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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

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Exchanging Gifts | chubby!Bucky Barnes x reader

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KARINA!!! @ballyhoobarnes you’re such a sweet person and so talented and a great friend and ily and also ur hot, which is less relevant but still worth mentioning

summary: chubby!bucky takes you out for your birthday, and even though he’s inexperienced, he knows how to show you a good time if you know what I mean... listen it’s pretty much fluffy pwp idk what to tell you

warnings: smut!!, oral (m receiving), loss of virginity (his, of course lol), some fingering, overstimulation, creampie kink, praise kink, morning sex, bucky being insecure?? FLUFF it’s FLUFFY you guys but somehow it turned out filthy too idk i couldn’t help it.

word count: just under 4k, hot damn how did that happen

Even though you'd insisted he didn't need to do anything special for your birthday, Bucky had shown up with a dozen roses and dinner reservations. "Get dressed up fancy," he instructed you the moment you'd opened the door. "This place has a black tie dress code."

He was a true gentleman the whole night, until he walked you back to your place. The second you were on the other side of your door, you couldn't keep your hands off of each other.

"You're so wonderful," you murmured between breathless kisses as you stumbled back towards the couch.

"This better not be you thinking you owe me anything because I paid for your dinner," he chuckled, "on your birthday."

"Oh it's not that at all," you smiled, running your hands over his chest.

"What is it then?"

You smirked. He always seemed to need a reason, as if 'you're my boyfriend and you're hot' wasn't reason enough. "Can I be honest with you, Bucky?" you asked quietly, licking your lips subconsciously.

"Always!"

"It's times like this that I'm just really in the mood to suck your cock."

He stammered a little, running a hand through his hair nervously.

"Really?"

"Yup."

He laughed for a second, then got serious again, then just looked horrifically nervous. "Oh, well I, uh…"

"We don't have to do anything about that, I just felt like saying it—"

"What if we did do something about it?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Would you want me to?"

"Of course I want you to," he sighed. "I know we've been taking things really slow— and I'm so glad you've been patient with me— I just… god, you're perfect," he laughed.

"That's far from the truth," you dismissed. "But I've been happy to take things slow with you. Even when sometimes it felt like I would die if I couldn't get my hands on you…"

You ran your hands over his chest, feeling how warm and soft he was beneath the shirt he was wearing.

"Ah, I've been there," he replied wistfully.

"Really? You relate to that?"

"I barely made it through dinner," he admitted with a laugh. "All I could think about was… doing this…" he trailed off as he leaned in and began to lick and suck at your neck; his arms wrapped around your waist and you were like putty in them.

"Oh god, Buck," you moaned.

"Say my name like that again," he pleaded.

"Make me," you challenged.

He growled a little as he pulled you back to straddle him on the couch. You couldn't stop yourself from grinding down on him, moaning again when you felt the hard shape of his cock rubbing right against your clit through your dress and panties.

"Mm, take this off," you purred, tugging at his shirt and tie.

"C-can I keep it on?"

You got a little more serious. "Of course you can, if you want to. But I'll admit that I wanna see you."

"And if you don't like what you see?"

"Unlikely, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. I'll take mine off first if you'd like?"

"Obviously I'd like," he chuckled, "but that's easy for you to say. You're, you know, sexy and stuff."

"As if you're not?"

"I'm not," he informed you.

"Bucky, I'm gonna level with you: you are so fucking sexy it's actually gonna be the death of me someday," you laughed. "Don't you realize I think about you all the time?" you asked, getting a little more serious. "Bucky, those times where you came over and we made out, or fooled around? As soon as you left I was getting myself off right here on this couch— even when you'd already made me come while you were over. That's how horny you make me— and when you're not here and all I can do is imagine you, I always call out your name when I—"

"Baby," he groaned, "you'd better stop talking like that or this is gonna end a lot sooner than I want it to."

You chuckled before you started to slip off the straps of your dress, loving the way he watched you do it: enraptured.

You were taken by surprise when, the moment your breasts had spilled from the dress, he leaned forward to suck your nipple between his lips.

With a gasp and a moan, you gripped at his hair and let your head fall back. Either you were really sensitive, or he was really good at this-- probably a little bit of both, but fuck if you weren’t beyond needy and desperate at this point.

"Please, Bucky," you whimpered.

"What is it, angel? Anything you want, you can have it," he mumbled as he switched to the other side (symmetry is very important with these sorts of things) and you rubbed your hips against his absent-mindedly.

"Please, please, I need to taste you Bucky, oh my god please let me taste you—"

He nodded and you sighed with relief, beginning to slide down his body as you loosened his tie and opened his shirt. With each button you exposed more of his body, lathing every inch of skin with kisses.

"How's this?" you asked him softly, looking up at him through your lashes. "Is this okay?"

"It's very unfamiliar," he answered, "and much more than okay."

"Has nobody done this to you before?"

"Nobody's ever wanted to."

You smirked a little. "Oh, I doubt that." You palmed his cock through the suit pants, grinning when he jerked a little under your touch. Slowly, you opened the fly and pulled it out.

Of course you'd seen his cock before, but not for very long and not up close like this. It suddenly seemed intimidatingly big; you weren't sure you were going to be able to get much of it in your mouth… but you were excited to try!

You weren't sure you had the heart to tease him very much, but you wanted to give it a try at least. You licked the head first, then down the shaft, then back up slowly. He was quiet at first, too busy watching you to say anything, but you knew he was losing patience when his fingers brushed over the side of your face; you could feel his restraint, you could feel that urge to grab your hair and guide you.

"Go ahead," you encouraged, "tell me what you want."

"Put it in your mouth, please," he whimpered.

When you obeyed by pushing his cock all the way to the back of your throat, he made the most beautiful sound: like a gasp and a moan all at once. His hips bucked up into your throat ever so slightly and the sensation of choking made you grow even wetter.

"Fuck," he sighed, "'s so good…"

You moved up and down, savoring every ridge of him as it slid over your tongue. Each movement grew a little faster as you used your hand to stroke what your lips couldn't reach.

"Baby," he moaned, "oh my god, s-slow down, please— 'm so close, ah fuck yes—"

You stopped for a moment and used only your hand, catching your breath a little as you took a moment to appreciate how good he looked like this.

"Is it okay if I make you come?" you asked.

"Is it okay if it doesn't take you very long at all?" he returned, already sounding positively wrecked.

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” you decided.

“You should,” he confirmed, whimpering again when you took him back into your mouth and let your tongue explore whatever it could reach.

The taste of his pre-cum made you moan, and the vibrations of that moan made him grip your shoulder tightly.

“A-angel, please,” he begged, as if he was worried you would stop for some reason. Your attitude was entirely the opposite, though. All you could think about was how much you wanted to taste his orgasm and swallow it down. Fortunately, that dream came true not too much later when he grabbed the back of your neck and moaned your name loudly— loud enough that you were a little worried the neighbors might hear.

But honestly? You kinda wanted them to.

You kept stroking and sucking until every drop was on your tongue. You smiled up at him and almost spilled some of it but thankfully avoided that fiasco.

“Show me,” he requested softly; it was a relatively mild show of dominance, but it still sent a shiver down your back as you stuck out your tongue and let his seed gather on it. “Fuck,” he whispered, “that was… wow.”

You swallowed before answering, because it seemed like a good order to do things in. The bitter taste as the back of your throat was a small price to pay for him looking at you like that.

“You look drained,” you informed him.

“I am,” he nodded. “Oh, wait, you mean tired? Yeah, that too.”

You laughed a little. “Can we lay down for a minute?”

“It’s 10 p.m., I think it’s acceptable to lay down for more than a minute.”

Deciding to turn in for the night instead (and, of course, have a sleepover), the two of you got ready and changed into pajamas, snuggling up into each other’s arms.

It was an easy sleep after that, and a long one. Bucky woke up first, the very early light of sunrise being less of an influence on his wakefulness compared to you bumping up against him. He didn’t mind, though, he liked to watch you for a minute before you woke up anyways, to appreciate how peaceful you looked.

He heard you hum through your sleep, cuddling up closer to him. It was just cute at first, but then your ass pressed back against crotch and goooood morning…

"Hi there beautiful," he cooed, gently kissing on your temple and down to your neck. You stirred but didn't wake just yet, though you did smile; and he smiled too, loving the way your lips curled— he could remember how those lips looked wrapped around his cock, swollen and slick with spit and come. It was a good memory.

His hand slipped down to your hip, holding you firmly against him: by this point he was so hard he was worried he was going to injure himself somehow.

Finally you woke up, your eyes fluttering open as your sleepy smile turned to a wide, flirtatious grin.

"This might be my favorite way ever to wake up," you informed him.

He chuckled softly, beginning to kiss along your shoulder. "Agreed."

His fingers moved down at a teasingly slow pace; you unabashedly opened your legs, hoping to egg him on. Thankfully, it worked. He started to suck a mark onto the back of your shoulder as he slipped his hand into your panties, instantly discovering how drenched you were and how swollen and sensitive your clit was.

“Oh you poor thing,” he grinned. “When’d you get so wet, angel?”

“It never stops around you,” you explained with a shiver.

It didn’t take much more until you were a begging mess, his fingers working their magic and making your whole body alight with energy.

"Bucky, please—" you whimpered.

"What do you need, angel?" he asked with only a hint of coyness shining through his tone.

"I just— I want more, please…"

"We've tried a lot of new things today," he reminded you. "And it was amazing. And I wondered what you would say if I told you I want to try something else…"

"Oh really?" you purred. "What did you have in mind?"

"This might not be the, uh, most hip language but… I want to make love to you."

Your eyes went a little wide. "Really, Bucky? I mean, you're sure you want me to be—"

"Yes, I'm so sure, I've never been more sure of anything. You've been so amazing and I can't think of a better person to have as my first."

I don't just want you to be my first, I want you to be my only, he added internally, too afraid to say it aloud.

"I wanna be your first, Bucky," you agreed softly, brushing your fingers through his hair. "I'm really— I'm honored you want it to be me. And also I'm very turned on right now."

He laughed and kissed you again, pulling you close. As his body settled between your legs, you revelled in how warm you felt— not hot or sweaty (yet), just warm, and safe, and comforted. He still gave you those butterflies in your stomach, sure, but for once that didn’t seem to just be a cute way of repackaging your anxiety.

With your panties pulled to your ankles and your shirt (which was, of course, actually his shirt that you’d stolen) tossed to the side, he kissed his way down your chest and stomach until his face was buried between your legs.

“Buck, I— fuck I thought you were gonna oh god just like that yes—”

“Wanted to return the favor first,” he explained, his words muffled.

“Didn’t anybody ever tell you it’s rude to talk with your mouth full?” you giggled.

He smiled but kept going, almost gentle at first but quickly finding a few favorite spots and stimulating them mercilessly.

You didn’t mean to pull his hair so hard but he didn’t seem to mind, moaning every time you forced him onto you harder. "Bucky, oh god, don't stop please!” you sobbed.

Of course he didn’t; he wanted you to come, he was a man on a mission and not much could stop him at this point. Just as he began to suck on your clit even harder than before— just hard enough to make the threat of pain tingle up your spine— he pressed two fingers into your opening. One little curl into your g-spot and you were gone, biting down on your lip as your body spasmed uncontrollably.

He moaned as he coaxed you through it; you tried to tap out but he went just a moment longer and for that one moment, you thought your body might just crumble into little pieces from the overwhelming pleasure.

Before you could even catch your breath, he was kissing you again. Your taste on his lips was divinely filthy.

“Need to be inside you,” he explained with a whisper as he started to take off his boxers.

“Please,” you sighed, too weak to even put a full sentence together.

Even with a very thorough warm-up, you couldn’t help but gasp as he pressed into you. Your walls fluttered and flexed as they made way for the intrusion, both of you moaning softly while you arched your back to take him deeper.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he whispered as his face buried into your neck. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders— you loved how broad and strong they were— and he pushed up from behind your knees to spread you open for him, the new angle forcing the head of his cock to press right into your spot.

“Fuck!” you cried out. He sat up slightly and looked a little concerned at first. “No, it’s good,” you reassured him, “it’s so good, Bucky, right there—”

He pulled back only to quickly push forward again, setting a pace that wasn’t quite rushed but was certainly a bit desperate. Even so, you were on the verge of begging for more, you needed him so badly.

“Harder, please,” you moaned. Okay, maybe you were a little past being on the verge.

“Is that how you like it? Rough?” he asked darkly.

“Maybe,” you grinned. “Is that how you like it?”

“I don’t know yet,” he responded, his grip on your legs tightening until you were almost tempted to struggle against him just to see if he was strong enough to hold you down, “but I like you telling me how to make you feel good.”

“Then fuck me,” you demanded through your teeth, moaning louder when he obeyed and began to pound into you. The slapping of skin filled the room, as did the revealing sound of your arousal, and it made your face burn even though you were pretty sure he didn’t mind at all.

You were so sensitive from the last time you came that you were already making quick progress towards the next. Didn’t help that your swollen clit was brushing against his cock every time it speared into you.

“You’re— fuck— you’re squeezin’ me, angel,” he hissed. “You gonna come already?”

You couldn’t even speak anymore, just nodding wildly. He leaned forward to kiss you and you were nearly folded in half as he kept his grip on your legs. You weren’t sure anything had been so deep inside you before; you were sure you had never made a sound like the one you made in that moment.

“Fuck, s’that good, huh?” he teased in reaction to the way you were nearly screaming already.

“God, you are the cockiest virgin ever,” you laughed, hoping you could delay the inevitable just a bit longer for the sake of your dignity. You tried to angle your body so he wouldn’t be so deep, so it would be so much, but he held you firm and fucked into you even harder.

“Ah ah ah,” he corrected with a smirk, “no running away, angel. Gonna make you come on my cock.”

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered, “fuck, Bucky, I’m close…”

“Me too,” he murmured back, kissing you deeply one more time. You hadn’t even imagined how perfect it would feel to come around him with his tongue still in your mouth, your moans blending with his, his fingers digging into your thighs while your nails were sure to leave marks on his back and shoulders. But even if you had tried to imagine how perfect it would feel, you couldn’t have ever come close. The moment you were tumbling over the edge, he was right there with you; you could feel him flexing against your walls as he came, and you were afraid if you let your eyes roll back like you so desperately wanted to, they’d get stuck there or something.

You just barely heard him murmur ‘angel’ as he kissed all down your neck. His body relaxed a little on top of you, though you still felt sensitive and tingly from where your bodies were joined.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” he admitted, looking down at you as his cheeks turned a little pink.

You couldn’t, though, and he sat up with a sigh as you smiled back up at him. He held your legs up as he pulled out, watching with wide eyes as his come leaked from your hole. You gasped when he reached down to push it back in with two fingers; your whole body jerked when he moved those fingers inside you and started to rub your g-spot again.

“Bucky, what are you—?” you asked breathlessly, but you were already subconsciously pushing back to ride his fingers.

"I wanna see you come one more time," he explained. "You just look so perfect when you do it— and it's the best feeling when I'm doing it to you."

“We can definitely agree on that,” you mumbled. He rubbed little circles over your spot, using his free hand to hold your hips down, forcing you to take all the sensation he was giving you. Knowing that his come was the lubricant for all this made your head spin. “F-fuck, right there,” you whimpered.

“I know,” he smiled. “I can tell you’re close again.”

It wasn’t so much that you were close than that you never got a chance to come down from the high of the last one.

“You’re so perfect, my perfect girl,” he purred, watching you squirm from the praise. “You wanna be my good girl, don’t you? You wanna come for me again?”

“Yes,” you groaned, “god, yes, Bucky—”

He pressed against you harder and your moan quickly shifted to a slightly-embarrassing choking noise. His fingers pumped into faster and faster and your sore walls burned but you still wanted more. He didn’t let up until you were tightening around him with another orgasm, this one burning brighter but shorter, taking all the energy from you at once. He watched your face as you came, loving the way you held your breath, the way your eyes fluttered shut, the way you bit down on your lip—

"Bucky— you said one more—" you whined in confusion when you realized his fingers were still moving, if a little slower, and his thumb was reaching up to press into your clit.

"I never said just one more…" he smirked.

"Fuck, I— I dunno if I can take it!" you sobbed, the sensation nearly too much to handle.

"Oh you can," he purred. "You're so strong, you're so good for me— I know you can. I know you can give me one more."

You literally squealed when he pulled out his fingers only to put his cock in you again. You hadn’t even realized he was still hard.

“Oh my god, Bucky!” you cried out, gripping the sheets for dear life.

"You wanna call out my name like you did when I wasn't around? I bet that's not all you did. I bet you begged, and pleaded, screamed for me to let you come. Am I right?"

You nodded feverishly; his laugh in response had just that hint of condescension, that edge of degradation. Even though you knew he wouldn't judge you for it, admitting it felt dirty in a delicious way.

“‘Cause you wanna be my good girl,” he posited.

“I— I am your good girl,” you stammered, feeling a little silly referring to yourself that way.

He laughed a little, still rubbing your clit as he fucked you hard and fast. “Yeah, you are, angel.”

The petname, even though you’d heard it a thousand times, was what sent you over the edge the last time. You nearly kicked him off you as the pleasure finally reached the point that you truly were at your limit, but thankfully he got the hint before that and pulled out, giving you a much needed break.

“Dear god,” you chuckled through your exhaustion, your eyes falling shut, “that was— you are— I can’t—”

“Was it good?” he asked softly as he laid beside you and pulled you into him.

Your eyes shot open again. “Was… was it good?” you repeated incredulously. “Buck, it was incredible. It was life-ruining. I thought your first time was going to be about you.”

“It was! Making you come four times is me spoiling myself,” he explained, kissing your shoulder. “What’s about you is me letting you shower first.”

“You aren’t gonna join me?” you asked coyly.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, angel,” he warned. “I think you need a rest.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you grumbled disappointedly. The last thing you needed was to pass out in the shower from him doing that to you again. “Is it really a whole year until my next birthday?”

“Yeah, sadly that’s how those work,” he smiled.

“What about your birthday?”

“Not ‘til March.”

“...that means your half-birthday is just a week away,” you realized.

“So?”

“I think we should start celebrating those.”

He laughed a little. “You wanna get me a half-present?”

“Yeah,” you decided. “I think I’m gonna pay for half of your dinner. Then I’m gonna fuck you halfway to death.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x y/n #chubby!bucky x reader #chubby!bucky smut #chubby!bucky fluff

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gisellelx · 4 years

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Hotspots

Mid-October, 2020 Houston, TX

Esme wasn’t entirely surprised when the doorbell rang. Ordering things from Amazon was a proclivity of her husband’s in his attempts to escape the boredom of his diurnal captivity, and it was nearly a daily occurrence that at least one package arrived. But when the door swung open, it was not the mail carrier and there was no box with its familiar lopsided black arrow. Instead it was a UPS driver, with not one box but dozens, flattened and bundled on a large hand cart.

“Are you sure these are for this unit?” she asked.

The delivery man looked at his tablet. “Cullen?”

She nodded. “That’s us.” She stepped aside as the driver pushed the cart through the door of the second-floor condominium, and leaned the bundles against the couch. He thrust an electronic pad at her, and she scrawled her looping signature. She closed the door behind the driver and turned back to her work, eyeing the bundles every now and again.

They moved frequently. Even though the goal was often seven to ten years, it could sometimes be more like five, especially if Carlisle received one too many recruiter calls and his willingness to stay put in a low-paying rural hospital started to become suspect, or worse, when a member of the family experienced a slip-up. But even at their most frequent, nothing had ever held a candle to 2020. They had already been living in Paris when her husband came home and explained he’d accepted an emergency stationing in Lombardy. Viruses don’t make decisions, and this meant that Alice couldn’t quite stay a full step ahead of the outbreaks. Carlisle had insisted the family hunker down in their small home in Toulouse while he took shorter and longer stints in the neighboring countries: six weeks in Italy, four in Spain, two in Germany, another six in France.

Then suddenly it wasn’t Europe in crisis, but their home country. And even though he’d protested that he was not planning to be home any more frequently, and at least in France, she’d have the children, Esme had insisted that her husband not be on the other side of an ocean alone. So they’d hopped one of their jets and settled into a rented condominium within a few blocks of the sprawling Texas Medical Center. As far as anyone could tell, they actually weren’t far from where Jasper had grown up, an area which had once been rolling farmland and now was an asphalt jungle.

She spent the days sketching, planning, and consulting for the three firms who used her expertise. Occasionally she took a zoom call with her children. Meanwhile, her husband worked himself ragged, and no amount of imploring from her or their children could get him to slow his pace. Vampires didn’t tire, but she had watched him become increasingly scattered and withdrawn.

It was becoming abundantly clear why the last global pandemic had driven Carlisle Cullen to the brink of insanity.

It was just after dawn, almost eleven hours later, that Carlisle returned. His white coat sat slightly askew on his broad shoulders, and his scrub pants hung loosely from his hips. He looked at the boxes at once.

“Oh. Those were supposed to arrive tomorrow,” he said simply.

“I was wondering why no warning. I thought perhaps you were planning to leave me.” She helped him out of his coat, calling back to him as she carried it to the washing machine in their kitchen.

He shot her the shy, boyish smile which made her fall desperately in love with him again every time he smiled it.

“No, of course not.” He didn’t meet her eyes, instead reaching into his bag and retrieving his iPad. “The caseload is improving here and R(t) is down, finally. It’s almost 1. And test positivity at the medical center is also way down.” He spoke the foreign language of the pandemic, the figures and statistics she had learned to track if only to understand his nearly incoherent mumblings when he came home in the mornings.

“And so you were coming home to tell me we’re moving.”

He nodded, and thrust his iPad toward her. It was open to an app called Redfin, and it took her just a second longer than it should have to understand what she was looking at. She didn’t comprehend the silhouette of the building, with the anachronous addition lopsidedly attached to one side, and the fact that someone had, at some point, painted it a garish salmon pink which was now flaking. So it was only the address which allowed her to finally make the connection, and she gasped.

“Carlisle...” she breathed.

He grinned. “Wisconsin is beginning to crumble under this thing. Iron County is turning into a hotspot, and I won’t be too far from Green Bay, either.”

Her lips were over his, and her hands were in his hair before he could say anything more. She kissed him frantically and he kissed back, pulling her into his lap and putting his hands at her waist as he laughed.

“How did you--”

“I’ve had it on alert for years,” he said, laughing. “Obviously, the stars aligned, for it to have appeared right when it makes sense to move back. I called the day the listing appeared and offered thirty thousand above asking. You know how I hate overpaying for real estate, but—”

She silenced him with her kisses again.

“Let me see it again?”

He nodded, not removing her from his lap as they pored over the listing photos together. The back garden, where she’d so carefully worked when she’d needed the distraction from newborn thirst, which had once been pristine and full of roses—it was absolutely destroyed, overgrown with ivy and grass. The foundation looked like it would be in need of a good jack. The addition was awful and would need to go. She might add a deck to the back which would match the character of the home.

“Oh,” she sighed sadly as she scrolled.

Her husband raised his eyebrows.

“They took down the wall between the kitchen and the dining room.” She hated open concept floorplans, especially the lust which caused so many people to destroy the original architecture of these grand old pieces of art in pursuit of them.

Carlisle only laughed. “I am certain that can be remedied, Mrs. Cullen. I’ll have the lumber and drywall on its way as soon as we close.”

“It will need to be lath to be done right.”

He laughed harder. “Whatever you say.”

She swiped her finger again. Their bedroom--several coats of paint changed, and carpeted, for some reason, which would have to go. Carlisle’s study, where he’d so carefully helped her learn to exercise control—it looked barren and dusty. Edward’s bedroom, which was almost unchanged. None of the wall colors fit the period of the home, and the kitchen had been remodeled probably two or three times so that it looked somehow both modern and woefully out of date. “It will be so different there without Edward,” she sighed.

“Oh yes,” her husband said, his expression neutral. “Whatever will we do in that house without Edward intruding on our every movement.” He pressed his finger to the screen, bringing up their son’s former bedroom in fullscreen mode. “We’ve never been intimate in there,” he said mischievously.

“Edward would die.”

He kissed her cheek and then continued on with soft, fluttering kisses to her ear, where he placed his lips and whispered, “Edward is in France.”

She giggled, turning so that she could rake her hands through his hair again. “Thank you, Carlisle. This is amazing.”

He shrugged. “In the midst of this”--he gestured widely as though to encompass all of the last year and the time to come--”I don’t know what else I’ll be able to give you for our centennial anniversary.”

The iPad bounced as she dropped it onto the couch cushions and straddled his lap.

“There’s nothing more perfect than going home,” she answered. And then she found herself beneath her husband’s strong body as he attacked her with his kiss.

#I don't break character on ACC but they're moving #fanfiction #twilight #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #ashland #carlisle/esme #carlisle totally has an Amazon addiction fight me

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pengy-pop · 4 years

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Writing Dump: Bederia/DressedInPinkShipping

What the tin says, asdfghfds this is mostly just random, disjointed pieces of writing i've done for the Bederia ship that I just have to admit to myself i'm likely never going to finish anytime soon and need to at least get out SOMEWHERE.

Maybe someday i’ll come back to these and finish them, but for now, I just kinda want ‘em outta sight, outta mind ahaaa.

(If context is require for any of these snippets, it will be included)

(Longer pieces WILL be getting their own individual posts; just to keep things condensed and a little cleaner)

Regardless, though, I hope you can find even a little bit of brief enjoyment from these!

Context: Roommates AU i once discussed with a friend of mine involving a Psychic Bede whose powers latched on to their roommate. Gloria. He is constantly having dreams about her future. it turns out She is apparently very accident-prone and it is STRESSING HIM OUT. also; they’re in love with each other. this was just a small disjointed practise piece to get a feel of what the dynamic in this particular AU would be like. Please enjoy the heated make out session.

This went way beyond anything platonic.

Indeed, making out with your roommate of almost five months on your shared couch was the very opposite of ‘platonic,’ and he really shouldn’t be engaging in this kind of behaviour; but—

God, Gloria was irritatingly soft. and it was highly distracting. Her lips were surprisingly soft, too, for once, despite the fact that he hardly ever saw her use any kind of lip balm.

Had she been counting on this?

Gloria’s hand snaked up into his hair, and he promptly forgot his previous train of thought in favor of making a horrifyingly embarrassing noise into Gloria’s mouth. He began to pull away from her mouth to, he thinks, be utterly mortified; but Gloria didn’t give him the chance to as she followed him, taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss, her tongue swiping against his own. A sensation that wasn’t quite as bad as he thought it would be, if the way his heart thrummed in his chest was anything to go by. In retaliation, he began tentatively running his hand up and down her waist, resulting in a hum from Gloria that Bede delighted in.

He wanted to hear more noises like that from her.

He pulled himself away from her mouth, the two of them sucking in heavy breaths of air. Then, in an uncharacteristic act of boldness, even to himself; Bede kissed Gloria beneath her ear, along her jaw. She leaned into him in response, having essentially crawled into his lap by this point, and the feeling of her body arched against his own as she squirmed against his ministrations certainly wasn’t helping to keep any of his repressed urges in check. His body was acting on instinct, and the vague images he’d seen last night in his dream; but he wasn’t sure how long pure instinct and vague images would hold up.

He pressed his lips to her neck, mirroring what he saw in his earlier dream , and Gloria’s reaction was immediate. A stuttered whine left her, and he found himself being pressed even firmer against Gloria, her arms enveloping him. He was spurred on, usuing his limited knowledge and Gloria’s reactions to guide him along as he kissed at her pulse and collarbone; even daring to gently bite the sensitive skin, an action that made Gloria shiver; and set Bede ablaze.

Truly; only Gloria could find a way to bring out the absolute most degenerative part of him. He thought, absently, as he continued to revel in the effect he was having on her.

As he continued to lathe her neck with attention, it was then, however, that Gloria suddenly decided to push things further. She gently ground her hips against his purposefully—and Bede jolted in response. Gloria stilled; pulling him away from her neck to look at him.

“Was that too much?” Gloria’s brows were knitted in concern, despite her flushed face and heavy breathing. “Do you wanna stop?”

No. Never, when it comes to you.

------------------------------------------------

Wyndon was known for it’s awful weather. It was rare for Wyndon to see a day that wasn’t cloudy or rainy.

Today had been no exception to this; as even though the day’s forecast had been predicted to be a rare sunny day; a terrible thunderstorm raged on outside as two unfortunate souls who had been caught in the abrupt downpour sprinted inside the lobby of a Wyndon apartment building for refuge. Breathing heavily, the soaking pair had trudged across the warm lobby, hardly caring about trail of water they left behind them as they dragged themselves into an elevator and, eventually, down a hallway and to an apartment door.

Gloria cursed under her breath as she fumbled through her bag to produce her key-card, doing her best to dry it off as much as possible as she placed it against the reader; her male companion slamming the door open the second the light turned green and trudging inside with a huff. Gloria followed behind, letting out her own huff of frustration as she flicked on the light.

“—MAN, that was a rush. What a damn day for them to be wrong about the forecast, huh, Bede?” Gloria jabbed the taller boy in the arm as she strode past him, stopping to turn back to him when she heard his indignant scoff, letting out a snort at her boyfriend’s dishevelled appearance. “Y’look like a drowned Wooloo.” Bede shot her a glare as he ran a hand through his dripping hair.

“And you look like a diseased Greedent.” He stepped forward, stopping directly in front of Gloria in the small entrance, her grin never faltering even as she adjusted herself to look up at him. “—Now that we’ve settled the matter of our appearances; if you wouldn’t mind getting out of my way; i’ll be going to use your shower.” He went to push past her, but she threw out her arms, dropping her bag in the process; to block him further. He raised an eyebrow down at her.

“Hold on. This is MY apartment; I get first dibs on a shower.” Her gaze was incredulous. Bede didn’t flinch.

“Yes, well, guest typically trumps apartment-owner, and you wouldn’t want to be a bad host now, would you, Gloria?” His tone dropped when he said her name, and Leaning forward, he loomed over her, droplets from his hair plopping down onto her forehead as he held her gaze intensely, that smug, shit-eating, and also very attractive and distracting smile ever-present across his features. There was a heated silence between them for a moment; but Before she could process whether or not she wanted to kiss him (she did), Gloria found herself ripped from her stupor; pushed aside as Bede stepped over her belongings and strided towards the bathroom. She reached him again just in time to get the bathroom door shut in her face. With a huff, she pounded her fist on the door with more force than was necessary.

“Hey; gimme your clothes, at least. I’ll dry them off.” There was a brief moment of silence where Gloria could hear the shuffling of clothes before the door opened just enough for Bede’s arm to reach out and shove his wet clothes into her arms.

He didn’t give her a response; opting to instead close the door again and start the shower; leaving Gloria by herself once again. With a tired sigh, she left to go retrieve her bag from the hallway and and get into a change of clothes herself.

-------------------------------------------

When Gloria got home, she found there was a distinct lack of her husband anywhere to be seen; which she found unusual. Typically, when she returned home, she could easily find Bede off in either their kitchen, making them both something for dinner, or sitting idly in their living room, waiting for her return. On some very rare occasions, though, he would come home late, usually from a rehearsal that went overtime or if he’d been filling in a particularly large amount of paperwork for his gym, though the fact that the lights in the house were on told Gloria this was not the case. Upon dumping her sports bag on a chair, she found that the kitchen was also suspiciously bare, without a trace of any cooking being done. Delving further into their shared home, she found the only light in the hallway was coming from underneath the bathroom door. At the lack of noise coming from a shower though, Gloria curiously nudged open the door, enough for her to poke her head in to investigate.

The sight of Bede in the bath was enough to surprise Gloria into alerting Bede to her presence as he met her eyes.

“Oh; you’re back a bit earlier than I was expecting. welcome home.” Gloria grinned, her eyes now sparkling with a mirth Bede knew was coming.

Welcome home, indeed. Gloria thought as her eyes scanned over the scene before her;

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This wasn’t really how Bede had planned for the night to go. Really, he hadn’t even wanted to show up to this frivoulous ‘gathering’; and he’s still kicking himself over the fact that he let Gloria forcibly drag him along with her to it. Because, really, since WHEN did Gloria have that kind of power over him?

He supposed the when and how didn’t really matter anymore, however; as his current predicament was much more worthy of taking up space in his brain.

Gloria was drunk. INCREDIBLY drunk. Granted, he definitely wasn’t completely sober himself, at the moment. If he was, he (probably) would have been LONG gone by now. (At least, thats what he liked to tell himself.) But Gloria was on a whole different level; compared to him. It was obvious, even without her audible exuberance; it was in the way her oversized dollar store cardigan sloppily hung off her shoulders, the way her half undone ponytail hung over her back, the brown locks threatening to turn into one giant mass of knots that made Bede want to recoil from even just looking at it; and finally, the way her tanned skin was flushed red and had taken on a sheen of sweat in her activity. He watched from behind his own drink as she chugged down her latest order with a startling speed he would have been mildly impressed by if he weren’t so distracted by the way a bead of sweat ran along her jawline, or how she squeezed her thighs together as she stubbornly committed herself to drinking the whole glass in one go.

He was suddenly and haphazardly wrenched from his perverse observations of Gloria, however; as she slammed down her now-empty glass triumphantly, causing him to flinch ever so slightly at the impact. Gloria’s trademark, too-large grin stretched across her features as she looked over to Hop, who, surprisingly, didn’t seem to be finding much amusement out of the night’s shenanigans.

“Y’lose again, Hop! Seriously, s’like ya not even TRYIN’ t’beat me!” Hop quirked an eyebrow her way, drinking at a much more sane pace than Gloria.

“Again? Glo, I didn’t even know we were competin’ in the first place.” Despite his words, Hop seemed like he’d been in this exact position before. This irritated Bede, for reasons he refused to acknowledged. He downed the rest of his drink unceremoniously. This action didn’t go unnoticed by Marnie, who sat across from him at the group’s shared table. She looked at him from beneath long lashes for a moment, before they just as quickly flicked back away again. This also irritated Bede.

“Something you wish to say?” He challenged. Marnie simply hummed and reached for the bottle of wine that sat between them both; topping off her glass with a shrug.

“Not really. Jus’ thinkin’ you’ve been s’prisingly quiet.”

-------------------------------------------

Bede was currently in a pleasant haze. He and Gloria had been traveling from region to region in hopes of becoming stronger; and their travels had most recently led them to the Battle frontier in Johto, where they had managed to dominate together in the double battles; their shared might as a team had ensured their swift victory.

Later that night, Gloria had invited him over to her room to ‘celebrate their hard-earned victory’ as she had put it; and when he’d shown up at her door, she proudly revealed the wide array of room-service she’d ordered for the two of them to share, a selection of both their favourite foods as well as an ice bucket filled with three wine bottles. When Bede questioned her on it, Gloria had thrown him a smug smile. and answered:

“I figured a little bit of splurging couldn’t hurt. Besides, we totally deserve it after all.”

And, well, who was Bede to deny himself a generous spread like this?

So, the two of them indulged, eating together while reminiscing over their recent victories.

And after the food, came the alcohol. Gloria said she couldn’t decide what exactly she had wanted, so she’d opted to instead pick her top three choices of what sounded the nicest.

All of which, evidently, were very sweet, and decadent. Regardless, the two had soon finished off almost an entire bottle of Custap berry wine, sitting comfortably on Gloria’s hotel bed, the gentle glow of the bedside lamp warming the atmosphere further.

Which led him to where they were right now.

Bede could vaguely remember reading on the bottle that the wine had been fermented by one of the winery’s best Shuckles, and it was certainly obvious by just how potent it was. It was enough to make even him feel a bit tipsy.

Tipsy enough to make him feel pleasantly warm and loose. He looked to Gloria, watching as the brunette swirled around the liquid in her glass before downing its contents confidently; exhaling with a satisfied gasp. She then met his eyes, and a teasing grin spread across her face.

What was she planning?

“What’re ya lookin’ at, Bedey?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer before she continued. “Y’see somethin’ you like?” Bede shook his head, the smallest hints of a smile spreading across his own face at Gloria’s tipsy state; the way her skin flushed, and how her distinctly unique natural accent slipped through.

“Not particularly.” He lied. Setting her glass down on a nearby drawer, Gloria pouted, an action that Bede found quite adorable. A simple thought that, had he been sober, he would absolutely not have accepted.

“Whaat? Then what’re ya doin’?” She leaned towards him, looking at him with a comical expression. “You’re alone with a cute girl and you’re NOT starin’ at her? What kinda guy are you?”

“Firstly; it’s rather presumptous of you to call yourself ‘cute.’ Secondly, you make it sound like you WANT me to stare at you.” He finished the rest of his glass, eyes closing to properly enjoy the expensive wine. When he re-opened his eyes, he found Gloria staring silently at him this time. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and he watched the way she ran her tongue over her bottom lip without a shred of subtlety. She shifted from her spot on the bed.

“…’An what if I did?” She looked back up to his face again, her eyes having traveled down the expanse of his person; and her expression was what could only be described as hopeful. Bede swallowed; a new heat blooming in the pit of his stomach, and He didn’t miss the way Gloria watched him the entire time, drinking in his every move.

“Well; I suppose that would imply you were attracted to me. Which, honestly, I wouldn’t blame you. However, considering its coming from YOU; of all people—It’s a rather poor attempt at getting into my head, Gloria. I assumed you were better than this.” Looking down to his own glass,

That is, until he felt Gloria’s calloused hand slip under his chin and lift his face back to look at her again; where her face was now dangerously close to his.

his heart-rate picked up at her heavy expression.

“S’not a joke. I really do think you’re pretty, y’know.” Her eyelids lowered. Eyes slowly and deliberately trailed down to look at his lips; fingers lightly tracing the underside of his chin to run along his jaw. Bede sucked in a breath.

“Wouldn’t lie ‘bout this sorta thing, Bede.”

Oh.

Gloria leaned forward, eyes still locked on Bede’s parted lips, hints of the sweet wine on her breath invading his senses and making him feel dizzy as she continued to inch forward agonizingly and teasingly slowly.

And then they were kissing, and Bede burned. His body acting on some strange instinct as he pushed his lips firmer against her feather-light ones, seeking more of her as she mumbled against his mouth.

-------------------------------------------

Bede would be the first to say, out loud, that the Galar Gala was frivolous. It was hardly anything more than a superficial event funded by the higher ups of the Galar league to show off their prized gym leaders and champion to the public as though they were show-ponies at a fair. He despised it.

However…He would also be the first to admit, that the Galar Gala was somewhat of a necessary frivolity. To be seen is to gain attention; and attention is something that was required for an elite gym leader such as himself. It was beneficial to his illustrious career to be well-liked by others, and while he hated needing to bend himself to the will of others, his mentor had once taught him the benefits of doing so in moderation. And so with her help, he had adopted a somewhat-agreeable public persona to work with.

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#Pengy Squawks #Pengy Writes #Bederia #dressedinpinkshipping #unfinished works

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kaweeella · 3 years

Text

Project Homeward Bound

I forgot to say this but some classpects might be different than what I had given them previously and if you saw Rin’s then you probably know why, so don’t be surprised if one’s different.

Chapter 2- The One Behind It Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall

~~~

Team B (because class 1b and Hitoshi and Mirio was too long and impractical) are on voice call, discussing what the plan is. They’re on a server specifically made for the game. It’s not entirely surprising. They need to be able to talk to each other.

Rain pitters against the window.

“Should we go by seat order?” Kinoko suggests.

“But Shinsou isn’t in our seating chart.” Jurota points out.

“It’s fine, I’ll go whenever.”

“How about you go first and I’ll be your server player.” Yosetsu suggests.

“If that’s fine with everyone else.”

“Hitoshi who’re you talking to?” Eri asks, standing in the door.

“I’m doing a…” He was going to say it’s an assignment but is it? It’s a game he’s playing with his kind of classmates. It wasn’t even given by a teacher. Oh well.

“Is that Eri?” Mirio asks. “Hi Eri!”

“Hi Mirio!”

The entire group gets side tracked talking to Eri. Hitoshi isn’t sure how they got to this. She just showed up one day and sometimes Aizawa brings her to school with him. He told him to be gentle with her. It’s not like he was planning on harming this child in any way but whatever.

“Eri, could you ask pops if we have any coffee for me?”

“Okay! Bye-bye!” Eri says to the class, who all tell her bye back, and leaves the room.

“So Shinso’s going first?” Pony asks the group.

“If that’s okay then sure.”

Hitoshi pulls out the disk labeled client and he puts it in, a weird loading screen popping up. A kaleidoscope-like shape that’s constantly changing. The background is light blue with clouds going by. Every second it’s loading he grows more anxious. What has he gotten himself into?

“Damn it…” Yosetsu mutters, the sound a little grainy.

“Awase, what’s the matter?” Hitoshi asks. God he just got viruses didn’t he.

“Nothing, the internets just fucking up.”

“Right.”

“Have they finished yet?” Tetsutetsu asks, sounding bored.

“I just said the internet is slow.”

“Mine’s almost done.”

When it’s done, Hitoshi hears something beside him. Looking over, he sees… a weird pop up? What? It looks like a selection menu and it says “Pick your fetch modus.”

“What the hell.” He mutters.

“What?”

“What is it?”

“I- uh- I’m not sure. Here let me try…” He takes his phone and takes a video as he walks around it and sends it in the chat. “Is it just me? Are you guys seeing this too?”

“What the hell is a fetch modus?” Togaru says.

He reaches out and touches one of the arrows and the card-thing between them moves, showing a new one.

“So what is it?” Setsuna asks.

“I don’t know.” Should he just pick at random? Is this an important decision? What is this thing and how’d it get here?

They can hear Mirio typing- his keyboard must be in pieces- before he says “I’m gonna go, be right back.” He then disconnects.

If someone looked at the call they would see that he, Nejire, and Tamaki were in The Big Three voice chat, one that only they can get into.

“Hitoshi!” Eri enters the room again, “We didn’t have any coffee so me and pops went and bought some. What’s that thing?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’re supposed to pick one?”

“I guess.”

“Can I pick?”

“Yeah, go for it. I think it’s better that you pick anyway.” He lifts her to the select menu and she looks though them.

“What about this one?” Coloring book.

“Sure.” He selects it and then another thing pops up.

“Select your strife specibus”

“Jesus, more?” He mutters, setting down Eri. There is only one blank card this time.

“Get it figured out yet?” Itsuka asks.

“Yeah but now there’s another thing: a strife specibus, whatever that is.”

“The coffee’s in the kitchen for when you want it.” Eri says before leaving.

Hitoshi guesses that he has to insert something into it or something, but what?

He thinks for a moment. Is there a wrong answer?

He digs through his closet. It has to be somewhere in here. He pulls out a decorative mace. Well it can’t really be decorative if it’s not used for decoration, in the closet it’s just a flimsy mace. He’s been meaning to put it up but he never got to it.

He shoves it into the card, which adds an image and some text. It says “mace-kind”. It disappears again and thankfully there isn’t another one.

“It’s done!” He yells to the rest of the group. “It’s finally done! Now what.”

“I think I have to link up to you.” Yosetsu says, his audio still messed up.

“Has your game downloaded yet?”

“Uhh… yeah.”

“Great.”

The two link up, though Hitoshi is a little disappointed, as the only things on his screen are weird shapes with numbers next to them. He’d say this is a scam if anyone actually paid for it.

“Shinso?” Yosetsu says.

“Is your end as disappointing?”

“Is the game bad?” Pony asks.

“Should’ve seen it coming.” Togaru says.

“No, it’s not that.” He stares at his screen, unsure of what to say. “I think… I think I can see in your house?”

The chat fills with an incomprehensible garble of “What?” “The hell?” “This is so weird.” and other confused noises.

“Wait wait wait wait wait,” Hitoshi says to quiet everyone down. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I can see you at the computer, I think.” Yosetsu clicks on something in the room, lifting it up. “Look to your left for me.”

He does, seeing his alarm clock floating in the air.

“What the fuck.” He looks back at his computer. “Are you doing that?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck.”

Yosetsu notices he has things to place. “Incoming.”

Suddenly a weird machine with some spikes sticking down to where he guesses something is supposed to be put. There’s also a little card slot.

“What am I looking at.”

“A totem lathe”

“What does that mean.”

“I don’t know that’s just what it’s called.”

“Should we get Mirio back in here?” Neringeki asks.

“Yes.” The two at the same time.

They then proceed to spam Mirio to get him back in the call.

“I’m back, I’m back. What’s up?”

“I… Here, I’m gonna screen share.”

“Don’t show them my house.”

“Hey,” Mirio starts, “What?”

They stare at their screens seeing Hitoshi’s house. After showing them he wasn’t lying, Yosetsu turns it off, Hitoshi letting out tension.

The class talks, but Hitoshi takes off his headphones and heads to the kitchen. He can hear the rain on the window. It’s a little loud.

“Hitoshi! What’s going on?” Hizashi asks him.

“Nothing, nothing. I just want some coffee.”

Hizashi sees that Hitoshi doesn’t want to talk, so he leaves it at that. He starts working on dinner.

Hitoshi grabs a coffee, and then it disappears. He grabs a different one. Gone.

Great. Whatever.

He puts his hands in his pockets and feels something. Taking it out he sees a piece of paper with the outline of one of the coffees he grabbed. He quickly walks back to his room, incredibly frustrated.

He lets out a groan as he puts his headphones back on.

“Shinso, what’s wrong?” Itsuka asks.

“I think I know what a fetch modus is.” He slams the papers onto the desk.

“What is it?” Kinoko asks.

“Inventory.”

“What?” Manga asks this time.

“I let Eri pick and she picked coloring book and I went to grab a coffee and now they’re pieces of paper.” He digs in his pockets and finds a box of crayons. Throwing them onto the desk as well.

The group falls dead silent.

It stays that way until Nejire joins the group.

“Guys, guys! You guys need to get to the medium as soon as possible!”

“What’s the medium?”

“How do we do that?”

“Why?”

“I’ll walk you through it but you have to be fast. Who’s the server player?”

“I am.”

“Alright, put down all the devices you have.” She pauses for a second. “And put them in close together and easily accessible places.”

“Right.”

He does what she said and puts down all the machines, cluttering Hitoshi’s room in the process.

“What now?”

“Who’s the client?”

“Me.”

“Do you see a… a box with a cylinder and a dial?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s a lid on top of it, you need to apply pressure to get it off.”

Hitoshi pushes down on it, but it doesn’t budge.

Yosetsu looks around the house and finds something to drop on it.

“Watch out.” He drops a speaker on it, which breaks it and removes the lid.

“Dude. That’s going to be expensive to repl… what’s the timer?”

“It’s how long you have to get into the medium.”

“Hitoshi?” Hizashi calls from the kitchen. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you see the… orb?”

“Yeah.”

“You have to put something in it.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, just anything you have laying around, I guess.”

Hitoshi, with some struggle, goes back to the closet. There has to be something in there.

He hears something behind him and feels a pit forming in his stomach. Turning around he sees the orb now has a skull on it.

“Damn… I liked that shirt.”

“Did you do it?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you see the dial on the thing?”

“Do I turn it?”

“Yes.”

He does so and out pops a cylinder.

“Do you see the… the spikey one?”

“The totem lathe?”

“Is that what it’s called?”

“That’s what Awase said.”

“It’s what the game said.”

“Doesn’t matter. Put it on there.”

“Alright now what?”

“It should start cutting the cylinder.”

“It’s not.”

Yosetsu thinks for a moment. “Maybe you need this?” He drops a card with holes on it by him.

“What is it?”

“A card thing.”

Hitoshi puts it in the slot and the machine starts cutting.

“Now what?”

“Put it on the pedestal on the circle machine.”

He does, and suddenly, everything goes dark.

“Is this supposed to happen?”

“What?”

“I can’t see anything!”

“No…?”

Hitoshi can’t see, but if you are Yosetsu you’d see he has a blindfold. You would also see a puzzle in front of him.

“There’s something in front of you.” Yosetsu tells him.

Hitoshi feels around and finds it.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Solve it, I guess.”

“What?”

“It’s a puzzle box.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“I’ll help.”

Yosetsu walks him through the puzzle box as the timer ticks down, the rain hitting harder and harder against the window. The box clicks open, and the ground rumbles.

Hitoshi falls forward, hitting his head. He’s out cold. The blindfold and puzzle box disappears, as well.

“Shit.”

“What happened?”

“Did he make it in?”

“Shinso?”

Yosetsu can see his breathing. “He’s just unconscious.” And certainly concussed.

“Hitoshi?!” Shota calls from outside the door. He tries to open the door, but the cruxtruder- who is making these names?- is blocking the door.

Yosetsu tries to move Hitoshi so he can properly move the thing, but finds he can’t.

“Damn it.”

“Hitoshi!” He’s banging on the door.

Okay. He needs to be careful. He slowly moves the thing as far as he could without dropping it on him. It doesn’t make it far, but it’s enough for Shota to open it some. Not all the way, but what can you do.

“Hitoshi are you-” He sees the boy on the ground, and doesn’t even acknowledge the weird things in his rooms and makes his way over to him.

After checking for blood he then looks around. He hears the headphones and listens.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Aizawa!” Mirio says. “Welcome.”

“What happened?”

“He fell.” Yosetsu says.

He rubs the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know what you want from me. That’s what happened. He fell over and hit his head.”

“Wait he did?!” Someone says, the rest of the class starts talking, concerned about his well being.

“Shoda, is he alright?” Hizashi tries to open the door, which goes how you would expect.

“He hit his head. Knocked out.”

“Mr. Aizawa?” Nejire speaks up.

“Hado?”

“We might have an issue.”

The phone rings, and Hizashi answers it.

“Takami’s on the phone. Says it’s important.”

“Nado would you mind if I step away for a minute?”

“No, go ahead.”

Shota steps out, pausing only for a moment to look at the machines.

“So now what?” Yosetsu asks, following the two with the lack of anything better to do.

“I’m not sure. Let me check back in with my class.” She says before leaving the call.

They wait, some idle chatting, when Yosetsu sees Shoda quickly looking out the window. He looks, too.

“Oh.” So is that what the medium is?

#sburb au #bnha #mha #class 1b #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic

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theseerasures · 4 years

Text

Frozen 2 Reaction Post

surprisebitch.gif

this is 5000% because i don’t wanna do other stuff, but is it not poetic justice that i should come back to the tumbls for Frozen 2: Elsa Runs Away Some More

i’m gonna prologue this by saying that by and large i enjoyed the film tremendously; of course since this is 2019 i would have enjoyed anything that didn’t end with Elsa committing nonsensical war crimes before being put down like Old Yeller or pulling a no-homo to transcend time and space (that’s right, i’m hip enough to know about TWO of the biggest media fiascos this year, you jelly?), but the film was enjoyable even beyond that, mostly in how it affirmed my own opinions about the universe

HOWEVER, there were also huge problems that really have to be addressed, and we’re gonna start with those

cut for length and a truly immense amount of spoilers

things i didn’t like:

so the Iduna being Sami All Along thing was, um. bad! it was bad, and really reads like the team trying to cover their asses after the blowback from the first movie. why was it such a big deal for ~a Northuldran to love an Arendellian~ when Arendelle was 100% at fault in the conflict? were the spirits just like “oh the indigenous tribe that has cared for us and lived alongside us for centuries are fine i guess but OH LOOK the whitest among them just made googly eyes at the son of the guy who wants to colonize and enslave us, let’s root for those crazy kids and make their firstborn the avatar”

making Iduna a White Sami and leaning on the excuse that in real life the Sami people are linguistic and ethnically diverse and some of them can pass as white would have been fine if they didn’t EXPLICITLY RACIALIZE EVERY OTHER TRIBE MEMBER ON SCREEN. come on guys, just admit you liked Last Samurai but knew that that exact premise wouldn’t fly anymore

why couldn’t it be just a nice person who saved Agnar? why did we get yet another version of the old Pocahontas fetish?

why did Iduna being Northuldran REMAIN such a big deal to the point that she never told her kids about it and she and Agnar had to tell separate but equal bedtime stories about the same event??

whew i’m so glad this all happened so Elsa, the whitest non-anthropomorphic-snowman character in the movie, could save those savage natives with spears! They Needed Her Guidance

the songs this time mostly...felt like they didn’t really want this movie to be a musical but were contractually obligated to write songs for Disney until the heat death of the universe

case in point: Some Things Never Change was going for the Happily Ever After vibe that the Steven Universe movie had, but it...didn’t really feel earned. we obviously needed a place-setter song, but it didn’t really establish anything about what the characters have been up to or what might be still bothering them, because apparently everything is great! this worked for Steven Universe because it came off of five SEASONS of character development, but Elsa’s last big character revelation that we the audience saw was “wow guess i’m not the worst scum on earth after all.” the timeskip can only do so much, is what i’m saying

Kristoff got NOTHING to work with. i’m not like, horribly broken up about it since i know they had to keep it tight for the kids, but fucking OLAF got a heavier arc than he did, and it feels like a missed opportunity that they didn’t link HIS backstory to the Northuldrans, what with him being orphaned/abandoned/raised by trolls already set up. it doesn’t have to siphon into the White Savior main story at all, just have--i dunno, a few more scenes with the Northuldrans and him realizing that he’s probably descended from refugees who got cut off from the forest

the proposal thing was cute until i realized that they were going to just hit the same beats over and over again with each scene. it should have been resolved in act 1 instead of Kristoff disappearing for half the movie and then tacking on the proposal at the very end. not every subplot has to be stretched out to the end! in this case i feel like stretching it out actually REGRESSED aspects of Kristanna, since it relied on Anna misreading so many signals that it strained believability even for Anna. we’re supposed to think they’ve NEVER talked about this, despite having dated for 3 years and consistently trading off on being the most Extra person in the room?

the confirmation that Olaf’s fingers can wiggle will haunt my dreams

me when the stone giants interrupted Elsa’s conversation with Honeymaren: yOU COCKBLOCKERS

i find myself growing increasingly weary of the now token Disney Wink at Camera, and Elsa rolling her eyes and her past self doing Let It Go was probably the apex of that particular antipathy. showing that you’re so Over the song that made you billions in a movie that you’re shilling to the EXACT SAME CROWD is the most obnoxious humble-flex i can think of

as much as i liked Elsa jumping into the Pit of Past Misdeeds and freezing to death, i think the scene happened waaaaaayyyy too fast, especially if you compare it to how long it took for Anna in the first movie. she’s not really given any time to process what’s happening, and it kind of lessens the emotional impact.

Olaf is gone!! he’s gone, i miss him so much!! i cry myself to sleep!!!! OLAFFFFFFF!!! false. i do not miss him

i distinctly recall liking Olaf just fine in the first movie and actually found him tolerable here too, but wow i was not happy when they resurrected him, even though i knew it was a sure thing

maybe it’s because NOTHING had consequences in the end and even Arendelle, the place that all the characters have been treating like a thoroughfare for two movies, had to get saved at the last second!! Arendelle the place??? we were supposed to care enough about that to want it to be saved?? it’s not the fucking GALACTICA guys! there weren’t even any people left in the town! it’s bizarre that they tried to go so hard in the reparations route and then swerved at the last second. let Arendelle drown you cowards! let the Northuldrans offer help in solidarity if you really wanted the “bridge between worlds” angle, but come the fuck on! didn’t something like this happen with Life Is Strange already?

why didn’t Elsa go to her sister’s coronation is it just like a thing now for her to miss the major life events of her family members

the statues they unveiled at the end were horrifying

things i liked:

a lowkey thing that i’ve always appreciated about the first movie was its willingness to Go There when it came to depicting well intentioned parents who are still mired in various character flaws and wound their kids deeply, so it was nice to see that return and get expanded with parents who had Lives separate from their kids which made them That Way, and the consequences of those Lives often come back to influence subsequent generations no matter how much they try to keep it contained. it’s a good, logical extension from what happened with Elsa in the first movie.

and it’s another Steven Universe vibe, but they can go further with it faster because Elsa and Anna are the hegemony in this movie. they’re the history-makers, so their family drama very easily becomes political, and the lessons they pick up from family memories immediately end up changing the fantasy history landscape. it’s dope

baby Anna’s lil feetsies

Anna wanted to marry everyone and Elsa thought kissing was gross

everyone does feel palpably older! the first movie had a very teen feel insofar as everything was We Have to Do This or We Will All Die Immediately, but this time around all the characters feel much more comfortable in their own skin throughout the movie

everyone getting more than two outfits and all wearing pants

the revelation after so many headcanons of Elsa being a ruthless pragmatist, Elsa always being two steps ahead politically, Elsa being a literal and metaphorical chessmaster that Elsa is...actually just kind of spacey and weird was for me extremely welcome. i think part of this was done in service of Anna becoming queen at the end, but it makes sense. “attack it with ice powers” and “run away” are still pretty much the only two strings to Elsa’s bow. this is not to say that she was a bad queen, or that she didn’t try her damndest to be a fair and just ruler--when it comes down to it i think Elsa still knows more Facts about how to rule a kingdom than Anna ever will, it’s just that she’s also horribly averse to conflict and “pacing in place while blaming herself” is pretty much the extent of her productivity under serious pressure.

what sets Elsa apart (other than the ice powers) isn’t that she’s prodigiously talented, but that she’s kindhearted and extremely sensitive to the emotions and fates of others. (she’s the one who asks what happened to the spirits when Agnar is done with his half of the story.) she agonized over hurting Anna one way vs. hurting Anna another way for THIRTEEN YEARS and still couldn’t make up her mind until she was literally backed into a corner, and even that decision was “run away but FARTHER.” Anna wanting to reconcile with Elsa even after thirteen years wasn’t just because Anna’s love eclipses all; Elsa also left that door open for her, because she could never be quite as ruthless or even SELFLESS as to send her sister away for good. (”then leave! actually jk i’ll leave instead”)

but Anna wasn’t ever the exception for Elsa, either. Anna wasn’t the only corner of Elsa’s heart that she left open--Elsa’s like that with EVERYONE, even people she just met, or disembodied voices in the wild. Elsa can never do quite as many Right Things as she thinks she should, she can never be quite as driven, as strong, as single-minded as she thinks she needs to be, to fully commit to making decisions for other people. she feels too deeply and wants too much, even after all those years of trying to scour herself out with a lathe. it’s what ruins and saves her.

Anna and Elsa being horrible at charades in diametrically opposite ways was the most life affirming thing to happen to me this year

Elsa couldn’t act out ice

the two of them had MULTIPLE conversations with each other that didn’t immediately result in mortal peril!!! what a world guys

Into the Unknown fucking slaps but i’m now REALLY confused about the diegesis of the songs in this movie. i’d assumed they were all happening in story, what with the Voice and the multiple references to Let It Go, but Elsa literally bays at the moon in the middle of the night here and no one woke up??? maybe they’re all just really heavy sleepers who knows

or maybe the staff just take it in stride at this point--oh, Her Majesty is singing and crying again

Kristoff and Anna CANONICALLY FUCK, and not even in the typical cartoon “look they have kids, they canonically fuck” way in the “hey my sister and her snowchild that we’re all coparenting together are asleep on the sled, shall we fuck a mere three feet away without even putting up a divider or something” way

gotta give Jen Lee kudos for making the “Elsa has ice powers because she’s the fifth spirit” retcon make thematic sense. the most obvious way to go about this WOULD have been the avatar direction, but Elsa isn’t the union of the four elements but the union of the spirits and humanity, which is to say that she witnesses them and keeps their memories, bringing them to life and solidifying them with her powers. she’s obviously the best person for the job, since y’know. she spent thirteen years on one memory alone.

wait does this mean Elsa is basically the Resurrection Stone?? buhhhh i don’t wanna think about it

of course Anna’s sword just came from her grabbing it from an ice statue i don’t know what else i expected

i laughed at both of Olaf’s reenactments i don’t know what to tell you

i feel...Some Kinda Way about the discourse saying that Mattias being black is problematic because it suggests black collusion in indigenous genocide, but it’s not my place to comment on that, so i’ll just say that it was a pleasure to see Sterling K. Brown having fun in a role instead of his usual gravitas and misery

Elsa first making eye contact with the icemander, or Two Feral Creatures Recognize Each Other As Such--i can’t believe i thought Hiccup would be the weirdest horse girl i’d ever encounter in fiction when it’s OBVIOUSLY Elsa

ELSA COULDN’T ACT OUT ICE

what a novel concept to have Elsa charging forward while Anna tries to pull her back, telling her to slow down, that she’s climbing too high

appreciated the subtle seeding they did of Anna’s political savvy, what with her actually talking to the lost Arendellian soldiers and restraining herself from making outlandish promises to everyone she meets

Kristoff made a friend!

Elsa met one (1) girl that wasn’t her sister and immediately decided she had to live in the woods forever

Tribe Leader Lady’s reaction to Kristoff’s proposal

can’t believe Lost in the Woods invented cinema and music videos

the sisters at the shipwreck is hands down the best scene in the entire movie, aided by the drastically different palette they used to color this scene--all grays, browns, and blacks, even the surrounding environment, like Agnar and Iduna’s despair polluted the whole landscape. Elsa and Anna look horribly out of place here, like they can’t possibly be real in a world that looks like this.

it really snuck up on me how much this scene is a pivot for both of their characters: Anna’s instinct here is to look forward, to find clues that will point them to the next step; Elsa’s instinct is toward grief and, after the reveal, self-blame. for all her growth there’s still a part of Elsa that sees her existence as the catastrophe that keeps hurling the wreckage of the world at her feet. it’s something that i don’t think she’ll ever be able to completely move past.

Elsa, looking at Anna like she’s the only real thing in the world as Anna tells her that she believes in her, more than anyone or anything

“i just don’t want you dying trying to be everything for everyone else!” jesus fucking CHRIST guys

Olaf’s growing up crisis was mostly just...kinda there for me, but i will say the cut to his horrified expression when Anna said the word “dying” really did get to me

Anna switching between a Formal Court hairstyle and an Athleisure hairstyle is Bi Representation, Elsa getting increasingly more disheveled over two movies is Lesbian Representation

do i Get horse movies now

Elsa happy crying when she sees her mother in the cave made ME incredibly happy--her face is so much more dynamic this time around!

i wanna make fun of her for her stupid Dance Dance Revolution ice magic during Show Yourself but honestly..........fucking superb you funky little lesbian

aw Elsa you stood up to...an ice hallucination of your racist grandpa! in another three years (six years in production) you might be ready for Thanksgiving dinner

Elsa in the last movie: i’m never going back, the past is in the past!!!!

Elsa in this movie: brb gotta go hurl myself into a Pit of Past Misdeeds and turn myself into one of the embodied memories

Anna immediately understanding what went down at the forest before and that even if she wasn’t directly complicit in the violence she benefits from it every day, deciding to rip down Imperialism Dam without hesitation

The Next Right Thing didn’t really do it for me musically but as a core concept for Anna’s character and ethos it fucking ROCKS (pun obviously intended). i was so worried going in that they wouldn’t know what to do with Anna after the first movie other than give her powers, but instead we got confirmation that this IS her superpower: her ability to forge ahead with whatever life has given her has ALWAYS been her greatest strength.

this also explains why she felt so aimless and intent on protecting Elsa and nothing else before this point; Anna isn’t interested in delving deeply into the past, not when every other member of her family was consumed by it. with this she’s finally able to convert memory into action, and she shines.

(of course she couldn’t have GOTTEN to this point if Elsa hadn’t been so convinced that the past was worth pursuing, confirming my belief that the two of them share exactly one brain cell)

OBVIOUSLY action for Anna translates into “make myself bait for stone giants and STAND ON THE VERY DAM I WANT THEM TO RIP APART” Anna you fucking walnut

Anna threw the first brick at Imperialism Dam, actually

the understated moment when Kristoff just pushes aside his own insecurities and just asks Anna what she needs

the shot of Elsa falling into the water after she’s thawed nearly did me in

Elsa horseback riding over the water is. wow it’s the gayest thing i’ve ever seen

Anna’s coronation outfit made me kinda wistful. she looks so grown up! she looks like her mother

(i mean she always looks like her mother they literally have the same face but whatever you know what i mean)

me on my deathbed: eLSA COuldN’T aCT oUt ICE

stray observations:

is Arendelle just a tourist town where one day the guy who owned the largest house was like “this is a KINGDOM NOW I’M THE KING” and the 50 other townies who lived there were just too polite to argue

i mean it’d explain why the queen, her heir, and the heir’s consort could just waltz out of there for a week long trip and leAVE THE TROLLS IN CHARGE

when they first started getting chummy with the Northuldrans i lost my god damn mind and was like “are they gonna give Kristoff a boyfriend and Anna a girlfriend what’s happening”

is it required that female Disney protagonists have to go to a blue tinted place to realize that the magic answer was in them all along now the same exact thing happened to Moana and Rey

Elsa’s ice creations are confirmed to fade away if she dies, which...is a confirmation we needed i guess

why didn’t Mattias and Yelana fall in love to make the Chosen One instead, they had chemistry

(i mean. i know why)

i hope Anna got to yell at Elsa for at least five minutes and maybe slug her for pulling that “i’m going to Mordor alone!!!” bullshit

for a second at the end i was like “are they gonna do the HTTYD thing where we flash forward to ten years later and Anna and Kristoff take their kids to visit Elsa IS KRISTOFF GONNA GROW A DAD BEARD” but no we just had lesbian wind and origami instead

whatever your take on the movie i think we can all agree that the scene where Olaf calls the Irish “a plague on this planet which is slowly rotting it down to the rind and which must be excised” was NOT okay

#'wow i wonder how many words this post is--actually maybe i don't wanna know'#frozen 2 #disney #helen writes meta

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macgyvermedical · 5 years

Note

Bucky and hypoglycemia for the bad things happen bingo? (if he got some sort of messed up version of the super serum that causes him to burn through his reserves faster? back in the day hydra had to keep him on TPN or something because he burned calories so quickly?)

***Not affiliated with the official “Bad Things Happen Bingo” writing challenge***

Okay, here’s the thing- two people requested hypoglycemia at almost exactly the same time, for two different characters, so in order to stay with one-fic-per-square, we’re setting this Bucky (more accurately Winter Soldier… sorry)-gets-hypoglycemia fic in the middle of the second season of 1985 MacGyver. Enjoy!

Consider this a really weird pre-make of season 6′s “Humanity”

———————

January 1987, Somewhere in the Hungarian Countryside

Mac watched the man pace the small front room of the old farmhouse. He was tall and almost comically muscular even beneath the dark parka, with chin-length dark hair and grease pencil around his eyes. With the size of his torso Mac could only assume the parka was also concealing some form of body armor, though in the nearly 24 hours they’d been stranded together, he hadn’t seen the guy take it off or even loosen it. On the shoulder of the coat was a red star, promising an allegiance that left Mac wary.

Despite his best efforts the man hadn’t said a word to him. A few annoyed grunts to Mac’s intermittent stabs at conversation, sure, but for the time they’d been huddled, literally in the same room, Mac hadn’t even determined if they shared a language. The man had seemed content mostly with spending his time staring out the window at the bleak snowscape- the worst snowstorm to hit Hungary in decades.

Just their luck.

But lucky they’d been, in one sense. Their shared refuge looked like it had been abandoned in a hurry. Food and clothing was gone, but larger furniture items had been left, presumably too bulky to pack. What had undoubtedly been a bad situation for the family living there had been a stroke of fortune to Mac and his new companion. Among the remaining pieces was an old but still-working woodstove, which had happily accepted pieces of carefully cannibalized furniture. At least, as long as the furniture had held out.

“That’s it.” Mac said, pushing the last piece of chair into the stove. “No chance it’s stopped snowing out there, huh?” The man looked at Mac briefly, narrowed his eyes, and then turned back to the window. “That’s very helpful, thank you.” Mac looked around for a few minutes, feeling a sense of tense isolation he wasn’t sure how to describe. Outside the window, the snow had appeared to die down a little. A tree across the way was barely visible in a way it hadn’t been an hour ago.

“Uh, it’s gonna get kinda cold in here once this stops burning- what do you say you and I go see if they left us any fire wood?” Mac got up slowly. The woodstove had kept them alive, but it was still cold enough in the room that his muscles had stiffened sitting on the floor.

“They were supposed to come yesterday.” The man said suddenly. The words were flawless, with a distinctly American accent. Mac paused, a sense of unease coming over him. He had assumed the man was Soviet, but the accent seemed to indicate otherwise.

“Who’s ‘they’?” Mac asked. Undercover DXS? CIA? KGB? HIT? It would certainly help if “they” were someone Pete could call up for a diplomatic conversation. The man didn’t answer, but at long last Mac decided it was something they could talk about when they weren’t in danger of freezing. “Listen, I got a lot of questions and quite frankly that’s a cat you can’t put back in the bag. But I also don’t want to freeze to death, which is what’s gonna happen if we don’t find something else to burn. So… help me out?“

The man only nodded in reply.

In the end, if there was a woodshed, it was too buried in snow to find. They ended up trudging back and forth from a dilapidated barn carrying armfuls of feed hay instead. It wasn’t ideal, but again, lucky to have anything that wasn’t part of the shelter itself. The snow was deep, and after more than an hour of work, they might have bought two hours of warmth. Mac would have kept going- another hour might have set them up for the evening with careful planning- but his companion seemed to be struggling more than he expected.

“Let’s go inside for a minute and warm up, huh?” Mac suggested.

“I’m fine.” The man shook his head angrily, then continued unevenly towards the door. When he turned back to get more hay, Mac stood in front of the exit.

“Its cold out there, it’s wet, it’s not going to kill us to sit in front of the fire for five minutes to warm up.” The fire itself had almost died down.

“I said I’m fine!” The man shouted, suddenly punching the wall less than a foot from Mac’s head. The impact left a crater in the plaster-and-lathe wall. Mac ducked back, noting the flash of anger in the man’s eyes almost immediately becoming one of sudden terror. He changed tactics.

“Whoa, okay, how ‘bout we just stay long enough to kindle this fire back up, then we work until it gets dark.” Mac said. The man’s eyes still were wide with fear. “It’s fine, you’re okay, I’m okay, we’re just…” The man backed down and Mac let out a sigh of relief.

The fire had all but gone out, but the room was still delightfully warm after the blizzard outside. Mac settled uneasily back to sitting on the floor by the wood stove and picked up a handful of hay blades. “So, uh, you ever read The Long Winter as a kid?” The man stared at him with an intensely blank expression. “It’s fine if you haven’t- see, once they ran out of firewood they started twisting straw into straw logs, which decreased the surface area and the amount of oxygen that could get to the straw and basically made it so they would burn longer. I’m hoping we can make something similar happen with this hay. Here-” Mac demonstrated twisting the blades together. To his honest surprise, the man seemed to try to mirror him.

“You got it.” Mac encouraged, noting an odd sort of smile play on the man’s face.

But several bundles later, Mac started to get worried. He’d assumed the man’s unsteady gait and shaking had been a result of the cold, but it had been a while since they’d been inside, and Mac had more than recovered himself. His companion, however, seemed to be shaking even more than he had outside and was having increasing difficulty with the bundles of hay. Something else was going on.

“So you blew up my truck, you killed my asset and put people relying on his intel in jeopardy. I spent a lot of last night worrying you might up and decide to kill me too. Then I hear you speak American English with a New York accent. What do you say I’ll answer a question if you do?” The man grunted non-committaly.

“Fair- I’m happy going first- you mentioned ‘they.’ I assume that’s an exfil team. What made you mention them?” Mac asked. “Were they supposed to kill me when they got here yesterday or do something for you?” The man scowled. “Both?”

Mac sighed as he threw another bundle into the fire. Something was going on, and it was getting worse. “Listen, I know you’re trained not to talk, but that’s not what this is about anymore and I’m not going to hurt you- in fact if you’re working for anyone besides the DXS and you end up dead, this is probably going to be an international incident. And right now I don’t think you’re doing so hot. Help me out a little here.” In the light from the fire, Mac could see a sheen of sweat on the man’s face. He again didn’t respond.

“You’re irritable, you’re shaking, you’re pale, and even though its barely above freezing in here, you’re sweating… are you withdrawing from something?” Nothing. Then something dawned on Mac. It was a long shot, but if it was true at least they’d have a starting point. “It’s been over 24 hours since either of us ate- have you ever been told you have a problem with blood sugar?” The man looked like he was going to say something, but didn’t.

“You’re not lookin’ to make this easy for me, are you?” If it was blood sugar, though, that was something relatively solvable. Even if it was withdrawal or hypothermia, either of those would be easier to weather with some sugar on board. The question now was- where would he get sugar?

Mac looked out the window. Not only was it getting dark now, but the snow looked worse. There was objectively no food left in the house, and this late in winter, his options for wild sugar were pretty much inner pine bark and acorn starch if he could dig deep enough to find some- and acorns were… energy intensive to make edible. That wasn’t even acknowledging that if he left to forage for something, he was seriously risking getting lost or hypothermia. If it were just him, he’d much rather shelter in place until the sun came up.

But it wasn’t just him. He had to think of something, preferably while his companion could still safely eat…

Mac thought as he twisted the hay into yet another bundle. The man hadn’t so much as tried to pick up another handful of hay. “Okay, okay. I got something. When I was a kid my grandpa Harry won a bet. Ended up with this ancient, diabetic horse. You wouldn’t know it by the way he talked about it, but he loved that thing.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry, this story gets better- there’s usable sugar in hay, but humans, we can eat hay but we can’t really digest it. We’d never be able to get enough into you to matter. Fortunately, I used to go out and have to soak that old horse’s hay to pull the sugars out of it. I’m thinking we might be able to use that same process to extract some sucrose into water if you feel like doing nothing except drinking really terrible tea and peeing all night.” The man looked dubious, but Mac couldn’t really tell. “You think about it, I’m going to get things started.”

They’d been melting snow on the wood stove for drinking water in a worn old pot that had been left behind. It didn’t get it very warm with the size of the fire they’d been able to make, but it was good enough. Mac set about inspecting individual blades of hay for signs of mold, and then crumbling the best ones into the pot. With nothing else to do, Mac talked while he worked. “There’s a reason we can’t reasonably make ethanol from grass, right? Pulling the sugars out of grass into water is driven by a concentration gradient and even under the best of circumstances, we might get a solution that’s 1-2% sucrose. Honestly, since we don’t know how old this hay is, even heating up the water, I’m aiming for 0.5-1%. But it’s what we’ve got.”

At the 20 minute mark, Mac beckoned the man over to the pot. “Here- dip your hands in it so they strain out the hay pieces as much as possible.” Mac demonstrated. The man still looked shaky and unsteady, but not significantly worse since they’d started the process. Mac really, really hoped it was blood sugar. The man paused.

“I swear its not poison.” To prove it, Mac took a drink from his hands. It didn’t taste as terrible as he thought it would, a little earthy, and the vague hint of sweetness told him there was at least some sugar getting pulled out of the old hay. To his near surprise, the man copied him. “Okay, that’s good- keep drinking. Like I said, you’re gonna have to do this most of the night.” The man obediently finished the first pot of hay tea. Before Mac had completely finished dumping the dregs of the first batch and making the second, he could tell the man was already feeling a little better. He couldn’t believe that had worked.

By the fourth gallon in two hours, they were almost out of hay, but Mac was confident enough to leave the man in the house making hay logs while he went to get more.

Mac tried to make stabs of conversation, but after the danger was past and confident neither would kill the other in their sleep, Mac found himself dozing in between pots of tea and trips to the barn for more hay.

Mac woke suddenly to the man shaking his arm roughly. There was sun finally streaming through a window that was half-covered in snow. The fire had died down. “Get up. Leave now- before they get here.” The man ordered urgently. Once Mac got his wits about him, he could hear a faint commotion in the front of the house. He nodded, getting up stiffly and making for the back exit. The snow was more than 3 feet deep, but luckily, they’d kept up a path to the barn. Mac figured he could hide there until the man’s exfil team left. He made to leave, but the man caught his arm.

“Thank you.”

Mac made eye contact and nodded. “Any time.”

#fanfic #bucky barnes #winter soldier #macgyver #macgyver 1985 #hypoglycemia #medical whump bingo

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warsofasoiaf · 5 years

Text

Composite bows again

Thanks. And, not to worry, nothing like that. Just the necessity of work.

I found this cross section of a crossbow lathe in Joseph Alm’s European Crossbows: A Survery, the only drawing he has of composite lathe with the covering included. It’s not dimensioned, unlike the other two, but the wooden core is said to be approximately 60mm wide and 1cm thick. Use that as a scale, I’d estimate the total thickness as somewhere between 2.3 and 2.5mm, with the birch bark layer being 1.25-1.37mm thick. I don’t think the paper adds much to the waterproofing and it’s probably there mostly to allow for decorating (it was often painted to replicate snakeskin).

It also turns out that I have a copy of Adam Karpowicz's Ottoman Turkish bows, manufacture and design: second edition. He notes that Turkish bows either had a birch bark back with leather on the sides (the belly was left bare) or were covered on the back and sides with leather (0.4-0.8mm thick). I’m not sure whether his comments on warbows vs flight bows meant that warbows were only covered with leather and never with birch bark on the back or if the flight bows only ever had birch bark on the back and nothing on the sides, but other bows were covered entirely with birch bark, so it seems to be more stylistic or perhaps an attempt to squeeze the maximum performance out of the bow rather than any practical reason.

One thing that surprised me is that Karpowicz hasn’t found any practical difference between a lacquer made from rosin (derived from pine) and that made with more exotic and expensive resins. The main sticking point seems to be solvent, but Westeros has distillation, so turpentine is possible for Westeros, with no need for a petroleum based solvent to be imported. I actually don’t know what was used for a solvent in Europe prior to the 15th century, since that seems to be when turpentine came into use in the Arab world. Possibly birch bark glued with casein glue (or maybe even just sinew glue) was enough if treated with the same mixture as used on bows. It’s hard to tell, given how little has been written on the subject in English (anyone here know German and want to dive into Jahrblatt der Interessengemeinschaft Historische Armbrust?).

Thanks for the discussion! It’s helped solidify some ideas and I’ve ended up finding some very interesting information as well.

That’s interesting. I know that birch tar was what the Russians used to treat their leather, so I would have assumed that pine tar-based varnish and the more exotic varnishes would have had more of a distinction. However, modern techniques could have reduced the gap, or the differences in aesthetics primarily used.

If the bows didn’t have birch bark on the belly, that might explain why the need for leather casing was mentioned so prominently in various period texts and from earlier ancestor models of the bow. Couple that with your standard whisper down the lane of historical progress and the emphasis on these cases might give us our culprit.

Westeros definitely has turpentine, the “tar” mentioned in the novels is almost certainly wood tar which is produced domestically along with charcoal, and you get turpentine as a byproduct. I’ve actually been dealing with pine tar for my convention appearances as a weapon to defeat the Others.

I think since animal glue bonds can be broken with woods and heat and reapplied, there was less of a need for a broad-based solvent that used glue based on animal collagen, as opposed to a variety of specific solvents used in particular trades.

If you’re looking for someone who can speak German, you might want to ask @stefansasse.

Alright then, until we find the next thing to deep dive on.

-SLAL

#hergrim #archery #engineering #submission

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formerprincess · 5 years

Text

Mirror of Origin | Chapter 1

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Corey Bryant/Mason Hewitt Characters: Theo Raeken, Liam Dunbar, Mason Hewitt, Corey Bryant Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe, Tomb Raider, Swearing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Guns, Violence, Minor Character Death, but only bad guys die I swear, Blood, Injury Summary:

Liam is a young, reckless archaeologist who loves nothing more than to climb into old tombs and find out about ancient cultures, as well as retrieve lost artifacts. On his hunt for the Mirror of Origin, he meets a mysterious group of people claiming they have the same agenda as Liam himself: Rescue old artifacts from the ruins around the world and exhibit them for the people to see them or keep them locked away to avoid them falling into the wrong hands. Especially one of their mercenaries, Theo, makes it hard for Liam to accept working with them in order to get this one special artifact cause Theo and Liam butt heads since their first meeting. When things turn for the worst, however, both have to work together to literally save the world from getting destroyed by an ancient power and maybe, just maybe, they realize the other isn’t as obnoxious as they thought…

Liam wormed his way through a crack in the stonewall and bit back a cough when his movement caused dust to float into the air. He blinked a few times, eyes slowly adjusting to the drastic change from beaming sunlight outside to the dim and shadowy light inside the tomb. He tilted his head and listened to any sounds coming from within but aside from the smaller rocks falling down every now and then and some scorpions scurrying over the rocky ground, nothing extraordinaire reached his ears.

“Okay, I’m in,” he announced and two fingers of his left hand came up to lightly press against the little headset he was wearing in his left ear. His only connection to Mason and Corey right now.

Liam looked around. He stood on a small ledge in an otherwise almost empty passage leading to a crawlway just a few feet away from him. Surely not the main entrance to what Liam was looking for but it would do. So he hopped off the ledge and knelt in front of the opening to peek inside. Nothing but dust and sand, no traps. “Let’s see where this will lead me.” He ducked his head and slowly crawled into the opening.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Corey asked into his left ear. Mason huffed out a laugh. “Sometimes I think Liam loves crawling through tombs so much, he would even do it knowing full well it’s the wrong place.” Liam grinned while he crawled further and further. “You know, there’s just something about exploring a tomb that way. Should try it too sometime.” “I’ll pass,” Mason muttered and Liam heard the clatter of a keyboard. “You are too far into the mountain right now, I can’t determine your exact location.” “It’s okay. Seems pretty peaceful right now,” Liam comforted his best friend. “You said the same thing back in Syria, shortly before a gun was pressed to your temple,” Corey reminded him and Mason let out a series of distressed sounds. “Do you have to remind me, babe?” Liam rolled his eyes and smiled fondly while Corey sighed into his ear. He had lost count how often Mason had voiced his worry about Liam literally risking his life in the name of exploring and archaeology and how often the two friends argued about it, even before Corey came into the team. Corey, Mason’s boyfriend, and basically Liam’s other best friend proved to be great at providing a middle ground between Mason and Liam since he too was worried about Liam but also took it a bit more lightly than Mason did. Doesn’t mean he always got away without a discussion. “He will be fine, Mase. He’s far away from a warzone right now. Besides, Liam is a big boy, he can watch out for himself.” “Have you met him? I sometimes wonder how he even reached the age of twenty-three,” Mason squeaked. “Thanks to your unconditional love and care?” Corey asked sweetly.

“You two are aware I can hear you?” Liam asked while he reached the end of the crawlway and swiftly came to his feet again in a large chamber. He looked around and for a moment it took his breath away. The walls were covered in colorful murals, color bleached out with the ages but still impressive nonetheless, showing various situations with the same group of people, follower of a once powerful emperor. One mural showed the Emperor and his followers crossing a wild river, one showed them infiltrating a village, another one them all fighting another group. With a happy laugh, Liam pulled his camera out of his pocket and filmed every single mural. “To answer your question, Corey, this is the right place. I found The Emperor’s tomb.”

He pointed the camera towards the middle of the room where a sarcophagus had been placed on a little rising. Some part of the ceiling had been worn down by the weather over the decades and had fallen to the ground, so the sun was streaming through the cracks and onto the beautifully crafted thing, embellished with gems and golden symbols. “This is incredible.” “Your instinct was right again, congratulations.” Mason seemed really happy about this and Liam heard Corey whoop as well. “And you think the Mirror of Origin is in the sarcophagus?” “It has to. I researched everything about Ferguson’s expeditions. From what he wrote in his entries, he found it and then brought it to a safe place. That’s what I made out of the gibberish he wrote. Old man got a tiny bit paranoid at the end of his days. Lord knows why. He wrote about the Emperor a lot too, it makes sense he would take the artifact and put it into a tomb without any relation, in a different country even. Emperor and the Mirror were the two biggest things he researched. If it’s not here, it is probably lost forever.”

While he had talked, Liam had wandered around in the chamber before he rounded the sarcophagus and took pictures of every side of the sarcophagus. Only when he had every angle and every detail on film, Liam put away his camera. “I’m about to open it.”

He took a step closer and felt the ground under his right boot sink in. It took his brain only seconds to register and he barely had time to stumble back when spears shot out of the ground and surrounded the sarcophagus in a circle. “Holy shit!” Liam wheezed and stared at the very dangerous and very spiky wooden laths from where he had fallen flat on his ass. “Was that a trap? Did you just trigger a trap? You did trigger a trap, am I right?” Mason scolded him and Liam gulped. “Fuck, almost got served Liam on a stick.” “Dammit, Liam, what did we say about being careless?” “Are you okay though?” Corey asked and Liam nodded, even though they could not see him. “Yeah. Shook but still without any unnecessary holes in my body.”

He got to his feet again and dusted his palms up. Then he narrowed his eyes at the spears and circled the trap. His eyes trailed over the ground to see any mechanism that could revert the trap. And finally, he found some lighter looking stone in the ground and grabbed one of his pistols. A quick shot on the trigger and the spears retracted into the ground. „Hah!“ Liam let out a triumphant yell and then took a large step over the spots the spears had shot out from. Only when he safely stood right next to the sarcophagus, he let out a relieved breath. This seemed safe, for now. He had encountered too many tombs and traps to ever feel completely safe but this was a start. “Just be careful,” Mason mumbled when Liam anxiously pushed the lid aside. Old graves sometimes had yet another trap inside the sarcophagus, better safe than sorry. However, this time nothing happened and when Liam peeked inside, he knew why.

The sarcophagus was empty.

“What? This can’t be happening! It’s empty! That’s…that’s impossible!” Liam could not believe his eyes. There had to be a joke and he even reached inside to find a false bottom inside the sarcophagus but there was none. He lurched back and luckily managed not to trigger the spears again, even though Liam already felt like he had been speared. It had been months since he started to research the Emperor and Ferguson’s expeditions. Months full of dead ends and promising clues that almost always ended in yet another disappointment until he finally found that one trail that lead him to where he was now. And now it was yet another dead end? This was more than he could grasp. “It’s empty? So, this isn’t the right place?” Corey questioned hesitantly. Liam groaned and ran both hands through his hair while he paced back and forth. “It is the right place! This is the Emperor’s tomb, he is just not there!” “Do you mean somebody else got him and took him away?” That was Mason this time. Liam groaned again. “I don’t know! It seems unlikely. Must have missed something. But what did I miss? Where did I go wrong? Where was my mistake?”

He glared at the mural of the Emperor fighting another army. “What you’re looking at?” He barked at the stupid painted guy who – of course – didn’t answer. Liam’s glare intensified and if looks could kill, the wall probably would have exploded under the force of his scowl. He eyed the way the Emperor swung his word and looked at the enemies in his path. Stupid painting of a stupid guy with his stupid sword and his stupid horse and his stupid way of peering at… “What you’re looking at?” Liam asked again, less furious this time, and he stepped closer to the mural. The Emperor was not really looking at his enemies upon closer inspection, seemed to be looking over their heads. Liam followed his line of sight and turned around. He had expected the Emperor to eye his own sarcophagus but the angle was too far left for that to work. He peeked at a naked wall instead. Liam frowned. Either the creator of his mural had seriously been drinking while working or that had been intended. He slowly stepped closer to the wall and ran his hands over it. Aside from a small cleft in the wall, nothing too special. And yet Liam could not shake the thought the painting was a hint. He had always been one to listen to his instincts, his mom used to tell him it was one of his strongest traits and would lead him far in life, and while others saw it as impulsive and it sometimes got him into big trouble, Liam never let this trait get taken away from him. It had lead him to so many great things already in his life and so he grabbed his climbing axe and rammed it into the cleft. “Are you breaking things again?” Corey inquired when pieces of the wall crumbled loudly and fell to the floor but Liam refused to answer. He didn’t have to anyway, his friends knew him. He rather kept working on making the cleft bigger to see what was behind this wall.

And finally, it was big enough Liam could worm his way through. A quick first look behind the wall confirmed his suspicion, there was yet another chamber carefully hidden behind the first one. Liam slipped inside and waved some cob webs away. The second chamber was a lot smaller than the first one and way less splendid. Light only fell through small holes up in the otherwise rough stone wall of the mountain the whole tomb was hidden in. Left and right were some swords, shields, and armors placed, maybe once placed on wooden shelves which had fallen apart over the decades. And on the end of the chamber stood yet another sarcophagus, plain, made from simple wood and with artsy carvings but nothing compared to the gems and gold from the first. At first glance, this was probably a servant’s grave, buried with their master in the first chamber, a common practice for the Emperor’s followers as Liam knew. The weapons were probably belongings from the warlord once buried here, that’s what it looked like at least. Yet Liam didn’t let it fool him. He had tapped into the clever illusion at first as well but he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

“Whatever it is you found now, we’re losing you. The connection….” Mason’s voice had been distorted while he spoke and then failed altogether when the connection had been lost. Seemed like Liam was too far into the mountain. Well, the connection got lost sometimes, he didn’t really pay this too much mind at the moment.

He hurried over to the second sarcophagus instead (no trap this time, thank god) and pushed the lid aside. The stench of stale air and death erupted and Liam coughed and waved his hand to make the smell evaporate. He glanced inside the sarcophagus and this time he didn’t get disappointed. A skeleton lay there, with a large sword in his hands. The sword of the Emperor. “You sly bastard! Making everyone believe they found your grave when it’s just for the cover! Clever son of a bitch!” Liam smiled happily, excited at the aspect of finally finding what he had been looking for all these months. He pushed the lid further aside, eyes scanning the bones inside to find the Mirror of Origin.

And there was no mirror but what was there was some old document roll made from leather, created to protect important documents from wind and weather. Its brown-reddish color almost made it blend it with the dark color of the wood and Liam could imagine one was able to overlook it quite quickly when only looking for the sword or the Mirror. He reached for it and pulled the little roll out of its hiding spot next to the Emperor’s elbow. The roll was too young to be from the Emperor’s decade and the patterns on the roll itself also didn’t fit with the time so Liam guessed somebody had left it here later on. Maybe Ferguson? “If you send me on another journey around the globe I will scream,” he muttered and meant the late Arthur Ferguson, that one person who had started this whole adventure with his entries about the Mirror and the Emperor. Liam opened the roll and pulled the document out. It was handwritten in scrawly letters and Liam had a hard time making sense of the words itself. He sighed before he pulled out his flashlight and dropped on the ground, leaned against the sarcophagus, and began to read, the light from the flashlight a big help.

I found the Emperor’s grave. It took me such a long time, I can barely fathom the reality of it, even as I write these words. But it is there and this time it’s no lie. While I’m writing this, I’m looking at the bones of the once mighty man, surrounded by his wealth and belongings.

My journey has come to an end and I can finally rest. While I’m not as old to say dead is upon me, I am old enough to know I will never go on another expedition. It is time for me to return home and find my peace there. And it is time for me to be honest. As a young man, I aspired wealth and success, my measurements were the importance of my discoveries and the reputation I would gain from them. I aspired to find the Mirror of Origin and then the tomb of one of the biggest emperors. With all the knowledge I gained from books and my studies, I thought it would be easy, that I had the intellect to find what many before me failed to discover.

I was foolish.

My studies had led my on the right path, I came close to getting my hands on this powerful artifact; my mind set on all the notoriety it would gain me. I wasn’t prepared for all the gruesome things crossing my path. The horrors I encountered, I don’t wish them upon anybody else. There is something dark, something immensely powerful hidden in the ancient places back in Peru, a source of power defying all description. I don’t know if it is the Mirror itself or something guarding it, I never wanted to find out. While I was prepared for some difficulties during my travels, I wasn’t prepared for death and fear.

I lost men, I lost friends, I lost too much to ever consider the expedition a success. I may know where the artifact is hidden but I will be damned if I ever share it with anybody else. Upon leaving the jungle and all those terrible places, I made a decision. No one else should ever endure those horrors and so I lied. I told everyone I found the Mirror and brought it somewhere safe. It is the only way to make sure no one even ventures into the depth of the Peruvian Jungle in search for the Mirror of Origin.

The Emperor’s grave is hidden and so I’m leaving this here, hoping nobody will ever find it here and if they do, they will be bright enough to not go looking for the Mirror. To those reading this: Don’t do it. Stay away! Stay as far away from those damned places as you can. The seduction of wealth may be strong but you will lose too much to ever make it worth it. Be wiser than I was.

A.Ferguson

Liam felt like he was caught in a cosmic joke. He had read everything Ferguson had ever written and the main point in all of his notes had been him taking the Mirror of Origin and bringing it in his possession. And now he found out it had all been a lie? That old man was messing with him, right? Torn between screaming in anger and crying, Liam swallowed harshly. He hated the other with such a strong passion in this moment and had Ferguson not been dead since centuries, Liam would personally find him and kick his ass. All for wasting his time and fooling everyone for so long.

And yet…

A small part of Liam remembered how Ferguson’s notes had changed, slowly at first but then it got more and more evident. How he had turned into a nervous, paranoid mess and when Liam considered the dates, it had happened after his Peru expedition. Whatever the archaeologist had encountered it had mentally scarred him for life. So much, living a lie for the rest of his life had been the best option. Liam himself was still young but even he had already encountered enough to know there was more between the earth and the heavens that most people realized and believed and some of that shit was downright terrifying and bat-shit crazy. Had Arthur Ferguson encountered such a thing?

“Area all clear. Team 1 is in!”

The sudden voice ripped Liam from his thoughts and he jerked his head up. Four men, all dressed in tactical military gear and armed with machine guns, had stepped into the chamber, their flashlights attached to their guns and pointed at Liam. He had been so absorbed, he didn’t even hear them approaching. His right hand dropped to his side, ready to close around his pistol when one of the military guys tseked. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, kiddo.” He raised his gun, ready to shoot, and his team did the same thing. They were clearly not messing and while Liam knew he could fight, four guys with machine guns pointed at his head were too much to take. He still frowned and aimed his own flashlight at the guy who had spoken. “I’m no kiddo! Besides, you’re not much older than myself!” At least, given what he could see in the dim lighting. Fair skin, pale due to the light, stubbles adorning his strong jaw, and a fucking arrogant smirk on his face. Liam wanted to punch him for that smirk alone. Military guy raised one eyebrow. “Really? Sassing a guy pointing a gun at your head? That desperate to die?” “Tell us your name, civilian!” One of the other guys barked and Liam glared at him. “First name Go, last name Fuck yourself,” he hissed back. His inner Mason, the one Liam liked to call his very own Jiminy Cricket, facepalmed and muttered something about “Way to get shot.” But he hated people being rude towards him. And people pointing guns at him. Mix those two together and you got a combination Liam could absolutely not stand. The second guy growled and tightened his grip on his gun. “Wrong answer, fucker! I’ll ask a second time: Who are you?”

Their pleasant little chat got disturbed by a woman stepping into the chamber. Her outfit was more of an explorer than a military woman; from her black hair cut short in a neat bob, down to her perfect polished boots, she looked sophisticated and elegant. She looked around with a satisfied smile but when she spotted Liam, her lips formed an “oh”. “Liam Dunbar, I can’t believe it! Last time I saw you, it was just days after you were born. You have grown so much. And lord, you look so much like your mother.” He got that a lot and Liam himself had to agree, he had inherited his mother’s facial features, her nose and the curve of her lips. The only difference was his eye color, he had inherited his father’s blue eyes while hers had been grey. Still, it surprised him the stranger recognized that. “You knew my mother?” The lady nodded. “We have been friends. Not as close as we both would have liked due to our careers but we always enjoyed our time together. Oh, pardon, I completely forgot: My name is Vera.” She had walked over to him and now extended her hand for him to shake. Liam eyed her for a second, then her hand, and back at her face. “Your guys are still pointing guns at me. Who the hell are you people?” Vera looked at the military men. “Gentlemen, I think you made your point. Young Liam here surely is no danger. Thank you for your services.” She dismissed and they lowered their guns but stayed behind her, looking like some sort of bodyguards. Something inside Liam twitched. The young Liam part sounded motherly and he didn’t deal well with it. He decided to stay quiet, for now. Vera meanwhile introduced the group. “We are called the Society of Insight, a very private group working in secret to ensure artifacts are rescued and either put out for people to admire them or stored away in safety to avoid them falling into the wrong hands. Basically, we’re doing the same thing you do, we’re just having a bit more manpower.” She laughed softly and patted his arm. “I cannot stress how honored I feel to work with you. Admittedly, I didn’t expect you to be here but now that you are, we have to make the best out of it. That’s my mantra, always making the best out of a situation,” Vera chirped and Liam would have not been surprised at all if she burst out in a happy little song right the next second, Disney style. She currently acted like the fairy godmother and he was not so sure what to make out of this. It surely was one of the most surreal encounters he ever had in a tomb. And he meet ancient mermaids once!

“Work with me? When did I agree to a cooperation?” He inquired and raised an eyebrow. Vera gave him a surprised look and then snickered at herself. “Right, right, I may have been getting a little ahead. But you are also looking for the Mirror of Origin, correct?” Liam narrowed his eyes slightly. It made sense he wasn’t the only one following Ferguson’s hints but that didn’t make it any better. He didn’t fully trust her or her organization. Given what he went through with his family, his mother dying in an accident when Liam had been nine and his dad getting shot when Liam had been twelve, and what he already experienced on his travels, his doubts were absolutely justified. On the other hand, she was a friend of his mother and seemingly someone his mother had trusted around her newborn son. And maybe, just maybe, Liam was too suspicious for his own good most of the time. Also, nobody said he had to tell her everything about himself, his hopes and dreams and deepest secrets, he could play it on a professional level. It was his business, after all. “I do, yeah.” He pointed at the sarcophagus. “But the Mirror is not here.”

They all looked stunned by that and Vera gripped her heart, as if she was having an attack. That woman seemed to like a scene. “I find that hard to believe,” the guy who had called Liam kiddo drawled and Liam’s glare shot daggers at him. It made him want to punch the guy for a second time today. “It’s true. Ferguson lied. It’s all in here!” He waved the document he had held in the same hand as the flashlight the whole time. The arrogant bastard narrowed his eyes at Liam but didn’t reach for the document. Vera was the one who held out her hand. “May I?” She asked softly and Liam handed it over. When he had the choice between her and the guys, he would always choose her. Now she read what Ferguson had confessed. “This is astonishing. He played so many people for all those years.” Liam nodded. “Whatever he witnessed in the jungle, it was enough to scare him so much he considered living a lie for the rest of his life worthy enough. And maybe it explains why he got so paranoid at the end of his life. Maybe the trauma finally caught up.” One of the men sneered. “What’s so scary in the jungle?” “Oh, I don’t know,” Liam replied coldly, “jaguars, traps, the whole nine yards. It is not unreasonable to be scared by that.” “I wouldn’t be scared at all,” the guy bragged and the one Liam had wanted to punch repeatedly sighed. “Shut the hell up, Donovan.” “Don’t tell me what to do, Raeken.” Ah, now Liam at least had a name for that one person who had belittled him. Didn’t make him any less of an asshole. Raeken now simply rolled his eyes at Donovan and then proceeded to ignore him.

“Anyway!” Vera called out and startled Liam. “Since we all fell for Ferguson’s constructed lies, we have to travel back to Peru and start there. Liam, dear, it would be an absolute pleasure if you would travel with us. You’re as brilliant as your mother, working with you would be an amazing opportunity.” He had worked with others before, Liam wasn’t completely antisocial just because he preferred dusty crypts over a raging club night, and maybe both sides would benefit from this cooperation. While Liam had traveled to Peru himself at the beginning of his studies on the Mirror, he had never really been able to get as deep into the jungle as Ferguson himself had been. He didn’t need to, had the guy stated he had taken the Mirror out of its hiding spot anyway. They already knew dangers were lurking, so maybe traveling there with an armed group of military men was a good idea. He nodded. “Sounds good.”

****** Liam pressed the phone against his ear and braced one arm on top of the machine while he waited for Mason to accept the call. The little airport they would board the plane to Peru from didn’t have much, but at least a phone with international reception. Finally, his best friend spoke. “Hello?” “Mase, it’s me.” “Holy shit, Lee, there you are! We were worried sick after we lost the connection. I’ll put you on speaker, Corey’s with me.” “Hey, Liam,” Corey greeted. “Hey. I’m sorry I worried you but you won’t believe what happened.” He launched into an explanation of what had transpired in the Emperor’s tomb and his friends let out sounds of wonder and surprise. When he ended, Liam heard the clatter of a keyboard. “Society of Insight, I will search for everything I can possible find and direct it at you,” Corey announced. “When you arrive in Peru, keep your GPS on so we have an idea where you are. You never know when you need support,” Mason told him. “Thank you, Cor. And, Mase, I will. Can you do me a favor though? Look through my mom’s old notes. Vera said they were estranged friends, maybe mom mentioned her.” “Sure, buddy. As soon as I find something I will forward it to you,” Mason promised his best friend. It was good to have a backup, even though they were not in the same country. “Thank you, both of you. I will contact you as soon as I can and fill you in with our process. Take care.” “Be careful,” Mason instructed him and Liam hung up.

He pushed himself off the phone and wiped the sweat from his brow. He hoped the plane was cooler than the airport hall. Liam rounded the corner and there leaned Mr. Smug Asshole himself against the wall. When the group had come close to the city, Vera’s group had changed from their strategical gear into tactical pants, plain t-shirts and black bomber jackets. Liam had wondered about the jackets at first but then realized they all had also switched guns and were now carrying semi-automatic pistols. The jackets were simply to cover the weapons. “What?” He spat out. Something about the guy made his blood boil. “I was looking for you. The plane is there, we all are there, only one missing is you. So, move your ass!” Raeken pushed himself off the wall and ignored the daggers Liam glared at him. “I’m not one of your team buddies, I won’t follow your commands. Especially not if you keep talking to me like that.” Raeken put both hands over his heart as if he was deeply hurt. “Oh, I am sorry, was that not posh enough for you? Let me try again. Moveth his figure towards the flying machine, young lad, before I will store my boot on his behind.” Liam blinked. “That…absolutely makes no sense. Did you try your hand at Shakespeare? Way off. Way, way off. Don’t try something you know nothing about.” “Oh, what? Think I never heard of Shakespeare before? Just because I’m not as snobby as you are, doesn’t mean I don’t know shit about literature.” “Does Vera know you’re charming like that?” Liam crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave him a rather unimpressed look. Raeken scoffed. “I have no idea what Vera sees in you but what I know is her inviting you to this expedition is a slap in the face of every working person and especially the ones in this society.” Now that irked Liam. “Why is that so?” He inquired. “Simple. I could literally go to any well-esteemed university with a good history program, throw a stone and hit at least five other guys like you. Entitled guys who think they’re the shit just because of who their parents are.” It made Liam bark out a laugh. “Me? Entitled?” “Oh, you’re not? Then tell me, what did you ever achieved for yourself? I know your mom, Ilona Geyer-Dunbar, I know her work. What have you ever done that can compete? Or even gets remotely close? The only thing you do is carrying the Dunbar name and spending your time crawling through some tombs, digging in the sand a bit, and thinking you’re it. Living your little Lara Croft fantasy. I doubt you ever led an expedition or even were part of one with a remarkable found.” Liam shrugged nonchalantly. “I found the Emperor’s grave.” “So did we and if it had not been for Vera, Donovan would have put a bullet through your head. So much for your discovery.” Maybe the guy was right but Liam would rather spontaneously combust than to admit that. If Vera had not appeared, he probably would be dead by now. He growled. “Bastard!” Raeken smirked amusedly. “Are you allowed to cuss, kiddo?” “Stop calling me that!”

“Theo! Can you and our guest please hurry? Vera wants to get to Peru as fast as possible!” One of the other guys from Vera’s team called out all of sudden and interrupted their argument. Liam looked at the other guy and then back at Raeken. “So your name is Theo Raeken?” Theo simply shrugged. “Don’t wear it out.” Don’t worry,” Liam said dryly, “I think dickbag is a better name for you anyway.”

The Thiam Tomb Raider AU finally got off the ground. After I made this edit, I now finally found the time and motivation to start with this story. I am excited and since I’m currently replaying the last three Tomb Raider games I’m also very inspired. So I hope you liked the first chapter and are curious about chapter 2. Tell me what you think in the comments!

Love you all!

#thiam #thiam au #did I say I will write the Tomb Raider AU? I did!#took me some time but here it's the first chapter #Mirror of Origin #My writing

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sesquipunzel · 5 years

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Act 2 (Backtrack through 251-264)

(I am better understanding the appeal of reading Homestuck liveblogs because now I really wanna go read how other people dealt with this lil reveal.)

So...one thing that didn't occur to me in my many previous Thoughts was that the Vagabond might not be here accidentally — I may have been unduly influenced by knowing them by the name "Wayward Vagabond." They might have been searching for the SBURB bunker precisely so they could interact with the kids/the past; they might even have arrived or been summoned here on this specific day so they can do so. Or they might be the Skaia-survivor I hypothesized, who was out of the bunker running errands, and we joined them as they were coming 'home'. Though the impression that the Vagabond was curious and wary and exploratory and Not At Home was pretty strong, so I dunno. (Also, I would think if they were in on the plot, they'd understand more about John/the game/the lingo.)

But the Vagabond DOES recognize that they can communicate with the boy on the screen, DOES know how to operate the console (simple as it appears to be), DOES know how to read and write and type (although not to turn off the Caps Lock). Which perhaps adds weight to the notion that they were alive/educated in the Before Times?

Also, this console is clearly designed to let someone communicate with those on screen — but Skaianet also clearly had the technology to allow even more extensive interaction, à la John's magic chest on the roof of his house. So why is the connection only via the command line, why not a full suite of SBURB-style fixit tools? It could be an inherent limitation related to: a) the time disjunct, if "years in the future" is true; or b) a place disjunct cos we have no idea where either John or the Vagabond are; or c) an internet disjunct cos we have no friggin clue how their computers are communicating with each other at all (especially since John's house shouldn't even have power). Obvi, the command-line could simply be the default function, and the console is capable of other things that we and the Vagabond don't know about yet, but we shall see.

Because the arrival of the "BOY" Voice coincided with the division of the Kernelsprite and creation of the the Harmesperm, I made an assumption that the Voice was the Sperm's voice (and I imagine I ain't the first). I do speculate that the coinciding wasn't completely coincidental, though.

The first image the Vagabond sees is just after John took the bite of the apple and got his house ozzed to wherever he is now. So I wonder if that's where this mysterious connection between their computers starts — maybe the Vagabond couldn't have watched any of the pre-Meteor stuff in John's house, or interacted with him before then?

As to HOW the connection started, or whether the ability for them to interact has anything to do with the KERNEL or the SPRITE? On that I have no guesses yet.

One curious thing is why the Vagabond's commands are reaching John as a "voice in his head." John is reporting this to Rose as new and troubling, so he didn't experience the previous reader commands in the same way, even if his "free will" occasionally argued with those commands. I've been told Hussie doesn't use dialogue in his comics, that all information is conveyed through Pesterlogs, command lines, narration, etc. So why did he choose to have the Vagabond's words manifest differently than the other reader commands, and differently from any other form of communication we’ve seen? I think the most important part is probably John saying “i feel compelled to do these weird things i don't really want to do,” that commands coming from that particular console/place are ones he can’t disobey?

If those commands had been communicated in a different way (like appearing on John’s devices) it wouldn’t have allowed for confusing the Vagabond's Voice with the SPRITE's, I suppose, and would invite more questioning from John as to who was 'on the other end' of the computer, but still interesting distinctions.

So — going to re-read from that first "BOY" on page 251, and capture any deeper/revised thoughts along the way.

Firstly, "the two halves go their separate ways, leaving behind the SPRITE portion" — I see that I misread that the KERNEL was the dual clown-silhouette things and the SPRITE was the mandala-thing left hovering in midair. But I see now the KERNEL was the circular "container" for the clown, i.e, the portion that existed before it was prototyped, and the SPRITE was the now-spermy clown-bit left after the seed-potential-power parts split off to go fulfill whatever that potential is. (dum dum DOOM!)

On to the weird interactions within the Flash…

Calling John "BOY" reinforced the impression that the Voice didn't know who he was, or much of anything else yet, which made sense if it was a newborn SPRITE. But now it means the Vagabond also doesn't know who John is — just a boy on a screen. So why are they so imperious in the way they talk to John, so sure that John needs to listen and obey? (How much does Vagga know about why this boy is on this screen at this moment? What do they know about what happened before, or what could/should happen next, for Earth's survivors? And are they friendly or foely to our heroes? Or to Skaianet?)

And who exactly is talking back (in the Green Boxes in the Flash version, or in plain text between black+orange Command Boxes in the non-Flash), calling the Voice a "nincompoop" and "sophomoric?" It seems to be our narrator, the one who used second person to start the story with "Your name is JOHN. As was previously mentioned it is your BIRTHDAY", addressing the character of John for the most part, but also the reader/player in some ways. But to have that narrative voice talking directly to another character is quite strange. (Although much of the response to the rest of the Voice's "EXAMINE"-type commands is back to our familiar narration style.)

"TIER PROTO TYPE THE SPRITE, OR THE THING YOU SAID. DO IT." Again, Vagga seems pretty sure about this being important to do, when they don’t even know the right words to describe it, or know that John can't do it himself.

Weird inconsistencies like not having enough Earth-context to call it a "towel", but enough to call it a "small Persian rug"? Familiar with "sewing machine" and how big it should be, but not with "totem lathe."

It's not the SPRITE that loathes clowns and harlequins, but the Vagabond.

(Housetrapped is still funny.)

"On the other hand, you would probably benefit from [NANNA's] elderly wisdom now…"

“UGH, NO.”

“So coy. So mysterious."

Twas an odd enough interchange when poking around the Flash the first time, thinking it was the SPRITE talking. But is there an implication here that Vagga knows (and dislikes) NANNA somehow, or the idea of John talking to her?

"A YOUNG STUPID BOY." On what grounds is Vagga judging John stupid?

Regarding the clowns in dad's study, the Voice says "IT HAS A KNIFE. BE ALARMED BY THIS." and "I SEE TREACHERY IN HIS EYES." — rather paranoid, aren't they? Worrisome in a newborn SPRITE, leaning towards interpreting it as inherently suspicious and violent, if not evil. Not really surprising, though, in a post-apocalyptic/post-traumatic wanderer (although it certainly doesn't rule out violent or evil).

Back to the main stream of the story, at 256: “NOW JOHN. RESPOND TO YOUR FRIEND UNIT.” Again, Vagga knows the word ‘friend', but not how to use it in a sentence. (is it because they've never had a friend?? are they a poor lonely, suspicious, violent cinnamon roll…???)

My curiosity about the Voice knowing the contents of the Pesterlog remain — is Vagga actually reading Homestuck, as it were, viewing John's screen/Pesterlog "over his shoulder" the same way we are? Or does the Skaia-built interface allow for more ‘camera angles’ than we have, or other direct access to the content this screen is meant (but by whom?) to show?

The narration on 257 that says "Oh well, you're the boss." has so many implications, doesn't it? But still notes that the commands are "awkwardly worded."

The Vagabond doesn't understand the difference between what John can do and what Rose can do.

(I just caught up to the fact that when John was fucking around with the Alchemiter, he could only create Perfectly Generic Objects because the dowel he had was Perfectly un-Lathed, with no distinguishing data points. You know how it is, it was all so new and confusing then… cause yeah, I'm WAY less confused now, right?)

But they get a platform built, and again the Narrator and the Voice tussle over commanding John and considering his feelings — the Narrator now seems protective of John, rather than objective. (That is, it has generally seemed objective before now, except in matters of taste and humor.)

The double "==>==>" commands that the Narrator was getting salty about make a lot more sense, imagining the Vagabond flailing at their keyboard.

John sensibly wants to go back inside, away from the aching and windy void, but Vagga says, "NO DON'T DO THAT. HOP OFF THIS LEDGE ON TO THAT CAR." This is the first time they've really suggested an action they came up with themselves, rather than responding to John mentioning prototyping, or encouraging him to follow Rose's instructions. (I'm not counting all the EXAMINE THIS and DESTROY THAT that helped us explore the Flash-House — those were still essentially passive responses to John's environment.) So I’m thinking that the mail in the car is really important in some way (I mean, I didn’t think it had been placed there as a time-wasting whim — it was the only real plot point of John’s excursion outside the house), which probably means the SBURB host software John can presumably use to rescue others the way Rose-as-host rescued him. (GG’s green gift might be important too but harder to guess how.) But that brings us back to the question of how the Vagabond knows about the software and its significance if they don’t seem to understand the game itself, or even how they know the software’s location in the car.

"==>==>==>==>==>" — and I thought two was impatient!

[hee, the Vagabond's keyboard does have the CAPS LOCK key lit!]

Right-Eo… long post, but more because I had a lot more musings to capture than because there was significant re-interpretation to do over whose Voice it was. Still worth the trip in my book. My blog, I mean.

The Kernelsprite has only actually attempted to communicate twice, right? Once with strange square textury symbols, and then after Harmequin-typing, with assorted Mardi-Grahdy fleurs-de-lis? (Floor Da Lease? Flurry d'Elise? Lorida Fleas? Flour Day Lilies? Stopping now.)

Gonna bet someone in HS fandom tried some pre-empty-ve code-breaking on the comparison between the two, but Ima keep on keepin on, trust that we'll discover what the Sprite is tryin' to say sooner or later in the story.)

Left-Eo then, backtrack completed and Yawnward Ho!

#homestuck liveblog #sesquipunzel reads homestuck #hs act 2 #homestuck #hs week 004

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royal-babey · 5 years

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Lily

I wrote angst and it hurts like hell and oh god I cried whilst writing it.

Featuring my OC’s Nico and Dima Mahariel, and their father Revas Mahariel.

TW’s for blood, death, slavery, and just a shitton of angst.

In the forests of Antiva, walked three Dalish Elves.

Keeper of Clan Mahariel, Revas Mahariel, accompanied his young twin sons into the wild woodlands to show them the foundations of survival. This was something the family did often, at least twice a week if possible, and it was valuable time together for them. Revas’s Keeper duties often kept him busy, and sometimes unable to spend time with his sons at all.

He had a son walking on either side of him, both clutching his significantly larger hands tightly. Dmitri Mahariel chatted away happily to his Father, rambling on about anything that caught his interest or something exciting that had happened to him earlier that week. His younger brother, Nikolai Mahariel, was quite happy to walk in silence, allowing his brother to do the talking for the both of them.

Revas couldn’t be happier. Of course if his ex-wife could be here, that would make things even better. Revas regularly mourned the fact that the twins would not grow up without a motherly influence in their lives, but they seemed to be doing just fine.

‘’-and then and then!!! Nini made a scary face and said ‘You pee the bed Daerian.’ Daerian went running crying back to his Mamae and I got my stick sword back!!!’’

Revas was snapped out of his thoughts as Dima’s excitable voice raised in pitch as he told his Father his story, and there was a very indignant ‘Dima!’ from Nico as Revas let out a chuckle in amusement. He then looked down to his left to see a very sheepish Nico kicking a small rock across the grassy forest floor.

‘’Is that true, da’fen?’’

Nico just shrugged as a response, then muttered ‘’He was being mean…’’

Revas couldn’t argue with that.

Every now and then, the elder Elf would stop beside a bush, either with oddly coloured berries or flowers, and attempt to tell the twins the properties of them. It was important they knew these things in case of emergencies. They were useful after all.

The twins genuinely did try their best to pay attention, but it was a struggle. And by the time they were an hour and a bit into their fathers lessons, they had all but given up on trying to listen.

Revas could see this, and figured he should give the twins something to enjoy instead. He sat them down on the abnormally gigantic roots of an ancient oak tree, that spiralled and gnarled in on itself both above and below the ground, and shielded them from the hot sun with its tall branches and large leaves. After he had gotten their attention, he held up a clenched fist, and smiled.

‘’Watch this, boys.’’

The boys watched in wonder as their Father’s fist glowed green, and gasped quietly when he opened it to reveal two stark white flowers where there had been nothing before. The twins recognised them to be lilies, and Dima bounced on the spot excitedly where as Nico was still staring, though he did have a small smile on his lips.

Revas reached forward, braiding the lilies into the boys long black hair one by one. They reached up to gently feel them at the same time, before lunging forward to hug their Father.

‘’That was so cool, Baban!!!’’

‘’Thank you, Baban…’’

Revas just grinned and hugged his boys back, laughing quietly to himself at their reactions. He loved making them smile.

And with a lily, he hoped to pass on their mother’s love. For that was her name, after all…

They were a happy family despite everything. A close knit and loving family.

Though like Revas had described to the twins once before, when a beloved Clan Halla passed away, the Creators often liked to pick the most beautiful things from this earth that they belovedly created.

Revas could not help the twitching of his pointed ears as he picked up on an abnormal sound coming from the east. They were outside of Clan hunting territory, so no one should be here…

That’s when he heard it. The sound of men laughing uproariously. They were no voices the Keeper recognised, and he froze to the spot, arms tensing around his children.

Humans. Human hunters had come to these woods.

Revas knew how much danger they were in instantly, and leapt to his feet. He easily picked up the twins, one in each arm, and took off running deeper into the forest. He knew these woods well, expertly avoiding upturned routes or particularly sharp rocks, taking almost completely hidden turns, getting past the more dangerous wildlife without getting so much as a second glance.

Nico and Dima were terrified, but knew to be quiet when their Father seemed to sense danger. They had not heard the humans, therefore having no idea what was wrong.

The Shemlen had heard Revas taking off though, footfalls much too heavy in his panic to get his children to safety to attempt stealth. They assumed he was a deer, having been spooked by their loudness. Revas could hear the beating of the horses hooves getting closer, and realised even if he were to make it back to the Clan in time, he would surely doom them.

So he did the only thing he could think of.

Sliding to a stop in front of a particularly large bush, he kneeled down, and placed his children behind it. He signaled for them to be quiet, and they agreed without question, nodding their heads to show they understood.

Revas knew that what he was about to do...May not turn out how he hoped.

So he hugged them both tightly, and whilst pulling away, slipped his necklace off over his head. It was made of shedded Halla antler, with intricate Elven symbols and words carved into it. He handed it to Dima, his lips trembling despite his trying to keep everything under control. He gripped Dima’s shoulders tightly, tight enough to make him wince involuntarily, and spoke in a panicked but hushed tone to his son, who had, as well as his brother, barely seen their tenth summer.

‘’I need you to promise me, Dima...Promise that no matter what, you will protect your brother. You will protect the clan. You will grow strong, and always protect those you love. Do you understand? Be strong.’’

Dima didn’t hesitate in answering, whispering a very determined ‘’Of course I promise Baban.’’ But also; ‘’What’s wrong though? You’re coming back, right?’’

Revas let out a shuddered breath, and gave his sons the best smile he could muster.

‘’Ar lath ma, ma len. I love you both so much...Be strong.’’

Before they could even question, Revas was taking off running into the clearing not far from them. Where the twins could see what was going on...Revas forced himself to stand his ground despite his fear as the humans approached, pulling his staff from his back and gripping it tightly as they pulled their horses to a stop and dismounted.

One human, with pale skin and a bald head, paired with a horribly patchy beard, was the first to approach Revas. Behind him were two more humans, dressed head to toe in armour. Revas couldn’t see their faces, though he could feel their stares.

He forced himself to greet the men in perfect trade with a smile, as wary as it may look, and a short bow.

‘’Greetings, outsiders.’’

He didn’t even get a greeting back, instead, the man in front of him just snarled, looking him up and down.

‘’Lookie here, boys. A knife ear, right here. Looks like we may not need to look for their damned camp so hard after all.’’

Revas tensed, knowing instantly who these men must be. Slavers, probably for the black market in the main city of Antiva. He reached back with his free hand to scratch nervously at his ear lobe, needing something to do as he answer, even if he wasn’t exactly asked a question.

‘’I-I beg your pardon? You can’t-’’

Revas was cut off by a sharp sword pointing directly at his neck, causing him to go stock still, too afraid to even breathe.

The man growled, pressing the blade against Revas’s neck. Enough to draw blood, for the moment, and make the Elf hiss slightly in pain.

‘’Shut your mouth, knife ear. Now listen closely. We know it isn’t just you here. We saw a stuffed toy on the ground. And you were quite happy to run just a moment ago...Who are you protecting? Your knife eared kid? Kids? Oh, the Crows would pay a pretty sum for some young Elves to train up.’’

Revas felt sick to his stomach. He wasn’t about to negotiate with some slavers, just so they could go hunt some other people.

So that left him one choice.

Carefully, he took a step back, and twirled his staff in hand.

‘’I’m not telling you anything, Shemlen!’’

He inhaled, ready to shout a spell, one powerful enough to knock them down and give him

time to run with the boys-

When instead it turned into a breathless gasp of pain, and he looked down to see a sword running right through his gut.

From behind the bush, there was a whimper, the leaves rustling as Nico attempts to get up to run to his Father. He’s stopped by Dima however, who yanks him down by the back of his shirt, and straddles him to keep him from trying again. Nico tries to yell for Revas, but Dima covers his younger brothers mouth and despite the tears forming in his own eyes as Nico writhes and struggles, whispers harshly for him to quit it.

Nico doesn’t see what Dima sees. Doesn’t see as the men kick Revas down onto his back. Doesn’t witness them sneering and taunting Revas as he bleeds out, amethyst eyes formerly shining with life beginning to go dull as he stares up at the sky. His lips barely moving as he words a silent prayer to Falon’din to guide his soul to the Beyond, the Creator who’s Vallaslin he has proudly worn since seventeen years of age.

He doesn’t see as Revas’s throat is slit easily by a spear tossed to the man who had also stabbed him, then thrust through the Keepers exposed chest.

Eventually, the humans get sick of mutilating the now dead Elf’s form. The murderer declaring Revas must have left the twins at the great oak tree and had instead tried to lure them away and distract them.

They mount their horses, and ride off. As soon as their horses beating hooves can no longer be heard, Dima and Nico get up, running over to their father’s unmoving form. He couldn’t be dead. Surely he was just badly injured, would still be breathing.

But there’s blood. Too much blood for any mortal man to surely survive. His dark skin is now an ashen colour, and his eyes are glazed over and lifeless. His expression is slack, and his chest…

It certainly isn’t moving.

Dima stands staring, completely frozen. He can’t tear his eyes off of their Fathers, their Babans, corpse. Nico however, collapses to his knees.

And he screams. A scream so heart wrenching it scares off any animals in the immediate vicinity. A scream filled with such unimaginable grief and fear and anger that it doesn’t sound human at all.

Dima can only drop down beside him, tears rolling silently down his cheeks as he reaches for Revas’s hand. Earlier it was warm, warm as Dima clung to it, warm as he pulled his Father behind him and swung and laughed and...Warm as Dima thought about how much he trusted that warmth to always be there...But now it was cold, and Dima could feel the remnants of Revas’s body heat slowly fading away.

‘’Papa…’’

He could barely mutter it. Beside him, Nico had begun to sob, clothing beginning to turn red with their Father’s blood soaking into it. He rested his head on Revas’s chest, hair mostly obscuring his face from his elder twins view.

And from his hair fell the lily Revas had left in it just twenty minutes ago. It landed in the puddle of blood just beside Revas’s body, and Dima could have sworn he heard his Father whispering the word- No. The name, Lily, in the small breeze that blew past them all.

Dima could only pull Nico to him, trying to find some comfort in his brothers still warm body despite the chilling aura that had settled in the area.

They only had each other now, meaning Dima was determined more than ever before now to keep his promise to their Father.

He would protect Nico with his life.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #pre-blight #angst #tw blood #tw death #tw slavery #I’m not crying you’re cring #writing #my writing #ocs #my ocs #Revas Mahariel #Nico Mahariel #Dima Mahariel #Antiva #Clan Mahariel

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buttsonthebeach · 6 years

Text

Chapter One: Lips

In honor of the one-year anniversary of Body of Knowledge, I thought I would post the first chapter of it here on Tumblr. If people are interested, I may repost the chapters two-five, which have alll the smutty reunion smut.

Pairing: Solavellan, post-Trespasser reunited

Rating: Teen for some intense smooching and a sexual reference or two

Note: Solas and Ellana get their first moment alone together since he surrendered his forces to her. Rekindling their romance doesn’t go the way either of them expected. Also on AO3!

Ellana would be lying if she didn't admit she had a habit of staring at Solas’s lips.

So much of him was sharp and austere - his cheekbones, his shaved head, his expressions, his clothes. His lips were luxurious by comparison. Soft. Almost obscene. Too beautiful, too beckoning, to be on display for the whole world. They were where he showed so many emotions he otherwise kept private - amusement, fear, frustration. Desire.

Many nights in the last four years since Corypheus’s defeat had been spent remembering them. The way they quirked into a smile, the way they moved when he spoke Elvhen, the way they felt on her collarbone, her wrist, her cheek. Her mouth. Her sex.

Those memories were shards of colored glass. Sharp fragments too precious to throw away and too jagged to hold close. She didn't summon them on purpose but she didn't run from them.

And now?

Now she was in her room in her Kirkwall estate and the shadows were long and soft around her and Solas was with her and she couldn’t stop staring at his lips but she couldn’t make her own move. Then he licked his lips and parted them and she remembered his tongue tracing the delicate edge of her ear and his lips against her breast and then his lips on hers just before he said “I will never forget you” and turned away. Her chest tightened in longing and fear.

“I do not want you to feel pressured, Ellana,” he said. It was rare to hear her name on his lips. Serious. “I did not follow you here expecting anything from you. I meant what I said - just let me stay here by your side. That would be enough.”

Now Ellana licked her own lips.

“I - I am not silent because I don't want you here. I’m silent because I don't know what I want you here for.”

She took a step closer to him, slowly, like she was walking through mud. He reached one hand out to her, palm up. Offering. She rested one hand in his and even though every part of her was screaming for his touch, that was almost too much. How long since she’d held his hand? How long would it be until she got to hold it again? Wait - no - he said he would stay.

Said. As he had said so many other things.

“I don’t know where to begin, vhenan,” she said at last, her voice small. “Where do we begin?”

Now he stepped closer, their bodies brushing but not touching. He put his hands on either side of her face and held her gently, and even that small touch made her close her eyes.

“Look at me,” he said. She opened her eyes and they drifted, as always, to those lips. “Can I begin here?”

She nodded and he leaned in and kissed her, so soft it almost wasn’t real, just a flutter of his lips against hers. A whimper came from somewhere - probably from her.

She needed it to be real.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers again, more firmly now. Still no press of teeth or tongue. Just lips, fitted together at the seam, soft and gentle and longing. His thumbs swept over her cheekbones. One traced the corner of her eye. He drew back and then kissed her again, like each kiss had to be separate. Deliberate. An apology. His fingertips trailed her jaw, then settled on her shoulders. Their bodies still weren’t flush. Her own hand was on his hip, resting more than holding. Ready to pull close or to push away.

It still wasn't real enough. It might all still be a dream.

She took hold of his hip and pulled him close against her and he groaned and put his arms around her. Now he moved his lips against hers, parting gently and then closing, setting a rhythm that she began to follow. Still not real enough. Her tongue darted into his mouth and he made a little sound that flooded heat into her and then his tongue followed hers. This was real. All of this. Especially those lips against her own, the one place they were joined. Real.

She kissed him harder now, opened her mouth wider, and his hands dug into her back. She took a step backward, towards her bed, and he followed, never letting their kiss end. Soon those lips would be everywhere she wanted them. The back of her legs hit the bed. This was what she needed. This was what she longed for. This was what she fought for.

This is what people died for.

And like that she was rigid in his arms.

Solas ended the kiss and took a step back, concern crowding his blue eyes, and the loss of him was sudden and complete and terrible.

“No,” she said, pulling him to her again. There was heat low in her belly and an ache in her chest and she needed him to cleanse her of both, because he was the cause of both. But when she lay back on the bed she was shaking and he held himself above her.

“Be still,” he said softly, and she watched his lips form the words. “Take your time. We have time.”

Time.

“Please,” she said, tugging on his tunic until he lay down. He stayed off to the side of her rather than on top and rested a hand on her hip. Then he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“Emma lath,” he whispered, barely moving back. Then he kissed her cheek. “Ma sa’lath.” Now her nose. “Vhenan’ara.” Now her chin. He closed his eyes. “I will never kiss you enough.”

His voice broke enough that she knew what he meant. They had time but not enough. Not enough to make up for every kiss he had missed. Everything he’d done.

“Try,” she said. “I want you to try.”

He kissed her face and her throat and her hand, but there was only so much lips could do before he needed his hands to undo the buckles and pull back the collar of her shirt and kiss her chest. He helped her out of her shirt completely and her skin prickled at the air and at his gaze as he took her in. He trailed his fingers along her ribs, then bent down and kissed her belly. Then her hip. So close to where she wanted him, but not yet. She was going to burn up. He was going to disappear.

“Come back,” she said.

He lay at her side again. “I am here. I did not leave, vhenan.”

That was it. That was the thing that stuck inside her throat and made everything else impossible. They’d already had their fight about the orb, his plans, his selfishness, his responsibility to more than just the Elvhen. But they hadn’t fought about this. About them. About how he left and took all this with him. Every kiss, every whispered word.

“Yes,” she said. “You did.”

Ellana tasted the tears before she knew she was crying and then he kissed them, and kissed her, and she used her remaining arm to crush him to her, so tight she couldn’t breathe, until stars danced behind her eyelids and she thought she could die. But she had to breathe, and with her first breath came the choked sound of a sob.

Solas didn’t stop kissing her while she cried. Even when she tucked herself against him and all he could reach was the crown of her head and the side of her face he just kept kissing her. His lips made it real - all real. The pain, the joy, the desire. It was all real, and none of it was going anywhere.

“I will never be able to earn your forgiveness,” he said when she quieted. “I will never deserve it. Tell me to go now and I will.”

She clutched his tunic. “No,” she said against his chest. “Never. Stay.”

“Ma nuvenin.”

The crying had emptied her - no more endlessly circling thoughts, no more second guessing - and suddenly she was exhausted. She began to drift towards sleep. It was only when a distant roar of laughter woke her that she realized she had fallen asleep at all. Their comrades downstairs, still celebrating their victory. The mingled voices made her smile.

“This is not at all what they think we are doing,” she said, knowing somehow that Solas was awake. He chuckled and the sound broke her open again, sweet and fresh and aching.

“There’s time enough for that, vhenan. Let us just begin,” he said.

#body of knowledge #dragon age fanfic #solavellan fanfic #post-trespasser fic #featuring my ode to solas's lips

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