looked a bit big in her outfit for today.

The last place you'd go? I’m not very sure about the wording here. Do you mean the last place I went to (outside the house to pay for a delivery)? Or the last place I’d want to go to before I die (no clue)? Hahahaha.

The last thing you'd find yourself wearing? Again, not so sure about the grammar here.

What will be the last thing that you do today? Trying to doze off.

#survey #surveys

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ariainstars · 4 years

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Rey Palpatine, Kylo Ren or Ben Solo: Who’s Got the Button?

Warning: longer post.

Who Is Rey?

Sigh. I can’t believe I was this naïve. Really, I can’t.

There are narrative parallels between The Force Awakens and A New Hope, of course. But apart from desert planet and droid, the parallels between Rey and Luke, which many fans took for a sign that she might be a secret daughter of his, are few.

Rey is a slave on a desert planet who collects and repairs spare parts. Her parents were nobodies. She doesn’t want to leave because it would make her lose the tenuous link she has with her family.

She saves someone she just met in a brave, crazy stunt where she proves that she is a very good pilot even with hardly any training.

She meets a kind elderly man who tells her about the Force. He is a father figure for her because she doesn’t have one, but he gets killed about a day after she met him.

She had barely known about the Jedi but finds out she has talent in the Force, so instead of going home she is sent to train with someone whom she doesn’t know and who is not very willing to do so, and not capable of being a father figure for her either.

This is Anakin to a T! And Anakin ended up being the bad guy in the end. I’m sure that watching the PT, no one who was unfamiliar with the saga would have believed he would be.

It is not a coincidence that Ben’s light sabre looked like a cross and Rey’s like a fork: that was another dead giveaway announcing that he would be the victim in this story, and she the perpetrator.

„Show me again the power of the darkness, and I will let nothing stand in our way. Show me, grandfather, and I will finish what you started.” Kylo Ren in The Force Awakens

Ben and Rey are a dyad, meaning that in one way or another, their destinies parallel one another. It was he who wanted to “finish what his grandfather started”: but it was she who actually finished what her grandfather had started. Jedi and Skywalker family are extinct; Finn may or may not be Force-sensitive, but he’s not trained. All of this leaves Rey solely in charge. And everybody cheers her, the way Palpatine was cheered when he ended the clone wars. But the dirty work had been done by Anakin; same goes for his grandson.

It all fits together too well: Rey was always meant to turn out evil, while the “bad guy” in truth was the hero all along. If you watch the Sequel Trilogy again and feel annoyed by their development, try to look at it from this perspective.

“Now, fulfill your destiny and take your father’s place at my side!” Palpatine in Return of the Jedi

Palpatine always needed someone young and fresh by his side to give him strength; which could be explained by the fact, finally addressed in The Rise of Skywalker, that he is some kind of clone. Not being capable of living on his own, he wanted Rey to kill him so that all of the darkness inside him would possess her, and he managed. Now he is reborn, and the young woman stepping into his shoes believes that the worst is behind her. The truth is that the Enemy is now an inherent part of her.

The good news is that by this time, Rey has also made the experience of unconditional love: Kylo / Ben saw her at her worst, but he still cared about her. Some viewers thought that Rey would be the key to Ben’s redemption, but honestly: that story had already been told with Luke and his father. The alleged bad guy saving the alleged heroine from herself is a new message in Star Wars; a message so powerful that I still didn’t get over it.

The Heir of Sheev Palpatine

Palpatine’s role in the saga tends to be downplayed although he is the mastermind behind it all: in the PT he is literally one of the first characters we see. It is easy to say that he was the devil incarnate who wanted absolute power - he also was a sly and influential politician, and after the clone wars he did bring peace to the galaxy reuniting the Republic and the separatists under the roof of the Empire. Anakin and his heirs could not make up for his sins because they were busy with their own and the Jedi’s.

As the audience, we want to see our heroes happy; yet their failures and unhappiness are often necessary.

Anakin and Padmé had to die so their children could grow up the way they did, two idealistic souls untainted by the Jedi’s sins.

Leia had to lose Alderaan, else the princess would hardly have had a chance to marry the scoundrel.

Luke had to lose his home with his uncle and aunt, else he wouldn’t have agreed to come with Obi-Wan in the first place; and he had to go through the trauma with his father’s revelation to become the wise and strong hero of Return of the Jedi.

And sad as it is, Ben had to spend almost all of his life in a dark place. The few moments of understanding he had with Rey in TLJ were probably the few rays of lights in his whole adult life; no wonder he fell so deeply for her that he would literally have done anything for her; he had to become a besotted idiot who saved the girl he loved although she had literally killed him and usurped his whole heritage.

Meaning: Rey was always meant to take over.

This is not only the story of the Skywalker family, it’s also the story of a galaxy in desperate want of balance and peace. And if you want to tell how that is accomplished, you can’t erase Palpatine from the equation. Palpatine is a “clone”, i.e. he is not wholly human; which makes him a parallel to Anakin who ostensibly had been generated without a father. Rey, flawed as she is, is a young woman of flesh and blood.

The Prequel Trilogy humanized Darth Vader; the Sequel Trilogy did the same with Palpatine. Few viewers expected this because one hardly gets interested in the villain’s bloodline. Vader’s portrayal as Anakin Skywalker in the prequels was also largely disliked because the young man was everything but cold and sardonic like the villain he became later. And as many viewers did not like to see “their” Darth Vader humanized (portrayed as a good little boy and then an ardent, stormy young man), now we don’t like Palpatine coming back in form of a young woman, who for sure is deeply flawed but not by far the monster he was. Palpatine always wanted to use Anakin’s, the Chosen One’s, power for himself; and with his final plan he managed to blend his heritage with the soul of the last Skywalker scion.

The Heir of Anakin Skywalker

Vader had to become Palpatine’s ally and to serve him loyally to make the old devil let his guard down enough for him to kill him at last, just like Kylo had to fool Snoke that he was still on his side while in the Throne Room he was silently plotting his demise. Anakin always was the hero of the Skywalker saga, a fact that is largely overlooked. His son pushed him to do the right thing, but the decision was his own, and he paid with his life.

Many fans of the Original Trilogy and also of the prequels dislike the sequels heartily because to them it “retconned” or “cancelled” what had happened before. Which is not quite true; the original heroes did find their happy ending. We witnessed what came after that, which irritates us because it’s something we usually never face once the credits roll or the book covers are closed. That does not mean that the heroes’ accomplishments are obliterated.

My guess: these fans might be right and the Skywalker saga is indeed at its end with Return of the Jedi. The saga was Anakin Skywalker’s story, and he died.

What did not die was his heritage - his sins, his excruciating pain, but also his heroism, and his prophecy as the one who would “bring Balance to the Force.” The mistake of his heirs was having wanted to go back to what once had been. Their links to the past were tenuous, e.g. we never learn how Luke came to know what had made the Jedi fail (the content of his second lesson to Rey); in any case, he must have learned it only after the fall of his own temple, in order to explain why he wanted to give up on the Jedi. Obi-Wan never told about his own faults, the clone wars, the Republic, the creation of Darth Vader; most importantly, he never mentioned to Luke that his father actually was the Chosen One, and that the Force wants Balance. It is not surprising that Luke and his friends could not build lasting peace, not knowing what had caused the conflicts. They had to fail; “failure is the greatest teacher” means that only from understanding and moving away from those failures the galaxy will (hopefully) finally learn to avoid repeating the Empire, the First Order, the Final Order etc. over and over again.

I also did not like very much what the sequels did to the heroes of the original trilogy, honestly. But had they survived, found together again, and or proven more heroic and less flawed than they were this time around, the general audience would never have stopped pestering the studios with wanting more of Han, Luke and Leia. And that’s not how it’s supposed to be. They’ve done their time; they had their happy ending. They had their hero’s journey. They ended the Empire the way they wanted, their achievements were completed. It is up to the next generation to learn from the past and build something new and better. We, in our everyday life, also have to bring the people we once looked up to (parents, teachers, mentors etc.) down from their pedestal and to acknowledge the good they did but also see their failures and limitations, if we ever want to get on with our own lives.

In this light, the Sequel Trilogy is indeed not part of Anakin Skywalker’ story. If Ben is brought back and stands good on his promise of finishing the Chosen One’s work, then it will be a new saga - his. Not his grandfather’s any more.

Though a Palpatine, I believe Rey does have the potential for finding balance and unite the galaxy. If Ben, her dyad, comes back to do his part, the galaxy will be again under the rule of two powerful Force users the way it was when the OT begin; but this time they need a chance on something united and positive.

Balance At Last?

The authors repeatedly stated that the sequels would be “very much like the prequels”: not incidentally. The prequels also were the story of a usurpation, where at the end everything that was good seemed forgotten or turned into the hand of the wrong person.

This sheds an interesting light on the next trilogy: by this logic, it ought to mirror the original trilogy.

Whatever you can say about the Star Wars saga, it never repeated itself. It has recurring themes, which do not run in circles but in spirals; like in any family, or political system, the lessons not learned always demand their price.

All of this is not to say that I like this ending. The Rise of Skywalker mostly is so dissatisfying because being Episode IX it ought to have been a definite ending, but it does not feel like an end. It feels more like a new beginning, or an interruption of a story that was largely not yet explored. The new heroes have wrapped up the past, but what about the galaxy’s future? A future that has maybe already begun with the Mandalorian’s mysterious adopted Child, who symbolizes faith where Yoda was all about (avoiding) fear?

Rey and Baby Yoda both are two younger and more innocent versions of someone we are very familiar with; and they are both paired off with someone who becomes a redeemed version of a familiar villain - Rey with Kylo Ren / Ben Solo, who is reminiscent of Darth Vader, and the Child with the Mandalorian, reminiscent of Boba Fett. Also, the Child knows Force healing, the way Rey does.

It seems to me that this must be announcing a continuation that fits to it all and brings the loose strands together. If the Force is at work, then it knows what it’s doing.

Luke was always one to give people a second chance: in A New Hope, we see him befriend literally anyone who is willing to go along. Star Wars is all about getting another chance. Are we really supposed to believe that Ben Solo is gone forever, and worse, that he deserved no better than dying after sacrificing himself for the girl he loved? Did Luke Skywalker in person come to Crait, sacrificing his life in the process, to give his nephew a second chance only for him to disappear never to be seen again?

Ben and Rey being a dyad means that they mirror one another, in every way: what happened to one will happen to the other too, eventually. The iconic “You’re not alone” is so powerful because it comes from a person who knows damn well what loneliness means. If Rey finished what her grandfather started, then so must he. When the Republic fell everybody also believed Anakin to be dead; he wasn’t. and when Han left Luke and Leia towards the end of A New Hope, they did not count on him coming back; but he did.

The next trilogy is not yet announced but it has been known for years that it’s in the cards; thankfully it’s in the hands of Rian Johnson, who already proved that he can tell a masterful Star Wars story; and who reintroduced the subject of Balance again. I still hope that this image was a foreshadowing, not an empty promise.

The ST doesn’t really make sense - not yet. That doesn’t mean it won’t make sense when the rest of Rian’s story is told.

“Hope is like the sun… If you only believe in it when you see it, you will never make it through the night”. Let’s keep our hopes up, fellow Reylos and ST fans. 😉

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

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Playing Pretend (4)

Requested by: @calkesttiss | Prompt:

Hi! I just watched isi & ossi (rich girl and poor boxer boy AH) on netflix and now i cant stop thinking about cal and fake dating. Do with that what you will 😂

Cal Kestis x Reader

1 | 2 | 3 | Next: Part 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

Cal found a way down the building and walked his way back to the Mobara Palace, one of the few cantinas in the Capital that have docking bays. The Mobara Palace was one of the biggest in the city too; occupying a whole block to cover the bar itself as well as the elaborate network of paths that connect the bays to one another, with the cantina at the starting point of it all.

The Mantis’s entrance ramp hissed and lowered, opening the door before him. An aromatic waft was the first to welcome him upon his entry.

“Looks like Greez is cooking something good,” he comments to BD-1.

As he entered the ship, Greez’s dual pairs of arms were all over the pantry and yet each arm was carefully distributed to a certain task in cooking.

“Smells good, Greez!” Cal beamed.

“Oh good, you’re just in time for dinner—with all that wandering around you’re doing, you’re probably hungry,”

He joined the others at the table as soon as Greez lifted the pot from the stove and served everyone their own plates. The meal was solemn and yet there was a warm aura emanating around them. Cal decided to up the mood by striking a conversation.

“How long do you guys still think we’re gonna stay here until this blows over?”

A silence at the dinner table. Cere’s eyes shifted, she searched Greez’s face and studied his reaction toward Cal’s question. There was only one possible and realistic answer, but the boy doesn’t seem to concur with it.

“Cal,” she clears her throat. “You do understand why…”

Before she could even reiterate her question, Cal already knew this mere dinner table conversation was going to be another lecture.

“I know. We’re hiding from the loan shark that Greez borrowed the money from to get this ship,”

It was an embarrassing truth, but a truth nonetheless. Greez felt like the situation required him to say a piece.

“Look, kid, we can scrape by with what we have. I mean, I still got coin on me—but not that enough to cover the loan plus with its interest!”

“Odd jobs, honest jobs, aren’t gonna cut it in a short time, Greez. At least you would know that, of all people,” Cal argued.

Cal had been wandering around the city looking for a quick way to earn some coin in the quickest way possible. The downtown and underground areas of the planet had some questionable methods of earning money—but they were easy money. Although Cal had grown up with street smarts, part of that knowledge is when and where a solution is either a real solution or another problem later on.

“You know the Sabacc, don’t ya?” Greez whispered with the left corner of his mouth directed to Cal.

“Greez, we are not going with gambling!” Cere sternly exclaimed. The impact of her fork dropping against the plate was just as scary as a fist landing on the table like a gavel.

There was another silence amongst them again. Cere continued on with her own piece.

“We cannot endanger anyone in our crew with something that won’t be worth our while. I don’t mind pretending to be some stranger in a different name just so we can have someplace to stay safe together. But I will not allow anybody in this ship to get into something that would jeopardize themselves or the crew altogether, understand?”

Cere’s outburst hardened the silence. Everybody understands that she hasn’t outgrown her military discipline from her days of participating in the Clone Wars—and she’s utilizing them in predicaments such as these amongst the Mantis crew members.

These episodes of hers were occasional, therefore it made her unpredictable, intimidating, but somehow her aggressive delivery doesn’t outweigh her rationale or true motive. Everybody—Cal, Greez, Merrin, and ultimately BD-1—knew that she means well and that she always will.

Cere processed what just had happened with her. She attempted to recompose herself in the midst of the awkwardness. She cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to yell.”

“It’s fine, Cere,” Greez consoles.

The dinner proceeds. Cal wondered if the girl he met yesterday and bumped into just now would be a better subject to talk about.

“I met someone last night. Bumped into her again,”

All heads turn to Cal.

“She frequents a pub not too far from here. I always see her near or inside that place. Maybe if I bump into her again, I’ll ask her where I can find a place to get some cash—and a clean one at that,”

“Are you sure she is to be trusted?” Cere maintained her stern tone even after recomposing herself.

Cal was so sure of his judgment about you. He recalled the moments where you two were together. He felt your kindness and compassion—he knew of your good intentions, you meant no harm—but he also sensed some sort of sadness in you.

“You probably have heard of Senator Bail Organa?” Cere takes the conversation reins.

Cal shrugs, “Yeah sure, I know him. I saw him sometimes in the Senate Building in Coruscant.”

“Well, he knows of our presence here—don’t worry, he doesn’t know about the loan shark at our tail—and he’s invited us to a social function,”

“Social function?” Cal raised his eyebrow at Cere’s unusual choice of word.

“Apparently, this party was being held by a colleague of his. Perhaps they needed to fill the guestlist,”

“Proxies,”

“Exactly.”

“How bad can a few no-show guests be? It’s not like it’s gonna dent their bank account when the catering bill comes!” Greez dryly joked and it was the received likewise.

In light of this new announcement, Cal began to wonder how long does he have to stay in the party before he could sneak back out in the streets and find the unusual girl who had to drag him up a rooftop from the Tipsy Taun-Taun just to ask for some self-defense moves.

The following days passed until the day of the banquet has come. That morning, your mother personally made sure that you don’t sleep in and get yourself ready as quickly as possible. She also announced that the stylists are coming in half an hour.

“Mom, I’m perfectly capable of doing my own makeup!” You detest despite still being groggy from being woken up without your consent.

You force yourself out of bed so that you could take a shower. Unfortunately, you didn’t have the luxury of staying too long in the bath—however, you sorely wished you did. You slid deeper into the cold, ivory and gold-trimmed bathtub until only your eyes are on the surface.

A pounding on the door disturbed your watery peace.

“[y/n], hurry up!” your mother growled from the other side.

“Almost done!” you cried back.

You were actually done minutes ago, you only chose to soak yourself for a bit longer with the wishful thinking that they’ll never realize that you’ve locked yourself in your own bathroom. You’d love that though.

“No one could ever go wrong with black,” you muttered as you pulled out an off-shouldered black cocktail dress with stars and planets embroidered with golden thread.

You made quick work of yourself. You did your hair and makeup: applying minimal makeup as possible, you wore your hair down and clipped a silver headband on both ends with four tiers of golden cords hanging over on top of the other. Staring back at yourself in the mirror, a brush in your hand slides down to the length of your hair; with every stroke, you ponder if all this your parents are doing is ever worth it either for themselves or for the family.

You sigh for an answer, or lack thereof. Afterwards, you donned the dress and the shoes—both pieces were in black. The finishing touch—a personal one at that—was a pair of leather fingerless gloves.

“Here goes nothing,” a mantra you tell yourself before exiting your room in attendance to any social gathering you were obliged to attend.

The party started without you. No surprise in that, you thought. Nevertheless, you made your way to ballroom where the chatter of the guests became more and more audible yet incoherent as their voices meddled.

Immediately, you searched for Tazha in the room. She wasn’t easy to miss. Her glittering dress outshines everyone else’s, literally making her a beacon for you to easily see her. You walk up to her.

“Oh you look great!” she compliments.

“Thanks, you too,”

Suddenly, one of the Ithrel sons, Logan who was the third son and was the same age as you, appears ot be walking toward you with what you thought is the stupidest grin you’ve ever seen on a face. He comes in strong by grabbing you by the waist, reel you in for a kiss except you successfully dodged it with your gloved hand.

“Logan? What the hell are you doing?!”

“Well, your mom paid me to flirt with you until you end up falling in love with me, I’ll have a chance in the Junior Legislator’s Program! Plus, we get to support your family until your dad becomes Senator or whatever, I mean, we don’t have a choice on that, we just gotta roll with it,” he beamed with an imbecile’s optimism. “Big bonus if we ever get married though. I mean, she wanted that to happen. So, marry me?”

“Hold up. She did what now?”

Logan repeated your own mother’s plan, he reiterated that this part wasn’t even in the original agreement. Your mother had to negotiate her way through the Ithrels in promising a much stronger bond of support to your family—therefore, you became a sacrificial lamb.

You and Tazha exchanged glances. Both of you communicated clearly through the furrows of your brows and the hard rolling of your eyes. A gradual burst of rage was flowing in your bloodstreams.

“Oh my God, this is just sad and pathetic of you, Logan,” Tazha condescendingly comments.

“I’m gonna give her a piece of my mind tonight,” you growled, your knuckles were white from gripping the bannister too hard.

You searched for your mother in the ballroom. When you spotted her and your father speaking with some guests, you marched through the sea of people until you reached her.

“Mother, may I speak with you?”

Yasina excused herself from her guest and she was in for a surprise with what is about to go down.

“You paid one of the Ithrel sons to date me?! Because you thought that would strengthen your connection with them just so Dad can secure his win in the election? You did this without me knowing? Whatever the hell happened to consent, Mom!?”

“[y/n] Elvas Torvel, I do not allow you to speak to me with a tone like that in an important event like this!” Yasina hissed, struggling to maintain her composure—both mentally and physically—after just being bombarded with questions by her daughter.

“Did you even ever stop to think how I’d feel if you paired me with a complete imbecile?!”

“[y/n], honey, please listen,” your father intervenes but the argument was heating up between you and your mother.

“The Ithrels are a good family. They uphold a clear reputation. We Torvels and Ithrels would be a great collaborative enterprise,”

“You don’t see the problem here, Mom? I don’t want to get married!”

Yasina was silent. Her face was completely aghast: her eyes wide open, her lip was trembling as if wanting to say something but couldn’t because of so much nerves thrashing underneath her skin.

“You will not ruin this event for your own selfish, adolescent needs, young lady. We are not finished with this discussion.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on ending it soon.”

You walked out from your parents. Turning your back on them to wipe away the tears that was welling up in your eyes.

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

Text

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 58 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 58 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

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Tanlin’s face fell. In a sad soft voice she said, “Oi knew t’at ye’d ask. Oi’ll give ye t’e facts t’at Oi know. Ye willnae like w’at Oi’m about t’ tell ye. Ot least a few ot’ers will tell parts o’ ‘t as well. Ye’ll ‘ave t’ decide i’ ye’ve been told true.” Dragons forgive m’. Oi’ll tell ‘er nae lie but Oi must save m’ Barad at any cost! She began, carefully editing Barad’s early involvement in the plot.

“T’ere wa’ a plot t’ kill ye. T’was hatched only a few doors down t’e passage in Mister Morgu’s cabin. ‘E wa’ our Purser an’ ‘e ‘ates t’e Longin. T’was ‘e t’at persuaded Barad t’ buy t’e Ord …”

She went on, fearful of the effect that her account was having on Kurin. So much depended on the goodwill of this child. No, not really a child, just young. Before the fleet she was legally an adult because of her skills accomplishments.

There was good reason for her fear. Kurin heard of the apparent cold blooded murder of Chena and possibly Merk with horror and pity. She did not want to face this. She wanted to run and hide, curled around her knotted stomach. Only her need to know the truth kept her in the same cabin with this story.

Tanlin’s control broke down when she got to Silor’s part. She turned in her chair and gestured at the cabin door, her voice catching as she said, “Ot t’e Gat’ering, only a day before ye were poisoned, Oi met Silor just ootside t’is door. ‘E wa’ runnin’ an errand for Mister Morgu. T’was ‘im t’at took t’e kit.”

She hid her face and her voice was muffled and she wept as she said, “A moment earlier! Just a moment earlier an’ Oi’d ‘ave caught ‘im in our cabin! Nae bit o’ t’is wad ‘ave ‘appened i’ Oi’d been a moment earlier!”

Kurin, remembering the ghastly accusations of her own mother as she sank into madness, could well guess the kind of guilt feelings that Tanlin was experiencing. The screaming shade of her mother accusing her of murdering her father still haunted her dreams. She leaned forward, reaching through her own revulsion at the unfolding tale, and laid a comforting hand on Tanlin’s arm. The contact helped Tanlin to get a grip on herself. She looked thankfully at Kurin and went on.

Kurin heard the events at the Gathering and after. Even though she had already heard that the Fauline had been rammed, she got the tale again. This time it included what had happened aboard the Fauline as well as the rest of the events. She heard, for the first time, how the Grandalor had got north undetected by riding in the eye of the Coriolis storm.

Kurin sat, stunned by the tale. Shakily she asked, “That’s it? No dodge? No it was an accident or a prank gone awry? Just, somebody really tried to kill me, not even because they hated me? Just to hurt my ship?”

Tanlin sat slumped in her chair, looking ill. We’ve lost. She’ll nae help us now, she thought. She responded dully, “In Mister Morgu’s case, Aye. In Silor’s case, nae. ‘E ‘ates ye an’ blames all o’ ‘is ill fortune an’ failings on ye. Oi t’ink, from talking wit’ ‘im, t’at ‘e’s mad, at least w’ere ye are concerned.

“Bot’ ‘e an’ Mister Morgu ‘ave been confined since we caught t’em. Nane ‘as spoken t’ t’em since, except for m’sel’. I talked t’ each o’ t’em separately t’ get t’e facts t’at Oi ‘ad t’ tell ye.”

Kurin curled up into a ball in her chair and sat, eyes closed, stomach knotted. Tanlin looked despairingly across at Kurin. She felt both guilt and sorrow that she’d caused such pain in one so young. Tanlin crossed the space between them and knelt where she could gather the hurting Kurin into her arms.

Kurin, startled, looked at her face. Gray eyes in pain met gray eyes in despair. Kurin uncurled enough to wrap an arm about Tanlin as well. For a few minutes they just sat and comforted each other.

Kurin broke the hug first and retreated to her chair, curled about her pain. She looked at Tanlin, and tilted her head regarding the woman shrewdly. Almost dismissively she said, “This is just pain. It was hard to hear, that’s all. I half expected something like that story. I came here because of those Great Law violations. Running off because something’s difficult isn’t my way.

“Is there anything else that I should know about?”

“T’ere’s a matter t’at ye should know from m’,” said Tanlin, eager to change the subject, hope flaring. “T’e counterfeit scrip t’at ‘as plagued yer last few Gat’erings originated on t’is ship. Barad an’ Mister Morgu conspired toget’er on t’at. T’ere are many ‘oo were guilty o’ ‘elping t’ make or pass ‘t.”

“I see,” said Kurin. She wrapped white hair about several fingers as she thought. Concentration helped her to ignore the pain knotting her stomach. She remembered some things that both Alor and Captain Mord had complained of and got an impish grin. “I think that I have an idea about how to deal with that little problem.”

She turned serious again and said grimly, “There’s another problem that might not be so easy, though. The Grandalor has an ominous reputation. There are up to several hundred disappearances, perhaps murders. Somehow they will have to be dealt with.”

This time it was Tanlin who grinned. She raised her left index finger and chuckled around the stone of fear in her heart, “T’ey never ‘appened. Nae even ane.”

“Then what did happen to all those people?” asked Kurin skeptically.

Tanlin snorted in amusement and replied, “Indentures. Barad brokered t’eir indenture sales in t’e Arraken fleet. T’e ‘ule ship kept t’e secret as a groit joke on t’e Naral fleet. T’ere were nae mysterious disappearances. Tis all in t’e Log an’ accounts.”

Angrily, Kurin started to say, “That’s a violation of the First Great Law! The sale of indentures is slavery!”

Tanlin held up a hand to stem the clearly expected outburst from Kurin. Calmly she explained, “Oi know t’e views o’ t’e Naral fleet on t’e matter. As indenture’s practiced in t’e Arrakan fleet tis nae slavery nae does ‘t violate t’e Forst Groit Law. Tis t’e ‘art o’ t’e Arrakan system o’ education. Yer apprenticeship system comes closer t’ slavery t’an our indenture system.”

Kurin leaned forward curiously, listening carefully as Tanlin went on, “Barad discovered ‘ow our education system worked. ‘E made yer castoffs int’ students t’at our fleet paid ‘igh prices for. Wen t’e Princamorn wa’ wrecked, we were on our way t’ meet Barad an’ pick up t’e latest crop o’ indentures.”

“Ye ‘ad t’ know about t’e indenture sales. T’ey’re sure t’ try t’ attack us wit’ t’em. T’e sales were legal in our fleet an’ dune in our territory. T’e T’ird Groit Law’s all t’e defense m’ Barad needs.”

Tanlin regarded Kurin soberly for a few moments. She’s so small. Can she truly save us? Barad trusts ‘er an’ t’ere’s few enow ‘e does. She said quietly, “T’e Grandalor’s books, Logs an’ all else wit’ nut’in’ an’ nane ‘eld bock, is open t’ ye. Ask anyt’ing. I’ we know t’e answer, tis yers. Oi’ve ordered t’at t’ere’s t’ be nut’in’ ‘idden from ye.”

Earnestly, Tanlin requested, “Study t’e case forst, t’en answer ane quest’n. Will ye please put our case before t’e Naral fleet?”

When Kurin did not answer immediately, Tanlin added, a little bitterly, “We’ve little ot’er ‘ope o’ gettin’ justice. Remember, nae even ye quest’ned t’e violations o’ law, bot’ Groit an’ fleet, t’at were dune t’ us. Ye ‘ave t’eir respect an’ ye were t’e victim o’ t’e assault. T’ey’ll listen t’ ye.”

Kurin thought I’ve never refused a challenge before. I wonder what Cat would say about me defending Barad? Still, it’s the biggest responsibility I’ve ever faced. She shuddered a little as she pondered, Lenai and Darkistry are wounded and in sickbay. Macoul is dead. Just to get me here. I can’t let them down.

Tanlin saw Kurin’s small shudder and feared the worst.

Clearly and firmly Kurin said, “I’ve already made up my mind. I don’t need to think it through any further.”

Tanlin’s face fell, sure that she had lost. Ship, love, friends and all would die. Despair provided the darkness that the unsetting arctic sun in the ports could not. Determination settled over her features. Ice like the pack not far north wrapped her heart. She would have to save her folk — — if she could. She knew too well, from Barad’s books, the deadly skills of those directing the hunt to the south of them.

She heard her own voice as if it were through a bulkhead, remote from what she was saying, “Oi promised ye safe conduct. Oi’m sorry t’at we took ye so far for naught. We’ll feed ye an’ let ye rest. Tomorrow we’ll return ye t’ t’e Longin.

“We’ll nae be Scattered an’ executed by Council orders. We’ll try t’ break-oot for t’e Arrakan fleet. T’ey’ll give us a fair trial wen t’ey ‘ear o’ the Groit Law violations. We’ll die fightin’ i’ we cannae escape.

“Oi ‘ope t’at we dinnae have t’ sink any ships doin’ ‘t.”

Appalled, Kurin exclaimed, “No! I meant that I will be your advocate! I do have to study the case but not to make up my mind. You were wronged. I don’t know if I can save your crew but I have to try.”

Tanlin’s hardness turned to joy in an instant. “Oi know t’at ye’ll do yer best an’ t’at yer best’s very good indeed.”

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 58 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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Free Falling, Chapter 2: Sad, Sad Tears of a Therapeutic Clown (branjie) - writworm42

A/N: Thanks Meggie for always being such an amazing human and a thorough, honest beta <3

(NO SPOILERS)

“Shoot, I’m so sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be in the way, I’m–” There was a bit of a struggle, Brooke unable to stop the apologies instinctively flying out of her mouth as she tried to get up, limbs tangled with someone else’s body sliding under—well, under something, though at that moment, she wasn’t quite sure what it was.

“Dang, you alright, Mary?” A pair of calloused hands grabbed Brooke and pulled her up, staying firmly planted on her torso until she’d had a few minutes to catch her breath, to make the world stop spinning.

“Yeah, I’m–” Brooke stopped short, the breath knocked out of her chest all over again when she turned around.

Standing opposite her, gaze heavy with concern, was the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen, all long brown hair and white Chiclet teeth. She barely stood at Brooke’s shoulder-height but still somehow managed to be all she saw in that moment, twinkling eyes staring right into her own. A rainbow-coloured lanyard and employee badge dangled from the woman’s neck, and under her foot sat a long, weather-beaten scooterboard.

“Hello? You okay?” the woman repeated again, and Brooke snapped to attention, blushing as she realized that she’d been staring. She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could so much as decide whether she wanted to reassure the woman or scream at her for bringing a child-sized missile-on-wheels into such a busy hallway, a tall, thin woman wearing purple and black scrubs and a ponytail coloured to match whipped out of the room beside them and made the decision for her.

“VANJIE, I SWEAR TO GOD, I TOLD YOU IF I CATCH YOU ONE MORE TIME WITH THAT THING IN MY HALLWAY–”

“I didn’t do nothin’, Ra’jah! Me an’ Kameron was racin’ for her session, wasn’t my fault she decided to veer off-course!”

“SHE’S FIVE! OF COURSE SHE VEERED OFF-COURSE!”

“WELL, WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT IT, MARY?”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU GET UP AND GRAB HER?”

“BECAUSE THEN I WOULD HAVE LOST THE RACE!”

“Ladies, can we please–”

Both women turned to look at Brooke in surprise, clearly having forgotten she was there.

“Sorry, who you is again?” the brunette blinked, voice blunt and face blank with confusion.

“Brooke Lynn Hytes,” Brooke tried unsuccessfully to stifle a wry smile as she extended a hand, “I’m the new unit manager.”

“No shipwrecks?” The brunette whistled as she took Brooke’s hand in her own warm, calloused grip. “Dang. First day an’ I already ran your butt over. Shoot!” She let out a barking laugh loud enough to make one of the kids rolling by jump a little in their chair, and Brooke felt a blush rise inexplicably on her face.

“I’m Vanessa Mateo, the OT on this unit.” Brooke noticed at that moment that Vanessa was still holding her hand, and her blush deepened further.

Was it just Brooke, or was there a little glint in Vanessa’s eye?

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Mateo.” Brooke cleared her throat, dropping her hand down, watching as Vanessa’s mouth curled into an unmistakable smirk. She laughed again.

“Shoot, girl, you ain’t gotta go with the formalities! You can use what all the kids an’ everyone else do, they just call me—“

“MISS VAAAAANJIEEEE!” A little girl of about five years old came sliding back towards them on her own scooterboard, practically exploding with glee and excitement as she pushed herself over, “I WON! I WON! I WON!”

“Just so you know, this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Nina laughed as she led Brooke away from the scene, watching with amusement as Brooke craned her neck back to stare at Vanessa walking the line between encouraging and scolding her patient.

“Shut up.” Brooke rolled her eyes, her blush resurfacing, although she wasn’t quite sure why.

–

Within two weeks, Brooke was absolutely sure that Vanessa Vanjie Mateo was the worst thing that ever happened to her. It wasn’t that Vanessa was bad at her job; on the contrary, the suggestion box Brooke had put up in the unit was jammed with slips of paper singing her praises. It wasn’t even that she was doing anything wrong, not really.

It was more that her methods could only be described as, well, unconventional, by which Brooke meant Vanessa broke every rule in the book so thoroughly that she might as well have just thrown it in the shredder.

It had fast become the unit’s favourite joke; every day, at least once a day, Vanessa would spring into Brooke’s office, face sunny and step bouncing as if she wasn’t just about to be lectured for half an hour.

Vanessa, your documentation is really, really informal.

Well, yeah, the families gotta read this stuff, too!

Vanessa, Laganja’s mom called, she said you called her daughter a bitch?

Well, it won me her respect, and stopped her from lashing out at the younger kids in cooking group! She’s sixteen, she can handle it.

Vanessa, did you let Monet glue sponges to her AFOs on purpose?

What does it matter? She ain’t returnin’ them to us, and we was tryin’ to work on her fine motor skills. And I even cleared it with Yvie first, so why ain’t she in here, too?

It was absolutely infuriating; it was a waste of her time and disrespectful to her authority; it was ridiculous to even have to humour.

It was, though she’d never admit it, Brooke’s favourite time of day. And something–maybe intuition, maybe wishful thinking, she couldn’t tell–told her it might have been Vanessa’s, too.

“You still here, too?”

Brooke whipped around, practically dropping the file she had been organizing. Her surprise faded into a wry smile, though, when she realized it was just Vanessa standing in the doorway.

“I could say the same to you.” she snorted. It was coming up on seven-thirty, and everyone except for the night nurses and rec staff had gone home. Technically, Brooke was supposed to have finished by now, too, but there was always work to be done, and paid or unpaid, Brooke was the only one who could do it.

Besides, Nina was her ride, and she didn’t finish until eight.

“I was doin’ my notes.” Vanessa shrugged, stepping inside Brooke’s office and sitting down in one of the visitor’s chairs, making herself at home like she did every time she walked in. “Anyway, I was wantin’ to talk to you.”

“Vanessa, I already told you, we don’t have the budget for a life-size Jenga set.”

“No, not that.” The easy, haphazard smile that usually graced Vanessa’s face faded, a stony expression taking its face. “It’s about Soju.”

Brooke tensed. “What about her?”

“I heard rumours you’re gonna fire her.” Vanessa stared Brooke straight in the eyes, her eyebrow cocked in a challenge. Brooke stared right back.

“So what if I am? That’s none of your business.”

“Bullshit!” Vanessa stood up suddenly, and Brooke jumped back a little despite herself. But if Vanessa noticed, she didn’t seem to care. “You ain’t got no reason for that, she ain’t done nothin’ wrong!”

“She’s just a therapeutic clown, Vanessa. Letting her go would save the unit a lot of money and trouble.” Brooke forced her voice to stay even. She was used to Vanessa arguing, but she’d never seen her get this passionate this quickly.

“What you mean, ‘trouble’?”

“Her name is Soju, Vanessa. She’s named after alcohol. On a pediatric unit.” Brooke rolled her eyes, turning back to her file and continuing to root through its contents. “You know, her salary could buy us twenty life-sized jenga sets.”

“Fuck that shit!” Vanessa spat, but she backed down when Brooke shot her a look, sheepishly continuing, “The little kids ain’t get the joke, and the older kids find it funny. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

Brooke shrugged. “That may be, but she’s still just a therapeutic clown. She doesn’t add much to the unit, does she?”

“Yes, she does!” Vanessa protested, the fire coming back in her eyes. Brooke prepared for a fight, prepared to yell back, but to her surprise, Vanessa slumped back down into her chair, sighing with exasperation, the flames extinguishing as fast as they had ignited.

“Look, Brooke. She’s part of the team, okay? And we a team for a reason. You know what she does all day? She takes care of the kids. I have three year olds who ain’t do anything in therapy ‘cause they cryin’ too hard, then I call in Soju and she makes ‘em happy enough to cooperate. An’ I have twelve year olds bummed about bein’ in the hospital instead of with their friends at school, and Soju comes in and acts a fool to make ‘em smile. I got kids who get in accidents that wind up bored in bed on a vent twenty-two/seven, thinkin’ about what got ‘em there, and Soju comes in and makes ‘em think about somethin’ else, gets ‘em happier and more open than no social worker ever could, all while givin’ them somethin’ to do other than play Uno with some bored high school volunteers. She annoying as hell, in and outta geish, but she does a lot here. A lot none of us can’t do without her.”

Brooke chewed her lip. She hadn’t realized Soju meant that much; hell, she was in her office all day under mounds of paperwork, how was she supposed to even know? And even so, seeing Vanessa’s nostrils flaring, her eyes pleading, seeing how she clenched her fists and let her voice go hoarse, letting every thought out in one breath, Brooke felt powerless to resist.

“Okay. I won’t do it. Soju’ll stay.”

Vanessa let out a sigh of relief, loud and long and shooing out every ounce of tension in the room with it. “Thank you, Brooke. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, you know that.”

“I know.” Brooke sighed. Vanessa must have noticed something was up, because the next moment, she stood up again, going quiet as she walked over to Brooke’s desk. For a moment, Brooke thought she would go right up to her, thought she’d touch her, hoped she’d touch her, maybe grab her by the hand, but Vanessa stopped short just in front of her.

“You okay, Mary?” her voice was soft, quizzical, a tone that made Brooke’s heart leap and tighten at the same time.

“Yeah, I’m just… I guess I’m realizing how isolated I am from everyone else.” She hated the words as they left her mouth, hated herself for saying them, for letting herself be this pathetic. She was better than this; she was more professional than this.

So why did one look at the woman in front of her want to make her spill her guts completely?

“Aww.” Vanessa’s face softened into a gentle smile. “Girl, don’t worry about that. You’re still new.” For a moment, Brooke thought she was going to come over and hug her. She didn’t.

“I think you just need to loosen up a little is all.” Vanessa stated matter of factly, “Have lunch with someone other than your computer, that’s a start. Wear some jeans or somethin’. And for Lord’s sake, child,” she added with a wry smile, “stop tryin’ to fire people.”

Brooke wanted to tell Vanessa to fuck off; she wanted to tell Vaness to leave her office immediately so she could focus on her work; she wanted to tell her that she knew how to do her job just fine. She wanted to tell Vanessa that if she didn’t come closer right this second and close the distance between them, Brooke might explode.

“Thanks,” she said instead. “I will.”

Vanessa nodded and then turned to leave without a word, a smile still plastered on her face, though the tone had changed and Brooke couldn’t quite read what it meant.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #free falling #hospital au #writworm42 #tw traumatic injury implied #ra’jah o’hara

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blogs-from-europe · 4 years

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Paris

We did not intend to come to Paris. We had planned ot head to Venice, but the coronavirus outbreak in northern Italy was kicking off and it seemed stupid to charge into the middle of it. Instead, we re-routed to Paris with no real plans for what we were going to do for the next month.

We took the Eurostar high speed train from London to Paris: there was wifi, cushy chairs, and some catered snacks we purchased from Marks & Spencers. The dining in London was meh, but their store-bought snacks blow Australia out of the water. Down with the Coles / Woolworths duopoly!

We arrived into Paris around 9pm and walked from the train station to our hotel. This may displease some of the parents reading this missive, but Matt and I did not check Smart Traveller before booking to go to Paris. It turns out that the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade considers France quite dangerous! The whole country has been slapped with an "Exercise a high degree of caution” warning, and this isn’t because of the coronavirus, this is down to the amount of violent crime tourists are likely to encounter (armed robberies on trains, car theft, etc.) and the riots. Oh and the likelihood of terrorist attacks. We certainly noticed in France that the cops were heavily armed: we saw a police officer cradling a machine gun during a friendly exchange with a citizen to give directions.

On our Sunday night walk from the train station to our hotel, the streets were mostly empty. We passed a number of sex shops, massage parlours with red lights, groups of men standing around apparently doing nothing, sex workers, and suspicious men selling cigarettes on street corners. We were on high alert for pick-pockets and the violent crimes which Smart Traveller had warned us about: with our enormous backpacks we were effectively wearing neon signs saying ‘We are tourists! Please rob us!’. Despite our fears we made it to the hotel safely. The hotel was a last-minute booking as part of our rescheduling to avoid Italy so we didn’t have many options when booking online: I think it would be safe to say that our hotel was one of the worst in Paris. We were given tokens to access the shared shower down the hallway from our room: for our three night stay we were given four tokens, effectively rationing our showers for the stay. (Again, parents reading this may be troubled to learn that we only ended up using three of the four tokens – the person who only showered once has a name beginning with ‘M’ and ending with ‘atthew’.)

Another charming feature of the hotel was the low ceilings, roughly only two meters in height:

For our first day in Paris, it rained all day.

To stay out of the rain, we picked a couple of indoor activities: a visit to the Musee de Cluny (famous for its Lady and Unicorn tapestries and various other medieval art) and a visit to the Pantheon. After paying to get in, we realised that the Lady and Unicorn tapestries section of the museum was closed. Disappointingly, a promising section of the museum called ‘Treasures’ was also closed – I must confess, Matt and I did inadvertently go into the Treasures section and stole a fleeting glance at a magnificent tapestry before a strict Frenchman told us (in French so this may not be an exact translation) “Can’t you see this section of the museum is closed? No treasures for you! Get the hell out!”. Utimately we only got to see some old rocks and a bath. Overall rating for Musee de Cluny is 1/5. Matt observed that it should really be called the “Musee de Close-y”.

Next we trudged uphill through heavy rain to the Pantheon. Matt had expressed his indifference towards visiting churches, but I thought Foucault’s pendulum (housed in the church) might be of interest to him. Turns out, the Pantheon has many great qualities: it’s an amazing sandstone church built in the 1700s. During the Enlightenment, the church became a sort of secular shrine to the great figures of France including writers, politicians, scientists, etc. In addition to looking through the church (which included a huge dome, Foucault’s pendulum and some cool paintings of Joan of Arc) we got to explore the crypt which was much more pleasant and well-lit than you might expect a crypt to be.

Contrary to popular opinion, we did not find the waiters of Paris to be particularly snooty (maybe this is because we are residents of Fitzroy, which is home to many snooty waiters – mostly with fluoro hair and ripped jeans) but we did notice that they would greet us assuming we were French with a ‘Bonjour!’ or ‘Bonsoir!’ and when we would respond in attempted French they lose a little of their joie de vivre and would immediately switch to English. This was obviously intended as a kindness and did make things easier for ordering and finding a table, but meant we were robbed of the chance to practice our French. This also suggests that our pronunciation of ‘Bonjour’ is so poor that we cannot even pass for particularly uncultured or stupid Frenchmen.

To get around we tried renting electric scooters and bikes via Uber, with mixed results: there was terror, joy, and some frustration with Uber’s capricious parking rules.

For the super-interested, here are some other things we got up to in Paris:

Montmarte: We rode our electric bikes to Montmatre, an area famous for Sacre Coeur, an old church with a fantastic view, and the Moulin Rouge. The ride was mostly uphill, but on the electric bicycle was quite easy.

Wine tasting: We also did a wine tasting via Airbnb. Key takeaway: Chardonnay in France is not aged in oak barrels, meaning it doesn’t have that strong oaky taste (which I often find to be kind of cloying). Matt and I never really liked the taste of Australian chardonnay, so this was probably because of the barrel flavour. We also learned about tannins (broken down grape skins which appear in red wines) and about how rose is made (red grapes, but the skin is taken out sooner!)

Catacombs: There are old mines under Paris, which were the source of the sandstone used to build many of the city’s great buildings. These were later filled with bones after the central cemeteries were filled. We both regretted visiting the catacombs as it was very somber and confronting: millions of bones, hundreds of years old, piled on top of each other in a network of disused mines. Who enjoys this stuff?? We both felt sad and flat after the Catacombs, but then stopped for a hot chocolate and apple pastry which improved the mood. Afterwards we agreed to not visit any more mass graves.

Champs Elysées: We walked past the Louvre and gardens, Champs Elysées, Arc de Triomphe – a lovely area. We stopped for crepes and paid 1.5 euro (~$2.50 in Australian dollars) to use a public bathroom.

We also spent some time watching street hustlers. In the photo below, just below the Eiffel Tower you’ll see a ring of people in black.

We watched them for half an hour or so. They stand together all day pretending to play a three-shell game, betting 100 euro a pop. The idea with the game is that the dealer hides a ball under one cup, then quickly shuffles all three cups to ‘hide’ the ball - the person who paid to play can then pick the cup which they think holds the ball. If they are right, they get 200 euro; if they are wrong they lose the lot. We inferred the people dressed in black are working with the dealer, spending all day pretending to play. They win some, they lose some, they clap and say “bravo!”. The idea is to make it look like riotous good fun for people passing by so that they might be tempted to play. They’re essentially just shuffing money around within their group. A key part of the scam is that after each shuffle one of the group picks a cup which, if you’ve been paying attention to the shuffle, clearly does not hold the ball - the incorrect guess is jeered at by the group and then someone else guesses correctly to much cheering. This makes the game look easy, and probably fools observers into thinking they’re especially good at the shell game because they can find the ball every time. I can only assume that when someone is playing the game for real, the shuffle is much faster and tricker to follow.

After watching for a while, we saw a middle-aged tourist approach the group, watch from the side for a while, and then scurry away to pull cash out of his money belt. His friend tried to talk him out of it. He played anyway. We watched him lose. His friend walked off in disgust. He lost again. He walked off to find his friend. The shell game people packed up after that. I assume they also pick your pockets when they can.

There were a few more tourist-scams going around, but we didn’t have any trouble. We don’t know why these three golden retreivers were standing sentinel outside the subway...

... but we can only assume it was a part of some kind of elaborate hoax.

Matt and I are now in Chamonix, a ski town in the French alps. He is practicing the ukulele and I am writing this. We’re staying in an Airbnb - our hosts are have at least three cats (two of whom have deigned to let me pat them) and we were warned that if we hear a noise like someone tapping on the window during the night it is just the local deer inadvertently banging their horns on the window while they try to eat whatever bits of grass near the house aren’t under snow.

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 5 years

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The French Connection - Chapter 2

A HardyxMiller AU

Ellie Miller is left to go on her honeymoon alone after a devastating secret about her fiance comes to light - halfway through the wedding ceremony. Sitting in St Pancras International in London waiting for her train, she runs into none other than her uni rival/best friend Alec Hardy, on the run from his own recent heartbreak.

They decide to make use of Ellie’s pre-paid trip, rekindling their friendship and escaping real life; yet, it turns out their years at uni are the hardest to outrun. Based on this prompt from @timepetalscollective

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday and Sunday. Beta’d by the wonderful @stupidsatsuma

Masterlist | AO3

---

Ellie washed her face, grateful she’d forgone makeup that morning in her misery. Her face was still splotchy from crying, though the cold flannel helped ease the contrast.

After wasting a minute or two thoroughly examining the tiny bathroom she gave up, steeling herself to open the door and leave the relative safety of her hideaway. It’s just Hardy, she scolded herself, trying to make her hand reach for the doorknob. Stop being so weird. You invited him on this trip. He’s not going to expect anything. You both just had traumatic breakups.

Finally her hand obeyed, and she stepped out into the main area. The first thing that caught her attention was his attempts to remove the romantic elements – the rose petals were gone and the candles were off, which eased some of the pressure.

“Champagne?” Hardy offered, holding a full flute out towards her, and after a moment, she accepted.

“Thanks.”

They clinked the glasses together, and Ellie drank the whole thing in one go, lowering the flute only to see that Hardy had merely sipped at his, and was watching her with raised eyebrows.

Thankfully, he didn’t comment, merely refilled her glass and asked, “What do you want to do for dinner?”

“Wander the streets, whatever catches our fancy?”

“Sure. D’you want to head out now and walk around, or stay in and unpack?”

Ellie checked her watch; five o’clock. Far too early for dinner, especially in Paris. But to stay in or go out? She felt a bit antsy, like she needed to move, but it had been such a long day she didn’t want to fall asleep halfway through dinner. I did sleep on the train…

“Walk around?”

“Sure,” Hardy nodded, moving towards his suitcase, “just give me a couple minutes.”

Ellie shifted to let him squeeze past, noting they were both careful to avoid touching. “Take your time.” Drifting towards the far side of the bed, she noticed a door flush to the wall; opening it, she found a dozen steps leading up. At the top was another door, and upon opening it, she gasped to find herself on the roof of the hotel, a small semi-private balcony area that was gated in. In reality it was one space divided in four, so it wasn’t terribly private, but it gave such a wonderful view of the river and the Ile across from them that she didn’t care.

“Miller?”

Footsteps on the stairs behind her said he’d followed her up, and a moment later, he joined her with a wide-eyed look of his own.

“Now that’s something you don’t see every day,” he murmured, looking positively enchanted, and Ellie’s heart twinged with grief.

It was the kind of view you shared with someone you loved, the kind of view you kissed in front of and made plans for the future.

Joe should be here, she thought, hating herself for it. She missed him, or at least the man she’d thought he was. As a detective, as a cop, it was her job to protect the public, and she had no time or patience for abusers and perverts. In that sense, she’d immediately and irrevocably cut Joe out of her heart, ending their relationship and refusing to see him even when he asked.

But the man she’d known, who she’d thought he was… that was the Joe she wanted with her. Kind, sweet Joe, who cooked her dinner and made her laugh and wanted to share his day, his dreams, his life with her.

It hurt to know that Joe had never existed, not really.

“Oi.” Hardy jostled her with his elbow. “Look.” He pointed, and she followed his finger to the street along the riverbank. A mime stood on a box, performing, and she couldn’t help a reluctant smile.

“Right, well, that’s what I came to see,” she joked, grinning up at him. “We can go home now.”

Hardy shook his head, giving her a mock scowl, the effect somewhat ruined by madly twinkling eyes. “Now, hold on! I came to Paris to see the Moulin Rouge. We can’t leave yet!”

“Can we at least leave for a walk?”

“Yeah, all right.”

Ellie took a moment in the bathroom for herself, dusting on just enough makeup to not look like a ghost, and changing into something a little dressier. Just because she wasn’t here with someone she loved didn’t mean she could look like a savage.

“Ready,” she announced, stepping out and right into Hardy’s chest, drawing a loud ‘oof!’ from both of them. “Sorry.”

“S’alright,” he said, steadying her with his hands on her biceps. “You good?”

“Uh huh.”

Once out on the street they walked side by side, taking in the ambiance and beauty. They took turns pointing out various items of interest, and gradually Ellie relaxed. To her surprise she was actually having fun, enjoying Hardy’s company, and wasn’t that strange?

Maybe he’s not as terrible as I always thought.

Sticking his hands in his pockets, even Hardy had to admit that wandering the streets of Paris was relaxing and, dare he say, almost enjoyable. It was a beautiful late spring day, warm enough to be comfortable but not too hot, the slowly-sinking sun a brilliant orange.

Casting his eyes to the side, he tried not to frown at the distant look in Ellie’s eye. Arms folded across her stomach, she seemed to be watching without seeing anything.

She just found out she almost married a predator, the little voice in the back of his head scoffed. Of course she’s in a tailspin. Setting his jaw, he decided it was up to him to save her trip. She already spent all this money to be here, he rationalized, she ought to get something out of it.

“Here,” he said abruptly, noticing a street cart and grabbing her arm, tugging Ellie over to it while ignoring her yelp.

“What’re you doing?” she asked, voice smaller than it should have been, but he ignored her to place his order and pay. Within a minute he had his prize in hand, and turned back to her, offering it out.

“We’ve been in Paris too long not to have a crepe,” he explained patiently when she just stared at him with a blank look. “Go on, have a bite.”

Ellie took the treat, biting carefully before her eyes closed and she let out a moan. “Oh, that’s good.” She took another bite, then scrunched her nose. “Of course you ruined it.”

“Bananas and chocolate are a natural pairing,” he argued, taking the folded crepe back for a bite of his own. It was too sweet for him, but the way she was now watching it like a predator with prey in its sights said it had been the right call. “And I’m sure you’re hungry. You haven’t eaten since your sad breakfast.”

She practically snatched it away when he offered it back to her, taking a ridiculously large bite. “Piss off.”

They started walking again, and he was pleased to see some of the liveliness return to her eyes, as she pointed out things to him again.

When’s the last time anyone took care of her, instead of her taking care of them? he wondered, even as they traded light-hearted barbs. I doubt her family’s changed. Did her fiancé? Obviously not, in the long run.

She didn’t have to invite me, could’ve gone on her own, or somewhere else. A surprising swell of pride surged through him.

She trusts me.

Ellie laughed, watching Hardy study the menu. He was making absolutely no effort to disguise his disgust for the rich French food, but the restaurant had been his suggestion, so she felt no sympathy for him.

“You could get fish,” she finally suggested, stomach rumbling.

Two dark eyes peered at her over the menu, and despite being all she could see of his face, she knew he was scowling. “You’re not helping.” Not waiting for a reply, he turned and caught the waiter’s attention.

“Oui?”

Ellie smiled up sweetly, ordering in French, “Good evening, I would like the bouillabaisse.”

“Merci. Et vous, monsieur?”

“Uh… chicken,” Hardy muttered, also in French, pointing to a specific dish. “Merci. Oh- vin. Plus de vin.”

The waiter nodded, taking their menus and disappearing. Before they even had time to speak, a sommelier appeared with a bottle of red, and Hardy gestured in her direction.

“How’s this?”

Ellie carefully inspected the bottle for just long enough to make him think she knew what she was looking for, before nodding. The sommelier poured them both a taste, and when Hardy nodded, filled their glasses and left the bottle.

Once they were alone Hardy leaned forward, reaching out with his wine glass, and Ellie matched his pose.

“Are we toasting?”

Pursing his lips, he glanced out the window behind her before turning his gaze on her, dark eyes full of emotion despite his iron-glad grip on them otherwise.

“To… second chances,” he offered, tilting the glass. “To old friendships. To lucky escapes.”

Ellie considered him. Running into him had, at first glance, seemed like the only thing that could make her day worse, but in truth, it had been the first good thing to happen to her since Joe’s arrest. “To running away.”

“Hear, hear.”

They sipped moderately from their glasses, setting them down at the same time, and opened their mouths.

“So-”

Stopping, Ellie laughed softly, shaking her head. “The more things change…”

Hardy chuckled in agreement, a smile flitting across his usually stern visage. “Go ahead.”

“I was just going to say… thank you. You’ve always had a way of making a shitty day better. I mean, usually by being a git and pissing me off, but still.”

“It always worked, didn’t it?” he arched an eyebrow, taking another mouthful of wine. “Distracted you.”

Ellie hummed. “To be honest, was a hell of a lot more fun being enemies with you than friends with any of the other tossers in our class.”

To her surprise, a flash of hurt blinked across his face.

“What?”

“Nothing.” His eyes fixed on something outside the window for a long moment before he continued, almost reluctantly, “I never considered us enemies.”

“We constantly fought!” she protested, even as a little part of her was glad to hear it. “We were voted two most likely to kill each other, remember? I can remember on one hand the number of times we actually agreed on something!”

Hardy snorted, expression easing. “One, we agreed more than it seemed. Not on methods, maybe, but on general topics? Absolutely. I think the term most of our classmates used was ‘bickering’, rather than fighting. People who are fighting don’t have that much fun doing so. And besides…”

“What? ‘Besides’ what?”

He lifted his glass to his lips, obscuring all but his eyes but unable to hide the mirth pooling there. “They certainly voted us ‘most likely to something each other’, and it was a four-letter word, but it wasn’t kill.”

Ellie choked on her wine, spluttering as she tried to process that. “You’re lying!”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“You said it wasn’t see-through!”

That made him laugh. “Okay, fair enough,” he agreed, “but other than that? They all thought we were together.”

“How come I didn’t know about this?”

“I asked once, why I got all of their shit. Apparently they thought you were the scary one of the two of us.”

“What?!” Ellie tried to picture that. At school, he’d been the broody Scot, always wearing a suit and tie to class and snarling at anyone who irritated him. In stark contrast she had been the embodiment of light and happiness, wearing pastels and bringing baked goods in every other week. “I was the scary one?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he nodded like he agreed with the assessment. “I would bark and snarl, but that’s my default – or so I’ve been told. Meanwhile you were, I dunno, Snow-bloody-White. Sweet as could be, but when someone crossed you-”

“Usually you,” she interrupted.

He waved a hand in vague acknowledgement. “-you could yell. No one ever forgot that bollocksing you gave Murray over that joke.”

“It wasn’t funny,” Ellie mumbled, sinking down in her chair.

“Course not, he was a plonker,” he shook his head.

Ellie pursed her lips. “Most of those boys were, even you occasionally.”

Hardy’s expression fell slightly, taking on a more serious quality. “I never apologized for that, did I?”

She didn’t have to ask what he meant. “No.” The moment was burned into her memory, one of the more awful experiences she’d had. As only one of two women in a class of thirty, the testosterone had been unbearable. The other girl had dropped out halfway through their third term, abandoning Ellie to their occasional juvenile pranks.

In this particular case, the entire class was at a police training facility getting in some practice, as every one of them were intending to go onto the force. The uniform had been khakis and a white dress shirt.

One of the tasks had been to help each other up over a wall; if they fell, it was into a pool of water. One of the others, she forgot who now, had purposely dropped her. She’d landed on her back, which had hurt her pride more than anything, but had also soaked her.

Hardy had been the one to help her up, and when she’d worried about the state of her shirt, had promised it didn’t show anything.

It wasn’t until two hours later, after lunch in the cafeteria and walking past hundreds of people, that she caught sight of her reflection and realized it was entirely see-through, and her modesty wouldn’t have been much more impacted had she gone entirely topless – which would have probably been far more comfortable than wet, clingy cotton.

That was the first- and last- time she cried over her classmates.

“Well, I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “It wasn’t right.”

“Thank you.” After a moment, Ellie pushed the memory away. “Besides, I can’t really blame you.”

“Because I didn’t push you?”

She smirked, raising her glass of wine. “No, ‘cause my tits never looked better than they did then. They deserved to be seen by someone.”

Hardy was still laughing when their food arrived.

#bbatcfic #broadfic #Broadchurch #HardyxMiller #Alec Hardy #Ellie Miller #AU #The French Connection #platonic honeymoon fic

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